Free Body Movers by Stephanie Bond Page B

his backpack and stuffed his iPod, cel phone
    and money inside. Then he stepped out into the hall and
    closed his bedroom door. It was a house rule that his
    bedroom door be closed at all times because Carlotta lived
    in fear that Einstein would somehow escape his enclosure.
    “Wesley!”
    “I’m coming,” he yel ed. But when he reached the living
    room, he stopped short. Sitting next to Carlotta on the
    couch was Tick, the tub of lard who had forced his way in
    the house last week and called Carlotta at work.
    “Mornin’, Wesley,” the guy said, smiling and patting
    Carlotta’s knee.
    Carlotta, clutching the newspaper, looked terrified. Tick
    must have been waiting for her when she stepped outside
    to leave for work. Fury balled in Wesley’s stomach—he
    wanted to kil the guy. He had always wished he was big
    and beefy like Chance, but never more so than at this
    moment.
    “Leave her alone,” was all he could say.
    “Where’s the money?” Tick asked.
    Wesley pul ed himself up to his ful height. “Maybe you
    can tel me.”
    Tick laughed. “What are you talkin’ about?”
    “I was jumped yesterday. Guy took all that I was carrying. I
    figured it was for Father Thom.”
    Tick wagged his fat head. “Nope. Must have been
    someone else you owe.”
    Wesley couldn’t tel if he was lying—but then, did it really
    matter?
    Then the man’s eyes grew mean. “So like I said, where’s
    the money?”
    Wesley reached into his backpack. “After yesterday, three-
    sixty was all I could get together.”
    Tick laughed. “You’re shittin’ me, right?”
    Wesley extended the money and, as he hoped, Tick
    lurched to his feet to count it. “This ain’t enough, Wesley.
    Father Thom gave me strict orders not to leave here with
    less than a grand. You don’t want to get me in trouble with
    my boss, do you?”
    Wesley swallowed. “No. But you can’t squeeze blood out
    of a turnip.”
    Tick grinned. “Sure I can.”
    “Wait a minute,” Carlotta said, her voice trembling.
    “Nobody’s going to squeeze blood out of anybody. I have
    the money.”
    Wesley and Tick both looked at her. “You do?” they asked
    in unison.
    Wesley frowned. “How?”
    “Get it,” Tick said. “I’m beginning to lose patience with you
    two.”
    Carlotta pushed to her feet and dropped the newspaper
    into a chair, then marched out of the room toward her
    bedroom.
    Tick watched her leave and sucked his teeth. “Your sister’s
    got a smokin’ bod.”
    “Watch your mouth,” Wesley said, clenching his fists.
    The big man looked at him and laughed. “I guess if my
    sister looked like that, I’d be stupid about it, too.” Then
    the man sobered. “But you are stupid if you think that
    Father Thom won’t go after her if you’re late again.
    Remember that real hard, little man.”
    Wesley opened his mouth to say something foul but
    stopped himself when he heard Carlotta’s footsteps.
    “Here’s the other six hundred forty,” she said, extending a
    stack of cash to Tick, her expression tight. “Now, please
    leave.”
    The big man took his time counting the money, then
    shoved it into his pocket and smiled. “See how easy that
    was? Do this every week and pretty soon, you’l be debt
    free, just like all those commercials on TV promise.”
    “Get out,” Carlotta said through clenched teeth. “Or I’l call
    the police.”
    Tick laughed. “Yeah…right.” Then he looked at Wesley.
    “Remember what I said, little man.”
    Wesley’s throat burned with bile as he watched the man
    walk heavily toward the door. At the last second, Tick
    turned his head and glanced at the aluminum Christmas
    tree in the corner of the room.
    “Merry fucking Christmas,” he said sarcastically before
    banging the door shut behind him.
    They were both quiet for a few seconds. He almost
    couldn’t bear to look at his sister. When he did, her eyes
    were stormy, her arms crossed, her back rigid.
    He gave her his best little-brother smile. “Where did