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314 pages, Paperback
First published January 15, 2015
It ain’t like I like kids. Mainly I don’t like people running around batshit when I’m trying to think. Theresa, for all her great fuckable qualities, didn’t have a clue what a boy needs. Mainly, out of the tiny fucking apartment. Don’t isolate him from the rest of the world, he does that too much without your help. Don’t make him afraid of where he has to live.
It was Saturday, and I needed a bank. I knew Rico could get me work, but it wouldn’t be as safe and easy as collecting, and it wouldn’t give me the rush I wanted. There was nothing like a good solo heist, the teller’s fear mixing with mine, the rush of escape—freedom.
Then the wind-down, isolation somewhere, knowing I was as safe as I could get, and I might be dead if I felt safe at all. Every sense alert, not trusting anyone, ready for whatever came along. Whoever. Maybe that was another reason I needed this. I’d been with Theresa too long, it was time to hide away a while. She wanted some of what I had, but she wanted a safer version, a version with the edge off. She wanted me cool. I needed to burn.