Chapter 31
They arrived at midnight, the witching hour, Neal thought. Nick took in the La Noche club’s dreary store-front façade and rolled his eyes.
“You owe me. I went to Hell Fire, you can do La Noche,” Neal said, swinging open the ugly black door.
The interior was dark, crowded and loud. Dewalt’s friend, Boney, was revving the crowd from the DJ booth.
“You punks in da back, yo hoods on the side, I said get up and dance all you f*****g nappy headed niggas,” Boney yelled over the sound system.
Nick froze, as did Neal. Neal decided they must look like waspy match sticks draped in Bergdorf silk and expensive shoes. Nick was carrying a petite alligator man-bag. He leaned close to Neal as a Wu Tang Clan song ripped forth.
“We are going to die here,” Nick said.
Neal punched him in t
