Page 55 of Wings of Ebony
Silence.
An eerily familiar voice splits the air and my blood runs cold. “Where’s Blow now?”
Sweat soaks the back of my neck.I know that voice.
“He ain’t answering.”
Silence.
Metal clicks. The sound of the gun takes me back to Moms’s closet.Breathe.
“Get his people here,” Litto says, his voice so familiar I have chills. “Then he’ll come.”
His people? Like his family. That voice. Where do I know that voice from?
“What else?” asks Litto. “How are the numbers?”
“Aside from Blow’s bullshit, it’s looking good. Got the Laws where we need ’em. The new commissioner owes me a favor.”
“And the schools?” Litto asks.
“We got hands and feet in most. Working on some of the others. That prep school is hard as shit to get into. Kids there act like they too good to fuck with strangers.”
Hands and feet? Drug pushing?
“I’m not as concerned about the prep school. It’s the ones along East Row that you need to focus on.”
“Oh, we got those on lock. Pushing at least a key through the Jameson High every month.”
Whoa.Drugs ain’t new around here, but targeting a high school?
Myhigh school?
What.
The.
Fuck!
“Good, very good,” Litto says.
“One kid, though. He ain’t cooperating. Brought him in today to level with his ass.”
“Explain.” A chair swivels then squeaks like someone’s stood up.
“I give ’em the choice, like I always do—make money or spend it. This little nigga don’t want neither.”
“Sounds like he’s made his choice,” Litto says. “You know what to do. Get it handled, now.”
Handled? As in? I gasp, stumbling away from the door, and throw myself into a hall closet.
They’re going to kill a kid because he doesn’t want to sell drugs or do them? What the fuck?Out of your league.Julius’s warning plays on repeat in my head.
The door to their meeting room opens and through the crack of the closet door I can see a sliver of their faces as they exit the room. I crane for a better glimpse of the men talking. The first one out is pale-faced with a long ponytail and a Glock in his hand. I’d know his face anywhere—the man from the coffee shop.
I can’t move.
Behind him two more dudes come out the room, both with loose-fitting shirts and big-ass snake tattoos on their necks. I don’t recognize one, but the other is definitely Chad, the community center guy who “picked up” Tasha from her bus stop.
