Back at the apartment, Lamar was waiting for him in the living room, eating a bowl of cereal and watching tv. No pot tonight, not when the rent was due, but an open can of beer on the table in front of him gave Stacy a small clue about his roommate’s mood, even before Lamar asked, “Where you been?”
“Work,” Stacy replied. Lamar laughed, a short, derisive sound that said he thought Stacy was full of s**t. “What?”
Lamar shook his head, but something in his hard eyes made Stacy nervous. The envelope, he thought, glancing at the kitchen table. There it was, right where he had left it earlier in the week, so blatantly untouched that he knew Lamar must’ve looked inside.
Maybe it was the rent that bothered him, maybe he’d smoked his half away and wanted Stacy to cover the full amount, though in
