West End Girls Read Online Free Page B

to show it. She didn’t know much about being cool, but she knew showing how scared she was definitely wasn’t.
    â€œWell, this ain’t the way to get it, blowing up the damn house! Shit, the gouda was probably in the housssse !” Malcolm reasoned, using his comedic edge. He pointed at the rubble. “Now it’s all burnt up!”
    Sinclair wanted to laugh. Malcolm was crazy as hell when he wanted to be. Comedy was his gift, but what he wanted more than anything was to be a thug. Even now he was wearing his pants sagging on his thick hips with his wife-beater showing under his unbuttoned crisply ironed white shirt. She’d not seen him in over a month, since Debonair got locked up. Finals had kinda taken up her time before that. So, yeah, she’d been out of touch for a while now. Malcolm lost a little weight, but still she could see his round face. Brown-skinned with soft features like his mother, he was a little too sensitive to run with the dudes from the local clique and way too funny to be taken seriously.
    After they watched the professionals at work for a moment or two longer, Sinclair said, “What a crazy summer this has been.”
    â€œTrue dat. I’m almost glad it’s over. Where you gonna stay?”
    â€œUnique’s, no doubt.”
    Malcolm looked her over from head to toe. She was dirty and raggedy-looking and could see the sadness in his eyes. It was as if he knew she was unhappy being down like this. She usually looked her best when he saw her, but times were changing, and it’d been a while since they’d played together. Yes, it had been a summer worth forgetting, and now, with all her life up in the air, literally, she had no choice but to forget.
    â€œShe still stay in the same place?”
    â€œYeah.” Sinclair looked over her shoulder again at the firemen’s hoses spraying the houses and the police officers asking questions. One cop was heading over in their direction now.
    â€œI’ll try to make it out there later then. I’ma find out who did this and take care of it,” Malcolm said, sounding tough and ready to rumble. He quickly left the area.
    Malcolm liked to pretend he had a problem with the law. He didn’t. His brothers and cousins did, but he was square, sweet, and never got in any trouble. Too bad Sinclair couldn’t say the same about herself anymore. She was in trouble and didn’t even know how it happened. And, by the looks of things, she was in deep.
    â€œHello, Ms. Nation. Wow! Your house got blown up today. Can we talk about it?” The black police officer sounded as white as the center of an Oreo cookie, and condescending as hell.
    It was surprising that he was interested at all, or even just pretended to be, because no white blood had been spilt today. In fact, Sinclair was actually surprised to see so many county workers still here, being it was after five and all.
    After answering questions that sounded more like threats of criminal charges for torching her own house, Sinclair and Unique got a police escort to the West End, where Unique lived.
    â€œWe’ll be in touch,” the officer said, not sounding friendly or caring at all.
    â€œSo who blew the house up?” Unique’s son, asked. Sinclair thought to herself, You’re only ten but nosy as all get out . She didn’t get around to asking him why he was in the P today. “What choo gon’ do about it?” she asked instead. The shower felt great, and so did Unique’s good-smelling robe. Being clean was an amazing feeling, after being dirty for four or five days.
    â€œNo lights, no hot water? My God, Sinclair, how long it been like that? Why didn’t you call me?” Unique asked, her coffee-colored orbs blazing.
    Unique had been on the phone since the moment they walked in the house, calling insurance companies looking for the one that might have carried a policy in their mother’s name. But none