do you think you’re doing?”
Silence. Oh God, I was wrong. This was it. This was how I was going to die. I should do something, jump on someone’s instep, make a fast turn and head-butt someone, but my brain was stuck on the barrel jammed against my head. The pounding of my heart was all I could hear.
Then, a figure stepped around from behind me and moved next to the guy holding the gun to my head. “Ms. Brinkman? Shit. What you doin’ here?”
The man holding the gun-whose haircut reminded me of Vanilla Ice-looked from me to Deshawn. “You know dis bitch?”
“She’s my lawyer.” He waved a hand. “Y’all back off.”
Vanilla Ice stepped back and slipped the gun into his pocket as the other one slid the pipe back up his sleeve.
My brain signaled for all systems to stand down, and the adrenaline ebbed-a little too fast. I had to swallow to keep from vomiting. I pulled my jacket around me and folded my arms around my waist.
After a few deep breaths, the throbbing in my head started to recede… and then I got mad again. Really mad. You know what I hate almost as much as getting jacked? Working my ass off on a case and seeing all that hard work get flushed down the toilet.
I’d spent a lot of nights putting together the motion I’d been working on for Deshawn. If I won, he’d be home free. But if the cops caught Deshawn out here jacking people, “home” would be Wasco State Prison for twenty-five to life. My motion would matter about as much as a squirt gun in a hurricane.
I stepped up close to him and tried to keep my voice low. “Are you kidding me with this shit? I busted my hump on that motion, your mom probably went into hock to pay my freight, and you’re out here crime-ing.” Deshawn looked down. I pulled my phone out of my purse. “Matter of fact, I’m gonna call her right now and let her know-”
“No!” He grabbed my hand. Mama Johnson was no one to mess with, and we both knew it. He looked around, remembered that his homies were watching, and whispered, “Come on, you don’t gotta do that. Why you want to upset an old lady that way?”
I swear if we’d been alone, I’d have smacked him. “Me? Did I call you up and tell you to go out and jack people tonight?”
Deshawn sighed and threw a glance at Vanilla Ice. “It’s just a favor for Lil’ J. He’s trying to buy a ring for his girl. That gun ain’t even loaded.”
“But you’d still get twenty-five to life.” I nodded at the pocket of Vanilla’s hoodie that sagged with the weight of the gun, and at the other guy’s sleeve where the pipe was still peeking out at the cuff. “That’s a gun, and that’s a deadly weapon. You’re a third-striker, Deshawn.” I pointed to my temple-the same one that had hosted the barrel of a gun just minutes ago. “
