Lamar's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Lamar had a name written on his palm, and the name was a trap. A dealer two blocks over swore the kingpin was somebody called the Deacon. Lamar had spent six months hunting the man who ran every corner in the city. He wanted him gone. But Lamar also knew how this worked. Say the wrong name to the wrong person, and the real boss hears it before sundown. Then Lamar becomes the one who disappears. He stood under a porch light and stared at the ink. Chasing a ghost would cost him his life. So he went to the one person who knew the truth. He drove to a wide, pale house with a red door and a broad roof. Azah lived there now. She was his baby mama, and before that, years back, she had dated the kingpin when the man was still a nobody selling dime bags. She answered with their son strapped to her chest in a blue carrier. Her eyes went flat the second she saw Lamar. "You got nerve," she said. "Coming here with that look on your face." "I need a name," Lamar said. "The real one. People keep feeding me the wrong one." Azah laughed, soft, so she wouldn't wake the baby. "The Deacon? That's who they told you?" She shook her head. "The Deacon takes the heat. He's a decoy. Everybody who chases him ends up in the river." Lamar's stomach dropped. He had almost said that name to half the block. "Then who?" She looked at him a long time. Then she stepped inside and came back with a shoebox. She lifted the lid. Photos. Old ones. A thin young man counting cash on a kitchen table. Letters in cramped handwriting. A faded receipt from a car lot, signed. "I kept everything," she said. "Back when he was broke and sweet and swore he'd marry me." She pulled one photo loose and pressed it into his hand. "That's him. Nobody's seen his face in ten years. He pays people to forget it." Lamar looked down. The man in the picture smiled like he owned the world already. The receipt beneath it carried a real name, printed clean. "Why give me this?" Lamar asked. "Because he can't be around our son," she said. "And because you're the only fool stubborn enough to try." Lamar closed his hand around the photo. The trap was gone. He finally knew the right face and the right name. But Azah grabbed his wrist before he turned. "Take these and he'll know they came from me," she said. "I'm the only one left who kept proof. You're not the only one you just put in the river." Lamar stood on the red steps with the truth in his fist. He had the name at last. Now two lives hung on how quiet he could keep it.