by Tim O'Mara
Smitty clarified. “Chief Donne.”
My uncle looked up front. “I see them, Smitty.”
I turned to look out the windshield as well and saw what they were talking about. A group of three boys—young men almost—had turned the corner and were heading in our direction. They got about twenty feet from where we were parked and stopped. After putting their heads together and surely discussing the presence of a town car at the bus stop, they looked over at us and waved.
“Sir?” Smitty said again.
“Show ’em the lights, kid.”
Smitty leaned over slightly and flipped on the grill lights. The group of three seemed surprised—but when Smitty shut the lights off five seconds later, they started laughing. It’s great to be young, I thought.
“How do you want to handle this?” my uncle asked.
“Really?” I said. “You’re asking my advice?”
“Hey. Just because you’re not a cop anymore doesn’t mean I don’t respect your skills and judgment. You’re more experienced at dealing with this … age group than I am.” He let that sit for a bit. “How do you want to handle this?”
I stayed silent. First, I had to get over being complimented by my uncle. Second, I needed to make sure what came out of my mouth next made a whole lot of sense. I looked out the front window again and assessed the situation. There were three of them, all in their upper teens at least. Odds were, one of them had the scrape with Angel’s father. I couldn’t tell which one from the back of the car, but my money would be on the big guy in the middle. They’d seen the flashing lights, so there was no doubt in their minds we were law enforcement. Or two of us were.
“How about,” I began, “I go out and talk to them? Just me. They know I got backup, so I don’t think they’ll try anything physical.”
“What are you planning to say to them?” Uncle Ray asked, as if I were a new recruit and he was quizzing me.
“I’ll explain who I am, why I’m here, and see if we can come to some sort of mutual agreement where both sides feel they got something they wanted.”
My uncle grinned. “You learn that on the force or from some staff development the Department of Education made you take?”
“A little of both,” I said. “There are two sides to every conflict, but one thing is always the same: both sides want something. The trick is to figure out what that is.”
“And you’re representing Officer Rosario?”
I took a deep breath. “I know. It’s best to have both parties present, but given this small window of opportunity, it’s the best I can come up with.”
“I could just have Smitty go out there, show them his badge and gun, and politely ask that all charges be dropped.”
“There’s always that,” I said. “Let me try it my way first.”
“Okay, Nephew. You’re the expert.” He sounded like he meant that.
“All right,” I said, zipping my jacket and putting my hand on the door handle. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“We’ll be waiting right here,” my uncle said.
“Which is what gives me such unwavering confidence.” I pushed open the door and stepped out of the car. It seemed colder than before. Maybe it was the slight breeze blowing between the buildings. I leaned back inside and said, “Thanks.” I shut the door and walked slowly over to the group of three young men.
As I approached, the three of them spread out. I had my hands out of my pockets, palms facing out front: the international sign for “I come in peace.” I stopped when I got five feet away. At this short distance, I recognized the biggest of the three from the front page of the paper. It took a few seconds of staring and silence before I could summon up his name.
I looked him square in the eyes and said, “Hector, right? Hector Ferrer?”
“That’s right, officer,” he said, removing the earbuds to his iPod—probably Angel’s iPod—and draping them around his neck. He looked at both his boys and smiled. He was missing one of his top front teeth, but, to his credit, it did nothing to diminish the shit-eating quality of his grin. “What can we do for you?”
“Actually,” I said, “I’m not a cop.” I pointed over my shoulder with my thumb. “They’re the cops.”
All three looked over at the town car and then back to me.
Still smiling, Hector said, “What that make you, then?”
“I’m a teacher.”
Five seconds of silence. Then the three broke out into laughter.
As I waited for the boys to settle down, I watched a plastic grocery bag make its way down the street, blown by the breeze.
“That what this is about?” Hector said. “We ain’t been going to school, and they send a attendance officer with the cops? That’s some real bullshit, man.”
“I’m not an attendance officer. I’m a teacher.” I paused. “A dean, to be exact. Angel Rosario’s dean.”
The three of them looked at one another and did a group shrug. The short guy on Hector’s left said, “We supposed to know who is that?”
“He’s the kid whose iPod you took,” I explained. “And when his father came over to get it back, an altercation ensued.”
“Shit, man,” Hector said. “For a teacher, you talk like a cop.” They all laughed over that, then Hector spoke again. “So what about Angel Rosario and his pops? Came ’round here accusing me of stealing some shit. Old man gets all up in my face and knocks me to the ground.” He shook his head and placed his right hand on his chest in mock seriousness. Like a bad actor doing West Side Story. “Me … a poor little minor.”
After hearing that, the boys returned to laughing. This was one hell of a fun group. I stuck my tongue to the roof of my mouth as I waited for the laughing to stop. It took almost a minute.
“I came here,” I said, “to see if we could come to some sort of agreement.”
Hector made a big deal about considering my comment. He even rubbed the little bit of hair he had on his chin and looked to the sky as if deeply pondering the question.
“What kind of ‘agreement’ you talkin’ about?” he said.
“We can start,” I said, “by you telling me what you want.”
“What I want?”
“Yes.”
