I Kill Monsters: The Revenants (Book 2) Read Online Free Page A

“Shorties’
Torell’s brother.”
    “Yeah, well, fuck that Torell nigga.” Yuri’s
peanut head poked out the top of his counterfeit Karl Kani t-shirt.
“And fuck you too, shorty.” DeAndre bending down to pick up his
book, Yuri calling him shorty. “Yeah, what chew lookin’ at? What ?”
    DeAndre deciding discretion the better part
of valor in this particular situation and he walked away, his book
pressed to his chest in both hands.
    Yuri calling after him, “Betta have my dolla
I see yo’ ass later.”
    Luke calling after him, telling him tell
Terry he’d stop by later to chill.
    DeAndre tried to control his breathing, not
about to let them see him shaking. Forced himself to walk off, not
run. DeAndre couldn’t and wouldn’t kid himself. He wasn’t like
these other boys. And he didn’t want to be.
    Days like this, DeAndre Watkins felt the
streetest thing about him was his name.
    Lost in his thoughts, clutching his book,
DeAndre wasn’t paying attention to what was right in front of him
and almost walked into the man.
    “Wuz’ up, DeAndre?” Dodd was in his thirties,
a hard man recently back from prison. Dodd wore a black denim
jacket over black jeans, his face bearded with short kinky hair.
Dodd one of the few older folk who called DeAndre by his name and
didn’t try and stick some nickname on him, call him shorty or son .
    DeAndre believing he’d heard once that Dodd
was some kind of friend of his momma’s.
    Like Old Toke.
    DeAndre nodded to the man, walking past, Dodd
saying to him, “That bullet-headed nigga mess with you—” meaning
Yuri “—you come tell me, hear?”
    Still walking, DeAndre turned his head and
nodded again, then turned back around where Dodd couldn’t see his
tears. He headed home.
    Dodd walked up to the three young men on the
street, little more than kids themselves. He ignored the short one
in the counterfeit t-shirt who’d knocked the book out of the kid’s
hands, ignored him for the moment. He addressed the tallest and
toughest looking one, cat wearing his shades on top of his head.
“What ya’ll messin’ with that kid for?”
    “We aight,” Yuri went to speak up, Dodd
saying “I ain’t talkin’ to you” without looking at him. Dodd still
staring down the tall one, the kid looking at the ground, drawing
his lower lip over his upper.
    “It’s like he said,” the one with the bun
said. “We aight.”
    The leader.
    “We just toughenin’ him up is all.” The tall
one said looking down.
    “You is, is you? What you know ‘bout tough?
Who hit your face?”
    Marquis sputtered, going to say something
about Dominicans from up out of Washington Heights, but Luke was
speaking with the man, speaking of DeAndre, “He ain’t got no daddy
is all—” the man cutting Luke off with a pointed finger, with “And
you ain’t his daddy, hear?” Dodd’s tone shutting Luke up, Marquis
shifting his weight anxiously from one foot to the other.
    “ Toughen him up ,” Dodd
said it with disgust, staring at Marquis again, Marquis still
looking at the street. “Toughen him up. Oh, you is, is you? What’s
that—” reaching to cup his own ear the way old people might, “speak
up son.”
    Marquis with his bruised face muttering
something about you should have seen the other motherfuckers.
    Dodd exasperated but in control. He was a
man, after all, and these were just boys. And he’d come here for
more than just a reprimand. So he got to it.
    “Either you niggas know how to drive? I’m
lookin’ for a nigga want to make a little extra cheddar.”
    The short one with the little head
volunteered, a little too fast for Dodd. “How ‘bout you?” He asked
Luke.
    “Me?”
    “Yeah. Can you drive?”
    “Word.”
    “Okay then. We gonna talk, little later on,
you and me.”
    “Yo, what about me?”
    “ What about you nigga?” Dodd
asked him and Yuri had nothing to say to that.
    The hard man in the denim suit walked away
from the three boys. Marquis stood there prodding