Page 35 of Street of Dreams
“I’m not afraid of you. Never have been. You could talk the talk to everyone else, but I never backed down.”
Jake narrowed his eyes into his most menacing glare, the one reserved for intimidating the toughest street thugs, but it had no effect on Mac. He saw through the charade, and that damn little smile that Jake tried so hard to hide never escaped Mac’s eye.
“You never answered my question,” Jake said.
“What question?”
“You fucking anybody else?”
“What if I said yes?”
“Then I’d kick your fucking ass. And fucking dismember the asshole you’re cheating on me with.”
A broad smile spread across Mac’s cheeks. “Sounds like something a boyfriend would say.”
The frustration in Jake’s eyes turned to helplessness. He seemed so unsure of how to act sometimes when intimidation didn’t work, like it was his go-to emotion, and he didn’t know any other way to act in order to get his point across.
“You’re my boyfriend.” Mac said, in a sing-song voice, and reached for Jake’s cheek.
Jake pushed his hand away. “Am not.”
A teasing smile spread across Mac’s face. “Did you just push me?”
“I pushed your hand.”
Mac dug two fingers into the hard muscle of Jake’s chest and gave him a small playful shove, the same thing Jake had done to him the first time he came to Mac’s apartment.
Jake scratched the back of his head and chuckled. Then, without warning, he lunged at Mac, and they ended up in one of their usual bouts of roughhousing. Laughing, they pushed and pulled each other around the room throwing soft punches into each other’s arms. They fell into a cabinet, which put a stop to their little wrestling match. It was a heavy wooden armoire, but they managed to shake it hard enough so that something inside of it shifted with a loud thud. The doors suddenly flew open, and an arsenal of firearms spilled onto the floor. Handguns. Rifles. Automatic weapons. Things Mac had only seen on TV or in video games were stockpiled on the carpet. His jaw gaped as he stared down at the small mountain of guns. “What the fuck is this?”
“Nothing. You didn’t see anything.” Jake shoved everything back into the cabinet and locked it by feeding a small chain through the handles and fastening it with a padlock.
Mac knew Bruce was into guns, but never really believed that Jake had a hand in it. Until now. “What are you doing? Why are you involved in this? You’re going to end up in jail for a long time.”
“I don’t run guns. That’s my father’s business. That’s where the money is. He ain’t letting me in on that action.”
“Then why do you have a cabinet full of guns in your room?”
“Because he’s not here, and I’m in charge of them. It’s in my room so no one touches them.”
“What exactly are you into?” Mac demanded. “Why do you have so much money all the time? Drugs? Is it drugs? Because I don’t know which is worse, selling guns or selling drugs.”
“Don’t get involved. I told you. The less you know the better.”
“No. I have a right to know what you’re into. You’re in my life. If you want me to be part of your life, you gotta let me in. I’m tired of this. Always living just outside. You always gotta keep me at arms’ length. It’s bullshit. You said you wanted me to come here because you wanted me to see how you live. I’m here. And I’m seeing. You need to explain because I’m jumping to conclusions that I don’t like.”
Jake huffed out a breath. He struggled with indecision and paced around the room with his hands on his hips before he came to a stop and stared directly at Mac. “All right. I’ll tell you. But you gotta keep it quiet. I ain’t kidding.”
“Fine.”
“OK. Look. My old man runs guns. Always has. For as long as I can remember. You know that. Everybody knows that. I probably held my first gun before I was five.” Jake spread his arms to the side to indicate the luxurious home. “Guns pay for all of this.”
Fear turned Mac’s heart cold as he realized that Bruce probably planned on schooling Jake in the gun business. He stiffened, and his heartrate took off. Bruce probably already had Jake on board. His eyes shot to the money on the dresser. Gun money. Blood money.
“Close your mouth and put your eyes back in their fucking sockets. Guns are where the money is. Bruce won’t let me or my brothers touch it. We handle the shake down for money and run the bookie operation.”
“So, that’s gun money?” Mac flung his arm toward the dresser. “You’re not the one selling them, but you get a cut of the profits, right?”
“Wrong. Dead. Fucking. Wrong. I picked up money for him today, but that’s all his. My old man doesn’t share. He pays the mortgage and the bills. He puts food on the table. But I still gotta earn. We all do. And we gotta give him a cut. More like the other way around,” Jake grumbled. “He takes what we earn and gives us a cut. I run numbers. It’s not exactly legal, but no one gets hurt. Unless they try to stiff me for money.”
