Page 66 of More Than a Hero
Pete’s jaw tightened, his chest pulling with something unexpected. He had a hunch that Robert’s grandfather was the kind of man who meant every word he said, and that kind of belief—the unwavering kind—had the power to change a boy’s path.
Robert squared his shoulders, his fingers still locked together. “But he also said he believes in me. He said I can fix this. And that’s why I wanted to talk to you again.”
Jeremy, ever the patient one, leaned forward slightly. “Alright. So talk to us.”
Robert nodded, his breath shaky but determined. “What I told you before was the truth. I was just hanging out, you know? And then Lashawn rolled up, and he acted like he wanted to talk to me. I felt like—I don’t know, like I was someone. Like I mattered.” His lips pressed together as if the admission left a bitter taste in his mouth. “So yeah, I got in the car with him. I thought we were just going to grab something to eat. I had no idea he had drugs. No idea he had that much cash. And definitely no idea he’d drive like a lunatic or try to outrun the cops.”
Pete nodded, his expression unreadable. He leaned forward, mirroring Robert’s posture, forearms braced on the table. “We believe you,” he said, voice steady. “But is there anything else you remember? Anything at all?”
Robert hesitated, his jaw working. He shook his head once, but Pete could see it—the hesitation, the flicker of something in his expression. Hope curled in Pete’s chest, cautious but real.
Finally, Robert exhaled sharply, his voice dropping. “He always came by himself. Recently, I mean.” He winced, rubbinga hand over his face. “But the first time I ever saw him? He wasn’t alone.”
Jeremy leaned in. “Who was with him?”
Robert’s fingers flexed, and for a moment, he stared at his hands like they might hold the answer. “He pulled up in a black sedan. The windows were dark, and the car looked new. Like, really new. And he wasn’t alone.” He licked his lips, shifting his gaze between Pete and Jeremy. “The other guy—he was smaller than Lashawn. Not small-small, but stockier. He had sunglasses on. The kind that… uh… are kinda like a mirror.”
“Reflector lenses?” Pete supplied.
Robert snapped his fingers. “Yeah! The kind where you can see yourself when you look at him.”
Jeremy took a slow breath. “Anything else?”
Robert nodded quickly, his energy shifting. “He was wearing this red Nike tracksuit. The kind that looks expensive, you know? And black high-tops. But he never talked, or at least not that I remember.” He shrugged, looking younger than his sixteen years. “I thought maybe he was just a tagalong. You know, Lashawn was the main guy, and this dude was just… there.”
Pete’s senses sharpened. “Did he have any distinguishing features? Tattoos?”
Robert’s brows pulled together. “He wore long sleeves and pants, so I didn’t see much, but—” He stopped suddenly, his eyes widening. “His hands. His knuckles. He had tattoos across them. They spelled ‘BLOOD.’ And he had a gold tooth, right here.” Robert pointed at one of his incisors.
Jeremy’s expression remained carefully neutral, but Pete could see the shift in his posture, the quiet intensity in his eyes.
Robert winced. “I know what they were. But they didn’t seem so bad. I didn’t know why they’d want to hang around our apartment building.”
“You ever see any gang members hanging around your building?”
“No. I mean, there are some guys that don’t work. I don’t know what they do.” He snorted. “Probably nothing. Some of them work farmwork, so it’s kind of seasonal. But mostly, it’s families just getting by, you know?”
“Yeah, I know,” Pete said, understanding more than he let on.
“But when Lashawn started coming around, it wasn’t the adults he hung with. It was me and a few other teens.” He swallowed deeply. “I was being used, wasn’t I? He was recruiting for the Bloods, and like you said yesterday, I was just there, ready for anything.”
“But not now,” Jeremy reminded him. “Today, you’re thinking more clearly. You’re showing us that you have integrity, just like your grandfather knows.”
Robert blew out a long breath. “You were asking about the guy who showed up with Lashawn. He had a tattoo on his neck. Some kind of star.” He lifted a hand, fingers hovering near his own throat as if tracing the memory.
The room went still for a moment. Then Pete gave a slow nod. “That’s good, Robert. That’s real good.”
Robert sagged back in his chair, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. He had done something right—maybe for the first time in a long time. And for the first time, Pete saw a kid who wasn’t trying to be Superman. He was just trying to be better. And that was something worth believing in.
Pete studied Robert carefully, his pen poised over his notebook. "Did you see him more than once?"
Robert hesitated, his fingers tapping nervously against the tabletop. "The first time I ever saw him was the first time I met Lashawn. I saw him maybe twice after that. Then it was just Lashawn coming around."
Jeremy leaned in slightly. "Did you ask Lashawn about it?"
Robert nodded. "Yeah. I asked if his friend was coming back, and he just laughed. Said his friend told him he could ‘have the area.’”
Pete’s brow furrowed. "‘Have the area’? Did he explain what that meant?"
