“My mother? Because of her I bounced around in shelters and strangers’ homes. Because of my dad and her…” Frowning, he squeezed the corner of the blanket in his fist. “Nobody knows what people did to me in those adopted families. In one Dominican family there were two sisters, older than me by three years. I was thirteen then. These fucking bitches with their long arms and fat asses tied me to the bed, took off my pants and tortured my ‘dildo,’” he lowered his head, pointing between his widely spread legs. “They dragged it, poured some kind of foul-smelling fluid on it, and when their father came home these fucking bitches complained that I supposedly grope them, and I was punished. I did not tell the truth to anyone because I was afraid that I would be placed in a much worse family,” he sniffed, ready to cry at any moment.“One time I climbed up on the roof wanting to jump to my death.”
At this moment, the fearsome Francis, this almost-king of one of the most bloody street gangs in America, resembled a helpless kid, who for some reason grew a mustache and beard.
All of a sudden I heard music behind the wall; someone was playing the piano.
“It’s Kevin. He moved in recently and brought an electronic piano with him.”
Listening to the melody, Francis closed his right eye, while the left one was open so wide that the eyebrow above it twisted sharply.
“Fucking idiot! Who plays Mozart like that?!”
“You know how to play the piano?”
“Yes, in the school where I was studying we had a music class. I even played in the school orchestra. That was the best thing in my life. My teacher said that I was a genius, that I will be a star, but then my mother was jailed for prostitution and I was taken out of that school and put in foster care.”
Behind the wall someone continued playing piano.
“Hold on.” I took out a cell from my pocket. “James, do you mind if I come over now with one guy?”
Hiding the cell back in the coat, I zipped up.
“Let’s go, my friend. Now you`ll see a real king.”