Chapters (95)
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Seventy-One
- Seventy-Two
- Seventy-Three
- Seventy-Four
- Seventy-Five
- Seventy-Six
- Seventy-Seven
- Seventy-Eight
- Seventy-Nine
- Eighty
- Eighty-One
- Eighty-Two
- Eighty-Three
- Eighty-Four
- Eighty-Five
- Eighty-Six
- Eighty-Seven
- Acknowledgements
- About the Author
- Also by David Swinson
- Thank you for buying this ebook, published by Hachette Digital.
“They wouldn’t let me in his apartment,” I begin, “but I could see through the door. There was a table that looked like it had a flat-screen on it, couple CDs on the floor. I know that’s common shit, but you know a burglar who was trying to unload some music, a flat-screen, and maybe a laptop? I’m pretty sure Jiffy had a laptop, being a college kid and all.”
“Most of the thieves here always hit that shit. Not a lot of them brave enough to kill somebody. Crackheads usually just run the fuck away. I know me one, though, might be crazy enough. Least I seen him with a gun before.”
“He got a name?”
“Fuck, nobody on the streets gotta full name. He did have a part name. Gibbons, Givens, some shit like that.”
“What does he look like?”
“A fucking crackhead. Skinny.”
“White guy, black, what?”
“Black dude. Keep his hair nice and tight, not all fucked up like most fiends. And he’s smart, too.”
“Oh, yeah? What areas does he hit?”
“Fuck, he’s all over the place.”
“What kinda gun you seen him with?”
“Some kinda nine.”
“Did this Gibbons or Givens ever have cause to get with Jiffy?”
“Not that I know.”
“Did he ever hang at the club?”
“The crackhead?”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck no. He’d never be allowed in that club.”
“What was he doing with the gun he had?”
“Showin’ it off. Take a lot to scare me away, but that boy did. I rolled on outta there. He actin’ like he fuckin’ gonna shoot somebody.”
“So he get his crack from you?”
“I ain’t gotta tell you again.”
“When was the last time?”
“When he was waving that gun around. He got what he need, and like I said, I rolled out. Ain’t seen him since.”
“He go anywhere else to buy his shit?”
“Yeah, he gotta main place, but I don’t know where.”
He’s lying. They all know the competition.
“He drive a car?”
“Hell, no. Man, that’s about all I know. Fuck, damn sorry to hear about Jiffy. Fucking good dude. Smart as shit, but never act like he was better because of it.”
“Yeah. Sounds like he was a good boy.”
“Yeah. Damn.”
“You hang here often, so maybe I can try to get with you again in a couple days to see if you heard anything?”
“Yeah, but never fucking in front of no one. You still got cop all over you. Especially that expensive suit you wearin’.”
“I got me a part-time gig as a security consultant, so I got to dress the part, right?”
“A’right, then.”
“Let me pay you for your time?”
“Fuck no. I don’t need your money like I’m snitchin’.”
“Okay.” And I walk away, but turn to shoot him a nod and memorize the tag on his car.