Condemned by John Nicholas Iannuzzi

were Awgust’s cronies.
    â€œAnybody here have any more doubts about where we coming from?” Awgust said directly to Hempy when he and Anton reached the other group. No one said anything. “When I lend you money, I’m lending you other people’s money. You can see where it comes from, right?” No one answered. “Next time you don’t pay everything, on time, people will have to pick you off this playground fence. And you,” he said to Hempy, who usually swaggered through the schoolyard, brushing aside other students. “Mess with me, and you mess with more than you can handle, dig?”
    The story of that incident spread throughout Harlem quickly. It wasn’t long before Money, through his network of street workers, was told what had really happened. He warned Red that his nephew was playing him for a chump, using Red’s reputation to strong-arm the kids in school. Red had then, and always since, dismissed Money’s admonitions as unnecessary concern that Red, trying to please Leslie, was too partial to Awgust.
    â€œStill a nice place, Money,” said Red, looking around the Midnight Café. “They’ve kept it nice. You ever come here?”
    â€œOnce or twice,” he said, rolling the ice in his glass.
    Red chuckled. “Who was the woman?”
    â€œJanette Rouse?”
    â€œLi’l Bit? Is that who you’re talking about?” Money nodded, his eyes fluttering. “No kidding? You brought Li’l Bit here?”
    â€œAfter you stopped seeing her, Mister Red.”
    â€œHey, why not? What a gorgeous, I mean gorge-ous, girl she was. Before she got herself all strung out on that shit she was putting in her arms or nose. Li’l Bit.” Red shook his head slightly. “My, my. Pity.”
    The waitress brought a drink and placed it in front of Red. “The boss wants to offer you gentlemen something to eat, compliments of the house, Mr. Hardie. What can I get you?”
    â€œYou want anything?” Red said to Money.
    â€œIf you do, Mr. Red.”
    â€œWhat do you recommend?” Red said to the waitress.
    â€œThe steak tid-bits, little pieces of steak on toast, with tooth picks, and barbeque sauce. Really tasty.”
    â€œAn order of that would be fine,” said Red. The waitress left. “This thing with the Judge, about Sandro, today—,” he stopped mid-sentence. “I never knew you saw Li’l Bit.”
    â€œIt wasn’t anything. She was just missing you, I think, strung out and all, like you said. Called just to keep in touch with you, through me, make a touch, period.”
    â€œSure, sure. Figures. Mmmph. You take care of her?”
    â€œJust with some money.”
    â€œHow long ago was—” Red fell silent, waiting for the waitress to finish fussing cutlery and a napkin in front of each of them. “What in hell’s wrong with that Judge, anyhow? I mean, we know her brother, some of her family, and all, for years—from over top of the hill, right?”
    Money nodded again. “Nice people. But she don’t have much to do with them, especially her brother. Hell, we know her brother good. He used to play the same number, 465, every day, every day, like a clock. He told me she’d put his backside in jail, he ever talked to her about a case.”
    Red clucked softly. “Strange woman.”
    â€œI think maybe she needs a little somethin’ keep her occupied at night besides the law.”
    â€œShe’s got a husband, a professor of something, over at Columbia.”
    â€œThat’s the problem. Needs a real man ’stead of some bookish professor, kind of stir up all her vagasites,” said Money.
    â€œHow does she expect we started a nose-bleed?” Red shook his head. “What I’m afraid of, because she thinks that that’s something we did, she might do something real nasty.”
    â€œShe’s another prosecutor, sitting