Page 18 of Street of Dreams
At 21 years old, Jake King had lived two lifetimes. He’d seen everything from shootouts resulting from gun deals gone bad, to junkies who overdosed and lie dead on the sidewalk. He’d been making fat stacks of cash running a numbers racket since he was 15, and he offered protection for a price.
But that was only one half of his life. The flip side of his daily routine was taking care of his brothers, making sure there was food in the house and meals on the table. He made breakfast and school lunches in the morning and dealt with street thugs in the afternoon.
His old man was home, which meant there wouldn’t be any peace in the house today. The first thing he needed to know was if his brothers were home yet. He found Danny in the kitchen with his face in the fridge. “Did you drop Ben off OK?”
“Yeah.” Danny drank directly from the carton of juice, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and burped loudly.
Jake just stared at him. Sometimes, he wondered if he was doing the right thing by his brothers or just confusing them.
“What?” Danny asked.
“You’re disgusting. Say excuse me.”
“Sorry,” Danny laughed. “It just slipped out.”
“Where’s Henry?”
“Living room.”
Shit. Jake never wanted one of his brothers alone with their old man and hurried into the living room. Henry was on the couch with a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon in his hand, staring at the TV. Jake swiped the can away from his brother, lifted it to his mouth and drained it.
“Hey, that was my beer.”
Jake crushed the can in his fist. “Was, being the key word in that sentence.”
“It was the last one,” Henry complained.
Bruce King turned away from the TV screen, a deeper scowl than usual marring the hard lines of his face. “You drank my last fucking beer?” He leaned forward and smacked Danny in the back of the head, just hard enough to get his point across.
Instantly, Jake started to lunge but stopped himself before his foot left the floor. The fury that filled his chest dissipated just enough to allow his heart to sink. He didn’t mean to set his brother up like that. He only finished the beer because he didn’t want his 16-year-old brother drinking alcohol. He would never intentionally put any of his brothers in harms’ way. He did everything he could to protect them.
His old man continued to glare at Henry. “You’re a little shit.”
Danny came into the room and sat next to his brother for moral support, and both twins fidgeted uneasily. The two looked as if they wanted to fade into the couch, but there was never any escaping Bruce King.
“You’re an asshole.” Jake hated calling his brother names, but if he berated Henry, their old man would back off and leave it to him to discipline the kid. “Now, go out and get some more beer.” He knew no one would sell Henry alcohol, even with a fake I.D., but he was trying to take charge of the situation, and it was the first thing that popped into his head.
Bruce shifted his eyes between Henry and Jake. “I’ll fucking go. The kid’ll probably get pinched. But you’re fucking paying for it.”
Jake pulled out his wallet.
“Not you. You!” Bruce shouted at Henry.
“I don’t have any money,” Henry tried to protest, but Bruce knew he was lying.
“Bullshit. You’re an earner. You get a cut. You got money. Hand over your wallet.”
When Henry didn’t move, Bruce got to his feet and yanked Henry from the couch by his arm. Jake automatically reacted, ready to rip his old man’s head off, but stopped when he saw Bruce’s only intention was to confiscate Henry’s wallet. There were two twenties and a bunch of singles in it, and Bruce took all of it.
Henry fell back onto the couch and crossed his arms over his chest. “That was my lunch money for the week.”
Jake widened his eyes at Henry, warning him to keep quiet. The delicate situation taking place could easily turn ugly. They’d all received black eyes for talking back. When they were younger, it was a slap in the face or a rap upside the head, but now that they were older, Bruce often hit with a closed fist. At times like this, when Jake waited for things to either calm down or explode, the blood rushed through his veins with the pressure of a fire hose. Sometimes, his heart beat so furiously in his chest he thought he was having a heart attack.
“That’s what you get,” Bruce sneered at Henry. “Next time, think before you take something in this house that doesn’t belong to you.” His eyes shifted to Danny. “I got a job for you. A package needs to be picked up tomorrow. We’ll go over the details later.”
Jake watched Bruce leave, bitter hatred festering in his belly for this man who was supposed to be their father but was nothing more than a tyrant. There was never any love or concern. The three of them were nothing more than pawns in Bruce King’s host of illicit activities. “Fucking asshole,” Jake spat at the closed door, before he softened his voice and turned to his brother. “Sorry, Henry. I didn’t mean to bring heat on you or to call you an asshole. You know that’s not true. You’re a smart kid. Too smart to do something that you know will set him off. Please,” Jake begged. “Be more careful, especially when I’m not here to protect you.” He took a fifty from his billfold and tossed it in Henry’s lap to replace the money their old man confiscated. “Let’s clean this place up.”
Danny, who had been quiet during the altercation, clucked his tongue with annoyance. “It’s just a couple of plates and beer cans. Who cares?”
