“I went there,” Qadira said, wiping tears off her cheeks. “Gangs were killing there too.”
Brice swung a right at Winthrop. The Church’s Chicken on the corner had two cars in the drive through. He patted his stomach in a circular motion to quiet the growling. The smell caused his mouth to water. He tapped his teeth together imagining himself biting into a chewy pecan pie. He would have to hold on.
“The student card you filled out has you living on Winthrop,” Brice said. “Which half do you live on?”
“It’s on the other half, Mr. Frankel,” Qadira said, pointing with her first two fingers.
“I live on Winthrop near Plymouth Road ," Brice said. "I grew up there." He shouldn’t have let that slip. She might start hanging around his house. Two shots fired. Brice and she took quick looks out their windows.
"Somebody dead again," Qadira said.
Couldn't contradict her because it's true, Brice thought.
“My block has five houses run by Inheritance Corp,” Qadira grasped the door handle. “That makes them the owners.''
Brice gawked at the vacant lot between the two houses where a woman sat on the ground with her legs jacked open. She pointed to her unclothed vaginal. Tall grass lined up on each side of her. It had car tires, abandon chairs and other furniture entangle in the lawn. Brice wanted the bad taste out his mouth. His car tire scrapped the curb. He straightened the wheel, keeping his eyes focus on the road.
"She just sit there like that all day?" Brice asked. Inheritance Corp brought these illegal jobs. The Bautista family nestled their headquarters in his troubling area, welcoming prostitution and drugs.
"Fifty dollars," the woman yelled. "You'll get your money worth."
"Her house is next door," Qadira said looking out the corner of her eye of the houses Brice passed up. "She doesn't want to have sex in her place where her kids are. Why so many questions, you want some Mr. F?"
"No," Brice said speeding up the car. "Doesn't that bothers you?"
"Yeah, her having sex in the open when I'm on my way to school." Qadira smacked her tongue. "I tried to go that way toward West Chicago Street. I changed bus stop and took Joy Road."
Qadira failed to understand, Brice thought. She shouldn't allow this woman to do this. "When you're going to call the police on her."
"For what," Qadira said.
"To make this neighborhood a safer place."
"You either work odd jobs, prostitutes or sell drugs in our neighborhood."
"I'm fighting to better the community. By doing-"
"What, you're running for Mayor because Mayor Young isn't giving up his seat?" Qadira turned down her lips.
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