“It was Sunday, and most of the street-level businesses were closed and shuttered. A convenience store was open and a bar was open. It was a beautiful warm day, but no one was out. No stoop sitters. No strollers. A couple sullen teenagers stood smoking outside the convenience store. Neither of them looked like Ants. Maybe all the gangsta gangbangers were watching the Mets. Maybe they were all inside sharpening their knives and cleaning their guns for a fun night on the town. I cruised up and dow...n a few side streets in the area, but I didn’t see anyone wearing purple, and I didn’t see Ants Brown. I returned to my parking place on the first block of Stark, and I called Lula. “I’m on Stark Street, looking for Antwan Brown,” I told her. “I know he’s a Stone Deader, and I know they own the fifth block of Stark, but it’s like a ghost town here. No one’s out on the street. Do you have any idea where these Dead idiots live? They can’t all live on the fifth block.” “They’re all over the place.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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