So, my question is, why would Flint pull additional negative attention to himself at this point in the game? Allegedly, not only did he kill a kid who, according to his brother, was trying to get out of the game, but then he left him in the middle of the street for anyone to find?
Not that any of this BS is mine to worry about. I’ve got a good gig going with the men in blue, taking on their overflow of shit jobs they can’t be bothered with. Hell, they have an entire line in their annual budget dedicated to yours truly. Why muck it up over one kid who may or may not have been a decent human being?
Right?
If I can get Stix out of town quietly, maybe find him some long lost relatives to go stay with, I can say I did my good deed for the decade and get on with my life as we know it.
“Okay, so, no mom and/or dad is in the picture?”
Jimmy shakes his head.
“And you’re sure you don’t have any uncles or aunts lingering around?”
He grimaces. “Not that I know of.”
This is going well.
“We’ll worry about that later. For now, there’s a guy on King Street I want you to stay with.” The kid’s face looks like he just ate a lemon.
A bad one, at that.
“What?”
“Isn’t that over by the old market area that closed up?”
“Yeah? So?”
He shuffles his feet around and avoids answering me as he pulls the towel tighter around him. A teenager scheme, I’m sure, to pry some pity out of me, but I don’t have time to dick around here.
“What?” Usually, I’m a patient motherfucker when it comes to youth, but nowadays, not so much. Especially this particular youth.
“I mean, that’s like homeless nation.”
I chuckle at his description. “What, are you scared?” This is, after all, the same juvenile who pulled a gun on me knowing I was slightly more experienced than him.
A lot more experienced than him.
“No,” he insists, a little defensively. “I just… I mean… That’s Flint’s territory, man. What if—”
It doesn’t escape my attention that he resembles his brother when he gets worried like this.
“You said Flint didn’t do it,” I remind him.
“He didn’t. I mean, I don’t think he did.”
“So?”
“So, I mean, what if I’m wrong?”
Jesus fucking Christ.
“If you’re wrong, it still doesn’t matter. This guy I know, he’s not gonna rat you out.” Tricky’s good people. Well, he’s bad people. But he’s the good kind of bad.
“Can’t I just stay with you?”
That’s funny.
“Um, no.” Okay, that came out a little less sensitive than I planned.
I’m lying. I don’t do sensitive.
“Why not?”
“Because I live the fuck alone, kid.” Is that not obvious?
“But─”
“The answer’s no.”
As in no fucking way. Absolutely the fuck not. And over my dead motherfucking body. I don’t do guests. It cramps my style and makes my ass twitch.
He’ll be fine with Tricky, who technically doesn’t live in the homeless area, by the way. He’s on the cusp. So, close but no cigar. Besides, if it was Thomas that killed Donnie, that’s the last place he’ll look; and if it’s someone else, they’ll figure he’s a goner in there, anyway. And that’s if they find out where he’s staying.
Perfectly fine.
“Let’s go.”
X X X
On the way to King and Tenth, I call the Trickster and give him a heads up that I’m on my way with a favor I’m gonna need. He hems and haws with the best of them but eventually agrees to let the kid stay in his back room for a couple days.
There’s gotta be someone out there the kid’s related to. And if there is, I’ll find them. It’s what I do.
The only problem? Stix is still soaking fucking wet and that doesn’t bode well for the leather seats.
Detour time.
“I’m gonna pick up some dry clothes for you on the way.”
“Why not just stop by Donnie’s place? I can grab some─”
“No can do, kid.” Rule of thumb, people: If you plan on leaving town because you suspect someone’s after you, don’t go home. That’s the first place they look.
Not that I think Stix has anything to worry about. I’m pretty sure the idea of him being in any kind of danger is all in his head, but better safe than sorry.
“What about all my stuff?” He’s genuinely concerned. It’s obviously the first time he’s actually thought this whole taking off thing through tonight.
“What stuff?”
“Like, my clothes for one, and my bed. My Xbox?”
“Oh, you won’t be seeing any of your stuff again for a while, my friend. Least of all your Xbox.” I’m not trying to be a dick here. I’m simply laying it all out for him. If he’s pulling one over on me, he’ll go home. If not, then maybe he really is concerned for his life.
He doesn’t push the topic, which tells me there’s a chance he’s on the up and up.
“Who is it you think you’re running from if it’s not Flint?”
The shrugs are back. Awesome.
“Just playin’ it safe, I guess.”
“Yeah? Safe from whom, Jimmy?”