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Chapters (47)
  1. Cover
  2. DEDICATION
  3. MAP
  4. EPIGRAPH
  5. New York City
  6. New York City
  7. CHAPTER ONE
  8. CHAPTER TWO
  9. CHAPTER THREE
  10. CHAPTER FOUR
  11. CHAPTER FIVE
  12. CHAPTER SIX
  13. CHAPTER SEVEN
  14. CHAPTER EIGHT
  15. CHAPTER NINE
  16. CHAPTER TEN
  17. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  18. CHAPTER TWELVE
  19. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  20. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  21. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  22. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  23. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  24. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  25. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  26. CHAPTER TWENTY
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  34. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  35. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  36. CHAPTER THIRTY
  37. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  42. Sunrise in Gotham Senior Living Center
  43. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  44. BACK ADS
  45. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  46. BOOKS BY LAURA RUBY
  47. ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

Then Cricket—fierce, determined, opinionated, impossible-to-break Cricket—burst into tears.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Duke

Duke Goodson drummed his fingers on the armrest as his limo inched through Harlem’s late-afternoon traffic. He’d already berated his driver for not taking 278, but apparently the woman needed another thrashing.

He rapped on the glass.

“Yes, sir?” said Candi, the driver.

“This traffic is a nightmare. Why are we on Seventh Avenue?”

“Because 278 is worse, sir.”

“No, it certainly isn’t. I told you to take 278. I expect when I tell you to take 278 that you’ll take 278.”

Candi’s expression in the mirror didn’t change. “You suggested I take 278. But 278 is worse. So I took Seventh.”

“My suggestions aren’t suggestions.”

“I’ll remember that, sir.”

“Don’t be cheeky.”

“I’m never cheeky, sir.”

“You are always cheeky, Candi. One day I’m going to have you sent somewhere terrible.”

“Yes, sir.”

“When I say terrible, I mean terrible. I mean hard labor. I mean surface of the moon conditions. I mean bread and water minus the bread.”

“Anything to get out of New York City traffic, sir.”

See? Cheeky.

But Candi could get away with it because she was the best driver Duke had, and knew all five boroughs and most of the Eastern Seaboard like she knew the back of her own hand. Plus she was as discreet as a Swiss banker and had black belts in mysterious fighting disciplines she wouldn’t discuss.

Not many drivers like Candi. And, irritatingly, Candi knew it.

Duke soothed his nerves by checking out the neighborhood. Harlem was bustling, packed with people. They passed an old-fashioned-looking barber shop, restaurants, brownstones. Lots of nice property here. Might be a useful investment. Clear out the old, bring in the new, and then charge the new five thousand dollars a month for a one-bedroom apartment. Close down the chicken place that’s been there for who-knows-how-long and open up a fancy cheese shop instead. Or an artisanal salt store. A café where they grind coffee beans imported from Hawaii and Jamaica and Vietnam. Duke had heard the most expensive coffee in the world was weasel coffee—coffee beans eaten by civets and then collected from their scat. Poop coffee. You could charge anywhere from $35 to $100 for one cup of that coffee. Duke was sure that the rich bozos from the Upper East Side would risk New York City traffic to get it just to say they’d gotten it.

Rich bozos were Duke’s favorite kind of people.