“This one’s dangerous,” Scar-Face observed. “We’ll have to take his teeth out. Want to do it now or wait till we get home?”
Horribly, Javier was reminded of an old Bugs Bunny cartoon he’d watched as a child. Elmer Fudd was hunting Bugs, but the wascally wabbit had convinced the hapless hunter to shoot at Daffy Duck instead. What followed was a routine in which Bugs had asked, “Would you like to shoot him now or wait till you get home?” Despite his terror, despite his pain, even despite the feel of his own warm blood trickling down his wrists like syrup, Javier grinned at the absurd memory.
“We’ll wait,” Scug said. He climbed off Javier and motioned for the females to do the same. Freed of the weight, Javier drew a deep breath. His chest hitched.
Scug slapped Javier again. “On your feet now. Don’t make me ask twice. If you do, I’ll cut off your pecker and stick it in your mouth to wipe that stupid grin off your face—bleeding out or no. Bet it would be the first man-chew you’ve ever had, huh?”
Something in the man’s tone told Javier that Scug wasn’t exaggerating. He would do that very thing. Javier didn’t know what the bizarre term “man-chew” meant, but the rest of the lunatic’s intent was crystal clear. Groaning, Javier slowly got to his feet. Each of the women seized one of his arms, and with Scug leading the way, they marched him into the darkness.
SIXTEEN
Leo and Dookie both leaned against the door, their ears pressed to the rough wooden surface, listening intently.
“Still don’t hear anything,” Dookie said. “It’s all quiet and shit. If they’re in there, then they ain’t talking.”
Mr. Watkins nodded. “I just wish we knew for sure before we go kicking that door down. I didn’t tell you boys before, but earlier, while you were checking the windows, I could have sworn that somebody was watching us through the peephole.”
“Did you see them?” Leo asked.
“No, I didn’t see anything. It was more of an impression. I felt them standing there, you know?”
Chuckling, Markus elbowed Chris in the ribs and whispered, “Mr. Watkins is all psychic and shit. He’s like the ghetto version of the motherfucking Ghost Whisperer, yo.”
“Shut the fuck up. Show the man some respect.” Leo glared at them both. Then he turned his attention back to the older man. “So who do you think it was?”
“I don’t know,” Mr. Watkins said. “I’ve been wondering about that myself. If it was those kids you spooked earlier, then I would think that they’d have called out for help when they saw us. Unless they’re more scared of you guys than they are of whatever is inside that house.”
“If there’s even anything inside that house,” Markus muttered.
Mr. Watkins made a sweeping gesture with his arm. “Well, step on up and be my guest, sunshine. You can be the first one through that door.”
“Can’t,” Markus said.
“Why not?”
“Cause you ain’t got the door open yet.”
“I told you, I’m thinking.”
Markus grinned. “Sounds more to me like you’re talking, rather than thinking. Maybe you don’t want to go inside. Maybe all this talk about doing the right thing and helping out our neighborhood and change is just bullshit.”
Leo stepped toward his friend, fists curled. Anger coursed through him. He couldn’t believe that Markus was being so disrespectful. Sure, Markus always had an attitude. He’d walked through life with a chip on his shoulder for as long as Leo had known him. And yeah, until tonight, Mr. Watkins had been a grumpy old fart. But regardless of any of that, Mr. Watkins didn’t deserve this shit. He was just trying to help. After all, they had knocked on his door. If it hadn’t been for them, he’d probably be asleep by now.
“Yo, I told you to show him some respect. The hell is wrong with you?”
“Screw you both.”
“Come on,” Jamal pleaded with Leo and Markus.
“Both of you just need to chill out.”
Markus refused to back down. “The fuck you gonna do, Leo? You want some of this?”
“You want to fight? Well, come on.”
Dookie, Jamal, and Chris backed away.
“Come on,” Leo challenged again.
“Don’t think I won’t. I’ve had it with your bullshit.”
“The fuck are you talking about, Markus?”
“You ain’t the boss of me. You ain’t our leader. You ain’t shit. Talking about change and doing the right thing and helping people out—when has anybody ever helped us out? Nothing ever changes for us. All you’re doing is dreaming, Leo. You’re a damn fool.”
Leo was momentarily stunned by Markus’s invective. He struggled not to show it. He couldn’t display any weakness or doubts right now, or the others would begin to have misgivings, too.
“If you don’t like it, Markus, then get the fuck out of here. We don’t need your sorry ass.”
“I ain’t going nowhere. You damn sure don’t run this street. I’ll stay if I want.”
Leo’s fists clenched and unclenched. “Suit yourself. But if you’re staying, then you’ll damn sure quit talking shit and apologize to Mr. Watkins.”
“Fuck that. What’s this old man ever done for me, except look at me funny when I’m out too late? You remember a couple of years ago on Halloween, when somebody broke all the car windows on the block and egged the houses? Remember how he looked at us after that?”
Mr. Watkins stirred. Before he could speak, Leo interrupted.
“Did he accuse you, Markus? Huh? Did he accuse any of us?”
Markus smirked. “He didn’t have to. You could see it in his eyes.”
“You know what? Just get the fuck out of here. Go on home.”
“You can’t make me do shit, Leo. And you keep stepping to me like this, I’m gonna knock you the fuck down.”
“I hear you talking, but I don’t see you moving.”
“Fuck you, motherfucker.”
“No,” Leo said, poking his friend in the chest with his index finger. “Fuck you. That’s your ass, Markus.”
“Enough!” Mr. Watkins stuffed the pistol in his waistband, stepped between the teens, and placed a hand on each of their chests. “That’s enough. Knock this bullshit off. What the hell is wrong with you both? Do you think this is helping somehow?”
Leo tensed. “He started it. I was just sticking up for you.”
“I don’t need you to watch my back out here,” Mr. Watkins said, nodding at the house. “I need you to watch in there. We need to watch out for each other.” He paused, then turned to Markus. His hand was still on the young man’s chest. “I know why you’re doing this.”
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
“Because you’re scared.”
“Fuck you, old man. I ain’t scared of shit.”
“Yes, you are,” Mr. Watkins said, ignoring Markus’s curled fists. “You’re terrified.”
Leo had to give him credit. Mr. Watkins had balls. He could tell by Jamal, Chris, and Dookie’s expressions that they were impressed as well. Markus’s eyes flashed to the handgun in Mr. Watkins’s waistband. Leo held his breath, ready to spring if Markus went for the weapon.
“Don’t even think about it,” Mr. Watkins warned. Then his voice became soothing again. “I know you’re scared because I’m scared, too. We all are. Hell, we’d have to be some crazy motherfuckers not to be scared, walking into this place. But this? This ain’t helping. Okay?”
Markus paused, glancing at each of his friends. Then he looked down at his feet.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “You’re right.”
“Apologize to the man,” Leo said.
“He doesn’t need to,” Mr. Watkins said. “There’s no reason to apologize for feeling the same thing that the rest of us are feeling. But I’ll tell you what you can do, Markus.”