Free King Maker: The Knights of Breton Court, Volume 1 by Maurice Broaddus

cousin. She tugged at her gloves before thrusting her hands into her coat pocket, hiding her scars well.
      "Fine." Rhianna turned away.
      Wayne was inured to the various armor the ladies donned to protect themselves. It was like this every week, the intervening days between Drop nights allowed the bricks of their walls to fall back into place. Each conversation needed to re-establish the semblance of trust.
      "How's the baby doing? We still on for me to take you to your doctor's appointment? That reminds me…" Wayne pulled out a bottle of vitamins. "Those are for you."
      "Thanks," Rhianna said. It was only one word, but the thawing had already begun. Appeasing her "what have you done for me lately?" defenses was rarely difficult.
      "If you come in next week, we can get you enrolled in food stamps."
      "What good are food stamps when you got no place to cook?"
      "We're working on that, too. Things improve with your mom any?" Wayne knew there was no point in asking about her father.
      "Nope."
      "You still see the baby's daddy anymore?"
      Lady G balled her hand and punched her thigh repeatedly, drawing their attention. Familiar with her case file, Wayne didn't press her. Her life didn't start easy as her mother tried to cut her out of her stomach while pregnant with her. Despite being born addicted to crack, her mother took to beating her, the worst typically coming at Christmas time when the Christmas lights became an improvised whip. After a house fire, she fell into a pattern of moving from house to house, becoming a couch surfer before she hit her teen years.
      "No, I don't see him anymore," Rhianna lied, more to Lady G than Wayne. She planned to meet Prez later on that day.
      "Don't waste no time with petty niggas," Lady G said with a sing-song lilt as if along to the words of a new joint.
      "I know, I know. 'Do better'."
      "I'm just saying, no dude better touch me, much less hit me over no butt. Do better."
      "I ain't gonna trip." Rhianna's whisper sounded even more hoarse.
      "You stand by yourself, you stay by yourself."
      "Girl," Rhianna searched for a retort but found none, "…boo." Then she upticked her chin toward another table. The trio's attentions shifted to the large boy sitting by himself.
      "What you looking at?" Lady G's tone raised up in the posture of attack that was now reflex. No perceived slight or challenge went unmet.
      "Nothing." Nearly tipping three bills, Percy had been watching them as his personal dinner theater. Mounds of food – half already consumed – filled his plate. Sheets of paper lay scattered next to his plate as he doodled while lost in his thoughts. He had a darker knot above his left eyebrow in the shape of a crescent moon, his downcast eyes searched for the television remote. The batteries for it rolled along the table; he'd taken them out after fumbling with the buttons in an effort to get it to work.
      "Oh, I know you're looking at something," Lady G said.
      "You want you some of this?" Rhianna rose to the sport. Neither of them knew how to react to someone, a male especially, who was always around without the agenda of getting into their pants. Yet Percy was always nearby, trailing them more like a faithful puppy than anything creepy. They didn't trust his faithful protectiveness either. "You are way too special."
      "You got to get some game. Can't come up in here looking like Super Mario in black face."
      "Look here, Negro Gump…"
      " Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so ," Percy began to sing to himself. He rocked back and forth, contenting himself to wait them out. There was only so much for them to make fun of: he was slow, fat, had yellow teeth, was not especially handsome, and his clothes were secondhand filthy. Though his nose was long numb to it, he knew that he stank. Wayne's eyes filled with pity every time he saw him and it made Percy sad to see him sometimes. Lady G and Miss