Duty or Desire

by Patrick Jones

  “What are you gonna do?” Big C says. I try to pull her back, but she’s not having it. She doesn’t see Big C or Lorenzo, I bet, but those two cops who insulted and then beat her.

  Lorenzo starts squawking, but Chrissie talks over him. “You’re really going to beat up a female in public with a hundred people with phones to film it so you can get your butts behind bars where you belong? And only one of you cowards will do time. Who’s going to snitch first?”

  “A-hole, you best tell your woman—” Lorenzo starts.

  “His name is Alejandro, and I’m Chrissie.” She’s got no fear in her voice. “Do you know who I am?” They stand there looking dumb and stunned.

  “My cousin Lex runs a BGD crew,” she says, which is scary news to me. “You run blocks because they let you. You live because they let you. You touch me or Alejandro, his family or friends, then your mommas are going be going to a funeral. Do you understand me?”

  They’re silent until Big C whispers to Lorenzo, who tells Chrissie, “I don’t believe you.”

  “Feel free to test my statements. I don’t believe a word you say. Who leaves their ‘brother’ 26er to take a hit?” Chrissie lies back down on the grass and motions for me to join her. I turn my back on the 26ers and face my one and only, on the ground next to her.

  I whisper, “They still there?”

  “No, but I am,” she whispers to me. And I know nothing else matters.

  16

  CHRISSIE

  As Alejandro drives me home, I can tell something’s bothering him again. “What’s wrong?” I whisper.

  “I should have stood up for you, not the other way around,” he mumbles.

  “You stepped up before, and what did you get for it?” I look at his scar and then squeeze his arm tight. “It’s me and you.”

  “How’d this happen?” he asks.

  “What? Us?” The weight of those two letters feels heavy yet uplifting at the same time.

  We ride in silence until he rests a hand on my leg. “We’re here—that’s what matters.”

  I can’t hold in what I’m thinking. “I’m scared that what brought us together will tear us apart.”

  He slows down and eases the car toward the side of the road. “Nothing will tear us apart.”

  He leans over and kisses me. For a long time, we just hold onto each other like two people tossed overboard from a sinking ship, hanging on for dear life. It feels right.

  Everything’s perfect until my phone rings. “It’s Lacy.” I answer it and listen as she talks fast. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. When I hang up, I smack the dash of the car so hard the glove box pops open.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I turn to look at him but can only get out one word. “Another.”

  “Another what?”

  “They found him in his house, but Lacy tells me, his injuries look the same as mine. Up northside, my people, just a few blocks from here.”

  “You think that—”

  “I know it’s them, Alejandro. How many broken skulls is it going to take?”

  He pulls me closer. “I know you don’t like people saying you got to speak up for everyone, like it’s your obligation to them. It’s not about what you owe them. It’s something stronger.”

  “Justice.” We say the word together as he pulls back onto the road.

  I read texts that keep pouring in from Lacy as Alejandro drives fast, matching the adrenaline no doubt racing through his veins. What kind of justice will finally right these wrongs? If it’s street justice, dues are paid in blood. But is that what I want? More blood?

  What I need is help from one of the smartest people I know. I call Lacy back. Alejandro looks my way and stares hard at the road in front of us. He looks like a captain of a warship.

  As Lacy gives me the details, I’m gripping the phone so tight I don’t know how it’s not breaking in half. “Yeah . . . we’ll meet you guys where it happened . . . yeah. It was them! Okay, we’re on our way.”

  “What?” Alejandro says after I end the call.

  “Curtis Washington from Northwest.”

  “The guy I knew from JDC, Lacy’s friend?”

  It’s hard to speak with my jaw clenched so tight. “His condition wasn’t given out to the press, but I’m sure it’s critical.” My phone buzzes and the text reads, “Time to do something.” It’s from Lex. He’s right, but not his way. I bury myself in thought until an idea comes to me.

  My eyes widen as I look out the windshield. “Alejandro. I have a crazy idea. Will you help me?”

  “I’m here. You didn’t have to ask.”

