I could picture Diamond Tony smiling.
Andre down, check.
New suppliers, check.
Saturday morning I felt so depressed that I didn’t want to get out of bed. It killed me that I might’ve had something to do with Tony’s good fortune. If I hadn’t tipped off Prescott about Pup or the Cash Stop, all of this might’ve played out differently.
My phone rang, and Jessica’s number came up. I couldn’t talk to her, not now.
I called White Chris. An hour later, I met him at Local’s. When I got to the table, he did something he never did. I mean, never.
“What was that for?”
White Chris sat down and looked at me over his basket of chicken wings. “I heard about the cop getting killed. I’m glad it wasn’t you.”
“Me too.” It felt wrong saying it. Prescott’s only mistake had been putting himself out there in front of the cameras, bringing all that attention to himself. If anyone was setting themselves up to get killed, it was me. Yet I was still living and breathing.
“I was his informant,” I whispered.
White Chris’s eyes widened.
“I’m in touch with his partner now. I told her that Tony is framing Andre of the South Side Bloods for the murder.”
“So killing that cop was all part of his master plan.”
“Right. The cops aren’t listening to her, though. They’re still going to charge Andre. Turns out he’s got plenty of reasons to want Prescott dead. Prescott’s been a pain in the ass to the Bloods for years. He even charged Andre a couple of years ago, but Andre got off on a technicality.”
“Typical. The cops have to put someone away, even if he’s not the real killer.”
“And now Tony’s hooked into the Bloods’ suppliers. I don’t know how he did it. He got everything he wanted. Revenge, supply, everything.” I put up a hand. “Don’t say ‘I told you, he’s smarter than you.’ Just don’t.”
“I won’t. It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is what you do next.”
“You think I should get out.”
“I thought you should before. Now I know you should. Tony killed a cop, Darren. And not just any cop—your contact. That means he could’ve seen him meet with you.”
“If he had, I’d be dead by now,” I said. But it was still there, the gnawing fear in the pit of my stomach.
“For the first time in your life, you’re a lucky bastard. Now get the hell out.” He violently bit into a chicken wing to emphasize the point. “Look, if I saw you standing in the middle of the road with a Mack truck headed for you, I’d—”
“Okay.”
He blinked. “Did you just say Okay?”
I was shocked, too. I couldn’t quit. I’d come too far, seen too much. And now there was Prescott to avenge.
But none of that changed one simple fact: White Chris was right. I had to get out while I still could.
I knew what it meant to say I was getting out. It meant that I’d failed. It meant that everything I’d worked to achieve in the past few months had been a waste.
But it was like we’d learned in economics class—everybody has to have a point when you get out at all cost, no matter how much you’ve lost. A point where you save whatever assets you have left.
Even if the only asset you have left is your life.
“You’re right,” I said. “About everything. Now I have to figure out how to do it. Most people don’t up and quit, especially with all the shit going down these days.”
“Keep it simple. You can say that your mom heard about your dealing and threatened to kick you out.”
I thought about it and nodded.
“You’re doing the right thing, Darren.”
But I wasn’t sure that jumping ship and saving myself was the right thing. I only knew I wasn’t ready to give up my life for this. Maybe my dad could do that, could give up his life for some cause bigger than he was. But I couldn’t. I wasn’t going to leave Kiki to grow up without me.
I didn’t care what the right thing was anymore. I wanted to stay alive.
My Dad
My dad fought to keep the peace
And died a victim of war
Of him in his uniform
Growing up I needed
My dad, someone wise
Now I got no memories
None to love or to despise
A boy needs his dad
To show him the right way
How to handle the streets
And what game not to play
One picture’s all I have
Of my dad, of my dad
One picture’s all I have
And it’s never been enough.