It was just before dawn when the lights popped on in the basement, waking Seth and startling Maggie, who had been up all night worrying. John William opened Maggie’s kennel, and she rushed over to Seth, who looked pathetic with his small arms extended through the chain link toward her. He was whimpering like a small puppy. She moved in as close as she could to comfort him.
“Get the hell out of the way, you whore. I need to open his kennel,” John William said.
Together at last, Maggie hugged Seth close as they walked up the basement stairs for the last time. In the kitchen, standing next to Myles, was Rock. He was over six feet tall, and his arms were crossed over his massive chest in a threatening stance. Rock wore his hair long, combing it back with a greasy hair-care product. He had a full beard and a mustache. He was one of the most dangerous people in Kensington, where he lived and did all of his business. Rock was the biggest drug dealer and pimp in the area surrounding Center City, Philadelphia.
He got the nickname Rock when he was in his late teens and started pushing crack cocaine, or “cookie,” on the streets. He looked every bit the picture of a man involved in a shady business. He patrolled Kensington Avenue regularly, keeping a close eye on his street dealers and whores, and was always on the lookout for young people to make money for him.
Rock was infamous for strong-arming people into doing what he wanted. Since he controlled most of the drug pushers and prostitutes in the area, he had any number of people at his beck and call. His reach was endless.
Maggie and Seth had fallen into the hands of one of the most ruthless men in Philadelphia. He showed no tolerance for disobedience and had high expectations for the people he considered his property. The fourteen-year-old and the seven-year-old stood before him, waiting to hear what would happen to them next.
“Let’s go,” Rock said to Maggie. “I wanna get you back to town so you can start makin’ me some money.” Then he glared at Seth. “You comin’, too.”
Seth squeezed Maggie’s hand tighter as they followed Rock out to his car. The sky was clear that morning, and Maggie looked back toward the bushes where Cali lay dead in her cage at the bottom of the pool. Her eyes brimmed with tears as the great loss tugged at her heart.
“Listen, girl. Don’t be doin’ none of that cryin’ shit, ya hear? I ain’t got no time for that. Get the fuck in the car so I can get your sorry ass back to where you gonna be livin’,” Rock demanded.
The kids slid into the backseat of a black sedan. The windows were heavily tinted, making it impossible for anyone to see into the car. Rock sped out of the driveway and eased onto a country road. Rap music was blaring. Seth was sitting so close to Maggie that if he got any closer, their hips would fuse together. Seth was seeing the outside world for the first time in his life that he could remember. His memories from before he was taken by John William were nonexistent, and now, with so much whizzing by the window, he was overstimulated and on the verge of panic.
After forty-five minutes, Rock turned off a highway and onto Kensington Avenue. They drove under a massive steel structure that ran the length of the street as far as they could see. Maggie would soon find out that the seemingly endless, prehistoric-looking steel centipede was the Market-Frankford Line of the subway that was elevated above the ground. Under the El, which the locals had nicknamed the structure, the streets were cluttered with prostitutes and drug addicts.
Maggie couldn’t peel her eyes away from the young girls; many were just a little older than she was, and some looked younger. They wore skimpy outfits, and when they noticed Rock’s car, fear stirred on their faces. They tried to appear to be working hard to find customers. Girls leaned into cars and talked with scruffy men who skulked on the sidewalks. Maggie didn’t know that she was looking at her own future.
Rock drove to the edge of Kensington and parked in front of a large twin home. He turned to the backseat. “We’re home. Your mama is waiting for ya inside. Don’t ya go givin’ her a hard time, either, or I swear I’ll kick your ass.”
Seth clung tighter to Maggie. Rock gave her a threatening glare.
“Come on, Seth. We need to do what…” Maggie stopped short, realizing that she didn’t know the man’s name.
As if he was able to read her mind, he said, “Rock. My name is Rock. That’s what you call me.”
“We need to do what Rock says,” she coaxed.
Seth silently followed Maggie and Rock into the house. They stood just inside the front door. The living room to the left was massive and in need of fresh paint and new carpet. A black leather sofa and matching chair faced a television. Empty beer bottles and overflowing ashtrays covered black-lacquered end tables. Stale cigarette smoke hung in the air, and their nostrils filled with an acidy mixture of booze, smoke, and body odor. The dark, velvet drapes were shut tight, keeping out any natural light. To their right was a dining room that had been made into Rock’s office. Six mismatched chairs surrounded a large table, on the middle of which sat a telephone and a handgun. Maggie cringed when she spotted the gun. She wondered if they would sleep in one of the bedrooms on the second floor, an option that gave her a tiny sliver of hope.
“Come on,” Rock said.
They followed him down a narrow hallway that opened into a kitchen. Dirty dishes were strewn on the worn, red, Formica countertop. In one corner, a heavy, black woman sat at a patio table. She looked up from her coffee and jumped to her feet. “Oh baby, you really meant it. You brought me a son,” she gushed, rushing over to Seth.
Seth pulled away from her, locking his arms around Maggie’s waist. Rock’s wife, Thelma, didn’t take kindly to his reaction. “What the fuck, Rock? I thought you said you was bringin’ me home a new son. He ain’t acting like no son of mine,” she barked.
Rock grabbed the back of Seth’s neck and squeezed hard. “Go say hello to your momma, boy. This ain’t the way ya wanna get started with her,” he said, seething.
Rock loved Thelma. They had been together from the time they were fifteen. In fact, Thelma’s father, Jackie, was the drug kingpin in Philadelphia until he was murdered. Jackie ran the black mafia and had taken Rock under his wing to be certain his daughter would have stability.
Jackie had set Rock up as a dealer in Kensington and had never allowed him to be a part of the mafia. By the time Rock and Thelma were twenty, they had expanded into prostitution. Thelma’s father had set the couple up in business, and Rock’s loyalty to her was unbreakable.
In the ten years since her father’s murder, Thelma had slowly become a recluse. She was a heavy drug user, something she had promised her father she’d never be. Now she was a full-blown, drug-using agoraphobic and never left the house for anything. The walls of her home defined her world, a rather lonely one. She had tried for many years to get pregnant, and after she and Rock accepted that it would never happen, Rock began to bring young children home for her to raise until they were old enough to use as prostitutes or drug runners. It had been over two years since Thelma had a child.
Unfortunately for the children, brutal, murderous parents had raised Thelma. She lacked patience and compassion for children who didn’t act exactly as she demanded.
“Come over here to me,” Thelma said in serious tone.
Maggie moved toward Thelma with Seth at her side. “It’s all right, Seth. This is our new mom,” she reassured him, fighting back the creepy feeling she had in her gut.
“Our new mom?” Thelma shrieked. “Who the hell are you talking about, fool? I ain’t a mamma of no whore. You lucky I lettin’ you be in my house right now. You ain’t livin’ here, girl. The boy is, but you ain’t, you filthy bitch,” Thelma said heatedly.
But then, what will happen to me? Maggie’s thoughts silently screamed inside her head.