His words sting. I wish he’d done it before Pamela died… What’s the point now?
"Start with Sunnyside," I mutter, hands shaking.
He nods solemnly.
"Sunnyside, huh? Front row seats."
Front row to street deals, shootouts, firebombings, and beatdowns. That’s my neighborhood. That’s why I need to get my family in a car and never come back. My uncle, my cousin, and now Pamela… too many have died there.
Seeing my silence, Alexis gently lays a hand on mine.
"The market over there’s something else, huh?" he says with a knowing smile.
I pull my hand away awkwardly, but nod.
"You can find anything there."
"I hope you’ve tried Spyce’s tacos."
A tiny smile creeps onto my face. That food truck is a legend in our area. Been there sixty years. I used to go with Pamela… The memory rips through me
