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Back The Heathens
Chapters (33)
  1. ALSO BY ACE ATKINS
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. ONE
  5. TWO
  6. THREE
  7. FOUR
  8. FIVE
  9. SIX
  10. SEVEN
  11. EIGHT
  12. NINE
  13. TEN
  14. ELEVEN
  15. TWELVE
  16. THIRTEEN
  17. FOURTEEN
  18. FIFTEEN
  19. SIXTEEN
  20. SEVENTEEN
  21. EIGHTEEN
  22. NINETEEN
  23. TWENTY
  24. TWENTY-ONE
  25. TWENTY-TWO
  26. TWENTY-THREE
  27. TWENTY-FOUR
  28. TWENTY-FIVE
  29. TWENTY-SIX
  30. TWENTY-SEVEN
  31. TWENTY-EIGHT
  32. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  33. What’s next onyour reading list?

“I didn’t kill my mother,” TJ said, trying to remain friendly and calm since the woman let them crash at her apartment last night. “Someone’s trying to pin this shit on me and I didn’t care to stick around and let them do it.”

“Mm-hmm,” Domino said. “Is that right? What I heard on TV was some real fucked-up shit. Folks saying your momma got dismembered. Y’all know what in the hell dismembered means? Means cut up like a motherfucking Tyson chicken. I mean. Goddamn.”

Domino lived in a run-down apartment complex near the airport on Winchester, sharing the space with a boyfriend named D’Shawn who sold weed when he wasn’t loading and unloading planes over at FedEx. The boyfriend was on the late shift and Ladarius promised they’d all be gone by the time he got back. TJ and Ladarius had slept on the couch while Holly slept on the floor before turning on the television and watching the morning news. John Wesley, used to chaos and crazy, was asleep in a big overstuffed green chair by the kitchen, tucked in a fleece blanket decorated with faces of WWE superstars. The poor kid still didn’t know his momma was dead.

“Sorry I can’t help y’all,” Domino said. “But you know. Things are tight.”

“We appreciate you taking us in,” Holly said, looking up from the television. Live at 9 with Alex and Marybeth. “I sure didn’t want to sleep in my momma’s van. Not in Memphis.”

“And what’s wrong with Memphis?” Domino asked. She had on a black midriff shirt with the word diva written in gold glitter, beaded strands doing their best to cover up her big belly.

Ladarius said his cousin worked days at Dixie Belles, a titty bar just down the road. TJ surprised as hell when she’d first opened the door, the woman short and fat with a long weave with red highlights. She looked like the kind of gal that could break a man’s pelvis during a lap dance. The apartment was cluttered and dirty, with old yellow carpet and mismatched furniture that seemed to TJ like it had been picked out of the trash. Busted-ass fake leather couch and a cracked glass coffee table with two empty Papa John’s boxes left from last night.

“Time to get up,” TJ said, touching her little brother’s shoulder. “We got to go.”

The little boy opened his eyes and then shut them again. “Go where?”