Throne of Truth

Fuck, I’d give him anything he asked for. “I promise.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet.”

“Don’t need to. You’ve done me a solid, Larry. Name it.”

He smiled, and it was full of friendship and respect rather than demeaning and cruel. “Promise me you won’t end up here again.” His face shadowed. “If we do go after Sean and you end up back in here...God knows what Arnold Twig will do or how far he’ll bury you.”

Goosebumps spread under my prison uniform. That wasn’t a hard promise to keep. I’d keep it for me, not just him. “I have no intention of ever ending up here again.”

“Good. Keep it that way.” Larry placed the paperwork I just signed, accepting my release and terms of my parole, back into his briefcase. “Let’s go then. I think a burger and fries are the first points of business, don’t you?”

My mouth watered to have junk food while surrounded by air and no bars in sight. “You’re on.”

Marching toward the door, I paused on the threshold, expecting a hand to clamp on my shoulder or an order to return to my cell.

Fear crashed over my thoughts of burgers, believing for a split second that this was a dream and I’d wake up in my cot with years left to serve.

But nothing happened.

No commands. No punishment. No opening my eyes and seeing the same gray cell.

“What are you waiting for?” Larry pushed past me into the hallway. “Come along, I’ll have to leave you now while you’re processed, but I’ll meet you out front.” He patted my back. “You okay, kid?”

I swallowed the nerves, excitement, terror, joy. “Yeah, I’m good.”

* * * * *

This is all so surreal.

Eating in a fancy-ass dining room; listening to the conversation between Larry, my lawyer turned guardian angel, and Stewie, Gio’s baby brother—I couldn’t get a grip on reality.

I liked Larry. I loved him for what he’d done for me. But we were still lawyer and client, not friends—we were on our way, but people like me didn’t let their guard down easy.

For years, I’d lived alone on the streets. Scrapping for safe sleep spots, fighting over good quality dumpster food, arguing over the best corners to beg at.

Making friends in that situation wasn’t easy, so I avoided everyone. If someone smiled, I took that as a threat. If someone followed me, I took that as war.

For Larry to open his house to me—a fucking thief—and make me welcome. Well, that made me feel like a real shitty person that I didn’t have his class and trust.

It also made me ache inside with a heart that’d long since stopped looking for affection when he and Stewie grinned at each other.

Their relationship was totally different from ours.

Theirs was pure and uncomplicated.

Man and boy. Tutor and student. Father and son.

They laughed with each other. Joked. Stewie giggled with intelligence that I’d never seen him show on the streets, and Larry poked fun at him, throwing corn kernels, not caring if he got food on his expensive dining room rug.

I didn’t say much that first night.

I couldn’t.

I just soaked it in, waiting for life to interrupt this wonder and say ‘you asshole, get back on the streets where you belong.’

Instead, Larry offered me a place to stay until I got on my feet. He told me I could earn my keep by helping him with other cases. That I could go with him when I was ready to visit Gio and maybe let bygones be bygones and become friends, thanks to Stewie.

To him, the offers were so simple. But to me, they were the motherfucking world.

Before retiring to the guest room where a queen-sized bed and navy striped linen invited me so much better than scratchy single bunks, Larry called me into the drawing room where he and Stewie were playing a game of Chutes and Ladders.

I doubted Stewie had ever played games, let alone board games with no other purpose than social fun. His fun had been lighting fires with Gio to destroy evidence. Probably a pickpocket or two.

“Penn, before you crash, Stewie has something to give you.” Larry looked pointedly at the kid with slightly protruding ears who stared at the game board as if he could magically make the dice roll so he could avoid all the chutes and climb all the ladders.

When he didn’t look up, Larry prompted. “Stewie, remember what you wanted to give Penn? You spoke about it this afternoon when I said he was coming to stay with us for a while?”

Stewie’s head suddenly sprang up. “Oh, yeah!” Pushing up from the coffee table where he sat on his knees on the thick carpet, he bounced over to me, pulling something small from his pocket. “Here.” Handing it to me, I flinched as the cold slither of a necklace fell into my palm.

A sapphire star.

It might’ve been nine months since I’d seen her, but I remembered everything she said. How Gio and Sean had run off with her necklace. How her father had given it to her as a nineteenth birthday gift and how she’d forgotten to ask for it back. She’d also said it wouldn’t have been hers anymore but mine for saving her.

I’d told her no fucking way would I accept her charity. And yet, somehow, the necklace had ended up in my possession anyway.

It’s not mine.

I’m not keeping it.

It has to go back.

“How?” I cleared my throat. “Why do you have this?”

Stewie dug his foot into the carpet. “Gio gave it to me when he got snatched.”