destroying angel. No beams of light engulfed him, but he radiated power. He didn’t have wings, but his arms and shoulders bulged with muscle, and his neck was as thick as his shiny, bald head. He was sitting with his back bent, and his head was bowed between his big knees. When he raised his head and met my gaze, my feet melted into the floor.
“Bo Johnson,” I stammered and rubbed my fists into my eyes, certain that I was dreaming.
“He knows who I am?” Bo rumbled.
“He knows the stories,” my father replied.
“I know all the stories,” I said, nodding. “I know you’re the best fighter in the world. Even better than Pop. Everyone’s afraid of you.”
“Everyone?” he asked.
“Everyone,” I said, nodding emphatically.
“I shouldn’t have come. He’ll talk,” Bo said, turning to my father. He looked so tired. A thick blanket was folded beside him on the couch, like maybe Pop had offered him a place to sleep. As I watched, the blanket moved. A soft mewling emanated from the folds; the crying-cat sound explained.
“Go back to bed, Benny,” my father said, pointing at my bedroom door.
“I won’t talk, Pop. I won’t talk, Mr. Johnson,” I said.
“Benny. Bed.”
I obeyed, shutting the door behind me, but I stretched out on the floor so I could hear them through the crack beneath the door. They were quiet—even the cat—but big men have big voices and children have good ears. I strained to hear every word, though I didn’t understand any of it.
“Did you do it, Bo?”
“I didn’t touch a hair on her head. But they’ll blame me. They’ll say it was my fault.”
Silence filled the living room, and I was sure they knew I was listening and lowered their voices. But a few minutes later my father asked, “What do you want me to do?”
“Take her to Gloria. Give her the cash and the letter. Tell her there will be more. I’ll come back when I can. In Harlem, she’ll just be another mouth to feed. Nobody will look twice.”
“Will they be searching for her?” my father asked. “Maude’s family?”
“I don’t think so. They wanted nothing to do with her before. Why now? They’ll be glad she’s gone.”
I heard someone leave the apartment and ran back to my bed, terrified. Pop never left me all by myself. Mrs. Costiera watched me when he worked. Seconds later, Bo Johnson pushed open the door to my room. I pulled the blankets up over my head and pretended to be asleep.
“You don’t need to be afraid of me. I don’t hurt kids,” he said. “I don’t hurt women or kids.” His voice broke, like he was trying not to cry.
“You hurt my dad,” I argued softly, peeping over the top of my blankets.
“That was different. We agreed to hurt each other. We were fighting for money. But your dad’s my friend. He’s my only friend.” His voice cracked again.
“Where did he go?”
“He’s helping me. But he’ll come back. I’ll stay until he does. I’m tired. I’m going to sleep out there. You don’t need to be afraid.”
“Mr. Johnson?”
“Yeah?”
“I won’t talk,” I promised.
“I believe you, Benny,” he whispered. “I got no choice, I guess. But if you do talk . . . it won’t hurt me. No one can hurt me no more. If you talk, it’ll hurt your dad.”
“Will you knock him out cold again?”
“No. Not me. Not me.”
“Who?”
He didn’t tell me who. He just looked at me with his big, dark eyes.
“Do you know why they call your daddy Lament?” he asked.
“It sounds like Lomento. His name is Jack Lomento. Lament is a nickname.”
“Yeah. But do you know what a lament is?”
“No.”
“Lament means to cry. To wail. To mourn. When your daddy was boxing, his fists made grown men cry.”
“But not you.”
“Not me.”
“Do you know why they call me the Bomb?” he asked.
“They call him the Bomb ’cause you never know when he’ll go off,” I sang softly.
He smiled, surprising us both. It was a big smile. A beautiful smile. And I wasn’t scared anymore.
“You know the song,” he said.
“I like songs,” I said.
“Me too. Sing the rest.”
I sang the whole thing.
They call him the Bomb ’cause you never know when he’ll go off.
They call him the Bomb ’cause his swing makes the shingles blow off.
They call him the Bomb ’cause he’s big and loud.
They call him the Bomb ’cause he can level a crowd.
He’s Bo “the Bomb” Johnson, and you better watch out.
“That’s right,” he said. “I guess you do know who I