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The man stared at Benny like he couldn’t decide. “You hungry?”
Benny nodded. He was scared, but he was always hungry.
The man scratched his ear and then moved on to his armpit. He didn’t seem to know what he wanted to do. Benny snuck a peek around the room. Old furniture, trash, newspapers, and the smell of cigarettes. It reminded him of home—his home, not the place he’d been staying with Mr. Daniel. Benny concentrated on remembering Mr. Daniel’s voice on the other end of the line. Mr. Daniel would come for him.
His hands had gone numb from the tape. Still, he felt better than when he was in the trunk. It smelled like mold in there. And his head kept smacking against something hard and sharp every time the car hit a bump. They’d driven a long time, but the sun was still up when the guy pulled him from the trunk and so bright he’d squeezed his eyes shut again. He had been so afraid, even more afraid than when his mom had been drunk and mad.
Mr. Daniel had sounded afraid, too. Mr. Daniel was never scared. He was like a cop, but without the uniform. Benny had seen his gun. He had wanted to ask about it, maybe get to hold it, but Mr. Daniel always put it away in a safe first thing when he came home every night.
Benny wished he had a gun now. His mom had one. Sometimes she let him hold it. Once she’d let him put the bullets in it. Then she’d held it to his head and told him he’d better do a real good job washing the dishes. She’d laughed like she’d made a funny joke.
The man had a gun stuck in the waistband of his jeans.
Without any warning, the man picked Benny up, hauled him into the kitchen, and dropped him on a chair. “You sit there like a good boy, don’t make no noise, and I won’t have to stick you back in the closet.”
Benny nodded. The man pulled a package of wieners from the refrigerator. “You like hotdogs, boy?”
Benny nodded again.
“Me, too. We gonna have us some wieners. I even got some buns. And some mustard. Gotta have mustard, right?” The man dumped the hot dogs on a paper plate and stuck them in the microwave.
Benny’s mouth felt too dry to talk. The man would have to take the tape from his hands so he could eat. Maybe then he’d have a chance. Maybe he could run away. Run where? Where was he? He looked around. The kitchen seemed small. Everything looked old. The floor had scratches on it. Dirty dishes and newspapers covered the table.
Through a window over the sink, Benny saw tree branches blowing in the wind. The kitchen was in the back of the house. Shouldn’t there be a back door? He couldn’t tell from where he sat.
The microwave dinged and Benny jumped.
The man didn’t seem to notice. “You want ketchup?”
“Yes, sir.”
“So, son, tell me, you misstu mama?”
Benny squirmed in the chair. “Sometimes.”
“You been to see her.”
“Yes, sir.” Every time, he’d lain awake the night before, tossing and turning.
“When?”
“It’s been a while.” He’d told Mr. Daniel he didn’t want to go anymore, but Mr. Daniel said his mom needed to see him. Still, the visits hadn’t been so close after that.
“What you two talk about?”
“She asked me about school and about where I was living, how I liked it.” It had been hard for him to talk to her in that big room with all those other moms talking to their kids. The noise hurt his ears. A baby cried, and a little kid screamed when they made him leave his mommy. The guard kept staring at him like he thought Benny would try to bust mom out. The place had smelled like baby throw-up and poop.
The man turned from the stove and drilled Benny with a look. “She don’t talk business?”
“Business?”
“You know about business. You helpedtu mama, didn’t you?”
“A little, I guess. I rode my bike and dropped stuff off for her when her car broke down and we didn’t have no money to fix it.”
“Dropped off stuff. You mean the crack, right?”
“It wasn’t crack.”
