by Richard Dry
“Goin to the store.”
“Where your shoes?”
“At home.”
“You got money?”
Love knew he shouldn’t say but felt that it was so obvious he couldn’t lie, so he nodded.
“How much money you got?”
“Ten dollars,” Love heard himself brag.
“Your mama give you ten dollars?”
“My papa, for peanut butter.”
“What you gonna buy, a whole cow?”
“Grapefruit too.”
“That ain’t gonna cost no ten dollars.”
“I know.”
“You want to buy Turrell’s blades?”
Turrell heard this and shook his head.
“You gonna sell ’em for ten dollars?” Love asked.
“Naw. You got to pay twenty dollars for blades like these. But I got a way you could get ten more dollars that’s real easy. You just got to come with me.”
“I got to go to the store.”
“Well, when you come back from the store, we might not be here, and the man giving away all the money might be gone too. And it only takes a little bit of time now.”
Love shrugged his shoulders. “That’s all right.”
“All right.” Durrell pulled Turrell to standing, and they both went across to the other staircase and back again.
“Where’s the man at?” Love asked.
“You got to have ten dollars to start with. Show me you got ten dollars.”
Love shook his head.
“All I want to do is see you got it. You can stand over there and just hold it up.”
Love walked to the opposite staircase and held out the ten-dollar bill.
“Okay, I see it,” Durrell said. “Now come on with me. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want. Just come on and see how I mean for you to get it.”
Love walked behind the twins as they skated across the street and turned the corner on to a block that Love had never been on before. This was even more crowded than his own, with people filling the streets and yelling at each other like at a party, and no cars driving through.
In the middle of the block, a group of older kids stood in front of a staircase that went down to a cellar, their backs to the street like a wall. He heard someone yelling behind the older kids.
“The middle one, man, it’s the middle one. Aw man, you got to watch more closely.” And the whole group groaned in disappointment.
“I always wanted to do this, but I never had any money,” Durrell said. “But I always know the one to pick. Watch this.”
He pushed his way between two boys and made room for Love to peek in. A young man crouched on the ground facing the crowd. He moved three walnut shells around very swiftly in front of him.
“Play your money, friends. Keep your eyes on the prize.” He quickly lifted the middle shell and revealed a green pea, then went back to shuffling. He showed the pea in the middle every time he called out. “If you’ve seen it by chance, keep your money in your pants. If you’ve seen it twice, got to roll the dice. If you’ve seen again, you’re sho to win.” He stopped shuffling, and Love was sure he knew the pea was in the middle. In fact, the man had gone real slowly the last time, and it seemed like you’d have to be stupid not to know.
“Who wants to play? Pick the shell with the pea and double your green.” There were no takers at first, and Love couldn’t understand why no one bet, but they’d been watching longer, so maybe they knew better.
“It’s in the middle one,” Durrell yelled.
“Show me your money, half-pint,” the man said.
“I ain’t got none. My friend’s got the money.”
“Well, have him lay it down.”
Before Durrell could beg Love, a very tall man with dark sunglasses spoke up. “I think the boy’s right,” he said. “Here’s my money.” He took out three bills and carefully counted them, tossing them separately onto the ground. “Twenty … forty … sixty dollars. Now show me that pea.”
The man lifted his hand and there, in the shadow of the shell, was the dried-up pea. Everyone, including Love, jumped in the air and screamed with pleasure
“I told you! I told you,” Durrell yelled. “How come you didn’t bet? You’ve got to give him the money.”
The man with the shells shook his head and took out a thick roll of bills. He counted the money just as the tall man had, slowly, throwing the bills on the ground so everyone could see. The tall man bent down and grabbed all the bills, then held them up to the rest of the people, and they clapped. The man on the ground began to shuffle the shells again. “It’s that easy, friends. Maybe I’m not as fast as I used to be. Or maybe that boy there’s got an eye for gold. If he were a pirate he’d be Long John Silver, if he were a bomber he’d have hit Qaddafi smack on the head. Now take a good look, ’cause I’m gonna show you the pea.” He lifted up the shell in the middle and the pea was there. Then he shuffled again. “Do you know where it is? Are you following it?”
“It’s in the middle,” Love yelled out.
The man lifted the shell and there it was. “The boy’s right.”
“Ten dollars. Give me ten dollars.”
“You’ve got to put the money down first, half-pint.”
Love pulled the money out of his pocket and held it in his fist as the man shuffled again. The man’s hands moved slowly, and Love followed the shells the whole time. This was the easiest way to make money ever. He would bring back the money to show Marcus. He could buy the food and buy the skates and his mama wouldn’t have to beg Marcus for money anymore. He could buy his brother something too, maybe a toy or a bottle. The man’s hands stopped.
Love threw his money in the circle.
“It’s in the middle. I call it. It’s in the middle.”
“The boy says it’s in the middle. Does anyone else want a piece of the action?” The rest of the kids grumbled and moved around, but no one put any money down. They looked at the tall man, but he shook his head.
