Black Alley Read Online Free Page B

says to the two Haitians, “What are you doing with that stuff?”
    For a moment, the two young Haitian boys look at each other. Come on, Ketcia, one of them stammers. Doesn’t she get it? These two Latinos broke into CB’s locker!
    CB waves his hand at the two Latinos to call them forward. They walk towards him and Pato can finally make him out. He’s always surprised to see how gentle his features look, and how unmuscular he is. The distrust he inspires comes from his slow, calculated movements. CB also motions for the two Hatians with them to approach: sa k pase ? He speaks very little, listens to them, his face expressionless and, from time to time, with his hand, asks them to repeat or provide more details. Finally, he raises his thumb and says goodbye, and the two Haitians leave, visibly upset at being unable to stay.
    Pato keeps telling himself he should have handed over the condor to the Haitians as soon as he got caught by the lockers. If he takes it out now, CB will want to know why he didn’t give it back sooner and he’ll get suspicious. He’ll think he stole other things, too, and will get mad. His brother and Flaco have told him lots of stories about fights with CB. The guy fights like an animal. Yes, it’s better to keep quiet. But . . . he can’t feel the chain
anymore! Has it fallen? Casually, he looks at the ground: he doesn’t see it. He spreads his legs: finally, he can feel it. Could it fall?
    CB leans towards them, places his elbows on his thighs. He examines them from top to bottom, like police officers do.
    â€œI have to admit, it wasn’t such a bad idea to rob me during Barbeau’s speech. Let’s even say I think it was pretty clever. Especially for a couple of wusses like you.”
    Nonchalantly, he begins to applaud them. Ketcia and the other three Haitians standing behind CB burst out laughing. After a minute, CB slowly raises his hand and a lethal silence falls over them.
    â€œListen to me carefully, you guys,” CB continues. “If you treat me right, I’ll treat you right. But watch out, no bullshit.”
    He snaps his fingers and immediately one of the Haitians leans in towards him. There follows a short, whispered exchange in Creole. All Pato can make out is the name of the boy, Mixon, and he remembers a story his brother told about him. Once, in class, he fell asleep during an exam and the teacher had to wake him up. He picked up the kid’s paper and held it up by the tips of his fingers: it was dripping with saliva. Mixon rummages around in a cooler, takes out two Popsicles and hands one each to him and Alfonso. Surprised, they remain motionless for a moment, their Popsicles in their hands, not daring to unwrap them. CB motions towards them with his chin, and they hurriedly rip open the paper and start to lick the red ice.
    â€œTell me one thing,” CB asks, fixing his eyes on Pato. “Was it your brother’s idea to rob me?”
    â€œNo. Lalo had nothing to do with it. I swear.”
    â€œThen it was Flaco’s idea?”
    â€œNot his either. I swear.”
    â€œThen it was your idea?”
    Since Pato remains silent, CB slumps back down in his chair.
    â€œI think I see what you’re up to, you little wuss. You wanted Latino Power to accept you, right? You wanted to show them you
could pull off a robbery like a big boy. And what could be better than robbing the leader of the Bad Boys, right? I already said it once, but I’ll tell you again, you’re a pretty clever guy.”
    Behind CB, a wave of sniggering immediately dies out.
    â€œWhat else did you take from me?”
    What if they decide to search me? wonders Pato. What if they tie me to a tree? What if they beat me like a dog and then abandon me there?
    â€œNothing else,” he hears himself say. “I swear.”
    â€œYou swear a little too much for my taste, wuss. In my opinion, that means one of two things. Either