Page 4 of Caged Bird

But his gaze flicked to Grass snorting another line, and then to the hundred-dollar bill clutched between my fingers. He snatched it and held it up to the light.

A quiet fell over the room. Though the music still pulsed in the background, the men’s attention was instantly on Eddie.

Everyone except Grass, who was well on his way to an overdose.

Eddie flicked the bill a few times, crumpled the edges in his fingers, and studied it the way I had a moment ago.

His eyes burned with slow anger, and I flinched away, stumbling back out of his reach, despite knowing running would be futile when he came after me.

But for once, his anger didn’t spew in my direction, but to the man on his knees in front of him. “You weaselly fucking liar.”

Grass glanced up, white still clinging to his nose and upper lip. “What?”

Eddie scooped up the stack of cash from where I’d left it at his feet. “You think I’m an idiot, do you, Grass?”

Eddie hated anyone questioning his intelligence. It was one of his biggest triggers, and one I had spent years trying not to set off.

Grass clearly had no such qualms. The high gangbanger wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “You do got that look about you. Like you got punched in the head one too many times.”

I squeezed my eyes closed, knowing what was to come.

The guys who’d come in with Grass chuckled at his attempt at humor.

But Eddie wasn’t laughing.

He let the stack of counterfeit cash rain down over Grass’ head. “Your money is fucking fake.”

The shorter man pushed to his feet, his expression twisting into one of malice.

But not before it flashed with the truth.

I let out a quiet breath filled with relief.

I was right. The money wasn’t real.

Eddie saw it too. Grass hadn’t been wrong when he’d said Eddie had the appearance of a boxer who’d been punched in the face one too many times. His nose had been broken at least twice and never set, so had healed badly. His eyes were squinty, too small for his meaty face. If you didn’t know him well, it would be easy to think he was all brawn and no brain.

But I knew better. I knew exactly how sharp he was. How determined.

And how he hated being underestimated because of the way he looked.

Eddie launched himself at Grass, fists flying.

I silenced a squeal of fear as men seemed to come from everywhere, like they’d just been waiting for a green light to lay into each other. Like it was sport.

Like hurting each other was fun.

I scuttled out of the way, wheezing when a stray elbow caught me in the ribs that were still tender from a beating I’d taken a few weeks earlier. The men brawled without care of destroying the living room I’d so painstakingly tried to make homey for Otis’s sake. An armchair fell backward, hitting the floor with a thump, and the TV cracked when a man was thrown into it.

I cowered in the corner of the room, covering my head, the only exit blocked by Eddie and Grass trading punches with sickening thuds. Each blow landed heavily, Grass smaller but younger than Eddie. He moved faster, so even though Eddie hadhim in size and strength, the two were more evenly matched than Eddie might have first thought.

Eddie let out a roar of frustration and tackled Grass, the two of them rolling on the floor, pummeling each other until there was blood flowing, and Eddie finally got the upper hand, pinning Grass beneath him.

“You fucking owe me, you piece of shit. You think you can come in here and try to fool me?”

His fingers wrapped around Grass’s neck, all his concentration on squeezing the life out of him.

He didn’t notice Grass pull a gun.

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