* * * *
The following year, Tom and Mike decided to start their own stable. I gave them their share of the business, and they moved out to Los Angeles. The Kid went with them. Tangerine had long since decided he liked drugs more than the comfort of our family, such as it was, and last I’dheard, he was hustling on Seventh Avenue in Manhattan.
* * * *
Two months after Congress convened in 2000, Delilah met a man who asked her to move in with him. In spite of his promises that she could leave the business, she was still tricking.
* * * *
By late summer of 2001, our stable thinned out to three—Paul and me, the last of the original boys, and Spike, who Paul had found on the street, another kid whose family had thrown him out like so much trash.
“He followed me home,” Paul murmured as he made the boy a sandwich. Spike looked up quickly, brushed the platinum hair out of his eyes, and tried to look tough.