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made him soft?
"Coke," said the thug.
From the corner of his eye, Noah watched the clock.
Seven minutes and counting.
The men remained silent until their beverages
arrived, then the brute stated, "You know why I'm here."
"Yes," Noah replied, forcing his hand to remain
steady while he took a draft of tea. Mustn't let them see
you sweat, a lesson he'd learned long ago. As
nonchalantly as possible, he sat the over-sweet beverage
down, making eye contact for the first time. Blue. The
Fallen Angel 59
man's eyes were blue. Noah studied his opponent at
length, in case he'd need a description later. "You're here
to tell me that if I approach Chip again you're gonna a:
burn down my house, b: burn down my business, c:
break my kneecaps."
The man threw back his head and laughed. To the
other diners they must appear friends, casually chatting.
"Someone's been watching too many bad gangster
flicks," he taunted, in a smooth accent Noah couldn't
place. Face hardening, the tough continued, "He's in no
danger, has everything he needs, and he's well cared for.
That's more than I can say for his last living
arrangement."
Yeah, it had taken a while, but Chip had finally
admitted to a less-than-stellar history, not that his
abused past shocked Noah, who'd experienced one hell
of a lot of ugliness in thirty years. "But what if he
doesn't like his current arrangement and wants
something more? Say, an education and career he can
actually stomach."
Mr. Tall, Cool, and Collected folded his hands
together on the table, the picture a man in control of his
universe. "He's new and has a lot to learn. In time, he'll
come to appreciate the opportunity I'm giving him."
In all his years of dealing with society's underbelly,
Noah hadn't come across this guy before. He wasn't as
crude and crass as some pimps Noah had dealt with back
in the day, though he lacked Willie Carnell's mystique
and shrewd business sense. No way would Willie meet
Noah on neutral ground. To maintain the upper hand,
Willie only met on his own terms, in his office or home.
This guy was small time, an opportunistic predator
taking advantage of a naive lover who had no money
and nowhere else to go. And perhaps worse, believed
sugar-coated, spoon-fed lies.
Eyes narrowed, Noah sized up his nemesis. "Chip
called me, said he wants out."
Danger lurked in a pair of wide-set sapphire eyes.
"Any other boy and I'd say, 'go for it.' Chip is a different
Fallen Angel 60
case. He's special." Ah& the pimp admitted to working
more hustlers.
"Why?" Noah peeked at the clock again. Four
minutes.
"This one is my personal property. He's not going
anywhere."
Did faint traces of affection or pure jealous
ownership prompt the words? "If he's yours, what's he
doing offered on at least three separate websites?" Chip
had only mentioned one, Noah guestimated the rest.
"Learning the ropes," the man replied without pause,
and without contradicting Noah's number. "He's mine,
but he still has a job to do and he understands that."
"If you're good to him, why's he trying to run?" The
barest hint of a growl colored Noah's tone.
The pimp glanced over Noah's head, superior smirk
snuffed out in an instant. "I guess our time's up, Mr.
Everett. To threaten is beneath me, and you too, I
imagine. You'd better watch your back, though; you
don't want to piss me off. Have a nice day." He rose
smoothly from the table, nodding at the backup who'd
come to Noah's rescue a few minutes too soon. Strolling
casually outside, the pimp crossed the parking lot and
got into the back seat of the car Chip had crawled into.
The vehicle pulled away from the curb, disappearing
into city traffic.
"You okay?" Kevin asked, flanked by two equally
new, less street savvy members of Cook's Cause.
"Yeah, I'm okay," Noah replied, wishing he could say
the same about the kid who currently sat in that car in
the presence of an angry pimp. He wondered what to
write on his report, missing the days when he'd simply
call and tell Doc, "I blew it."
If given half a chance, he'd put the teary-eyed young
man on a bus out of the city, a fact he didn't intend to
file away in any records. The matter wasn't closed until
the words came from Chip's mouth, free of any
coercion.
***
Fallen Angel 61
When Noah pulled up to the school's pickup zone for
the last time, Jeremy seemed more relaxed and happy
than he'd been in a long time. Noah took the opportunity
to breach the subject of Lark. "Remember how you were
worried about Lark?"
"Uh-huh?"
Jeremy's face went from relaxed to wary in a split-
second, and Noah regretted saying anything -- too late to
take the words back. "He's checked in at Fairview."
"Fairview? What's Fairview?"
Sometimes Noah forgot how little Jeremy knew
about the city, even having lived there for years. "Rehab.
He's getting help."
The sun emerged from behind the clouds with [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]