“What I want?” he repeated, and then playfully slapped both his boys on their upper arms. “What I want is to sue that fake cop for all he’s got. And I’ma sue the New York City Board of Education and the NYPD, because they in charge of security.”
“School safety,” I corrected. “Security works at Kmart.”
“Whatever,” Hector said. “I’ma sue all their asses, and then we see who pulls up in front of a bus stop in a town car.” He smiled again. “Funny, ain’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Here I is, a high school dropout, and I’ma have more money than all my teachers combined. That’s why they told me to stay in school, right? So’s I could find a good-paying job?” He slapped his boys again. “Well, looks like I found me one. Right here on this broken-down, busted-ass, bootleg street.”
That got the three amigos going again. I turned around to face my uncle’s car and gave an exaggerated shrug. A few seconds later, the left side passenger door opened, and Uncle Ray stepped out. His long, dark blue coat flapped in the breeze, and I watched as he slowly buttoned it closed. He began walking toward me. The laughter started to die down as the three young men noticed him approaching. Uncle Ray is a big man, and the way he carries himself says just one thing: police. He stopped when he got to me.
“Raymond,” he said. He then looked at the small group in front of us. “Boys.”
For a moment, a flicker of fear crossed all three faces. That look was quickly replaced with nervous smiles. Hector, again, was the first to speak.
“Now you,” he said, pointing at my uncle, “are definitely po-po.”
Uncle Ray smiled back. “Most definitely.” He looked around, and the grins disappeared. “You boys come to an understanding?”
Uncle Ray shook his head. “That’s disappointing, Nephew. Very.”
“Nephew?” Hector said and then looked at me. “You brought your uncle to watch your back, Teacher?”
“Actually,” my uncle said, “it was my idea to come around. See if we could come to some sort of arrangement.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “It was my nephew’s idea to do so diplomatically.”
“This is good,” Hector said. He looked at his two buddies. “First we got a teacher talks like a cop and now we got a cop talks like a teacher.” He looked back over at the car we’d pulled up in. “What’s your driver talk like? A doctor?”
“If you’d like,” Uncle Ray said, “I can bring him out here and you can listen to him yourself.” He leaned his large frame into Hector’s space. “Real close.”
Hector locked eyes with my uncle. He tried not to look intimidated, but it wasn’t working out so well. He turned away and looked at his friends. “You guys have your phones with you?” he asked.
The two of them nodded. Both reached into their pockets and pulled out their cells.
“Another time and place,” Uncle Ray said, looking around, “different lighting, lots of confusion, that kinda move would get you a whole lot of dead.”
The three of them looked at my uncle in silence. Hector’s buddies were starting to look like they knew they were getting in over their collective heads. Hector did his best to remain cool and seemed to be thinking of what he could say to impress his boys.
“That’s pretty tough talk, Cop,” Hector said. “You mind saying that again so’s my boys can get it on video?” He looked at the two of them, and both held up their phones. “I believe you just violated my rights. Maybe my lawyer could add you two in on the lawsuit. The more, the better, right?”
My uncle shook his head and looked down at the cracked asphalt. When he looked up again, he said, “How is it, Raymond, that every high school dropout in this city seems to know all about his rights?”
“I think they teach it early to some kids,” I said. I looked at the three knuckleheads. “Some teachers just know who’s going to need that kind of knowledge.”
“That’s good,” Hector said. “Make all the jokes y’all want. I get my day in court, we see who’s laughing then.” He held out his hands for his boys to slap. They did.
“You might be right about that, son,” Uncle Ray said. “It’s one thing to have money, though, and quite another to live long enough to enjoy it.”
“Shit, man,” Hector said. “You guys getting this? He just threatened me.”
Now it was my uncle’s turn to laugh. “Son,” he said. “That wasn’t a threat. It was an observation by someone who’s seen a hundred punks like you not make it to their twenties because they thought they were smarter than everyone else.”
“The hell you know about me, old man? You don’t know me!”
My uncle leaned in closer to Hector. I knew that lean-in from my childhood. It’s the one when Uncle Ray is about to tell you something real important.
“Boy,” he began, lowering his voice now. “I was working these streets before your daddy even knew how to jerk off. Keep pushing your luck. It will run out some day. Sooner than you think. Right now, what’re you? Oh, right. In a few weeks you’ll be eighteen. Old enough to enlist and old enough to vote. I doubt either one of those things’ll happen.” Uncle Ray took a long drag off his cigar and blew the smoke directly into Hector’s face. “You keep being the king of your little corner here. Enjoy it while it lasts. Good luck.” Uncle Ray put his hand on my shoulder again. “Let’s go, Raymond.”
We both turned and headed back to the car. I looked up and watched as a small group of pigeons took off from the roof of the building to our right.
“I don’t need no luck,” Hector yelled after us. “I already got my luck. I got me a lawyer, and I’ma have more money than all y’all.”
“Keep thinking there, Hector,” Uncle Ray said softly enough so only I could hear. I smiled at the reference to Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, one of my favorite movies. “That’s what you do best.”
