First published in the Scarlet Leaf Review.
He was my best friend, Rosco Ace Mays III, by name, but everyone in the ‘hood except his ole man called him Trey. Because Trey was the third “Ace” in the family, his dad had decided to call him “Lucky.” He was a wiry little kid who was antsy and had an unforgettable steel blue gaze, and that might not seem unusual elsewhere, but as far as I know, he was the only kid on the south side without chocolate brown eyes. What I remember most about him was his ability to lie better than any other soul I’d ever encountered, and with a straight face, too. Trey was a true artist….
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