All this time, I’d thought I couldn’t get a job because of my record. And for sure, my conviction played a role in it. But Mary hooped me. She bad-mouthed me to potential employers, and why? To get me to work with Kevin.
They need good kids who’ve made dumb mistakes. Kevin said he wanted my type for the ring because we wouldn’t be involved for long. What a load. He wants kids like me because we give him plausible deniability.
If he used some cranked-up kid who was always in trouble with the law, when things went wrong Kevin would look like the idiot. “How could you not have seen it?” people would ask. But—but—when he uses a first offender from a relatively good background, he looks like a saint. The kid looks like the sinner.
Kevin and I get to the front of the line, put in our order and collect the food. When we’re back in the truck, I ask, “How long have you been doing this?”
“Picking up food for my employees? Since forever.”
“No. The other stuff.”
He shoots me an amused smile as he eases the truck from the parking spot and onto the road. “What other stuff?”
I figure he’s playing coy. Two can play. “Your business.”
Another amused smile. “You got your phone on Record?”
I shake my head. “You’re too smart for that.”
The corner of his mouth pulls up. “You’re right about that.”
“So? How long?”
We’re at a red light, and he holds out his hand. “Phone.”
I shrug. “I’m not the liar.” I hand him the phone. “You are.”
He takes the phone, glances down and shuts it off. Then he reaches into the center console, pulls out a small black box and aims it at me. When nothing happens, he says, “Just checking.”
“Thought I was wearing a wire?”
“Or a second phone.” He shoves the device into the console. The light goes green, and he turns his attention back to the road. “Can’t be too careful.”
“Told you, I’m not the liar.”
“No. You’re just the moron who took the bait from a racist and jacked a car.”
I hide my anger and say, “Can’t argue that. Back to the original question. How long have you been in business?”
“Why do you care?”
I don’t—not really. But I don’t have a real plan on how to get him. Yet. I figure getting him talking and doing it with no agenda—no recording device, no tricks to get him to confess—will mess with him a little. Maybe it will also downgrade me in his eyes. If he thinks I’m dumber than I look, maybe he’ll give me the foothold I need. Anyway, it can’t be too bad an idea to get some background. Who knows when it’ll come in handy?
“I care because you screwed me over,” I say. “And you did it like I was a chump.”
“You are a chump. Eager to prove yourself to those around you, eager to please the people in your life. That’s why you got into trouble in the first place, right? If you hadn’t cared about that numb-nuts, you wouldn’t have taken his stupid bait and fallen into his trap.” Kevin snorts. “In the grand scheme of things that moron didn’t even matter, but you cared, and look where it’s gotten you.”
The truth hurts, and coming from this guy, it stings.
“You gotta look out for number one,” says Kevin. “Or else you’ll never be anything but a loser.”
I want to point out the irony of his calling me a loser. But it’ll put him on alert, remind him I have brains in my head.
“Look.” His tone is comforting, and it makes my skin itch. “This isn’t forever. You do your stint with me, Mary clears your probation, and you’re done.”
Bull. No way these clowns let you off once they have their hooks in you. “Wish I could believe that.”
“You see any twentysomething-yearold dropouts working for me?”
“No,” I say as my brain does the math. If he’s talking about guys in their mid-twenties, then he’s been doing this for five to ten years. Okay. My mind goes dead on what to do with this information.
If Tiffany were here, she’d know exactly what to do. She loves mysteries and tech crap. She’d get all my friends together and pull off some kind of sting. Except she’s not here.
But my friends are.
The tightness in my chest loosens. Right now, Kevin and Mary need me. Which means I’ve got a little room to wiggle. If I’m smart about it, maybe I can connect with my buddies, get some help on this. I lean back, look out the windshield and start the countdown for the end of the day.
As soon as work’s done, I get out of there. I head to Shaw Millennium Park. It’s our place to hang during summer. The skate park’s crowded. I feel a rush at the sound of wheels on concrete and the cheers and jeers of the boarders. I miss my crew, miss catching air and carving. Miss nailing a trick. Miss feeling normal.
I scan the crowd for my buddies. Smile when I see Wheezer’s fauxhawk. Just as I’m heading over, my phone rings. I pull it out, figuring it’s Mom. “Yeah?”
“Javvan. Where are you?”
I freeze at the sound of Mary’s voice. “What do you want? It’s not time for my check-in.”
“It’s always time for your check-in.” She pauses. “Where are you?”
“Downtown.”
“Where downtown?”
“West side?”
“You wouldn’t happen to be at the skate park, would you?”
My throat’s immobile. I can’t make a sound. For a mad second I think she’s followed me. Then I realize she can probably hear the noise of the park. I find my voice again. “I’m walking by it. Heading to Eau Claire Market.”
“That’s a half-hour walk,” she says. “Why didn’t you take the bus directly there?”
“I meant to, but I guess it’s force of habit—got off at the wrong stop.” I stop myself before I start babbling. Liars always talk too much.
“Watch your habits,” she says. “I’d hate to see them lead you down the wrong path.”
I flip the phone shut. Consider my options. Right now, there aren’t any. It was stupid to answer the phone, but that’s what happens when your dad won’t spring for caller id. But his decision has screwed me up. I can’t risk asking my buddies for help. Mary’s onto me, which means I must have tweaked Kevin’s radar in the truck. Doubly stupid.
I catch sight of Wheezer. He’s watching me. He lifts his hand in salute. I wave back, then keep walking.