West side of Chicago. Here, the houses line up in order, white and red brick bungalows, the occasional two flat. To Jimmy, who had grown up around run-down walk-ups and projects, the houses and their clipped lawns looked palatial, the province of the wealthy.
As they turned into the driveway of a white brick bungalow just like all the rest on the street, Jimmy watched out of the corner of his eye as the guy pressed a button on the visor above him. An aluminum garage door began to roll up, spilling yellow light onto the concrete. Inside, Jimmy could see stacks of old newspapers, a lawn mower, a little girl’s pink bicycle.
“Kid, you even breathe too loud and I’ll ram this fuckin’ blade right up your ass.” The man pressed the button to unlock the power locks. “You’re gonna walk into the hou
