“You wanna know what the least I could do is?”
It’s a rhetorical question. I answer it, regardless. “The least I could do is not turn you in for pulling a fucking gun on me tonight.”
His face says it all. In fact it perfectly matches his brothers disappointed expression the night I handed him over to RPD.
“Whatever, I’m out of here.” He pushes some of his dirty blond hair out of his face and starts to go. He leaves the gun. It’s probably not his anyway.
This is the part where I let him leave, forget about him and his brother and the fact that nine times out of ten under-aged kids trying to go it alone are dead within a year.
That’s the smart thing to do. That, and distancing myself from this situation as fast as possible.
Easy peasy. I’ll be done with the Learys, and I can get on with my fucking life.
Only lately, I’m not all that smart. And Donnie Leary’s easy grin keeps sneaking its way into my head, reminding me of what a goddamn idiot I was to leave him in the first place.
“Hold on.” I stop him at the last possible moment.
I’m at two parts hoping he ignores me, one part hoping he doesn’t.
His hand is on the door knob. His feet remain still.
Last chance.
“I might know a guy who can help you get out of Redemption, undetected. Regardless of who you’re running from.”
He lets go of the knob.
“It might take a couple days.” I don’t plan on pushing him about who he’s trying to get away from. Something tells me I don’t wanna know.
The kid tries to stay cool about my offer, but I see the twitching in the sides of his mouth, the relief in his body language as he takes a step back into the office, and the hope in his eyes.
All surefire signs that I’m probably gonna regret this shit.
He closes the door, and that’s that.
I’m officially involved. Awesome.
“How did you even find out where I work, anyway?” He plops down onto the sofa, which is great because now the sofa’s gonna be soaking fucking wet, too.
“I saw you at the funeral today. Bummed a ride from a buddy of mine and followed you back here.” He’s still shivering. I grab a towel from the bathroom and toss it over to him. Can’t have the kid getting pneumonia, now can we? I can’t afford my own doctor's bill much less his.
“That was six hours ago.”
I get one last shrug for the evening. “I had to go find a gun.”
Nice to know he thought this shit out. I wouldn’t want him making any rash decisions or anything.
UNEXPECTED EMPATHY
REDEMPTION IS A PRETTY OLD CITY. Not as old as dirt, maybe, but old enough to have its very own set of fucked-up issues. And big enough to bury them when she wants to.
On the maps, the borders come together. Kinda like a star, if you look at it funny. That’s what Ma says, anyway. Dad always told us it was more like a badge. Of honor. Get it?
Yeah, me either. I seriously think he told us things like that to come off like the wise elder of an important family or some shit when really he’s just a bully with no mission but to bend people to his will─no matter the cost.
Moving on.
A mile or so inside the border, on the western-most parts of Redemption, is where the homeless have set up camp. Just beyond that are the drug-saturated areas.
Correction, the drug and arms-saturated areas. Mostly rural.
So it basically works like this: The gangs run the outer rim of the western half of Redemption, using the homeless as kind of a shield from the inner, more straight-laced parts of the city, AKA, where the police patrol more often.
Graham Black, the city’s current ass-kissing do-gooder, makes it a point to get his face out into the media on a regular basis, threatening the gangs and promising to “clean up Redemption, if it’s the last thing he does.” The gangs laugh in his face, pushing their drugs through the homeless sections of town; the drugs go into the schools, home with the kids, and into pretty much every well-to-do neighborhood located within a twenty-mile radius of downtown.
Hell, Black’s own son was busted on more than one occasion with drugs on his person. Selling them, mind you. He was arrested the second time, despite the fact that he’s the mayor’s kid, and charged with possession. He made a run for it, was consequently nabbed, by yours truly, and long story short, his dad doesn’t like me much.
He’s not the only one.
Where was I going with that?
Right. Black’s latest campaign.
Ready for this? He’s gonna legalize pot so the drug lords won’t have the power they do today.
I know. Blank stare syndrome. Been there, done that. Many times. But what are ya gonna do?
All he’s essentially done is make it Thomas Flint’s business to ensure that never happens.