  “We’re going to provoke another incident, film it, and then go public.”

  He studies me for a second. “You sure? Last time with you, you made Lacy take it down,” he reminds me.

  “I know. That was a mistake,” I admit. I thought not having it out there would help put me past it and not have it define me, but I was wrong. Until I know these cops won’t crack another skull, then I’ll never be over it. “We can’t make our past become somebody else’s future.”

  “What about after it’s out there for the world to see?” he asks me.

  “We go on with our lives while the cops rot in jail. We finish school, and then get jobs and rent an apartment together.”

  He smiles wide, which fades into a smirk. “You could be onto something.”

  I can see myself with him for the rest of my life. Something about him calms me—but also inspires me.

  I text Lacy, Robin, and Angela to ask for their help. They each say “yes,” and all I can think to reply is “I love you.”

  I put my head with all my racing thoughts on Alejandro’s shoulder. The miles tick while my brain moves ten times our speed. We head forward to face our past.

  17

  ALEJANDRO

  “Here,” Chrissie says. I slow the car down as we pull over near a vacant lot off Broadway.

  It looks like any other vacant lot on the northside or around Powderhorn. Across the street, there’s police tape around Curtis’s house indicating a crime scene. Except we know the criminals are the police.

  “What next?” I ask. That’s the problem with following your heart; it leaves only questions, where duty and responsibility give you answers. It’s easier to be a soldier or prisoner than a free man making hard choices.

  Chrissie picks up her phone and starts looking through her contact list. If she’s like me, she’s got people she calls when she’s in trouble, and she’s got people she calls who are trouble.

  As we drive, I overhear her explaining her plan once more to her friends when my phone rings. Eduardo, finally.

  “What’s up?” he asks. “Where you at?”

  “No place, just driving around.”

  “Meet me at Chrissie’s. Gimme the address, I need to talk to you in person.” Eduardo sounds scared. I try to talk more, but he just keeps asking for the address.

  I rattle off the address and try to catch up about his life without baseball, but he cuts the call short. We head to Chrissie’s place, where I park the car and walk her toward her front door. The lights are off. Eduardo said he’d meet me here, but I don’t see him.

  The front steps are as far as I get before I hear it. The screech of the brakes.

  Then the bang bang bang of bullets. The shots miss us and hit her house.

  We run behind her house and into the alley. In the distance, I hear a door slam and an engine rev. Through back alleys and vacant lots, Chrissie and I run for our lives.

  “This way!” I yell. I circle around in front of her house. “Go inside!” I shout as I race for Ricardo’s car.

  “I’m coming with you,” she replies, and we jump into the car. Seconds later, I hear the roar of a car. Impala. Big C. As I’m escaping, I ask Chrissie to call Ricardo. She hands me the phone, and we talk in Spanish so Chrissie can’t understand. I tell him what’s happening; he tells me what to do. I’m talking way too fast, like I’m driving, but he�
�s calming me down.

  I think about just driving into a police station, but what if those cops are there, or ones like them? Can I ever trust the police again? If not, how can I escape Big C and Lorenzo?

  I make the drive from Chrissie’s house to mine in record time. We race from the car toward the front door. Somewhere along the way I lost Big C, but they know where I live.

  My hands shake as I reach for my keys. I drop the keychain, but Chrissie picks it up, puts it in the lock, and we race inside. Before I can say a word, Ricardo speaks.

  “Alex, son, you okay?” Ricardo asks and in four words, four years of his indifference and impatience don’t matter anymore. Mom’s beside him, crying.

  “They’re on their way,” I manage to say through heavy breathing.

  “How many?” Ricardo asks.

  “I think just Big Caesar and Lorenzo,” I answer.

  “Chrissie, Rosalie, you get into the bathroom. Stay safe! Close the door!” Ricardo shouts. Mom starts toward the bathroom, but Chrissie stands still like a statue.

  “Alex, you ready to defend what you love?” Ricardo asks.

  I stare at Chrissie. “Yes.”

