Like Father, Like Son by James Patterson

Author:James Patterson [Patterson, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little, Brown and Company
Published: 2021-06-29T00:00:00+00:00

ZOE LIVED IN a nice house on C Street between Ninth and Tenth in Southeast. I showed up that Saturday night with Gabe, Cedric, and Mateo. Ruby was already there, helping set up and everything.

“This is about the most awesome party I’ve ever been to,” Gabe said, maybe ten seconds after we’d piled in the door.

There were people jamming in the living room. A giant dining room table was practically falling over with the mountain of food they’d put out. And either Dee-Cee, or Zoe, or Kim was some kind of plant freak, too. The whole house was green all over, including a huge rubber tree with little Christmas lights that hung above the front door when you walked in.

“It’s about the most awesome party?” Mateo said. “Like you’ve ever been to something better?”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Zoe said, coming over with Ruby. “Wassup, fellas? Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for inviting us,” Gabe said.

“How you doing, Zoe?” Cedric asked.

“I’m good,” she said. She seemed it, too, which was cool to see. I wasn’t sure what to expect after the day before.

“Check the custom J’s,” Ruby said, pointing at Zoe’s feet.

They were black with white skulls all over, like the opposite of those pink ones Zoe liked so much. Except somehow, they were totally her, too. And probably at least three hundred bucks.

“Sweet! Where’d you get those?” Cedric asked.

“They were a present from Darnell,” she said. He was just walking by and gave her a little side hug on his way through.

“Nice present,” Mateo said.

“Right?” Darnell said, with those diamond studs flashing in his ears, and another big rock in the football ring on his left hand. Something told me money wasn’t one of Darnell’s problems. “Wear them in good health, darling,” he told her.

As he walked away, Zoe kind of lowered her voice. “I’m not going to say being in the hospital was any joke,” she told us, “but I ain’t mad about the lucre.”

“Lucre,” I said. “Good word.”

“Girl’s a poet,” Ruby said, like we didn’t already know. “Check it out.”

She pointed at this huge cake in the middle of the dining room table. It had white icing, with a pair of blue and purple wings airbrushed on top. And in chocolate writing, it said—

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