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"What’s the plan, Paddy?" Tommy asked He was only twelve and looked up to the older boy

"See dat warehouse at the end? I heard Luciano’s ot their whiskey from Canada hidden in there Got a distillery in dere, too We steal some whiskey, bust up the still, I bet Owney’d be chuffed Bet we’d look good to him We’ll let dem Italian bastards knoe Irish was here first"

"Didn’t Columbus discover America?" Tommy said He’d learned that in school, before he’d quit in fifth grade

Paddy thumped Tommy’s nose "Whatsa matter wit you? You wanna run wit the Italians now? Is ’at it?"

"N-no"

"Hey! Toood for us!"

"Am not!" Tommy shouted over their insults

"Yeah? Prove it" Paddy had a o in first Stay in for five minutes, then come out with solanced doard the shadowy end of the yards, where the warehouse sat Winos slept there Perverts, too Sos patrolled with lead pipes And there was the threat of the guard dog Paddy had mentioned Tommy’s stomach knotted in fear

"Do it or you ain’t part of the Street Kings no ht of so left out of the gang, a nobody

"Okay, okay," To warehouse on the river Feral cats slunk through the weeds, carrying things in their teeth One hissed, its eyes gone to glass in the dark King of the Streets, King of the Streets, To doors, he hesitated for a second It wasn’t padlocked There was only a wooden bar looped through the handles One of the boys howled like a dog and Toht be on the other side of those doors

King of the Streets…

Tommy slipped inside and saw at once that it was not a secret distillery but a slaughterhouse The place had a terrible smell of river water and dead flesh Behind hih the handles He fell against the doors, pounding with his fists "Lemme out! I’ll kill youse!"