“Sorry.” A bouncer’s thick arm came down, a swift and certain barrier, blocking Crow from the club.

“But I’m with him.”

“Teen Night,” the man said. “No one over nineteen admitted.”

“But-”

“You can come back and pick up your…son at midnight.”

“Today’s midnight or tomorrow’s midnight?” Crow asked.

“What?”

“Never mind. Look, I need to keep a watch on my friend. I promised his, um, people that I wouldn’t let him out of my sight.”

“He somebody?” Asked with 90 percent skepticism, 10 percent hope. Lloyd could be some on-the-rise rapper, up from Atlanta, passing through.

“You could say that.” Crow tried to load his voice with subtle insinuation, as if anyone who was anyone would recognize the young man who had just entered the club.

“And you’re, what? Like his bodyguard?”

Crow gave the slightest of nods. It was true, in a fashion.

“Tough shit,” the bouncer decreed, folding his arms across his chest. “See you at midnight. Tonight’s midnight.”

Crow waved frantically at Lloyd, who was disappearing into a group of teenage girls, but he paid no attention. Crow would simply have to sit outside the club for the next three hours. Ah, well, it was an opportunity to find a convenience store, pick up new phones. He wondered why Tess hadn’t called as instructed or at least left a message. Maybe he had chosen a provider that didn’t work too well in her area. He’d try a new one this time. It was strange, not speaking to Tess directly for almost a week. She must be up to her eyeballs in work. Shit-the Ellen Mars case. He had forgotten that he was supposed to help Tess with that. But she had to understand that nothing was as urgent as keeping Lloyd safe.

While part of Lloyd felt superior to the teenagers dancing to what was an outmoded song back in Baltimore, a tired old thing that had been at the height of its popularity last fall, the girls were as pretty as any he’d seen back home. A stranger in their midst, he wasn’t getting much play, but when he started cutting up, doing his trademark comic moves, they began to notice him. He set his sights on a dark-skinned shorty with processed hair and a juicy body. She didn’t seem to be with anyone in particular, and she let him dance closer and closer to her. Now he had her eye, and she was smiling at him, matching her moves to his. He was smoothing it out now, toning it down so he looked serious about what he was doing but keeping his face clownish because she seemed to respond to that.

Thing was, he didn’t have anything to tempt her with. Crow had paid his admission fee but neglected to give him any spending money, and he didn’t want to go in search of him now to ask. That would be weak. He didn’t have a car he could take her to, although he could always get one. That’s why he had started learning to steal cars in the first place, to impress girls. But that would probably be a bad idea here. Country police didn’t have enough work to fill their days. And the cracker types around here would probably come down hard on his black ass. No, he couldn’t invite her outside for a ride.

He felt the bump in his inside breast pocket, the unicorn box. Weed, now that was something he could offer.

He leaned in, his mouth close to her ear. She had a nice fruity smell. Might be gum or something she put on her hair.

“You smoke?” he asked.

Wide-eyed, she shook her head. What was this, like, Teen and Church Night?

“Wanna try?”

To his delight she nodded and took his hand, leading him to the bathrooms at the rear of the club. With a quick glance around for lurking authority figures, she ducked into the men’s room, and he followed. The stall’s lock was broken, but the old metal frame was warped enough to hold the door.

“You’re pretty,” he said, not thinking clearly, allowing what was in his head to pop out. That was a punk thing to say. Le’andro always said you shouldn’t compliment a girl too early in the game. “What’s your name?”

“Glory.”

“Gloria?”

“Uh-uh. Glory. You’re not from here, are you?”

“Naw,” he said pridefully. “I’m from Baltimore. East Side.”

There was an awkward silence, and he tried to think of something to ask her, but to his amazement and delight she started kissing him. She might not have smoked before, but she seemed familiar enough with this. Maybe he wouldn’t have to break out the weed after all.

But she stopped as abruptly as she had started. “Show me.”

“Show-”

“What you promised.”

He pulled out the box, showed her the cache within. Shit, he didn’t have papers. How was he going to make use of it?

“That sure is pretty,” she said, running her fingers over its surface. “When it’s empty, can I have it?”

“Ain’t gonna be empty for a while. There’s more than an evening of fun here.” Trying to hook her, set up the long-term play.

“Maybe you could put it in a Baggie, let me have the box tonight.”

“I don’t know…” He was reluctant to give up the box, for reasons he wasn’t sure he could explain even to himself. Glory began kissing him again and this time added the extra touch of placing one shy but game hand down the waistband of his pants. Okay, maybe she could have the box. He put the top back on it and returned it to his pocket so his hands could tend to her. Dancing, she had looked young, a babyish fourteen who just happened to have a grown girl’s body. He hadn’t counted on getting a lot from her. But now she seemed ready to do just about anything. He was trying to figure out if he should let it go now, give himself up to that warm hand or get her somewhere he could get inside her. Maybe if he sat down on the toilet seat and pulled her on him-

“What the fuck you doing?”

The stuck door was dislodged with such force that it caught Lloyd in the back, catapulting him forward into Glory, who all but fell into the toilet, which made her sputter and squawk in indignation. It would have been funny if he hadn’t been scared to death. Lloyd grabbed her and swung around, so she was between him and the invader, a tall guy with dark, angry eyes. And a gun. Fuck, even in the country, the niggas had guns.

“You her boyfriend?” he asked, trying to think how he would plead his case.

“I’m her brother.”

A boyfriend, Lloyd might could deal with. It would still be bad, he’d probably get the crap beat out of him, but a boyfriend might get that it was an honest mistake, the kind anyone can make when a girl leads you to a bathroom and begins kissing you. After all, if this was Glory’s boyfriend, that was probably how they had started. A brother-no chance. A brother would kill you if he could, just like that scene in Scarface. Lloyd did the only thing that seemed likely to save his ass, dropping to his knees and crawling out from under the stall, then running full-tilt into the club, trying to lose himself in the crowd.

He thought he heard a shot but told himself it had to be something else, a balloon popping, a car backfiring. At any rate, he didn’t look back, just kept running for the door. Out on the street-fuck, no Crow. No Crow! And Lloyd didn’t have time to look for his worthless ass. He just had to run as fast and far as he could and hope he was running away from trouble, not into it.

An hour before Teen Night was to end, Crow returned to the street with two new cell phones and a couple of magazines he had been delighted to find at the local Shore Farms-the Atlantic and Harper’s. He ran the heater as necessary, dispelling the chill from the car. The solitude was a nice break. He hadn’t really been alone since Lloyd had shown up on the doorstep Tuesday morning. He liked the kid, who could be good company when he wasn’t brooding or complaining, but it was nice to be alone, too.