"You're like gum on a shoe, kid," the house guard said as Troy followed him into the hall, past the enormous painting of G Money and into the very room where Troy needed to be.
"Your dad's coming," the guard said, leaving him alone.
Only the weak light coming in from the pool area and two dim floor lamps lit the room. Troy headed straight for the zebra couch, which sat facing the big glass windows on the edge of a bearskin rug. His heart thumped up into his throat. He felt around the phone and pinched the quarter, his hand still deep in his pocket as he rounded the couch and gasped.
Luther Tolsky was lying sprawled out along the length of the black-and-white couch like a beached whale. The enormous man's fingers were intertwined and rested in the center of his chest. His eyes shot open. They widened, and he scowled at Troy through his rimless glasses.
"What are you doing here?" Luther Tolsky asked in an unfriendly rumble, the pink opening of his mouth flashing white teeth from its nest of black fur.
Troy snatched his hand out of his pocket, leaving the quarter behind.
"Nothing," he said, instantly aware that his answer wasn't good enough. "My dad. I'm meeting him."
Luther's face softened just a bit. "Yeah, you got the big money coming in, little man, don't you?"
"I think."
"You know," Luther said, scowling again. "Don't be a little daisy. You like daisies?"
"No," Troy said.
"No one does," Luther said. "Pretty little flowers that smell like junk. Say what you think. Think what you say."
Troy stood, frozen and scared.
Luther stared, waiting, then said, "So? You got the big money?"
"Yes."
White teeth flashed from the middle of Luther's thick beard. "That's a good boy. You do have it coming in. I heard about it. Big money. There is nothing wrong with money."
Troy just stood.
Luther sat up and scratched his beard, then flipped open his cell phone, dialed, and put it to his ear. Troy looked down at him, his eyes drawn to the tattered ear. One tail of Luther's silk shirt had escaped from his pants. The gold chain on his chest, resting in its bed of hair, glowed in the dull light from the pool. In Luther's eyes, Troy saw evil and death and the cunning of a warlock who could read your mind.
"Drew," Luther said, barking Troy's father's name, "you coming to meet your little man or no? Little Daisy woke me up from my nap. Come get the boy. In the zoo room. I got people coming from New York and that man from the Cayman Islands, and they won't want to see a kid."
Luther snapped the phone shut and looked around before he said, "Looks like a zoo in here, right?"
Troy nodded, glancing around at the animal skins laid out on the floor and stretched tight over the sofas, chairs, and footstools. Relief flooded his mind when his father appeared through a doorway on the far side of the enormous room, walking and laughing with G Money. Luther looked over his shoulder and nodded at Troy's dad and the famous rap star, then offered up a greeting that was little more than a grunt.
Troy's dad seemed to avoid eye contact with the grumpy big man. Instead, he gave Troy a wink and a clap on the back.
"Hey, partner," he said. "How's it feel to be a millionaire? G Money, my boy is in the big time."
"I hear you," G Money said, holding out a fist for Troy to bump. "What it is. New York is all that. You two gonna love the Big Apple."
"Hey!" Luther shouted. "Little man. You got any money now?"
Troy looked up at the enormous, scary man and blinked. Troy's father shot him a worried look, as if Luther were a fifteen-foot alligator loose from his pen. Troy waited for his father to save him, but no one said anything, and Luther's stare seemed to burn hotter by the second.
"What do you mean?" Troy said in a broken croak.
"Money," Luther said in disgust. "You know what that is, right?"
Troy nodded.
"How much money you got?" Luther asked.
Troy shrugged and shook his head, scared and unknowing.
"In your pocket," Luther said, slow and mean, dipping his chin toward the pocket where Troy held the FBI's quarter. "How much money you got in there? Go on. Dig in.
"Let me see."
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
TROY SLIPPED HIS FINGERS into the pocket.
He looked at his father. Drew gave him an odd half smile and tilted his head. Troy wondered if his father would keep him alive long enough for the FBI to get there in time, if they were listening.
His fingers closed around the cool metal disk and, hesitantly, he removed it from his pocket.
"Open your hand," Luther grumbled.
Troy's fingers slowly spread. The quarter gleamed up at them.
Luther began to laugh.
It started in low, then grew to a mad cackle.
"Twenty-five cents!" Luther hooted. "Look at your boy, Drew. Your little man is some kind of player, right? Five million in the pipeline, and he's got a quarter in his pocket."
Troy's father joined in the laughter, as did G Money; soon Troy realized it was real laughter, all of it. He broke out in a relieved laugh of his own, looking from one face to another. When it died down, Luther wiped a tear from the corner of one dark and red-rimmed eye and sniffed. Then from his own pocket he removed a fat wad of hundred-dollar bills.
"This is how you carry your money, little man, in a roll," Luther said, "if you're lucky enough to have this much. But you are lucky, right? Lucky for your dad, that's for sure. Lucky like a rabbit's foot."
Troy's father hesitated, then said, "I was lucky to find him."
Luther snorted, stuffed the roll of cash back into his pocket, and looked at G Money, who shrugged as though afraid to take a side.
"That and more," Luther said to Troy's dad with a scowl before he glanced at his watch. "All right. I got this meeting in two minutes, so you take this little family reunion someplace else."
Troy studied G Money, thinking that since it was his house, he'd have something to say about who would go where. Troy was wrong. G Money listened to the big thug like a schoolboy hoping to get out of the principal's office. The rapper flicked his chin, signaling Troy and his dad to follow him. Even though he hadn't completed his mission, Troy could only feel relief at the thought of being free from the horrible gaze of Luther Tolsky.
They hadn't taken two steps before a guard barged in from the entrance and said, "Hey, G Money. We got another kid now."
"What?" G Money said, rumpling his face.
That's when the guard reached behind him, grabbed hold of a collar, and shoved Tate into the big room.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
LUTHER'S PINK GRIN APPEARED in the midst of his beard, G Money flashed his own gold grille, and Troy's dad joined in.
"Little man is some kind of Romeo," Luther said. "Come on in here, Juliet."
Tate folded her arms across her chest and scowled at them all.
"Tate," Troy said in disbelief, "what are you doing?"
"Making sure you're all right," she said, glaring at him like the whole thing was his fault.
"I'm fine," Troy said.
"Right," she said, drawing out the word to show her disbelief.
"You want me to bounce her on out of here, G?" the guard asked.
"You remember Tate, G Money?" Troy quickly said. "My friend from the Falcons game. Down on the field?"
"You can't take the little man's shorty," Luther said, laughing.
With the men's attention on Tate, Troy realized in a flash that he had a chance to do what he'd come for. The thought of his father going to jail forced his hand into his pocket. He clutched his mom's cell phone with the quarter pressed tight to its side. When he removed the items, he kept his eyes on the men and let the quarter slip from his hand so that it fell to the bearskin rug with the faintest thump.