Over the next week, I did some creeping around the Cash Stop and snapped a few shots with my phone. Since Biggie worked across the street at Artie’s Pizza, there was nothing suspicious about me dropping in for a slice of Meatlover’s.
It didn’t take a genius to see there was strange stuff going on. Random people came and went from the back of the store at weird times of day and night. I spotted executives there only once, while I was eating pizza on a stool in front of the window. Marcus and two of Diamond Tony’s security guys went in through a back door and drove off in an Escalade several minutes later.
None of it was hard intel, but it was enough to pass on to Prescott. He sounded excited by the tip, and told me it could be the missing puzzle piece he’d been looking for. I felt good about that.
So good I even offered to help Mom with Sunday dinner. She rarely cooked unless there was someone to impress—today Tasha’s new boyfriend, George, was coming over. The menu was chicken thighs, Stove Top stuffing, yams, garlic mash, and all that good stuff. Mom made me peel a three-pound bag of apples for apple crisp. I didn’t mind, especially because it was my favorite dessert, and Kiki’s, too.
Mom cooked in her Sunday sweats, but her hair and makeup were done already in case our guest came early. Nothing upset Mom more than to be caught without her “face” on. What amazed me was that she could prepare vegetables without ruining her crazy-long pink nails.
“So how’s school going?” Mom asked, rolling up her sleeves and mashing some potatoes.
The question startled me. She wasn’t the type to ask questions. She let me do my thing.
“Fine. Aced my last test.”
“That’s my baby boy.” She beamed with pride.
If I were lying, she wouldn’t know it. She certainly hadn’t in the past. Mom never asked to see my report cards or talked to my teachers. She was one of ten children, all raised by my nana. From what I’d heard, Nana let her kids do what they wanted—they just had to be home at mealtimes if they wanted to be fed. Mom didn’t even live up to that.
When I was finished peeling the apples, I plunked down on the couch. Tasha was watching some Hollywood news show and eyed me suspiciously. She knew what I was going to say.
“We’re not watching a game, baby boy,” she said, pointing at me with the remote. “No. Way.”
“But it’s the Colts against the Packers. C’mon, Tash. The game’s half over by now.”
“I don’t care if it’s got ten seconds left. It’s boring. The same teams play each other over and over. What’s the point?”
“It’s about strategy. You could have the most skilled players in the world, but if they don’t know how to psych out the other team, how to anticipate their next move, they’re done.”
She wasn’t listening.
“Your show is mind-numbing crap,” I said. That got her attention. “I think Kiki should settle this.” Kiki was buzzing around the room with his toy cars, swerving them over furniture and crashing them into each other. “Yo, Kiki, what do you think? Should we watch this show, or watch the game?”
“Game!” Kiki’s face lit up. “The game!”
Tasha scowled. “Gimme a break. He just likes the word ‘game.’ I’m not changing it.” She turned up the volume. “I want to hear this part.”
It was something about Angelina Jolie adopting another kid. Who cares?
“Even in juvie I got to watch a game now and then,” I muttered.
I was tempted to go to my room and watch online, but I didn’t want to hole up in my room today. So I got down on the floor to play with Kiki.
Tasha’s boyfriend, George, arrived at six sharp. He was an okay guy. They’d met at U of T, where Tasha was studying psychology and he studied math. Mom seemed to think anyone who majored in math had to be brilliant. George would probably end up a teacher, but Mom acted like Tasha had landed a CEO.
Maybe Mom should find herself a George instead of wasting time with losers. Then again, maybe she couldn’t land one. She was always complaining about the “slim pickings” out there. Kiki’s father had seemed promising for a while, until Mom found out he had another girlfriend. Forget about tracking him down for child support. Last we’d heard, he’d moved back to the Caribbean.
Dinner was good. I made sure to load my plate up high, a habit from juvie, where you didn’t get to go back for seconds. Just the thought of juvie made me tense. I shrugged it off and focused on Kiki, who always put a smile on my face. He had this habit of secretly stashing food he didn’t like under him, which was why the butt of his pants was always covered in squashed food. I spotted him hiding some bits of chicken and gave him a wink.
I looked around the table at my family and suddenly thought of Jessica. For a second, I pictured what it would be like if she were here having dinner with us.
It could still happen, Jessica and me. But first I had to finish what I started. If Prescott’s raid of the Cash Stop went as planned, my work would be done. I could gradually pull away from the game and focus on what I really wanted in my life—music, school, Jessica.
Then I would really be free.