We slip out of the car, and Green immediately ducks down like she’s hiding behind a trash can or something. I let out an unexpected chuckle. She rolls her eyes, and I sign for her to follow me.
There’s no one around, which is a good thing, don’t get me wrong, but it’s weird as shit. Usually, they’re are hanging out, trying to decide what their next move is, or score, or hit. Tonight, Thomas’s street is eerily empty.
Green’s car is still parked right where she left it. I check the tires to make sure they aren’t flat, then I take a walk around it to see if there’s any key scrapes or inappropriately spray painted bullshit anywhere.
Nothing.
When we open the driver’s side door, we find out why.
There’s a note on the steering wheel.
Ms. Green. It was a pleasure to meet you today. Please tell Mr. Stiles he won’t get another warning.
“I’ll follow you home.”
She nods but doesn’t say another word. She simply puts the key in the ignition, throws the car into drive, and punches the gas pedal like her life depends on it.
I watch her leave the neighborhood, then jog back to the Chevelle, which I’m happily surprised to see is still there.
On the way back to Green’s, I play some classic rock but turn it down, trying to figure out why Thomas would have made things so easy for her tonight. As far as criminals go, he’s all right, I guess, but not really known for giving people their things back, if you know what I mean.
I think about Stix and his brother and how Thomas said he didn’t have anything to do with it. Something I kinda already figured, but have to admit, it cemented things for me when I heard it come from his mouth.
Maybe he’s trying to make a point. I don’t know. What I do know is my only real lead at this point is the cops.
“Fuck my life.”
X X X
Back at Green’s apartment, Connor’s, that is, she disappears for a few minutes to park her car, she reappears out of the shadows and stops to have a conversation with the doorman for a few seconds. He laughs at something she said then waves.
She walks up to the Chevelle, opens the door, and gets in but doesn’t say a word.
“Everything okay there, Green?”
She breathes deep. As I inspect her expression, I find she seems unsettled.
When she turns to face me, I’m watching her eyes.
I’m always watching those eyes.
Definitely worried.
“Why was it so much scarier getting my car out of there, when no one even saw us, than when we were facing three potential murderers with nothing but a small boy in the backseat of your car as back up?” She plays with the ring on her right hand. I never noticed it before. It’s one of those promise rings with the two hands holding onto a heart in the middle.
Why does that bother me?
I pull away from her questioning stare and lean back in my seat. The moon isn’t high yet, but it’s full, and for a split second, I’m in my old backyard, up in the treehouse my brothers and I built years ago, making a promise to a scared kid who hates the dark.
“Night,” I tell her.
“What?”
“Everything’s scarier at nighttime.” It’s a simple explanation but truthful.
It’ll be okay, Mike. It’s almost morning. No worries, right?
Right, Jackie. No worries.
“Stiles?”
“What?”
“What are you thinking about?”
I bring my mind back to the present. “Nothing. Now, you wanna tell me what the gangbanger told you earlier?”
It’s a lame attempt at changing the subject but it’s enough. Green adjusts in the seat across from me and gets down to business.
“Right. It was kind of amazing, actually, that he told me anything. I must have disarmed him with my beauty and charm.”
She flips her hair and I laugh. So does she.
“He mostly went on and on about how street gangs don’t get enough credit these days. How it doesn’t really matter because pot’s going to be legal soon.”
I start to make a comment on that fuckery but she cuts me off as she continues her story.
“He said they keep drugs out of their own neighborhoods and even cleaned up some church property last weekend that had gotten vandalized the week before, and blah blah blah.”
Drug lord to church cleaning crew?
“Of course, he doesn’t mention how they’re still keeping drugs on the street, maybe a few blocks down the road but still on the street. Or how they exacted revenge on the young boys who spray-painted the church by stringing them up for their mothers to see.”
Good Lord this woman can babble with the best, but honestly, what hits me as she goes on and on about this shit is she’s about as intelligent as they come. Pays attention to real news even when I know for a fact that spot was only about a ten-second segment. I hadn’t expected that. Not with her background in spreading gossip and stirring pots.
“Green.”
“Yeah?” She blinks a couple times.
“Is that it? That’s the interesting fucking information you got from this guy?”
Seriously?
“Oh,” she snaps out of her rabbit-hole topic. “No, the interesting thing was, he let it slip that some of the cops who usually patrol the area were in a meeting with Thomas last week.”