who was now standing over her. He thought she was pathetic.
She was whimpering. Then she said something through the gag as she tried to push herself up. It sounded like “Why are you doing this? I never hurt anybody.”
“This is a game we learned a long time ago,” Starkey said in English. “It’s just a game, honey. Passes the time. Amuses us. Get the paint,” he said to Master Sergeant Griffin. “I think red for tonight. You look good in red, Vanessa? I think red is your color.”
He looked her right in the eye and pulled the trigger.
Chapter 21
I GOT UP at about five-thirty my first morning back in Washington.
Same old, same old,
which was fine with me.
I put on a Wizards T-shirt and ancient Georgetown gym shorts and headed downstairs. The lights in the kitchen were still off. Nana wasn’t up yet, which was a little surprising.
Well, she deserved to sleep late every once in a while too.
I laced up my sneaks and headed outside for a run. Immediately I could smell the Anacostia River. Not the greatest smell, but familiar. My plan was not to think about Ellis Cooper on death row this morning. So far, I was failing.
Our neighborhood had changed a lot in the past few years. The politicians and businesspeople would say it’s all for the good, but I wasn’t so sure that’s right. There was construction on 395 South, and the Fourth Street on-ramp had been closed forever. I doubted it would have gone on for this long in Georgetown. A lot of the old brownstones I grew up with had been torn down.
Town houses were going up that look very Capitol Hill to me. There was also a flashy new gym called Results. Some houses sported hexagonal blue ADT security signs, courtesy of the huge Tyco corporation. Certain streets were becoming gentrified. But the drug dealers were still around, especially as you traveled toward the Anacostia.
If you could put on H. G. Wells time machine glasses, you would see that the original city planners had some good ideas. Every couple of blocks there was a park with clearly delineated paths and patches of grass. Someday the parks would be reclaimed by the people, not just the drug dealers. Or so I liked to think.
A
Washington Post
article the other day proclaimed that some people in the neighborhood actually protect the dealers. Well, some people think the dealers do more good things for the community than the politicians do — like throwing block parties and giving kids ice cream money on hot summer days.
I’ve been here since I was ten, and we’ll probably stay in Southeast. I love the old neighborhood, not just the memories but the promise of things that could still happen here.
When I got home from my run, the kitchen lights still weren’t on. An alarm was sounding inside my head.
Pretty loud too.
I went down the narrow hallway from the kitchen to check on Nana.
Chapter 22
I EDGED OPEN the door and saw her lying in bed, so I quietly moved into the room. Rosie the cat was perched on the windowsill. She meowed softly. Some watchcat.
I let my eyes roam. Saw a familiar framed poster depicting jazz musicians by Romare Bearden; it’s called
Wrapping It Up at the Lafayette
.
On top of her armoire were dozens of hatboxes. Nana’s collection of hats for special occasions would be the envy of any milliner.
I realized I couldn’t hear Nana’s breathing.
My body tensed and suddenly there was a loud roaring sound inside my head. She hadn’t gotten up to make breakfast only a handful of times since I was a kid. I felt the fears of a child as I stood perfectly still in her room.
Oh God, no. Don’t let this happen.
When I got close to her bed, I heard shallow breaths. Then her eyes popped open.
“Alex?” she whispered. “What’s happening? Why are you in here? What time is it?”
“Hi there, sweetheart. You okay?” I asked.
“I’m just kind of tired. Feeling a little under the weather this morning.” She squinted her eyes to look at the old Westclox on her night table.
She was whimpering. Then she said something through the gag as she tried to push herself up. It sounded like “Why are you doing this? I never hurt anybody.”
“This is a game we learned a long time ago,” Starkey said in English. “It’s just a game, honey. Passes the time. Amuses us. Get the paint,” he said to Master Sergeant Griffin. “I think red for tonight. You look good in red, Vanessa? I think red is your color.”
He looked her right in the eye and pulled the trigger.
Chapter 21
I GOT UP at about five-thirty my first morning back in Washington.
Same old, same old,
which was fine with me.
I put on a Wizards T-shirt and ancient Georgetown gym shorts and headed downstairs. The lights in the kitchen were still off. Nana wasn’t up yet, which was a little surprising.
Well, she deserved to sleep late every once in a while too.
I laced up my sneaks and headed outside for a run. Immediately I could smell the Anacostia River. Not the greatest smell, but familiar. My plan was not to think about Ellis Cooper on death row this morning. So far, I was failing.
Our neighborhood had changed a lot in the past few years. The politicians and businesspeople would say it’s all for the good, but I wasn’t so sure that’s right. There was construction on 395 South, and the Fourth Street on-ramp had been closed forever. I doubted it would have gone on for this long in Georgetown. A lot of the old brownstones I grew up with had been torn down.
Town houses were going up that look very Capitol Hill to me. There was also a flashy new gym called Results. Some houses sported hexagonal blue ADT security signs, courtesy of the huge Tyco corporation. Certain streets were becoming gentrified. But the drug dealers were still around, especially as you traveled toward the Anacostia.
If you could put on H. G. Wells time machine glasses, you would see that the original city planners had some good ideas. Every couple of blocks there was a park with clearly delineated paths and patches of grass. Someday the parks would be reclaimed by the people, not just the drug dealers. Or so I liked to think.
A
Washington Post
article the other day proclaimed that some people in the neighborhood actually protect the dealers. Well, some people think the dealers do more good things for the community than the politicians do — like throwing block parties and giving kids ice cream money on hot summer days.
I’ve been here since I was ten, and we’ll probably stay in Southeast. I love the old neighborhood, not just the memories but the promise of things that could still happen here.
When I got home from my run, the kitchen lights still weren’t on. An alarm was sounding inside my head.
Pretty loud too.
I went down the narrow hallway from the kitchen to check on Nana.
Chapter 22
I EDGED OPEN the door and saw her lying in bed, so I quietly moved into the room. Rosie the cat was perched on the windowsill. She meowed softly. Some watchcat.
I let my eyes roam. Saw a familiar framed poster depicting jazz musicians by Romare Bearden; it’s called
Wrapping It Up at the Lafayette
.
On top of her armoire were dozens of hatboxes. Nana’s collection of hats for special occasions would be the envy of any milliner.
I realized I couldn’t hear Nana’s breathing.
My body tensed and suddenly there was a loud roaring sound inside my head. She hadn’t gotten up to make breakfast only a handful of times since I was a kid. I felt the fears of a child as I stood perfectly still in her room.
Oh God, no. Don’t let this happen.
When I got close to her bed, I heard shallow breaths. Then her eyes popped open.
“Alex?” she whispered. “What’s happening? Why are you in here? What time is it?”
“Hi there, sweetheart. You okay?” I asked.
“I’m just kind of tired. Feeling a little under the weather this morning.” She squinted her eyes to look at the old Westclox on her night table.
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