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Back Crime Song Save as PDF
Chapters (95)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. One
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-One
  26. Twenty-Two
  27. Twenty-Three
  28. Twenty-Four
  29. Twenty-Five
  30. Twenty-Six
  31. Twenty-Seven
  32. Twenty-Eight
  33. Twenty-Nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-One
  36. Thirty-Two
  37. Thirty-Three
  38. Thirty-Four
  39. Thirty-Five
  40. Thirty-Six
  41. Thirty-Seven
  42. Thirty-Eight
  43. Thirty-Nine
  44. Forty
  45. Forty-One
  46. Forty-Two
  47. Forty-Three
  48. Forty-Four
  49. Forty-Five
  50. Forty-Six
  51. Forty-Seven
  52. Forty-Eight
  53. Forty-Nine
  54. Fifty
  55. Fifty-One
  56. Fifty-Two
  57. Fifty-Three
  58. Fifty-Four
  59. Fifty-Five
  60. Fifty-Six
  61. Fifty-Seven
  62. Fifty-Eight
  63. Fifty-Nine
  64. Sixty
  65. Sixty-One
  66. Sixty-Two
  67. Sixty-Three
  68. Sixty-Four
  69. Sixty-Five
  70. Sixty-Six
  71. Sixty-Seven
  72. Sixty-Eight
  73. Sixty-Nine
  74. Seventy
  75. Seventy-One
  76. Seventy-Two
  77. Seventy-Three
  78. Seventy-Four
  79. Seventy-Five
  80. Seventy-Six
  81. Seventy-Seven
  82. Seventy-Eight
  83. Seventy-Nine
  84. Eighty
  85. Eighty-One
  86. Eighty-Two
  87. Eighty-Three
  88. Eighty-Four
  89. Eighty-Five
  90. Eighty-Six
  91. Eighty-Seven
  92. Acknowledgements
  93. About the Author
  94. Also by David Swinson
  95. Thank you for buying this ebook, published by Hachette Digital.

Boy with the fancy sneakers stretches over the table, fingers closed over his palm, and he hands it to one of the other guys like a shake. But it’s obvious. The guy across the table checks it out, slips it in his pants pocket, and slides some bills across the table for the young boy. He pockets the cash without counting, takes another sip of the girl’s drink, and stands.

Not even a minute after, he’s approached by someone else. They walk toward the back, where the restrooms are.

For the next half hour or so he stays busy like this. One exchange after the other, but when he’s approached by another young girl he shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head, then says something to her, and she nods.

He makes his way through the crowd toward the entrance and leaves. I quickly drop a few bills on the counter, much more than I owe, and follow.

By the time I get to the top of the stairs, where the young rookie in a suit is standing, he’s down the stairs and opening the door to walk out.

He’s turning the corner toward the rear of the club.

I get to the corner and see him walk into the small parking lot at the rear of the building. I hustle, just in case he’s gonna hop in a car, but I stop before the entrance to the parking lot and cross the street like I’m walking to my car. I smell weed in the air. When I get to the sidewalk on the other side I gaze across to the parking lot, notice him talking to another guy. Not much light back there, but the guy he’s talking to looks a lot like Dreadlocks.

Eighteen

Eighteen

Dreadlocks opens the passenger-side door of an old-model black two-door coupe. A Mazda, I think. He gets in, closes the door, and hands something to the boy. Fancy Sneakers just re-upped. I walk out of view and cross the street back to the club side, lean against the wall at the corner, and light a smoke.

The kid appears from the parking lot, walks by without giving me a glance, turns, and enters the club. He leaves me the scent of stinky weed.

I walk to the parking lot, where Dreadlocks is leaning against the rear of the coupe, smoking a blunt.

He looks at me, maybe thinking I work at the club, ’cause he doesn’t budge. But when I casually step up to him he straightens.

“Weed be legal in this city now,” he tells me, like he makes me for a cop.

“I’m not the police. I don’t give a shit.”