Chapter 20
BACK IN THE WARMTH of the car, my uncle unbuttoned his coat and extinguished what was left of his cigar in one of the built-in car door ashtrays. We both watched as Hector and his boys decided it was too cold to hang at the bus stop, especially when there was no one around to harass. They put their hands in their jacket pockets, turned, and headed back in the direction they’d come from, disappearing around the corner.
“Well,” Uncle Ray said, “we did what we could. That boy’ll get his someday. They all do.”
“In the meantime,” I said, “he’s fucking with a family’s life.”
“There is that. Sometimes, Raymond, you can only do what you can do. This could very well be one of those times.”
“Still sucks, though.”
“Big-time.” He looked at his watch. “It’s getting to be that time, Nephew. You want us to drop you at home, or is this one of your LineUp nights?”
“Home, I think.” I pulled out my cell phone. “Let me just check my messages.”
As I checked, Uncle Ray tapped the back of Smitty’s seat. “Greenpoint Avenue,” he said. “Just like the last time.”
“Yes, sir,” Smitty said, and proceeded to do a U-turn.
The recorded-lady voice on my phone informed me I had one message.
“Hello, Mr. Donne. Gloria Lee. If it’s not too much trouble, can you give me a call when you get this?” There was a three-second pause. “I’m not even sure why I called. I guess I just wanted to see if … there were any new.… I don’t know.” Another pause. “I guess it’s not all that important. I’m sorry I bothered you. Good-bye.”
I deleted the message and rubbed the time display with my thumb. It was just after five. “Dougie’s mom,” I said out loud.
“What’d she want?” Uncle Ray asked.
“I don’t know.” I thought I did. “Maybe just someone to talk to.”
I found Mrs. Lee’s number and pressed the CALL button. She picked up after three rings.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Lee. Raymond Donne. I got your message.”
“I’m sorry about that, Mr. Donne. I’m not sure why I even called.”
I waited a few seconds for her to go on. It started to feel awkward, so I figured maybe she was waiting for me to speak. It took me a while to come up with something.
“Listen,” I finally said. “I’m kind of in your neighborhood. If it’s not too inconvenient for you, would you mind if I dropped by for a bit?”
I waited for a reply. “No,” Mrs. Lee said. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”
“Good. I’ll see you in a few minutes then.”
“Thank you, Mr. Donne. Thank you.”
“Not a problem.”
I ended the call and asked Officer Smitty to drop me off at Mrs. Lee’s house. After giving him the address, I turned to my uncle. “I think she just needs someone to talk to.”
“And that someone has to be you?” he asked.
“It doesn’t have to … She called me, Uncle Ray.”
“Of course she did, Raymond.” He leaned closer to me. “Remember, you are not to be involved in this investigation.”
“That’s not why I’m going over there,” I said somewhat convincingly.
“Of course not.” He faced front again and stared out the windshield. “How’s your sister?”
“Fine. We had dinner last night.”
“Excellent. It’s nice you two keep in touch like that.”
“She’s got dinner plans with Dennis Murcer.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep. Two adults having dinner.”
“You don’t approve, Raymond?”
“It is what it is,” I said, remembering Tio’s words from the other day.
“That’s very wise of you.”
“Sir?” Smitty said from up front.
Again, my uncle and I both answered, “Yes?”
“Mr. Donne, sir. We’re here.”
I looked out my window. “That was quick,” I said. “Thanks, Smitty.”
“Have a good one, sir.”
“Thanks, Uncle Ray.” I held out my hand. “I appreciate your trying to help.”
“I wish we had a better outcome,” he said.
“Me, too.”
“See you soon, Raymond.”
“Absolutely.” I opened my door and stepped out, then leaned back in. “Say hi to Reeny for me.”
“Most definitely. Mind yourself.”
“Always.” I shut the door and headed across the street to Mrs. Lee’s house. I took the steps two at a time, slowly, and gave my knees a little stretch. I needed to get back over to Muscles’s place tomorrow. I rang the buzzer and waited.
A half minute later, she greeted me at the front door with a weak smile and quickly ushered me in out of the cold. I followed her into the living room, and she offered me a seat on the couch. She sat down in the chair to my right. I took my coat off and placed it next to me on the couch. Between us was a small coffee table with a pot of something and two mugs.
“I took the liberty,” she said, “of making some hot chocolate. Would you care for some, Mr. Donne?”
“Yes, I would. Thank you.”
She poured the hot chocolate into the two mugs and slid mine over to me. I picked it up and, before taking a sip, enjoyed the heat as it warmed my cold hands. Mrs. Lee smiled approvingly as I took my first sip.
“This is very good,” I said.
She nodded. “I make it myself. The stuff from the packages is no good. You noticed I haven’t offered you any marshmallows.”
“I did notice. Yes.”
“That’s because my hot chocolate has nothing to hide, Mr. Donne.” She took a sip then placed her mug back on the coffee table. “Thank you for coming over. I didn’t feel like being alone and—may the good Lord forgive me—I’m getting just a little bit weary of the women from the church. It’s always the same conversation with them.” She gave me an apologetic smile. “And how was your day?”
Just two regular folks sitting around talking.