Free Swift Edge by Laura Disilverio Page B

another?”
    “A boy called Kungfu,” Gigi said, not sure she followed William’s logic but grateful for his willingness to engage. “He had a job working for Father Dan Allgood at St. Paul’s, but he hasn’t been there all week.”
    “Father Dan’s cool,” one of the twenty-something men offered. He had buzz-cut brown hair and tattoos of dragons coiling around arms bared by a leather vest. A scar disfigured his face, and Gigi fought not to stare at it.
    “Did any of you hang with Kungfu?” Gigi asked, hoping she’d used “hang” correctly; she’d heard Dexter say things like “I’m going to hang with Jesse and Dillon at the skate park.”
    The man with the dragons chewed a hangnail on his thumb; he seemed young for his age. The teen sitting farthest away had his eyes closed and his head resting on the chair back. The other man eyed William but said nothing. William answered for them all. “Nah. Dude was a loner, man.”
    This was hopeless, Gigi thought, not having felt so uncomfortable in a group since she first married Les and attended a dinner party given by one of his stuck-up clients who clearly despised a girl who spoke with a Georgia accent and did nails and hair for a living. She’d heard the phrase “white trash” whispered more than once that evening.
    “How about drugs?” she asked.
    “What kind you want?” William asked with a laugh. The others joined in.
    “Not me!” Gigi’s voice squeaked. “I mean, did Kungfu—”
    “They’re all clean,” Roger Nutt put in from the doorway. One raised brow quelled the laughter. “They agree to weekly drug tests while they’re here, and if they fail one they’re gone. No exceptions, no second chances.”
    Gigi shifted from foot to foot. “Well, thanks for talking to me, guys.” She’d almost said “boys” but caught herself in time. “If you think of anything, anything at all, that might help us find Kungfu, please let me know.” She passed business cards to each of the teens and men. They filtered out of the room until only the man with the tattoo was left, neatly pushing the chairs under the table.
    “Thanks, Jerome,” Roger Nutt said. He gestured for Gigi to precede him out the door.
    Gigi smiled at the man, wondering about the burn scar that disfigured his face from cheekbone to jaw and the air of apprehension that clung to him, despite the tough-seeming tattoo and leather clothes.
    “Kungfu had a…” His voice trailed off so Gigi couldn’t hear him. His hand drifted to his cheek, as if to hide the scar.
    “What, sugah?”
    He cleared his throat. “Kungfu was getting a tattoo,” he said. “Is that the kind of thing you want to know?” He blinked several times.
    “Exactly,” Gigi said warmly, wanting to hug him—he wasn’t that much older than Dexter. “How do you know? Did Kungfu mention it?”
    “I saw him at Tattoo4U. That’s where I got Saracen and Scimitar.”
    “Who?”
    “My dragons.” He flexed his biceps so the dragon tattoos seemed to writhe.
    Gigi fought to control her distaste. Who named his tattoos? “Uh, they’re very pretty,” she offered.
    Jerome frowned. “Fierce. They’re fierce. They protect me.” He stepped toward Gigi, neck poking forward.
    Gigi sent a “help me” look to Roger Nutt, who made a calming motion. Jerome nodded jerkily and stepped back. “I’m cool, I’m cool.”
    “When did you see him?” Gigi asked. She dug a roll of Life Savers out of her purse. “Want one?” Jerome took three and popped them all in his mouth. She offered them to Roger, and he shook his head. Letting a lime Life Saver melt on her tongue, Gigi waited for Jerome to think.
    “Monday,” he said. “Yeah, it was Monday. I was thinking about getting another tat, but I can’t really afford it. Kungfu came in as I was leaving.” He juddered from foot to foot and edged toward the door.
    “You’ve been very, very helpful, Jerome,” Gigi said. “Thank you so much.”
    “You’re on lunch duty this