his voice coming from. Big J was—of course—big. He was an inch or two taller than me, and probably a good hundred and fifty pounds heavier easily; maybe more like two hundred pounds heavier. His skin was a reddish-brown russet color, the result of a mix of ethnicities I had never asked too many questions about and now never would.
“I’m not feeling the love,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. Come on, guys. Someone bust in. Someone say something incredibly fucking incriminating; do something. “What’s all this shit about hauling up a civvie for a problem you’ve got with me?” I pointed to Mary. “She’s not part of this.”
“Wrong place at the wrong time,” Big J said with a philosophical shrug. “She your life coach, or your lay?”
“Both,” Mary said. In spite of myself I snorted at the fact that she didn’t sound the least bit intimidated. “Though I’d prefer girlfriend if we’re going to stand on courtesy with this bullshit.” The whole room went silent; I don’t think anyone was used to someone talking to Big J like that—calm, unhurried. Plenty of junkies had yelled at him, plenty of junkies had cried to him; I didn’t think very many people at all had had the balls to speak calmly and firmly to the man.
“You got something of mine,” Big J said, looking at me. His voice cut through the silence and I heard people starting to move around again.
“Not me,” I said with a shrug. “I only ever had what I paid for, and what I paid for is gone.”
“What kind of bullshit do you think I’m buying, North?” Big J shook his head. “You ought to know better by now.”
“I’m telling the truth,” I said, spreading my ink-marked hands wide. “I don’t have your shit. I never had any more of your shit than what I bought.”
“So you tell me who does, then,” Big J said. “Or I’m thinking the only fair trade is for me to take something of yours.” He glanced at Mary. Motherfucker, if you even raise a hand to gesture at her I’ll find a way to end you.
“I don’t know who stole from you,” I said. “Could’ve been Little C. Could’ve been Jamie Price. How the fuck am I supposed to know?”
“You were there,” Reggie said from behind me.
“So were you,” I pointed out. “I don’t see you running to tell the boss you know for sure it was me or you saw it.”
“I was counting bills,” Reggie said.
“Yeah, and I was getting ready to find a quiet place to use.”
“So you say.”
“Both of you shut the fuck up. Now .” Big J stood slowly from the chair he was in, gathering up his momentum, and my heart started to pound. “We can settle this. Ladies, I need you to leave the room.” Big J’s gaze fell on Mary. “Not you, though.”
****
As if the call to clear the room was a signal, the whole place suddenly lit up—from outside. I heard shouts, and in a matter of mere moments, black-uniformed figures wearing helmets and brandishing huge fucking guns began to pour into the living room from both ends of the house. Everyone hit the floor except for Big J—who was reaching for his own weapon, shouting to his dealers to put up or get the fuck out. There was a crack, a hiss, and the air around me suddenly burned. I lurched forward as a billowing fog filled the room.
I had to find Mary. She was the only person in this whole situation that was completely innocent; she didn’t deserve any of this. I heard coughing, sputtering, choking sounds and moved towards them, not even certain I knew who it was, not even sure I wasn’t walking right towards a loaded gun. Somehow even though my nose and throat were on fire, even though my eyes were streaming, and the air was thick with what I suddenly realized was tear gas, I managed to find Mary; she’d dropped to the floor, and I joined her there, reaching out to grab for her hand. At first—even blinder than me—she flailed, shrieking and kicking out to get away from me. “Mary! Baby, it’s me. It’s