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door.
Upon hearing this, Oscar s and Kim s eyes widened. Sheila shuddered. Roy
shifted against the wall. Dugan stroked Sharon s foot with his own and
silently mouthed assurances. Martha prayed under her breath.
Benjy stared at me.
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I stared back, and for a split second, an image of Sherm placing his pistol to
the back of Benjy s head flashed through my mind. A crystal-clear flash
sparked as Sherm squeezed the trigger, and I heard Sheila screaming. No. There
was no way that I was going to let that happen. Enough people had died
already. I didn t want any more deaths on my conscience, especially not that
little boy s.
I tried to keep my voice calm and level.
Quit playing, dog. It s not gonna come to that. Right?
Sure it could, Sherm disagreed. If I don t start getting some cooperation
from those cops, if shit doesn t start going my way, then I ve got no problem
capping a few of these fuckers to get some attention.
You don t mean that, Roy replied. Surely you understand that they d give
you the death penalty for something so heinous.
Old man, I ve already qualified for the death penalty today. The way I see
it, a few more bodies ain t gonna make a whole lot of difference at this
point. In fact, it may just hurry the whole thing along.
Sherm, I reasoned with him, if you start killing hostages and throwing them
out the door, the cops will bum rush this place. Soon as they hear the first
gunshot, they ll be in here. They ll have tear gas and pepper spray and
automatic rifles and Kevlar body armor and laser sights; all kinds of other
shit. We ll be outgunned and outnumbered. You kill any more of these people
and you might as well be committing suicide for all of us.
Signing our death warrants?
Fuck yes!
Isn t that better than sitting on death row, Tommy?
I opened my mouth to protest, but a loud electronic squawk cut me off.
SHADY! SHADY, THIS IS DETECTIVE RAMIREZ! WE ARE STILL WORKING ON YOUR
ORIGINAL DEMANDS. IN FIFTEEN MINUTES, I M GOING TO CALL YOU AGAIN ON THE
BANK S TELEPHONE AND GIVE YOU AN UPDATE! I CAN T STRESS ENOUGH HOW IMPERATIVE
IT IS THAT YOU PICK UP THAT PHONE WHEN I DO. THERE S NO NEED TO MAKE THIS ANY
WORSE THAN IT ALREADY IS. NOBODY ELSE HAS TO GET HURT, SHADY. IF YOU PICK UP
THE PHONE, WE CAN TALK ABOUT THIS!
Oh look Sherm grinned the police finally figured out how to make their
bullhorn work. The batteries must have been dead before.
Is this Ramirez the same guy that you talked to before? I asked.
Yeah, that s him. He s a real weasel. Let me tell you, I d like to take a
shot at him too before this is all over. Fucking police negotiators . . .
The voice on the bullhorn continued to bellow.
Who the hell is Shady? Roy asked, confused.
I am, Sherm said proudly, I m the real Slim Shady. So won t you please shut
up. Please shut up. Please shut up. Please shut up.
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What does that mean, exactly?
Forget it, I said. You wouldn t understand.
Can one of you tell me who Shady is? Roy insisted.
I stayed silent.
Is that Sherm s nickname or something?
No, Oscar told him, it s the nickname of a rapper.
Oh. I must admit that I m not familiar with most rap music.
You re not missing anything, Sharon said. A lot of juvenile, thuggish,
masochistic dick-swinging, if you ask me.
Which we didn t, Sherm growled.
All they rap about, Sharon countered, is their drugs, their cars, their
guns, their bitches, their bling-bling, and who has done the most jail time.
What s bling-bling? Roy whispered to Sheila.
Money. Gold jewelry. Stuff like that. Flashy things.
Oh.
That s not all they rap about, I protested. They tell stories about the
streets. It s just street life from their perspective. And not all of that is
negative either.
Roy bent his legs, frowning in pain.
What s wrong? Sheila asked him.
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