Chapter One
I was moved to another foster home, this time in Longwood in the Bronx, East 165th Street to be exact. Across from the apartment building was a baseball field, and a basketball court too, but neither held any appeal to me.
I was fifteen and although Lorraine’s abuse had left permanent psychological damage, she’d looked after me well. I was fed and clothed, and she didn’t care what I did, as long as I was back in her house before dark. I was no longer a kid, and I didn’t look like one either.
I used to hang out in places I shouldn’t, and soon I became friends with a group of boys two years my senior and I lunged off the cliff and into the ditch called trouble. I got my first tattoo at the age of fifteen on my ribs and it was centered around the stab mark there, a broken skull with my stab wound in the middle.
I smoked and I drank and one night I broke into a gym, just for the heck of it. We stupidly thought there would be cash in the office or something we could sell for cash. I wasn’t an idiot, although I was stupid that night.
The gym was located on Haviland Avenue and not really in the best of areas. It was late on a Friday night and Gerry had broken a window in the back. Even though I was big for my age, I was still smaller than them and I was lifted and pushed through the window. I realized later just how stupid we were because none of us had thought about how I would get back up to that window and get out.
The gym was dark and smelled like sweat and leather. It was an interesting mix. The boxing bags hung still and silent in the darkness. I touched one and the leather was cold, but I liked the feel of it. I made my way toward the back and found an office.
The door barely made a sound as I opened it, and I switched on the lamp that stood on the desk before closing the office door. I rummaged through the drawers not finding any cash. The third drawer though held a few white envelopes tied together with a rubber band.
‘Jackpot,’ I thought to myself. I ripped the envelopes open and found around a thousand dollars in cash. I didn’t even stop to think that this might be membership money or that the owner of the gym might need it. I’d never had any money before so holding those bills in my hand felt like an achievement.
I closed the drawer and switched the lamp off before stuffing the money in my jeans pocket. The gym was still dark and quiet as I closed the door behind me softly and took a step forward. I froze in my step as I felt the odd sensation that I was being watched.
“Find what you were looking for, kid?” The voice in the darkness was rough and deep with a slight accent that I couldn’t place.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath. The lights turned on and I heard my friends outside as they realized that I’d been caught, and they made a run for it.
“Doesn’t seem like your friends are sticking around,” he said.
He was a big man, probably six foot five and he was built like an ox. He had tattoos covering his arms and chest and his hair was cropped close to his scalp. His eyes, though, weren’t mean looking or even angry and it was his eyes that had drawn me in and kept me rooted to the spot.
“What happened to your eye?” He motioned to the greenish tint still visible and looked questioningly at me.
“Nothing.”
He walked closer to me and held his hand out. “That money doesn’t belong to you.”
I handed the cash back to him and clenched my jaw. “I know.” What else was there to say? Sorry?
He walked back to his office and put the money right back where I had found it and locked the office door behind him. “How old are you, kid, and what’s your name?”
“Kage, and I’m fifteen.”
A flicker of disbelief appeared in his eyes. “Kage? That your real name?”
“Yeah, it’s my real name.”
His grin was faint. “You can call me Joe.”
“Is that your real name?” My cockiness didn’t go unnoticed, and he grinned.
“It’s Jozef Smirnov, smartass.” He crossed his arms over his massive chest. “So, Kage, how do you propose we sort out this breaking and entering matter?” I was surprised that he hadn’t mentioned the stealing part.
Joe turned and started walking in the other direction and, for lack of I don’t know what exactly, I followed him. He walked into a small kitchenette and took two cups hanging beneath a cupboard and filled the kettle with water.
“I guess you want me to fix that window,” I said. Joe smiled and continued with the coffee. He didn’t ask me how I took mine and honestly, I had no idea, I wasn’t allowed any coffee in Roger’s house, it was a luxury item.
“For starters,” Joe said.
My shoulders stiffened as he watched me carefully. “I don’t have any money.”
“I figured that already.”
Joe handed me one of the cups and I relished the warmth it provided. “So, what then?” He motioned toward the small table, and I sat down.
“You’ve got two options, Kage. One, I call the police and you’ll probably end up in juvie,” he said and took a sip from his cup.
“And the second thing?”
“The second option is that you work your debt off.” His gaze held mine and I had no idea what he was offering me. It was a chance, but I didn’t recognize it at that moment.
“Work here?” I had an incredulous look on my face, and he recognized it because he smiled sadly at me.
“Yes.”
“So, you’re just going to let me go and hope I show up?”
“You’re a foster kid, right?” Joe’s eyes still held me captive when I looked into them, and I saw something like understanding flash through them.
“How’d you know that?”
“Your eyes. You have that empty, dead look in them that no normal fifteen-year-old should have,” he said.
I didn’t care that his voice held sadness or that he was giving me a chance to prove myself. My reality wouldn’t let me. “Still doesn’t answer my first question.”
“You’ll come back. You’re just a kid with the wrong friends. Deep down you know what’s right and what’s wrong. If you show up, great. If you don’t, well then, I guess you’ll just have to live with it.” Joe’s words shocked me, and I wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Why would you trust me to come back?”
“Trust has to start somewhere, and I’m pretty sure trust isn’t something you’re used to.” Joe’s voice had softened, sadness filling it.
He didn’t say anything else, and we finished our coffee in silence. Joe waited patiently for me to finish as well before taking both cups and rinsing them in the sink. He placed them upside down on the drying rack and looked intently at me.
“Be here at six am, gym closes at eight pm and you can leave at nine.”
“Sure,” I said as I followed him to a side door which he unlocked and closed again the moment I stepped out onto the street.