BooksBarbecue
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Chapters (97)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. 1.
  6. 2.
  7. 3.
  8. 4.
  9. 5.
  10. 6.
  11. 7.
  12. 8.
  13. 9.
  14. 10.
  15. 11.
  16. 12.
  17. 13.
  18. 14.
  19. 15.
  20. 16.
  21. 17.
  22. 18.
  23. 19.
  24. SIX MONTHS LATER
  25. 20.
  26. 21.
  27. 22.
  28. 23.
  29. 24.
  30. 25.
  31. 26.
  32. 27.
  33. 28.
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  36. 31.
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  85. 80.
  86. 81.
  87. 82.
  88. 83.
  89. 84.
  90. 85.
  91. 86.
  92. 87.
  93. SIX MORE MONTHS LATER
  94. 88.
  95. 89.
  96. Discover More
  97. About the Author

Joey can hear it in Zack’s voice.

Zack’s not going to show up at Aldo’s.

Joey can tell already that idle threat is not going to cut it with this kid Zack. He can tell already he needs to up the ante. Up the ante to even get this kid to come to the table.

Then maybe Zack will show up—scared, frightened, obedient. But the thing is, maybe he won’t. And Joey will not leave himself in a position to just be sitting there, shuffling his feet, twiddling his fingers, diddling his dick.

He will not accept being dissed like that. He can imagine it—imagine it too well—and will not tolerate it.

He needs to avoid being a fuckup. For practical reasons. And for his own vision of himself. He needs to think ahead, anticipate. Take control. Be unpredictable.

He needs a way to guarantee that Zack will come to the table. Will show up with his phone.

He wanted to do it without upping the body count. Without increasing the risk to himself unnecessarily like that. He wanted to lure the kid, convince him, persuade him, terrify him into it, but fuck it, that doesn’t look realistic anymore.

Zack is asking for the hard way. So it looks like it’s going to be the hard way. The traditional way. Damn this kid.

He’s been following Steve this whole time. Onto the subway platform. Sitting across from him in the subway car. Making the call to Zack while Steve gobbled a donut in a pocket park thirty feet away from him. Kid’s oblivious. Looking down at his phone the whole time. Of course.

Emily was pretty cute looking.

But Steve—Steve is right here.

8.

8.

Zack is at a cluttered desk deep in the 11th Precinct, waiting for a detective named Lopez.

Precious minutes ticking by.

Waiting.

It’s business as usual in here. Patrol cops flowing past, carrying their lunches. Couple of Hispanic guys being shepherded by in handcuffs. Fluorescent-bright, busy, almost like any other office. He’s bringing them something that will interrupt their office day. That’s not business as usual.

The diePhone is back in his pocket. He signed in with the desk sergeant. Nervously took the diePhone out of his pocket and put it in the little tray along with his keys and wallet, heart pounding as he watched it pass through the metal detector. Like any other cell phone. Like no other cell phone.

He made up a quick story about a burglary at his apartment, just enough to get in to see a detective, knowing his crazy phone story would raise eyebrows, was too crazy-sounding to justify even seeing a detective, and if he showed the photos to the desk sergeant, they might cuff him right there.