“Say it again,” he teased. Act like you’re not mad. Damian tried the key. Click. Nothing. Horns blared behind them. A small black girl in filthy ripped oversized beige gray clothes moved along the sidewalk with her head down. Messy natural hair, thin arms. She kept a cheap plastic bag tight to her chest like it held her whole life.
Damian pointed at her. Hey, you come here. the girl froze. Not because she wanted attention, because she knew attention was danger. “I don’t have anything,” she murmured, eyes on the ground. Carter, another man in a dark suit, stepped sideways, blocking her path without touching her. “Nobody said you stole,” he said, smiling. “Yet.
” Immani swallowed. “Please, I’m just going.” Damian laughed loud so people nearby would hear. Relax. We’re doing charity today. He looked back at his friends. Watch this. I’ll give you $100 million if you fix my car. All three men burst out laughing. Phones came up. One of them whistled like it was a circus trick. Immani’s face didn’t change.