The Kindest Lie(74)
The shorter guy stood in front of him now, so close Midnight could smell the chocolate on his breath. “Why so jumpy?”
Glancing over his shoulder at the length of the alley, Midnight tried to calculate how fast he would need to run to make it to Plymouth Street and then around the corner to head to Pratt without them catching him.
“You need to relax, little dude. I’m Bo,” he said, extending his hand, dry white spots between his fingers. “And this is my boy Larry, or L-Boogie as we call him.”
Midnight glanced up and then stared at the ground again.
“We’ll forgive you all for your lack of manners,” Bo said when none of the boys shook his hand. “You see, I have a business proposition for you.”
Midnight made a mental note to look up the word proposition if he ever made it home.
“I bet you all like Jordan high-tops. Am I right?”
Midnight didn’t intend to, but he looked down at his boots, slick and rubbed raw from overuse. Granny had bought them two years ago and they now pinched his cold toes. She had promised him new ones for Christmas.
“Yeah, they’re cool,” Pancho said.
“That’s right. They’re real nice. Better than what you getting for Christmas, I bet,” Bo said, kicking up his expensive gym shoe. A wide, diamond-studded watch hung from his wrist. “You can have all this, too.”
“How? What do we have to do?” Sebastian asked.
“A little bit of this and that. We pay you. Once we see your work ethic, we’ll show you how to run a business and make even more money.” Bo licked the chocolate stuck to the foil wrapper.
“He’s right. But it’s more than business. We’re family.” L-Boogie stepped closer to them, running his tongue over his teeth. The white vapor of his breath filled the space between them in the alley.
“I can do some jobs for you.” Sebastian stood straighter, preening as if Dale from the gas station had offered him a summer job.
“Yeah, me too. How much you paying?” Pancho asked.
“Will you shut up?” Corey told Pancho and Sebastian under his breath.
“I’ll be real disappointed if we can’t do business,” Bo said, drawing real out into two syllables.
No one spoke at first, and then L-Boogie and Bo told them they’d be in touch soon, that they knew how to find them. Then the men looked at each other and laughed so hard their knees buckled. Midnight didn’t know what that meant but he figured it wasn’t good.
A shot of cold air ran along the insides of Midnight’s legs and he realized he’d peed on himself. As soon as the men turned out of the alley, he ran toward home without saying goodbye to his friends or seeing where they went. The night air, cars, storefronts, and naked trees whizzed by. He ran past Obama/Biden yard signs until the string of McCain/Palin ones began. He ran until he couldn’t hear anything but the echo of his footsteps in his head.
A block from his house, with his lungs full, he hugged a stop sign and banged his head lightly on the metal pole. Sure, he liked to get into a little trouble every now and then. Mostly just to prove that he could. And because it was fun when there was nothing better to do. But he wasn’t the sort of kid to join a gang or sell drugs for one. Why did Bo and L-Boogie choose him?
When he finally made it home to Granny’s, he saw a couple of cars lined up on the street and Daddy’s truck parked outside. The engine still clicked and crackled, telling him his father had just arrived. Midnight didn’t want to see anybody right now, not with a bomb exploding in his chest and piss in his pants. Nobody could see him like this. Especially not Daddy. Before Midnight turned the key in the lock, he heard laughter and music. Opening the door just a crack, he peered inside.
Just like on Super Bowl Sunday, the smell of chicken wings, brats, and beef brisket hit Midnight’s nose the moment he walked in the house. During Christmas week, people set aside unpaid mortgages, overdue bill collector notices, and job ads to be merry and not miserable for once. In the kitchen a couple of Daddy’s buddies were egging on Loomis, who held the Elvis tree-topper like a microphone, crooning off-key about being nothing but a hound dog. He knew Granny invited Daddy’s friends to the Christmas Eve party just to be nice. Running through the living room, he saw Marsha from the credit union, Kimmie the interstate toll-taker, and a couple of people who regularly came to the store.
He ran past everyone and into the bathroom, where he stripped off all his clothes as fast as he could. In the shower, he stood there for a long while letting hot water pour over him, feeling the pee and pressure of the day roll off him like sludge.
After he finished, his skin blazed red hot and the mirror was completely fogged up. He toweled off, and using his forefinger, he wrote I hate my life on the mirror. Then he opened the door and sneaked into his bedroom to put on clothes.
When he emerged from his room, he saw Granny and Daddy in the hallway, their faces contorted in anger.
Granny exhaled loud as a muffler exhaust. “Butch, you know the rules. You get him Mondays and Fridays, and that’s it.”
Grinding out each word, Daddy said, “It’s Christmas week and I want my son staying with me.”
“You can’t just swoop in at Christmas and make up for everything you haven’t been doing. It doesn’t work like that. Putting on a big show once a year isn’t enough. I’m not saying it’s your fault you’re out of work and can’t do everything you used to, but you can’t even afford to buy him anything for Christmas.”