Free Wrong Thing by Barry Graham Page A

considered the fact that they were in handcuffs, and that the only place the cops didn’t seem to be looking was the kitchen table. And both decided not to do anything, to just pretend the drugs didn’t exist.
    The Kid felt a surge of hope rise inside him, and he tried to fight it down. He didn’t want to hope. He knew he was going to prison, that the cops had only missed the drugs so far because they were busy searching everywhere else. He knew that, but the hope rose anyway.
    The three of them sat at the table for more than an hour. They didn’t speak. Then, at last, the cops came back into the kitchen. The Kid felt a lightness in his head and a jumping in his stomach.
    The most senior cop leaned on the table, his face close to the Kid’s, his hands almost touching the bags of meth. “All right,” he said. “Where is it?”
    â€œI don’t know,” the Kid said. The cop made to hit him, and the Kid shrank away. “Look, I ain’t being smart. I don’t know what you’re looking for, I swear.”
    The cops took the Kid and Miguel into the living room. They left Maria handcuffed in the kitchen. They worked both of them over, not to try to get them to confess to anything, just because they wanted to. When they were done, they removed the handcuffs. They went to the kitchen and uncuffed Maria. Then they left.
    Maria went into the living room. Miguel and the Kid both had puffy faces and bloody noses, but they were in each other’s arms, laughing and crying at the same time, stomping their feet on the floor.
    â€œWe’re going to fucking church, bro!” Miguel said through swollen lips. “I ain’t kidding! In fact, you know what?—We’re gonna pray now. I’m fucking serious, I swear to God. Right fucking now. On your knees.” He looked at Maria. “You too, sweetie.”
    â€œWhy?” she said.
    â€œBecause you just saw a fucking miracle! The Lord saved our sorry-assed fucking souls!”
    â€œI’m a believer now,” the Kid said.
    Bemused, Maria joined them in kneeling on the floor, surrounded by the debris of the police search.
    â€œOkay,” Miguel said. “Lord, we thank thee for giving us each day our daily bread. We ask thee to forgive us our sins and help us be good people. We especially thank thee for making the cops too fucking dumb to notice four bags of meth when it’s right in front of their faces. Amen.”
    â€œAmen,” said the Kid.
    â€œSo you guys are drug dealers?” said Maria.
    Miguel looked at the Kid. “Now that,” he said, “is something we really need to have a talk about, bro. Know what I’m saying?”
    â€œYeah,” said the Kid.

    The Kid called the guy who’d snitched on them. “Hey” he said. “Guess where I’m calling from? I’ll give you a clue. It ain’t jail.”
    â€œWhy would you be in jail?” the guy said, and the Kid heard it in his voice.
    The Kid laughed. “You fucking idiot. You better pack your bags.”
    â€œDude, I don’t know what you’re talking about”
    â€œA bullet in the face.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThat’s what you’re gonna get if you stay around.”
    â€œWhy? From who?”
    â€œFrom me, and you know why. Now, you better be gone before I find you”
    Silence. Then the guy said, “I’m engaged. I’m gonna have a family. I can’t go anywhere.”
    â€œYou don’t go anywhere, you ain’t gonna get married and have a family. You’re gonna be dead. I’ll kill her too. I’ll kill her first”
    â€œWhat can I do? Just tell me.”
    â€œNothing. You can leave or die.”
    He started to cry. “How long?”
    â€œI’ll be looking for you tomorrow.”
    â€œOkay. I’ll be gone.”
    â€œGood idea. And don’t come back.” The Kid hung up.

    That evening, the Kid and