Marcus Robinson studied his leader’s walk. It was a slow, powerful thing. Head up, shoulders rolling.
“He’s coming,” James said.
It was late afternoon on the West Side. Marcus and his brother were sitting in the backseat of a locked SUV. Jace had told them to chill and taken the keys. Now Ray Sampson moved closer and released the locks on the doors. He tapped lightly on the window. Marcus popped the door open.
“Feelin’ special, Little Man?”
Marcus bumped fists with his boss. He’d unloaded the gun he used to kill the Korean the day before and had the piece tucked inside his jacket. The bullets felt like cold lumps in his pocket.
“Take a walk?” Ray Ray said.
James tugged at his brother’s arm, but Marcus shook free. Ray Ray led him across the street and down an alley, past more cars, windows tinted, threads of white smoke leaking from tailpipes. Marcus could feel the eyes on him, hear the doors open and close after he’d gone by. They walked to the shunted-off end of the alley, just short of a scrap of fencing.
“What you doing, Little Man?” Ray Ray tiptoed his fingers along the fence as he spoke.
“Getting ready to roll.”
“You got any idea what for?”
“Jace said you’d tell us.”
Ray Ray nodded and held out his hand. “Let me see the gat.”
Marcus passed over his gun without a word. Ray Ray stuck it in his jacket pocket. Behind them, the ranks of the Fours pressed close, heads and shoulders blotting out the sky, watching, waiting to see what their boss was gonna do.
“Where you get it, Little Man?”
Marcus told him.
“Tell me again about Cecil.”
Marcus repeated his story. How Cecil had his gun on the white dude in Lee’s store when a second guy came out of the cellar. It was the second guy who shot Cecil, then took a couple more pops at the Robinson brothers. After that, the two white guys ran.
“That it, huh?”
“That’s it.” Marcus knew the story was weak. He also knew Ray Ray didn’t have a body to check. And didn’t really give a damn about Cecil, anyway.
The Fours’ leader pulled his own heavy gun from his belt and held it in both hands. “Now tell me why you shot the Korean.”
Marcus didn’t know how he knew. And didn’t bother to deny it. “He owed me.”
“You doin’ business with the Korean?”
“I helped him with some stuff.”
“You see the dope in his place?”
Marcus shook his head, and left it at that.
“What you take out of there?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t make no sense, Little Man.” Ray Ray dropped the piece to his side and tapped it against his leg. Marcus felt a twist in his belly, and hated it.
“I was going to take the boxes we saw in the cellar.”
“What was in them?”
“I don’t know. Whatever they were, I figured I’d sell ’em.”
“Rather than let me get my hands on them?”
Marcus nodded. Ray Ray slipped the gun back in his belt. “Go ahead.”
“I did the Korean in the afternoon. Was getting ready to move them boxes with a forklift when the motherfucker jumps in.”
“Who?”
“Tall, white. Wore a long coat.”
“Not the two you saw later?”
“Don’t think so.”
“How come you don’t know?”
“This guy was wearing a mask.”
Ray Ray pulled a black mask from under his coat. “Like this?”
Marcus nodded and didn’t think anything of it. “Took a shot at me in the cellar. I got out through the tunnels.”
“And that’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“So you telling me this other white guy-he took my dope?”
Marcus shrugged.
“You ever gonna come clean on any of this, Little Man?”
“If I thought it helped you find the dope, I would’ve.”
Ray Ray sighed, then leaned down so he was almost eye level with Marcus. “Which hand you shoot with?”
Marcus held up his right. Ray Ray studied it like he’d never seen one quite like it. He straightened and walked along the fence line, kicking at the ground with his boot. He came back carrying a chunk of concrete.
“Over here.”
Ray Ray led Marcus to a pad of cement that was broken up at the edges, but smooth enough. He laid the boy on his belly, left hand flat on the pavement. The crowd of bangers re-formed around them.
“Spread your fingers.”
Marcus did.
“In Ireland they call this breeze blocking.” Ray Ray waited for someone to be impressed. Marcus didn’t have much to say. Ray Ray lifted the piece of concrete in his fist. “You move, I use the gun.”
Marcus turned his head to one side. Ray Ray brought the concrete down in one solid chunk, crushing the ring and pinkie fingers. Marcus screamed but didn’t cry. Ray Ray lifted the rock up, took a look at the damage, and tossed the rock away.
“Go on back now.”
Ray Ray handed him his gun. Marcus took it in his right hand, cradling his left against his stomach. His legs felt wobbly. Someone grabbed his elbow. It was James. They were twenty feet down the alley when Ray Ray called out.
“Little Man?”
Marcus turned.
“You still good for shooting a pump?”
Marcus nodded.
“Jace.”
The shooter stepped out of a doorway. He carried a black pistol in one hand.
“Time comes, make sure Little Man here gets himself a shotgun and a bucket full of shells.”
Ray Ray turned away, and Marcus walked out of the alley alive. A surprise to everyone. No one more so than Marcus himself.