were roughly clapped around my wrists.
“On your feet,” the officer behind me ordered.
“Yes, sir,” I said obediently.
Disoriented by the lights, though, I struggled to comply, wobbling on the high heels of my booties. Apparently, I moved too slowly because I found myself lifted in the air, yanked by my handcuffs into a standing position.
Scared out of my wits, I breathed in harsh pants, my heart pounding like a jackhammer. My stomach rolled, and I was afraid I might be sick. Blinking rapidly, I swallowed again and again.
As my stomach settled and my eyes adjusted, I located King. Quiet, he remained on his knees on the pavement only a few feet away, his eyes as wide as mine.
The cop with him looked mean. His mouth a cruel gash, he pulled a baton from his tool belt and extended it. I gasped as the metal rod smacked flesh, hitting King in the midsection. King grunted but didn’t crumple, and he didn’t cry out.
“Stop it!” I shouted. “He hasn’t done anything wrong!”
“Quiet!” The cop harassing King whirled around and gave me a disdainful look.
“Why are you doing this?” I cried.
He didn’t answer my question. Looking even more pissed off, he asked, “Where were you two headed just now?”
“My house,” I rasped, willing my heartbeats to slow. “My uncle’s house.”
“At two in the morning?” Beneath the short brim of his cap, his eyes narrowed. He didn’t believe me.
“Yes, sir. We’re in a band. King, I mean, Juaquin and me.”
“A band, huh?” The cop’s gaze narrowed more. “Is that street code for some kind of gang?”
King spoke up, his voice sounding strained. “Not in a gang.”
The cop turned to face him. “Your brother certainly was.”
“That was his choice, ese, not mine.”
“His choice got my former partner shot.”
“I’m sorry. But my brother isn’t me.” King’s voice cracked. “And he’s not even here anymore.”
“Maybe their story’s legit, Smyth.” The cop holding me shifted me by the shoulders to face him and studied me.
The bright lights continued to flash, making it difficult to focus. I was frightened, but I noted the cop with me was big like his partner, big like Randy from school. Both cops were bullies like Randy was. Only they were bullies with badges.
“If you’re in a band,” the cop with me said, sounding suspicious, “where were you playing?”
“Footit’s,” I said. “We play there a couple of nights a week.”
“Rebel Heart is playing there tonight.” Still holding me by the cuffs, he shook me a bit as if to rattle the truth from me.
“We’re the opening band. Tempest.”
“Fuck,” Smyth muttered. “I’ve heard of that band. My niece is into them. Better release ’em.”
“In a minute. I’m not through with this one.” Smyth hauled King over to the building beside us and shoved him into the brick wall, face first. “I’ll have you eventually,” he said, rearing back and slamming his baton into the back of King’s legs.
“Stop it!” I shouted, watching King fall to his knees. “Stop hurting him! It’s not right. You can’t take out on him who his family is.”
I thought of Dizzy and me, and all the guys in the band, really. King didn’t say anything, but I noticed he had his head turned now and was looking at me over his shoulder.
“We can’t choose our family,” I cried out. “Only our amigos. Our friends.”
“Naive little girl.” Smyth’s partner made a clucking sound under his breath. “Let’s leave ’em be.”
He removed my cuffs, and I rubbed my wrists, staring at King as his cuffs were removed too.
“Good evening to you both,” Smyth said sarcastically as he and his partner walked away.
Shielding my eyes, I watched Smyth fold himself into the driver’s seat. His partner rounded the hood and climbed into the passenger seat. Their doors closed and then the flashing lights went off as the patrol car pulled away from the curb.
Trembling, I hurried over to King. “Are you okay?” I asked, crouching down beside him and placing my hand on his shoulder.
“Sí. Got more padding than he counted on. Pussy cop. He hit like a girl.” Disgusted, King spat on the concrete, and I noticed dark blood in it. “Help me up.”
Working together, we got him to his feet and weaved like drunkards the remaining distance to my house. By the time we reached the driveway, I was out of breath, and froze when I realized Uncle Bruce’s car was parked in it. The engine was running and the lights were on. Both went off as the driver’s door creaked open,