“Nightshade,” I said, trying not to make a face at the smoke. Smoking was one thing I never did. It was nasty.
He coughed a little and then squinted up at me through the smoke. “Nightshade?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t bother to define it further. He knew full well it was a poison. Insulting his knowledge of lethal substances would only tell him I didn’t belong on the streets. But I did. He might usually deal the hard stuff, but I knew he could get this. Anyone who could get kilos of cocaine could get me a little bag of nightshade.
“What do you want that for?”
“Does it matter?” I retorted.
“Are you a narc?” he asked, and I wanted to laugh. He thought I was a narc? I was the furthest thing from a tattletale he would ever see.
“If I was a narc I wouldn’t be trying to get nightshade from you,” I replied, flat.
“I don’t have any.”
I reached into my pocket, noting how The Bouncer stiffened, expecting me to pull out a weapon, and pulled out a fat wad of cash. “I got something here that says you do.”
The boss ground out his cigarette on the floor and then stood. I counted out quite a few crisp hundred-dollar bills and held them out. “How about you suddenly find some?”
He took the money and it disappeared in his pocket. “I’ll be back.” He stepped around me. “Watch him, Joey.”
We stood in the tiny room, with the battery-operated heater working overtime, for endless minutes that dragged into an hour. During that time a girl with greasy dark hair came into the room and collapsed onto the mattress. I recognized her. We hung out a couple times in the alley and one time I got her some food. She was young, probably no more than sixteen, and the streets hadn’t been kind. She was the kind of person that the streets would eat for dinner if she didn’t find a way to survive. I tried to convince her to go back home once, months ago. A few weeks later I didn’t see her around anymore and I thought maybe she’d listened.
I guess she hadn’t.
And now, from the way The Bouncer acted like seeing her here was nothing new, I’d guess her way of surviving was getting involved with the boss.
I must’ve stared at her too long because she turned her head to look at me. “What?” she demanded.
I looked away.
The Bouncer shoved me in the shoulder. “Eye’s off,” he warned.
After that I just stared at the floor.
The boss finally came back with a little bag in his hand and he held it out to me. “You didn’t get this here.”
I took it, nodding, and barely glanced at the dark berries in the sack. I shoved it into my pocket and left. I breathed a sigh of relief when I was out of the room and walking away. From out in the hall, I heard the raised voice of the boss and then a sharp slap followed by a light cry.
My steps faltered before picking back up again.
Then I heard the scrape of a chair, a loud bang, and another cry.
Sounded like the price of being at the top was pretty heavy. She should’ve gone home like I told her to. Now she wouldn’t go anywhere without the boss’s permission.
He shouted again and she began to sob, and without thinking, my feet pivoted and I walked back toward the room. The Bouncer was standing outside the door, his face impassive. When he saw me coming, he straightened. I didn’t hesitate before plowing my fist right into his nose. Blood spurted and he doubled over. I pushed open the door to the room and saw the boss standing over the girl, who was hunched on the mattress, shielding her head. They both looked up when the door hit the wall.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” he yelled.
I picked up the metal chair and swung it at him, knocking him against the wall. I reached down and grabbed the girl by the elbow and yanked her up. She had a bloody lip.
“You should’ve went home,” I told her, shoving her toward the door.
The boss charged me and I hit him with the chair again. This time he fell onto the mattress with a loud shout.
“Go!” I yelled and was surprised when she listened.
“You messed with the wrong guy,” the boss growled, getting up from the floor.
