Boy Kills Man by Matt Whyman Read Free Book Online Page A

watching the soccer behind the pool hall, I was feeling very left out and bitter about it.
    â€˜Hey, kid!’ he flopped down beside me now, face up into the sunshine. Alberto had never called me this before, unlike most people in the
barrio.
I didn’t make a big deal out of it. I just hoped it wasn’t going to become a habit. ‘My sister left a note,’ he said next. ‘Apparently you called round earlier.’
    â€˜That’s right.’ I said nothing more, just hoped that was all she told him. We sat there in silence for a moment, following the match. There wasn’t much skill going on here, just a lot of men past their prime flocking after a football. What they needed was new blood: a couple of players to shake up the mix a bit.
    â€˜Shame you weren’t with me this morning,’ he said next. ‘We could’ve had a blast.’
    The offer seemed a bit late to me. He knew where I lived, after all.
    â€˜Dirty work?’ I asked, with both eyes on the ball.
    â€˜Huh?’ I sensed him turn to face me, but carried on looking straight ahead. I was busting to ask how many bucks that gun of his had earned once again, but first I needed to remind him we were supposed to be a team. ‘Sonny,’ he said next, ‘what is your problem?’
    â€˜Depends on where you’ve been, I guess.’
    â€˜You wanna know?’ he said, raising his voice now. ‘I’ve been uptown, OK? I went
shopping.
I spent the rest of my money on a new vest to replace the one that got all messed up yesterday, plus a nice new shirt and stuff. I just felt like some treats, that’s all. I didn’t think I needed your permission. What’s got into you?’
    I looked across at him now, tried to match his glare. Alberto never lost it with me, not before now, and for once I saw what a threatening presence he could be. Sensing that threat grow, I said: ‘Let’s leave it. Just forget we even had this conversation.’
    â€˜It’s forgotten,’ he said, but stayed right where he was. I could see that he was thinking things through, reading my face for some kind of answer. ‘This is about the gun again, right? Jesus, Sonny!’
    â€˜Yesterday, you came home with blood on your shirt and a pocketful of money. I’m no fool, Alberto. I see there’s a link between the two. I just want to know why you won’t tell me.’
    â€˜Because there’s nothing I can say!’ he snapped, but stopped himself from going on. He took a breath, and began again. ‘I can’t tell you anything,’ he said, calmer now, ‘because if I open my mouth I’ll be dead already.’ His eyes remained fixed on mine, urging me to understand. They swore me to secrecy, Sonny, and I’ve got to respect that. Please don’t ask me, man. Just understand.’
    â€˜Who are “they”?’
    â€˜The people I’m working for,’ he said abruptly, his eyes pinching at the corners. ‘The same people who paid me to do a job so I could buy two tickets to the match. One for me, one for my best friend. Now shut up with the interrogation, and quit mothering me.’
    â€˜Sounds to me like someone has to.’
    â€˜I am
not
a child any more. How many more times, Sonny? I can handle myself.’
    It was then he showed me the holster. It was strapped high under his shirt, the gun slotted neatly inside, and I knew for sure that he had left me behind. I only caught a glimpse because he was quick to cover it up again. I looked up, as surprised as I was when he first showed me the pistol itself, and saw that he was grinning.
    â€˜The holster was one of the other things I bought,’ he said. ‘I can reach it quicker like this.’ He patted his side, the bulge showing through. Next he searched his pockets and pulled out two lime-green lollipops. ‘These were the other thing,’ he said, turning all goofy as he offered one to