Where was I? Oh yes, John Baker was running away from an East-side gang. To this day, I don’t know why. Now, this was a year after graduation. I’d heard through rumors that John had hit rock-bottom. Not that I did any better. I continued being Granville’s paperboy, ha. More like paperman. The last person to have seen him in town was Sylvia Gold after she stripped him of everything he owned in their divorce.
They were catching up on John, when he ran out into the street, which by coincidence, I happened to be driving down that very night. The tires on my black cadillac screeched as they fought with the downhill slope. He recognized me at once.
“Let me in!” he screamed while beating on one of the doors. I counted five, big, scary men and decided to unlock the door. He jumped in, slammed the door, and locked it.
Four of the guys blocked my way. “Where’s the other guy?” I asked with no response from John.
I accelerated.
The druggies dodged, but a loud thud under my back tires answered my question.
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