the poor and needy. What’s not to like about Joshua?”
“He doesn’t take no for an answer, he’s domineering, he’s forceful, he’s way too self-assured and…and…” Liz clenched her fists. “I don’t want to like him, Molly!”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m going to Africa. As soon as I become fluent in Swahili and get enough experience for the UN to want to hire me, I’m out of here. I don’t have time for complications. I can’t let myself think about Joshua Duff, and I hope I never see him again.”
Liz shook her head. “No, that’s not true. I can’t think about anything else, and it’s driving me nuts. You know what I went through with Taylor. It took me forever to figure out how wrong we were.”
“I could have told you in two seconds.”
“And you did.”
“Liz, you need a man with backbone. Taylor was idealistic and friendly and good-hearted, but what a pancake. Flat. Boring. Wimpy. Pass the syrup.”
“Molly, please. He wasn’t that bad.”
“Have I been married twice, Liz? Do I know the good ones from the bums?”
“Apparently not. Case in point—Joel.”
Molly stood. “Yes, but I’m not marrying Joel. He’s a friend.”
“You’re sleeping with your friend, Molly. That’s a dumb thing to do. Have I told you that before?”
“Two thousand times. It’s in my DNA to do dumb things with men.”
Liz stood and picked up her purse. “Molly, please stop living this way. You don’t need Joel. You don’t need men who are bad for you. Why do you do that to yourself?”
“For the same reason you dated Taylor. He was there, you were lonely and it felt good at the time.”
“I didn’t sleep with Taylor. When I figured out he wasn’tright for me, I got out pretty easily. You’re tangled up all over again, Molly.”
“And you can’t stop thinking about Sergeant Joshua Duff. We’re the same.” She tossed the refugee update on Liz’s desk. “Let’s hurry up and pray, because I need to get some time on my treadmill before Joel comes over.”
“All right, all right. I’ll start.”
The women had been friends for a couple of years. Liz had talked Molly into going to church not long after they’d met at the refugee agency. Now they prayed together at the end of every workday.
But Molly’s life didn’t change. She kept plunging from one mistake into another. As Liz took her friend’s hands and bowed her head, she had to wonder how different they really were.
“Gangs.” Sam Hawke tossed Joshua a white T-shirt from a stack on the desk in the front office. “Get used to it. This is the Haven uniform. We don’t allow gang colors in here.”
Joshua unfolded the cheap cotton garment. He had spent most of the afternoon under an oak tree in Forest Park, using his laptop to search out jobs and apartments for the Rudi family. It was high time to complete this assignment and move on to the next, he had decided.
The Marines had kept Joshua busy and in the thick of action for nearly a decade. Reflection and contemplation didn’t sit well with him—especially when his own thoughts were so troubling. The pitiful condition of the Somali family he and Liz Wallace had met at the airport disturbed him. Liz disturbed him more.
But Sam’s mention of gang activity piqued his interest. Maybe his military skills could be useful in St. Louis.
“Which gangs are causing you problems?” he asked, recalling the two he knew. “Crips and Bloods?”
“Around here, Crips are usually called Locs. Bloods are Dogs.We’ve got Murder Mob, Sets, Your Hood, Homies, Peoples, Cousins, Kinfolks, Dogs. Girls’ gangs are called Sole Survivers and Hood Rats. The Disciples and the 51 MOB are unique to St. Louis. Hispanics have ’em, too—mainly the Latin Kings, but Florencia 13 is making inroads.”
Joshua frowned. The St. Louis gangs sounded as complex as the factions he had encountered in Afghanistan and Iraq. Those sects had been founded on religious differences, but their
Learning to Kill: Stories