Free The Quick Fix by Jack D. Ferraiolo Page B

through his body. His eyes shot open wide; his head jerked back. He raised the ball in his right hand like a baseball; his feet shifted like a shortstop preparing to throw a runner out at first. “You have five seconds to tell me the truth or I break your nose.”
    I almost said
Calm down
, which was something you never want to say in such a situation. Someone that worked up was liable to smack you for even suggesting he calm down. Instead, I said, “You gave your girlfriend, Melissa Scott, a box to hold, right?”
    â€œIt wasn’t a box,” he replied. “It was just a piece of wood. Like a decoration or a knickknack …”
    â€œIs that what your friend told you when he gave it to you?”
    â€œYeah, he—” Will stopped. “I don’t have to tell you anything.” The ball was still in his hand.
    â€œYou’re right. You don’t. But at this moment, I may be the most important person in your life,” I said. “Andyou do not want to break the nose of the most important person in your life.”
    â€œExplain. Two seconds.”
    â€œI’m not the only person who knows it’s a box. Vinny Biggs and the Thompsons know it, too. Even worse, they know what’s inside. And they want it … and they’re willing to put anyone and everyone in the Outs until they get their hands on it. And when I say ‘anyone and everyone,’ that includes the captain of the basketball team.”
    He stood there thinking about it, still ready to chuck the ball at my face if the conversation called for it. He could do some damage, too. “I’m supposed to take the word of some shady kid who’s stalking me?”
    â€œWhoa, whoa, whoa,” I said. “I’m more shifty than shady. You can ask anyone. As for the stalking part, as I said, Melissa hired me to do it.”
    â€œHow do I know you weren’t the one who put Melissa—”
    The door behind him opened. He turned with the basketball still cocked, as if the play was now at second base instead of first. Vinny’s two guards, the ones who “retrieved” me yesterday at lunch, walked in. Vinny was behind them, flanked by a couple more of his “employees.”Robbie “Mouse” Mariano was one of them. A short, skinny kid with glasses, Robbie was Vinnie’s numbers guy. He went to the high school three times a week to take math classes because he had completed the requirements for middle school when he was in the third grade.
    The other kid with Vinny was Jenny Finnegan.
    A few feet into the gym, both guards stopped. Vinny, Robbie, and Jenny walked between them. A few feet more, Robbie and Jenny stopped. Vinny kept coming until there was only a foot or so of empty space between him and Will.
    â€œNice choreography,” I said. “Looks like you guys have been practicing.”
    Vinny ignored me. Jenny gave me a sneer, large enough that she could get her point across but small enough that Vinny couldn’t see it. Will’s arm was still in the same throwing position, but it had drooped a little.
    â€œWilliam,” Vinny said, “I would like to talk to Matthew.”
    Will turned and gave me a triumphant smile, as if all of his suspicions about me were right, and this just proved it. I shrugged. Now wasn’t the time to try to change his mind.
    â€œWhy don’t you go practice your free throws at the other end of the court,” Vinny added. It wasn’t a question.
    Will paused, as if he wasn’t used to taking orders from someone who didn’t have a whistle around his neck. I wondered for a moment if he was going to give Vinny a speech about how this was his court, but then the ball fell out of his hand and bounced on the floor. He turned that bounce into a lazy dribble and started walking to the other end of the court.
    Vinny came over to me. The rest of his entourage stayed put. “Matthew, I told you that you would