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happen, buddy.”

“I’m not your buddy. I’m not anything.”

I knew what he was doing. He wasn’t used to having anyone to rely on and he didn’t want to rely on me. “Just tell me what’s going on so I can help you.”

“You can’t help me. You’re not my dad.”

I could see the longing in his eyes. He’d do anything for a dad, a father figure. And I wasn’t that guy, but I’d try and help him. “I’m not. I get that, but I want the best for you. That’s something.” It was everything. He was just too scared to believe it. To hope for it.

“I don’t even know why I came here.” He looked toward the door as if he was going to walk out.

“You came here because you’re in trouble. You need my help but you’re too scared to ask for it.” I willed him to let me in—to tell me what was going on. Because if I didn’t know I couldn’t help him, and I desperately wanted to. “And I get it. It’s scary to ask for help. It’s scarier to trust that someone will be there for you. I get the impression no one has been there for you in the past. I get that more than you know.”

He looked at me for the first time since I’d walked in to find him seated at the bar. “How could you possibly know?”

“I told you how I grew up. My mom didn’t work, but she wasn’t there. She was physically present but not mentally or emotionally. She didn’t care what I did or who I did it with. I had no one to look up to, to ask for help.” When you grew up the way we did there was no one to help. No one to trust. “I got into trouble and I don’t want the same thing for you. Please—tell me what’s going on.”

His face scrunched as he tried to decide what to do. Then he started pacing in front of me. “These guys hang out at the corner outside school. They want us to do stuff for them in exchange for money. It’s no big deal. Carry a bag here. Drop a box off there.”

“And you do it?” I tried to keep my voice even as rage continued to build.

“A few times.”

How could he be so stupid? I warned him this was how they operated. Keep his head down and stay away from them. “You know it’s not innocent right? They’re using you. They don’t care if you get arrested.”

“I needed the cash. I needed food, new shoes, and clothes. The kids at school make fun of me.”

I winced. Why hadn’t I thought of that? “You could have come to me. I would have tried to help.” Heck, Isaac was just as involved as me and would have stepped in.

“I didn’t know.” His voice was quiet.

It was so ingrained in him to not ask for help. “I get that it’s hard to trust people but I’m here for you. And I think on some level you know that. Why else did you come to me today? You know you’re in deep and you need help.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything else.

“They want you do to something bigger now, don’t they?”

He swallowed hard and said so softly I almost didn’t hear him, “Yeah.”

I was happy he’d told me, but now that he had, I wasn’t sure how I could help. I was no match for a gang. And if they had their sights set on him enough to tattoo him—

The door to the bar opened and closed behind Isaac. “Is everything okay?”

“No. Zach needs our help.” And I needed Isaac. I couldn’t handle this by myself.

“Let’s cook up a burger for you.” Isaac went back to the kitchen.

Zach sat at the bar as I poured him a soda and placed the glass in front of him. “We’re going to figure it out. You have a support system and I want you to know that you did the right thing by coming to me.” As angry as I was, I was glad he recognized the fact that he was in over his head.

Zach nodded and turned his attention to the TV over the bar. I let him have a few minutes because I needed to calm down before the discussion continued.

A few minutes later, Isaac placed a plate with a burger and fries in front of Zach. He spread his arms wide, braced on the edge of the counter as he leaned on it. “Now, what’s the problem?”

“Zach got himself involved with some gang members. They want him to run jobs for them.” I took a breath. “They tattooed him.”

“Fuck.” He stepped back from the counter, leaning back against the back cupboard. “We need to remove him from the situation—the neighborhood.”

Exactly my thoughts. “How can I do that? He lives with his mom.” Who doesn’t seem to care about what he’s doing, if he has enough food to eat—much less whether he’s running jobs for a gang.

“You want me to talk to them?” Isaac asked me.

Isaac was a big guy, but I didn’t see what he could do. Now that Zach was already involved, removing him would be difficult. They’d ask him to do bigger jobs. They could have followed him here today and might pressure him to rob the bar. I rubbed my neck.

“I got into some trouble myself when I was younger,” Isaac said.

“You did?” Zach asked.

“It’s hard to grow up spending time on these streets and not get into some trouble. One thing you got to realize about gangs in New Orleans is that they’re not organized and there’s no rules. It’s shoot the target, regardless of who’s in the way. They have no regard for human life. Is that what you want to be involved in?”

Zach’s eyes were wide, and he shook his head. “No, but I wasn’t doing anything like that.”

“It doesn’t matter. Once you get started that’s where your life is headed.

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