Page 7 of Stone’s Cage

And just like that, Shreves changes direction. He's like a shark who just picked up the scent of new blood, and he backs away from Stone and starts to walk towards the door again. Juice flips off Stone and the coach and follows Shreves out. Stone never sees me, doesn’t know I'm out here, doesn’t see Shreves grab my arm.

Next thing I know, we're halfway down the alley, away from the gym, turned a corner or two and are out on some street I don't recognize. A group of teens scatter as Shreves hauls me to a spot in front of a caged storefront, closed and out of business. The guy has my upper arm in his grip like a vice and is looking right in my eyes. His are cold, dark, with a slight film I can't decide is drug induced or the effect of having no soul. I see the blue fishhook on his forearm. Bigger, the worm pink and gray.

"Okay, talk," says Shreves.

"What's there to say?" I say.

I don't even register that he's slapped me. There's just my left cheek, stinging.

"Don't talk to me like that ever. You tell me what I want. Let's start over."

"Why'd you do that?"

"Oh, you're feisty."

"Yeah, I don't like being slapped in the face."

Shrugging he says, "But now we understand each other."

"Okay," I say.

"Good. So, what do you want?"

"I want in."

Juice blows a long sorry note of a whistle and shakes his head at the ground.

"Oh, I don't run no gang. I have a team. I have a basketball league."

"What kind of story is that?" I say.

"What do you suggest? Golf? Tennis?" Shaking his massive head, Shreves explains, as if it needs explaining: "I run teams for underprivileged youth." He laughs hard, wheezing slightly. "I work in the schools, sister. I run one of the most successful youth groups in the city. The mayor loves me. I clean up real nice." He licks his lips.

I feel bile come up in the back of my throat.

Shreves looks me up and down. "You fourteen?"

I nod.

"And you want to be a fledgling?"

I nod again.

"You're gonna have to be evaluated."

"Fine," I toss off, shrugging myself clear of his grip on my arm, trying to appear annoyed. I know he will be able to ferret out fear if I give him half a chance.

"First, we'll see how you can handle the dice, and then we'll have you run a few errands."

Checking his phone, he texts someone for a moment and then his head snaps up again, the fat bunching in two long rolls at the base of his skull.

"Okay," I say, trying to act as though I know exactly what he's talking about. This is what I wanted, it was what I had been searching for. Then he smiles. "I take real good care of all my girls," he says, but those eyes do not match the smile at all. Suddenly, my confidence just drains.

"You know where Jimmi's is? The bar?"

I nod.

"Be outside at seven tomorrow and Juice, here, will escort you to the basement."