CHAPTER SEVEN
Anton and Bootsy sat on the roof of their building staring at the freeway across the way, watching the shiny headlights of the cars traveling back and forth.
“Dad,” Anton spoke to his father.
“Yeah, son?” Bootsy responded before taking a sip of his Heineken.
“I wanna be like you when I grow up,” he smiled.
“Thanks, baby boy, that means a lot to me.” He grinned and gripped his shoulder. “But do me a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t be like me, be better than me.”
“No. I wanna be just like my old man, you’re my hero.”
Bootsy was about to take another swig of his Heineken but hearing what his boy said stopped him. He allowed the green beer bottle to dangle between his legs and he hung his head, trying to pull himself together. When he looked back up, Anton had a concerned