  Ricardo nods and leaves the room, and so do I. A few seconds later he emerges carrying a hunting rifle. I’ve got my .45 from the baseball card box. I grasp it like a long-lost relative.

  “They got two,” Ricardo says. “We got a .22 and a .45.”

  “And 911,” Chrissie says. Mom’s behind her, trying to pull her to safety, but she’s sticking by me. I clutch the pistol in my right and her hand in my left. Our fingers wrapped like barbwire.

  “Call,” I say, and Chrissie dials 911 on her cell. Outside we hear a car pull up and a car door open. Mom and Chrissie hit the floor, while Ricardo and I move toward the window. I peek out between the curtains. The Impala. Three, not two, sets of legs get out of the car. Five arms, because one of the people exiting the car has his arm in a sling. Eduardo.

  It’s like I feel the slicing jab of a knife in my back as I back away from the window and bang my head against the wall, repeating the words, “No, Eddie, no.”

  My breaking heart beats faster as we all wait to see if the police will come to help rather than hurt. Will they do their duty?

  18

  CHRISSIE

  “You’re sure you still want to do this?” Alejandro asks me. Police that were more “civil” came and took Big C and Lorenzo away before any shots were fired. Good citizens and good cops don’t need bad police officers, and it’s our time to fight back the right way.

  “Positive.” I pound my hand into my first, but when we pull up to the spot I feel tranquil.

  “Alejandro, if anything happens . . .” then I lose my words, and we get out of Ricardo’s car. I shut the door and walk. I haven’t ever been more in the moment than I am right now.

  “What’s wrong?” He rubs my arm.

  I hesitate. God gave me a purpose. I got to do something. My face tightens at the question that follows: If God exists, why doesn’t He do something?

  “Chrissie, I said is there something I can do?” Alejandro asks, but I’m tripping.

  “Follow through.” I say, and we walk up to Lacy. The spot’s right between the corner where I got beat and Curtis’s house, where those same two cops hurt him. I glance at the bushes directly to my left and then back at Lacy. This neighborhood is their beat, and their beat-down area.

  “Lacy. Meet Alejandro,” I say. Seeing my favorite people shake hands makes me crack a smile. I wish Robin and Angela were here too, but they’re already busy with their roles in this operation.

  “So we’re all clear,” I ask, “Angela already called the police, so they should be on their way, right?”

  Lacy nods her head up and down.

  “Good. And me and Alejandro will provoke them while you film them from behind those bushes, but Robin will be across the street filming too.”

  Lacy nods and hides behind the bushes. Alejandro and I hold hands tightly and wait.

  It takes less time than I imagined before a squad car pulls up. My heart beats so quickly. They flash their headlights and get out. We’re in the spotlight. It’s our time.

  “Look it. It’s that girl,” The Hmong cop says to the old white guy.

  “We know it was you that beat up Curtis last night,” I say. “He’s in the ER with a broken skull. Your signature touch.” I throw off mom’s cap and point to the scar on my head.

  “You don’t know anything,” the white cop says, walking closer. “You think we owe you all something because of your ancestors? That the whole world should give you special treatment and let you keep running our neighborhoods into the ground?”

  “Watch your mouth.” Alejandro and I say at the same time.

  “I don’t have to watch anything. I’m an officer of the law. I’m the one wearing a badge. I make the calls.” Like a snake, the white cop spits venom when he opens his mouth.

  The Hmong cop raises his club toward me. I put my hands up but don’t back away.

  “Hit her and I swear you won’t breathe again!” Alejandro yells while he holds me tight.

  I can feel the vibrations of his voice shake on me. I look up at him and something shifts in his eyes. Alejandro, don’t do anything too brash. Please, I think to myself. Just do like you told me about getting out of Woodland Hills. “Stick to the plan.” I say to him.

  Alejandro starts breathing heavy—too heavy. “You wanna hit someone, hit me.”

  The cops look at each other, and laugh. “Hey, I remember you. We already did!”

