‘The guy’s best friend,’ said Jasmine, weighing the gun in her hand. ‘They’d ripped off some gas station, got really high. Tried to split the cash between them fair and square, but they couldn’t count straight … started fighting over a ten-dollar bill or something.’ Her voice was drained of all emotion. ‘And this guy I knew with the cute smile … he lost the fight. His whole life just bled out of him over this dumbass ten bucks. ’Cause his dumbass friend had a gun like this one, loaded and ready to go.’ She looked at him. ‘Kind of a waste, don’t you think?’

Tom just nodded dumbly.

Jasmine kept talking, her voice dull like the sheen on the black metal of the gun barrel. ‘Looks kind of cool, don’t it? In the movies and stuff, I mean. And these punks, they think all they got to do is pick up a gun and suddenly they’re a real man. Puff got a hold of this one. Got it from some guy over in Queens …’ She passed it to Tom. ‘Don’t look like so much, does it? But one shot from this and …’

He looked at her. ‘Murder?’

She shook her head, and when she spoke again she sounded fiercer than he’d ever heard her. ‘Not if you use it against this Marcie bitch,’ she said. ‘That bitch that killed Ramone. That bitch who thinks she’s gonna kill your parents here tonight.’ She passed him the gun. ‘This ain’t a murder. It’s an execution.’

‘An execution,’ he echoed. ‘I guess, I guess I should do it.’ He still felt the tingling traces of Stacy’s serum in his veins. Was that why he was going along with this? A few months ago, just holding a gun would’ve freaked him out. Now he found himself lifting the gun, aiming it at the door, curling his finger around the trigger, picturing Marcie coming into range …

Jasmine had picked up a picture from the bedside table. Mom’s side, he guessed.

‘Look at you,’ she murmured. ‘And who’s the cute kid?’

‘My brother, Joe.’

‘He ain’t staying here?’

‘Guess he’s at Aunt Rachel’s or something.’ Tom wiped wetness from his eyes.

Jasmine put the photo back on the table, shifted a fraction closer to him. ‘You must miss your folks real bad.’

‘I do.’

‘Never had much family myself. Hanging with Ramone, Puff, Ciss, Ric … that was my family.’

Tom nodded. ‘And the ’wolves ruined everything.’

‘For the both of us.’ She slapped her hand down on his, jokily. ‘But hey, we’re still standing, ain’t we? Or sitting, anyway.’

She wasn’t moving her hand away. It was cool and reassuring on top of his own.

‘I guess you just have to get through stuff in life,’ Tom ventured. ‘You have to adapt, you know?’