“This Jackie seem sincere, seem good with the kids. Place be clean and tidy. Kids look happy, like they gettin’ fed and looked after. Got structure and routine.”
“Is it a place you would have wanted to be when you were a kid?”
Hawk shook his head.
“Not what I wanted, way I was then. Didn’t want no structure, didn’t want no rules.”
“But you wanted to eat. A place to sleep.”
“Food always come with some catch. Rules. Tradeoffs. Someone tryin’ to save me. Didn’t want that. Needed to find my own way.”
“So—what, then?”
“Man I am now can look back, say sure, would’a been nice to have someplace safe to go, place where you knew somebody give a rat’s ass, could teach you things. Didn’t want that then.”
He turned to me and grinned. “’Course, I lived in a place like that, probably grow up to be a minister. Or worse, an Afro-American you.”
“We so different?”
“Different enough. You got rules.”
“And you don’t?”
“Just a few. Need a whole book for your rules. Have to think too much. Turns you soft sometimes. I try to live your way, I be dead long ago.”
“And you think Street Business might make those kids soft?”
“Just sayin’ the world be a pretty simple place when you just tryin’ to stay alive.” He fell silent for a moment. “Street Business be good if it gives kids a safe place off the streets. Even better if it teach them skills. Someday they got to go out on their own, leave Street Business behind. Got to be ready when that day comes.”
“Give a man a fish versus teach a man to fish.”
“Always comforting to hear you quote Scripture,” Hawk said.
“Anything trouble you about this place?”
Hawk thought for a moment. “Couple of things. Something go wrong down here, sure would hate to depend on ol’ Frankie.”
“Yeah,” I said. “You’ve got to admire a man who loves his work. I’ve met the other member of the security detail. He’s pretty much the same.”
“Don’t know this Juan Alvarez, but you think if he so concerned about his brother, he make sure his team fell in line.”
“Or bring in a team that did,” I said. “What else?”
Hawk looked out the car window. “Neighborhood’s too quiet.”
He was right. The block was deserted. Except for Street Business, there were no lights visible in the windows of any building on either side of the street. There were no Christmas lights, no menorahs, no holiday decorations for the length of the block. I realized that in the entire time Hawk and I had been in the car, we had seen no traffic, no pedestrians, no kids pulling sleds or throwing snowballs.
We waited and watched for signs of life. Fifteen minutes passed and nothing changed.
“No Whos in Whoville,” I said.
“Maybe the Rapture just happened,” said Hawk, “and we got left behind.”
Dusk settled over the neighborhood. The streetlights kicked on, offering a thin canopy of light over the street.
“Still curious why Alvarez don’t wanna sell these houses,” Hawk said.
“Well,” I said, opening my car door, “since we’re in the neighborhood, let’s find out what makes them so special.”
The first one we chose was quiet and dark inside. If anyone was upstairs, we did not hear them. I turned on a couple of lamps in a room that once had passed as a parlor but now looked like the final resting place for furniture the Salvation Army wouldn’t take. The two sofas were sprung, and the chair cushions looked as greasy as two-day-old stir-fry.
In the kitchen, dirty dishes were piled in the sink and laundry was heaped by the washer.
“Tidy bunch,” Hawk said.
“No sports equipment or video games. Nothing for kids.”
“These aren’t kids. These employees,” Hawk said.
I entered a larger room with a desk in the corner. I was shuffling through some papers lying on the scarred Formica top when I heard footsteps.
I turned, and a tall man with a red crew cut was pointing a small handgun at me. Hawk
“Is it a place you would have wanted to be when you were a kid?”
Hawk shook his head.
“Not what I wanted, way I was then. Didn’t want no structure, didn’t want no rules.”
“But you wanted to eat. A place to sleep.”
“Food always come with some catch. Rules. Tradeoffs. Someone tryin’ to save me. Didn’t want that. Needed to find my own way.”
“So—what, then?”
“Man I am now can look back, say sure, would’a been nice to have someplace safe to go, place where you knew somebody give a rat’s ass, could teach you things. Didn’t want that then.”
He turned to me and grinned. “’Course, I lived in a place like that, probably grow up to be a minister. Or worse, an Afro-American you.”
“We so different?”
“Different enough. You got rules.”
“And you don’t?”
“Just a few. Need a whole book for your rules. Have to think too much. Turns you soft sometimes. I try to live your way, I be dead long ago.”
“And you think Street Business might make those kids soft?”
“Just sayin’ the world be a pretty simple place when you just tryin’ to stay alive.” He fell silent for a moment. “Street Business be good if it gives kids a safe place off the streets. Even better if it teach them skills. Someday they got to go out on their own, leave Street Business behind. Got to be ready when that day comes.”
“Give a man a fish versus teach a man to fish.”
“Always comforting to hear you quote Scripture,” Hawk said.
“Anything trouble you about this place?”
Hawk thought for a moment. “Couple of things. Something go wrong down here, sure would hate to depend on ol’ Frankie.”
“Yeah,” I said. “You’ve got to admire a man who loves his work. I’ve met the other member of the security detail. He’s pretty much the same.”
“Don’t know this Juan Alvarez, but you think if he so concerned about his brother, he make sure his team fell in line.”
“Or bring in a team that did,” I said. “What else?”
Hawk looked out the car window. “Neighborhood’s too quiet.”
He was right. The block was deserted. Except for Street Business, there were no lights visible in the windows of any building on either side of the street. There were no Christmas lights, no menorahs, no holiday decorations for the length of the block. I realized that in the entire time Hawk and I had been in the car, we had seen no traffic, no pedestrians, no kids pulling sleds or throwing snowballs.
We waited and watched for signs of life. Fifteen minutes passed and nothing changed.
“No Whos in Whoville,” I said.
“Maybe the Rapture just happened,” said Hawk, “and we got left behind.”
Dusk settled over the neighborhood. The streetlights kicked on, offering a thin canopy of light over the street.
“Still curious why Alvarez don’t wanna sell these houses,” Hawk said.
“Well,” I said, opening my car door, “since we’re in the neighborhood, let’s find out what makes them so special.”
The first one we chose was quiet and dark inside. If anyone was upstairs, we did not hear them. I turned on a couple of lamps in a room that once had passed as a parlor but now looked like the final resting place for furniture the Salvation Army wouldn’t take. The two sofas were sprung, and the chair cushions looked as greasy as two-day-old stir-fry.
In the kitchen, dirty dishes were piled in the sink and laundry was heaped by the washer.
“Tidy bunch,” Hawk said.
“No sports equipment or video games. Nothing for kids.”
“These aren’t kids. These employees,” Hawk said.
I entered a larger room with a desk in the corner. I was shuffling through some papers lying on the scarred Formica top when I heard footsteps.
I turned, and a tall man with a red crew cut was pointing a small handgun at me. Hawk
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