  I watch Alejandro’s chest, watching to see if he’ll make a move. He takes a step toward the Hmong cop who smashes the club against his knee; the white cop kicks me in the stomach. We’re both on the ground, but just for a second. Alejandro loses it. He dives at the Hmong cop, tackles him. He gets behind him and starts choking him. The officer looks like he’s struggling and trying to fight him off. The white cop calls for backup in his walkie-talkie. I gather strength and stand up straight. Everything is sudden and quick but also in slow motion. The white cop pushes me back down and pulls Alejandro off his partner, but the Hmong cop doesn’t move. It’s a real fight, not some stunt now, but all I can hope is Lacy and Robin are filming every second.

  “Cancel backup,” the white cop says into the talkie. He reaches into his sock. He pulls out a small pistol and throws the weapon at Alejandro. “Deadly force allowed when an officer feels threatened by a perp with a weapon.”

  Alejandro looks at the gun, but I kick it away. How did our desire for justice cloud our judgment so badly? Alejandro starts to go for the gun, and the white cop reaches for his weapon.

  “You should rethink that action!” comes a booming voice from the darkness. Lex. He must have followed Lacy. He holds Berettas in both hands as he stands next to me.

  The white cop puts his hands in the air. “I won’t need you to beat me over the head before I make my move on ya’ll pigs!” Lex shouts.

  “Lacy, leave!” I yell to her, “Now!”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Lacy says emerging from the bushes. I turn and she runs toward us. I don’t want her to get hurt. I want her to save someone’s life someday.

  “Leave, sis. This is about to get ugly, and if you die I might as well die too,” Lex states like a man who could care less about life and death.

  “No, Lex, I—” Lacy starts, but Lex motions for her to leave. He’s got one eye on his sister, the other on the white cop, when it happens.

  “Drop your weapon!” the Hmong cop yells. He’s on one knee, pistol in hand.

  “Drop yours! You didn’t think it would come to this, did you? Trust me, I got fire for you.” Lex says. “Go home, Chrissy. I got this.”

  “No, we got this,” I whisper, knowing that Robin is still filming. “Leave, Lacy!”

  Lex starts singing, “I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy!”

  “Lex put the guns down, they aren’t worth it.” I say i
n a steady tone. Lex’s eyes dart back and forth between the officers. Alejandro bends over and picks up the piece the white cop had used as bait and points it right at the guy’s scared and scarred face. I swear everything is silent.

  I take slow steps and meet eyes with the white cop, whose stare at me is lethal. “What makes you hate me so much?” I ask him.

  He answers with racist trash talk, disrespecting me and everyone of my skin, like nothing I’ve ever done or could ever do matters. That anything I could achieve was garbage. That I was garbage, some weak and powerless black girl. He don’t have a clue.

  I snatch the gun from Alejandro’s hand. He and Lex yell, “Chrissie, no!” as I point and fire, but the trigger clicks against an empty chamber. The white cop draws his weapon before I can react.

  Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang!

  The bullet is hot when it hits me in the chest. The grass feels cool as I fall on my side. My eyes open and close to see the Hmong cop go down, then Lex, and then the white cop. I find the urge to close my eyes growing after the blasts stop.

  “Lex!” Lacy shouts, and I see her run to Lex. She’s moving fast; he’s perfectly still.

  Alejandro crawls next to me. “Chrissie.” He takes off his shirt and presses it against the snake tattoo on my chest that failed to protect me. Blood spouts up from me, but I sense it running down on me from him as well. “Chrissie, stay with me, we can make it!”

  “I’m sorry, Alejandro, I just wanted—” There’s no energy in me. I just want to go to sleep now. I don’t feel the coldness of the grass anymore. I don’t feel pain or anything. Numb.

  “Chrissie, hold on.” Alejandro’s breathing is labored.

  “Alejandro . . .” My head holds no weight. I push all the energy toward my tongue. “Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no evil for You are with me. Your rod and Your staff they comfort me . . .” I mumble. Before I close my eyes I see a snake that slithers by, crawling from my chest. My eyes open to see a blade of grass. They close. Open. Close. Open.