Lorenzo did not answer.

“What, you forget how to speak?”

I don’t need to. You don’t mean nothin’ to me.

Lorenzo looked past Lee, at Loomis’s Benz. Loomis was out of the car, up in Mark’s face, his chest almost touching Mark’s. One of Loomis’s partners had come around the car and was heading toward Mark too.

“Look at me, motherfucker,” said Lee. “I’m talkin’ to you.”

No need for this, little man. You only get one chance to break bad on a man, and you had yours.

“I got to get goin’,” said Lorenzo.

“We ain’t done here.”

“Excuse me,” said Lorenzo, stepping around Lee. He couldn’t help brushing the boy’s shoulder as he passed. The way it felt, rigid, it was like he was touching a corpse.

“I’m gonna see you again,” said Lee to Lorenzo’s back.

Lorenzo crossed the field to Loomis’s car.

Now Loomis and his partner were both tight in on Mark, who was holding his ground. Mark was keeping his pleasant half smile, that game face he used when he talked to everyone on the job, no matter what he was saying. Loomis’s partner, big boy with lineman guns coming out his T-shirt, and Loomis himself, looked like they were both ready to kick Mark’s ass. Their dog, in the back of the Benz, had its head out the rear window. It was barking, growling, and baring its teeth.

“How’s everyone doin’ today?” said Lorenzo, stepping close to the group, speaking in a friendly, even tone.

Loomis studied Lorenzo, then stood back and took a calming breath.

“Your boy just talkin’ too much shit,” said Loomis. “I’m fixin’ to introduce him to my right fist.”

“Ain’t no need for that,” said Lorenzo, pulling on the sleeve of Mark’s shirt, moving him out of reach of Loomis’s partner.

“That’s what I’m sayin’,” said Loomis. “He ain’t got no call to talk to me with that kind of disrespect. Askin’ me, Are you aware of this, and, Are you aware of that. Yeah, I’m aware, motherfucker. And you about to be aware that you fucked with the wrong man.”