He had come a long way from the projects. He had left behind the d**gs, the whores and the nightly gunshots. He remembered the summer the Hispanic g...ng decided the block he lived in was going to belong to them. It was dumb luck he was standing beside the state representative when he saw the gun. It had been instinct that had made him move toward the gun, push the arm toward the sky and drive the gang member to the ground.Twenty years had passed. He had been offered a job working directly. He leaned up against the porch wall and lazily outstretchedone leg. The sound of the distant motorway, dogs barking and the muffledvibration of techno music from inside the house made Charlie feel as ifhe were sitting outside of a nightclub and not his own home.He sighed, thinking about what he should do. He rarely drank alcohol butwhen he did and got time alone whilst under its grips, he usually startedto think deeply about the wrongs in his life and he had a whole lot ofthem to think. More

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