Black Buck(52)

I looked up and instantly froze. It was a photo of me at Starbucks smiling as I served a customer while Carlos, Brian, and Nicole watched in delight—a professional photo corporate took for promotional material. But I didn’t know why it was being plastered across PSST News.

“Turn it up!” I screamed.

A standard male TV voice spoke. “But who is he really? A few days ago, Sumwun CEO Rhett Daniels appeared with this no-name sales kid in an obvious PR stunt. He acted cute for the camera, had some clever answers for Sandra Stork, but how credible is he? Here at PSST News, we decided to search for answers, and what we found was startling. Before working at Sumwun, where he’s been for only three months, he was a shift supervisor at Starbucks. And before that, well, he was just someone who never even went to college. We have Bonnie Sauren on the ground in Bed-Stuy, which sources say is where the young man is from. Over to you, Bonnie.”

My photo with a superimposed question mark switched over to an attractive blonde girl in a white dress and heels walking out of the Myrtle-Willoughby stop on the G train—my subway station. The same subway station I entered every morning and exited every evening. The subway station across from Wally Cat’s corner and right in front of . . . wait. No. No. No.

“Thanks, Chet,” Bonnie said, smiling with teeth as white as her dress. “This afternoon I’m in Bed-Stuy, home of the random boy who Sumwun paraded around on national television a few days ago. What we know is that he’s worked there for only a few months, and before that, he was a Starbucks barista after graduating from Bronx School of Science as the valedictorian.”

“Whoa, Buck,” Frodo said, as everyone in the event space stared at me. “You were the valedictorian? Why didn’t you say?”

“Uh,” I groaned, and focused back on the TV.

“But the public wants more answers. So we’re here to get them today. I have with me Jason Morris, a friend of Darren Vender who says he’s known him longer than anyone else.”

Fuck. Oh fuck.

The camera focused on Jason, who was wearing a black balaclava, black hoodie, and baggy black pants with his underwear exposed.

“So, Jason,” Bonnie said. “If you don’t mind, could you remove the ski mask so we can see your face?”

“Nah,” he said. “I don’ wan’ no feds being able to identify my ass.”

“But, Jason, we’ve already said your full name on national television,” Bonnie said, looking nervous.

“Whatever, man. Then I ain’ gonna make it worse by showin’ my face.”

“Okay. So, Jason, what can you tell us about your friend Darren Vender?”

“Friend? Nah, you got me BLEEP up. Darren Vender ain’ no friend of mine. He’s a punk-ass BLEEP who think he’s better than everyone around here. He think he comes from, iono, wherever you’re from.”

“Bismarck, North Dakota?” Bonnie asked, confused.

“Yeah,” Jason nodded. “He think he from North Dakota, Beverly Hills, or some BLEEP. Guy’s been on his Hollywood ever since he gotta job wit’ those white people in Manhattan. Walkin’ ’round here like he ain’ grow up hittin’ a lick or two on an ice cream truck.”

“Hit a lick on an ice cream truck?” Bonnie said, pushing the microphone closer to him. “What is that? Hitting a lick?”

“You know,” Jason said, pulling his balaclava down farther, looking over his shoulder. “Robbin’ BLEEP for some candy, a little ice pop, or some change.”

“Excuse me, Jason. Just for clarification, are you saying Darren Vender used to rob ice cream trucks with you?”

“I ain’ sayin’ BLEEP,” he said. “Ain’ nobody snitchin’ out here. I’m jus’ sayin’, dude think he smooth, politickin’ and BLEEP on television. That BLEEP ain’ BLEEP.”

I couldn’t believe it. I thought my body was going to spontaneously combust where I sat. I knew we had our issues, but I didn’t think he’d do me like that on television. I was hurt, but beyond that, I was furious. I would’ve never betrayed him like that no matter what.

“Thank you, Jason,” Bonnie said, shaking his hand then wiping hers off on her dress. “And there you have it, America. Darren Vender. Salesman. Starbucks barista. Thug. Our sources also say Jason Morris was arrested a few years ago for grand theft auto and served twelve months. It sounds like Sumwun still has more explaining to do. Back to you, Chet.”

Eddie grabbed my shoulder. “Buck.”

“Don’t,” I said, digging my nails deeper into my thighs. With dozens of eyes on me, I got up, grabbed my bags, and headed for the elevator.

I felt exposed. Like every single person—security guards, people entering elevators, postal workers—were all staring at me and wondering, Is that the kid? I hurried across the lobby and shoved my way through the revolving doors.

“Hey.” Someone running up behind me tapped my arm.

“What!” I screamed. It was Brian with his green Starbucks apron over a black short-sleeved button-up.

“Sorry, Darren—SHIT! I just saw the news. Everyone’s talking about it. You okay?”

“I will be,” I said, walking down the steps.

He jogged after me. “Hey, Darren. Can I ask you something?”