Author's Note: I actually condensed a few chapters to make the story shorter, so it won't be ten after all, but there are still a few more coming. Stay tuned...

Chapter Four

The Assignment

Tony shivered at the bus stop, watching traffic crawl over the icy street. The elevated train rattled overhead, and the buildings cast square shadows over all the city's moving pieces.

Tony still hadn't made up his mind about going directly home. He never belonged there. As soon as he ensured Richard was alright, he would likely be thrown out again with even more bruises in his collection.

Maybe Richard was just fine. Maybe Miguel would keep his business out of his home. And on that note, maybe Max would become a loving, present father and Tina a sober, nurturing mother.

Tony didn't want to see them right now. A couple bus routes tied into this stop, one leading home, the other far away. With the same handful of change, he could ride away and find a new family, a new fate. He could find his place in some part of the world that didn't hate him for existing. He would work hard, maybe go to college, enlist in the Marines, make his father proud.

Another thought occurred to him. He had a vague idea what neighborhood his mom fled to. Maybe it was time he found her, showed her what became of her baby boy. Maybe they would reconcile and she would welcome him into the comfortable new life she promised to build.

Just as easily, he could wind up in prison, in a hospital, or in a nasty old orphanage like he'd read about.

Perhaps he ought to just stay with Curtis.

He rose to his feet to look for the bus, which was running late.

A sudden, cold pressure nudged in his ribs. Something small and metallic.

"Don't say a word, hermano."

Tony breathed in deeply to gather his nerves.

"Sit back down," Miguel whispered, "and don't try anything."

Tony sat on the bench, and Miguel sat on the other end, gun barely concealed inside his coat. They watched each other warily, oblivious to the continually churning traffic.

Miguel made a small gesture with the gun. "Hands on your lap, where I can see them."

Reluctantly, Tony withdrew his hands from the semi-warmth of his pockets.

Miguel nodded. "Alright then. What were you doing at the motel?"

"Painting."

"Excuse me?"

Tony wished he'd lied. "It's a job."

"You earn a lot?"

"Hardly."

"I don't believe you."

Miguel pulled a tissue from his coat pocket to wipe his nose, crumpled it, and tossed it to the street. "Does Max know?"

Tony shook his head.

"Want it to stay that way?"

Pause. "Yeah."

"Then you have to do something for me."

Tony glared at him. "You shot that kid on the corner. You might have killed him. I'm not going to help you with anything."

Miguel sniffed loudly and wiped his nose with his hand. "He asked for it. He tried to do business on our turf."

"What kind of business?"

"Why don't you shut your mouth, Almeida?" Miguel snapped. "None of this concerns you. All you need to know is I have a very important meeting on the baseball lot behind our building at 6 o'clock. That kid's gang will have a chance to say their piece then. Meanwhile, I need you to do exactly what I say."

"They're really meeting to talk with you?" Tony asked.

"Don't be an idiot. There probably won't be much talking. Give me your bag."

"Forget it."

Miguel raised the gun a little. "I could shoot you now and walk away, and nobody would come looking for you."

"Screw you, Miguel."

"Give me your bag."

Slowly, Tony held out his backpack by the strap. Miguel took the bag, zipped it open, and reached into an inner coat pocket. He withdrew a ziploc bag full of fine white powder, which he then stuffed into Tony's bag.

Tony's eyes went wide. "What the heck? I don't want that!"

Miguel thrust the bag back at him. "My companion needs this delivered at exactly 6. Not a minute later. As you know, I'll be preoccupied at that time. You just need to bring the package to the corner grocer two blocks east of my building. Not a word to anyone, not a minute late, or I'll absolutely ruin your life."

Tony hated this. He wanted to throw the bag back in Miguel's face.

"You'd better get moving," said Miguel, "if you ever want to be welcomed back home."

"Maybe I don't," said Tony.

"You have nowhere else to go. I'll make sure of that."

Tony said nothing but clutched his battered bag. Finally Miguel put his gun away inside his waistband.

"I will make sure you've done the job," he threatened.

As he got up to walk away, Tony caught him by the arm. "How is Richard? Is he okay?"

Miguel gave him a blank stare, then shook off his grip. "The brat is fine. Now do your job. You have forty-five minutes till 6."

Then he walked away across the busy street.

As much as he hated it, Tony began to see his salvation in the bag of white powder. For the first time, he could earn Miguel's trust and create an ally at home. Max never bothered his son. Maybe Miguel would ensure that Tony got the same treatment. This could completely change his homelife.

What was the cost? Would this one delivery lead to more trouble? Would Miguel give him more tasks?

The bus came at last, and Tony rode the long, slow ride to the projects. By the time he climbed off the bus, he had ten minutes to deliver the package.

If he failed, he knew Miguel would make him suffer.

He was cold and just wanted to go home, to his bed.

Now he needed to run in order to make the drop on time. He wasn't a drug dealer, he just had to fight for himself.

All of a sudden, as he walked past the shadowy high rises, he saw movement on the rusty metal swingset beyond the ball field. A woman lazily pushed her little boy on a creaking swing. Tony slowed down for a better look. Yes, that was Tina and Richard. He rarely saw them spend time together, and their quiet interaction warmed his aching heart.

Only a short distance away, two gangs were due to confront each other in less than ten minutes.

Tony almost went to the woman and little boy. He had to get them inside. But when he looked at his watch, he knew he couldn't stay here another second.

Richard would be fine. He had his mother to protect him. As soon as the gangs showed up, she would bring him inside. Any good mother would.

Somehow Miguel would know if Tony was late. He took off running, mind focused on the fight at hand, the fight for his freedom.

Then would come the fight for his family.