The Boy Must Die by Jon Redfern Read Free Book Online

mouth.
    “Come.”
    Justin followed Yianni into the office, where Yianni sat down at his desk. Watching this short frightening man gather the flattened fifties and twenties into a pile, Justin remembered what one of his college friends had said. “Yianni lives for money, Justin. He gets off on hurting people, too. He’ll push any button he can to get his thrills.” Each time Yianni flicked one of the bills and folded it into a wad, Justin felt his neck tingle.
    “This is the last time you come here without full payment,” Yianni then said, folding the wadded money into a green leather wallet. “You understand? I don’t want a little loan to get in the way of me liking you.”
    “Yes. Okay.”
    “Now, kid. You get to the bank. Or to your rich uncle. Or to a rich sugar-momma you can fuck for a loan. Low interest. You get my six thousand and come back here next Saturday. You bring me the cash, full payment, you have a Coke, I count the bills, we celebrate with a joint. Am I right?”
    “Sure. Yes, Yianni.”
    “Am I right?”
    “Yes. You are right.”
    “Until next Saturday.”
    Justin turned and reached for the door handle.
    “Wait a minute, kid.”
    Yianni opened a cupboard and lifted out a small Ziploc bag. In it were clusters of green marijuana flakes. One of Yianni’s dime bags.
    “I don’t do this very often, kid. ’Cept for my preferred clients. Youare special, Justin. Here. Take it.”
    “No thanks. It’s okay, Yianni. . . .”
    “Come on, kid. Don’t hurt my feelings. You don’t want a gift from an old friend? It’s on the house. You can’t say I never cut you a deal when you was buying from me. Remember?”
    “Yes, Yianni.”
    “So take it. Give it to your ex-girlfriend. Fuck her and have some fun.” Yianni dropped the bag into Justin’s open hand.
    “Now get your ass out of here.”
    Outside on the street, Justin noticed the sky for the first time that morning. Empty. Clear. “A bit of time,” he whispered. He began to shake and went to pull up his collar as if he were wearing a heavy coat.
Think, think.
He felt the dime bag in his pocket. It wasn’t more than fifty bucks worth, not even to that kid who hung out at Sheree Lynn’s. He didn’t want to think about the barrier tape, the police cars outside Satan House.
Poor Auntie Marion would’ve freaked if she knew everyone called it that.
He remembered Cody. Dead in the basement last December. Justin wondered why the police had never questioned him. Thank God. Selling dime bags to the two boys was definitely illegal, but Justin still needed more than a few small dope sales to pay off Yianni. Who could he ask for a real loan? He started to run towards the Oldsmobile. His legs were like rubber. The street gave off waves of heat, and he stopped for a moment. In front of him was Boorman’s Men’s Store. Justin spotted a red silk tie in the display window. “Why not?” he whispered under his breath. And without hesitating, he walked into the panelled showroom of the store with its neat shelves of folded shirts and racks of suits. A well-dressed older man walked up to him.
    “Hi, how much is the red tie in the window?”
    Before the man had time to answer, Justin’s stomach contorted. It was like a signal, a warning. Justin blinked, broke into a sheepish grin. “No, it’s okay,” he blurted. Turning, his neck hot with shame, Justin mustered his courage and strolled out purposefully. Once more in the brazen sun, he froze on the sidewalk, his back to the display window. Hisstomach cut into him again. Oh, yes, his mother had always
said
he was a spendthrift, a compulsive, just like his father. Oh, yes, he knew he couldn’t resist buying something he liked no matter what the price. This was the very disease, the blind need to spend, that drove him towards a man like Yianni. Justin had always known it. But today was the first time he really
felt
it, and it was like being hit by a bucket of ice water. “It’s all Yianni’s fault,”