Oops

Chapter 6

                                                                                    Blake

                I woke with a jolt. Startled, I rolled over on the uncomfortable mattress that could only belong to a hotel bed, rubbing at my eyes. When you go on tour, all you ever sleep in are hotel beds, and after enough nights of sleeping in stiff, bouncy, overly-made beds, you could recognize them just by the feel of it.  Shane was on the other bed, sitting up slowly, his dark hair spiked up from sleep. He looked irritated.

                Knocking on the door sounded again, frantic, or more like enthusiastic. Shane swung his legs over the bed while I dropped my head back onto my pillow, and crossed the room, swinging the door open without looking.

                Dawson bustled in, holding two bags of McDonalds and looking cheerier than a detective should ever look.

                “Rise and shine, boys!” he called, setting the bags down on the table. “It’s dinner time, and we’ve got a lead!”

                I sprung up from the bed, wide awake now. “Really?” I demanded. “How? Where? What happened?”

                “A few hours ago a kid was admitted to the hospital for a bullet wound,” Dawson said. He noticed my stricken look and hurried to say, “It wasn’t Rocky, don’t worry. This kid was, like, thirteen. Anyways, he was holding your brother’s choker necklace.”

                “What?” Shane demanded before I could even open my mouth. “How’d he get it? Did they question him yet?”

                “He just woke up about thirty minutes ago,” Dawson said matter-of-factly. “And if we hurry, we can beat the Feds there. You coming or what?”

                “We’re coming, we’re coming,” I said, hopping out of bed. “Gimme a few minutes to get dressed.”

                Five minutes later we were in the limo. Dawson acted like he’d never been in a limo before, helping himself to the drink bar even though he hadn’t asked. The hospital was in southern LA, which made me nervous because we rarely come down here. It was full of gangs and people who really wanted to gut you, and when you grew up in a tiny little town where gangs were usually a thing of fiction, the idea of going to a place where gangs ran free scared me a little.

                Luckily, the press didn’t seem to know about the boy who had Rocky’s necklace, which was good because we were kind of undercover. The hospital nurses and doctors didn’t have a problem with us questioning the kid, whose name turned out to be Andre Garcia, a thirteen year old drop-out, after they saw Dawson’s badge.

                “Alright, Andre,” Dawson shouted as he burst into the room. “You’re going to tell us what we want to know, and you’re going to tell us now, unless you want bullets to go with that hole in your shoulder.”

                Shane and I ignored him and pushed past him to get to the bed. The kid really was just a kid, thirteen but looking more like twelve. He was skinny and, with his shirt off, I could see all of the scars that littered his chest, shoulders, and neck.

                “Hey,” Shane said, taking the lead. “I’m Shane Nelson. This is my brother, Blake.”

                Andre didn’t seem in the least bit impressed when he saw us. “Celebs in the house,” he hollered. “Look, amigo, dunno whatcha want in me. Just some loco chick I try to hook up with, you know? Next thing I know she punching me in the face.”