the wound of bleeding pride.
Parker turned on his heel, glanced back and then spat at his feet. He'd have pulled his piece and dusted that fool in front of Green to show him they were men to be taken seriously, but he backed his man's play. They might think they punked him, but they'd soon know what it meant to cross Baylon's men.
The chorus of barks from the Rottweilers stirred with his passing, Baylon walked his prize bitch, an American Pit Bull Terrier. She never barked, the 'surgery' saw to that. From a distance, she was a beautiful dog, but upon closer inspection, she was a stalking hematoma of a brute. A network of still-healing scars latticed her head and legs, with recently cleaned-out puncture wounds, she was a picture of barely suppressed rage spoiling for an excuse to explode.
From his back patio, it was only a matter of getting to the end of the row of apartments — shielded from the prying eyes of the street by a row of perpendicular facing apartments — to confront the figure waiting for him. His lawyer wanted to look down his long nose at Baylon, but couldn't. In fact, he could barely meet his eye. Baylon studied him with his harsh squint, waiting for the payoff. It was barely perceptible, but the slight movement of his small Adam's apple came: the swallow of fear. He knew he had him.
'Things are looking good, Baylon,' he said, with his high-pitched, tense voice.
'That a fact.' Baylon approached with his flexing gait. Not quite the full pimping stroll, but enough to convey the fluid movement of his prison-built bulk. 'Hearing's coming up.'
'It was only a juvey charge.'
'I'm not trying to see the inside of any jail.'
'I wouldn't worry about it. The DA's entire case hinged on one witness.'
'My nosey-ass neighbor.'
'Exactly. Word around the court steps says that your neighbor's up and vanished on them.'
'Word?' Baylon asked, nonplussed, eyes halfclosed in on-setting ennui.
'Yeah, I figure that they'll be dropping formal charges shortly.' The lawyer skittishly glanced about. 'You got anything for me by way of payment?'
'Yeah, I got you.' Baylon reached his hand out to shake. The lawyer took his hand, palming his future fix, then backed away quickly from the bared teeth of the dog. Baylon smirked. 'Do you know how you turn a perfectly tame pet into a ruthless fighter?'
'Not really.'
'You chain it up, beat it, starve it, tease it, then beat it some more. That's the way life is. The sooner it knows it, the sooner it's ready to handle it. Then it's ready for the fight every time out.'
'Um, OK, then I guess I'll see you at the next date.' His lawyer swallowed again.
'Whatever, man.' Baylon turned on his heel in a casual dismissal of the man. He had some fools to sit down with. A row of Rottweilers' snouts protruded from under his patio. They seemed every bit the innocent dogs seeking a petting hand. He'd seen those same snouts rip apart cats thrown their way. He walked past them, short, heavy chains attached to thick collars held them at bay. He usually kept them hungry, lean for the fight, but he spoiled them the other day. Other neighbors may have seen the feeding; hell, he wanted them to see. Even if no one did, he'd spread the rumors himself, building his rep, instilling fear, and quieting any other would-be heroes or nosey-ass neighbors.
'That's a good bitch,' he said to her.
But she said nothing.
The houses were piled on one another, barely a few feet between them, with their fenced-in small yards. Every now and then, one of the houses had a boy sitting absently, bouncing a basketball between his legs. Two cars couldn't pass one another on the cramped streets if anyone was parked on either side. Junie kept his head low, his eyes darting from side to side, studying the mess of kids hanging out on corners. The low bass from a passing car roused his attention, so he scuttled down the sidewalk then crossed the street abruptly. If he were worried about being followed, he needn't have been. Everyone knew where he was heading. Junie knocked on the door of the two-storey home.
'It's me.'
Parker opened the door. Excruciating silences and averted eyes shadowed their interactions — Junie hadn't spoken to him since the incident with King James White.
Baylon stood down the hall in the living room and glared at them with drooping, yet condescending eyes. Abandoned by family — they gave up on him long ago — his people had been scattered by the game. His friends were either dead or in jail. His life was transitory, with him moving often. Cash up front, no name on anything; as far as the system was concerned, he swam underground. Junie reached out for a hand clasp, but Baylon glanced down at the expectant hand as if it were leprous, then found a seat in the living room. All of the furniture had been pushed back against the walls for maximum room to navigate. Junie and Parker turned at the clack-clackclack of paws on hardwood floors. Baylon's dog trotted past the open doorway. Junie couldn't help but think of a shark swimming in its tank.
'What's the matter? You afraid of a little bitch?' Baylon asked.
'Dogs make me nervous is all,' Parker said.
'Look here, Sideshow Bob.' Baylon focused on Parker's Mohawk, so ragged it looked like a small village of crows nested in it. He snapped once and then pointed to the ground next to him. The dog came and laid down where he aimed his fingers. 'You just have to know how to handle bitches.'
'What's her name?'
'What the fuck I'm going to name a bitch for?' Baylon demanded. 'Now, someone mind telling me what the fuck is going on?'
'I'm a-tell it to you straight.' Junie tapped his fist into his open palm. The loudest one in the room, by Baylon's reckoning, was usually the weakest one. Junie was too quick to step to a man and jump into foolishness, which usually led to a bigger mess and a greater headache. He was out of his depth and long overdue to be demoted. 'Me and Parker went down to represent, just like the man said to.'
Parker nodded. Young and inexperienced, but he had potential. He was smart, anyone could see it in his eyes. If he put that mind of his in some books, he could be an engineer or a scientist of some sort. Not into a lot of the flashy bling nonsense, not overly ambitious, he took the long view on situations. Rarely speaking unless he had something to say, he also had a streak of crazy to him. It danced in his eyes, ready to step up, when needed, as needed.
'So you went down to the school to scope out what's what…'
'And it was just like you thought. Night's boys be out there grinding. Green his self out there overseeing.'
'Green? No shit?' No charge ever stuck on Night because Green took them when the police thought they had a case to make. Green's was the same old story: soldiers fell on their swords and the king survived. After his bit, and because he stood tall, Night promoted him to his number two man. Promote wasn't the right word. If the rumors were true, Baylon didn't understand Green at all. Green could step out on his own any time, but he preferred to defer to someone else when he could. It was like he was beyond ambition and was in the game strictly for the love.
'True, true. Now, we's about to step to them when your boy comes up the street,' Junie continued.
'Who?'
'King.'
At the mention of the name, Baylon's face tightened. A more perceptive eye might have noticed the slight hitch to his breath as if suddenly troubled by an old, dull pain he thought he'd learned to live with. 'Go on.'
'I'm not saying King stepped into it, but he got caught up in some back and forth.'
'Even though you were there to deal with Night's boys.' Baylon knew Junie thought all of his fast talking would save him. He wanted to tell Junie to save the bullshit, but he opted to indulge the little performance.
'I done said Green was there.'
'So you…?' Baylon's voice trailed.
'Sent a message to them through King.'
'And this… message… how do you think it was received?'
'I would have to say… mixed,' Junie said.
'A mixed message?' Baylon lowered his head and rubbed his eyes as if that would stop the migraine that