“I didn’t see it this time,” he said. “I think I saw it under the middle, but I lost my concentration.”
Seeing that there were no other takers, the man on the ground turned the shell over with a slap. The pea was there.
“I won! I won! I won!” Love danced and hugged Durrell. “Give me my money. I put in ten dollars. Give me ten dollars.”
The man shook his head and took out his roll of bills. “This is not my day. I guess I’m gonna have to go home and practice some more.” He put the money on the ground, and Love picked up the two ten-dollar bills.
“See, I told you. I told you,” Durrell said. “Give me some money so I can play.”
“Naw. I won this money for me.”
“But I showed you. You got to give me some too.”
Love shrugged. He could always win again, and anyway, this was the first real friend he’d ever had.
“What you gonna do? You gonna bet?” Love asked as he handed Durrell one of the bills.
“Yeh, I’m gonna make me a million dollars.”
The man on the ground shuffled his shells again and called to the crowd. “All the little boys out here making money today, but the grownups is too scared to trust they own eyes. See, here’s the pea. Now watch if you can as I shuffle around real fast.” But he didn’t shuffle real fast, and then he asked again:
“Who’s gonna take some candy from a baby today? Who knows where that little green pea is at? Who’s gonna double what they made all week, all month, all year, in just one tiny second?”
“I got to put it down this time,” said the tall man. “I’ve seen it for sure under the middle.” The man put down all his money, one hundred and twenty dollars. “I just wish I had me some more.” Then it was like a dam burst, and everyone else in the crowd threw their money on the ground. “I got ten on the middle.” “I put down one hundred.” It was hard to tell whose money was where. Both Love and Durrell joined in and threw their money down with smiles stretched acro
ss their faces and grabbed each other’s hands.
The man on the ground slapped the shell over. It was hard to see at first, or maybe just hard to believe, but they had to blink twice before they saw clearly. There was nothing but pavement underneath.
“No way, I saw it!” yelled out a large boy with a gold watch.
There was a second of silent shock, but before anyone else could think to speak, the tall man yelled out: “Five-oh! Here come the cops.” Love and Durrell turned to look around, as did everyone else. They looked both ways but didn’t see a car or even any bicycle cops. When they looked back, the money, the man on the ground, and the tall man were gone.
“Aw shit!” one guy yelled. “That son of a bitch got all my money.”
“You mean he won it all,” said his friend, laughing.
“I got to buy peanut butter and a grapefruit,” Love said. His eyes began to fill with tears. He was afraid to think what Marcus and his mother might do to him if he showed up with no money and no food.
“Ten dollars ain’t so much to go cryin over,” Durrell said. “I know how we can get ten dollars easy.”
Love shook his head.
“It’s easier than this. You just have to follow my plan and we can get money from a cash register. My older brother, Murrell, does it all the time. And you don’t need no money to do this.”
Love walked away from the stairs through the crowd of people, with Durrell and Turrell skating behind him. The pea had to be under the middle shell. He’d seen it. It had to be there. The man had tricked him. The tall man and the man with the shells and Durrell too. They’d all tricked him out of his money.
“Give me your skates,” Love demanded. Durrell stopped, and Turrell ran into him.
“Why you want my skates?”
“Give me my money back.”
“I don’t have any money.”
“Give me your skates then,” Love said again.
“Naw. I ain’t gonna give you my skates.”
Love rushed him and grabbed him by the shirt and shook him from side to side.
“Give ’um!”
Durrell fell backward, pulling Love on top of him. Love punched Durrell as hard as he could in the face and in the stomach, just like he’d seen older kids do on the street. He put his head down and punched as Durrell swung back wildly. A crowd gathered around and the teenagers started yelling.
“Get him. That’s Snapple’s little brother.”
“Look at that boy punch,” another one yelled. “That boy’s tearin him up. He’s a pit bull.”
“That little boy’s from my building. His mama’s a ho.”
“He’s got a whole lot of dog in him. Look at this boy. This boy’s gonna mess him up.”
Love felt encouraged by the shouts and hit Durrell even harder. Turrell took off his skates as fast as he could. He held one in the air and went over to where Love straddled his brother and hit him over the head with the rubber heel-stop.
“Oh, that got to hurt!” one boy yelled, and the crowd laughed as Love fell off Durrell. The laughter of the crowd angered Love more than the hit on the head, and he got up after Turrell now.
“He gone take on both a them. I got my money on that pit bull.”
As if a bolt of lightning rushed through him, Love began pounding Turrell.
“Give me my money. Give me my money,” he screamed. He struck out as if he were in a sticky spiderweb that he had to swing and swing through until he was free. Durrell pulled him off his brother, and without interrupting his swings, Love switched targets. He didn’t think about the skates anymore or about his money or about Durrell. He had no thoughts but to hit as hard and as fast as he could until there was no more to hit or until he was no longer able to hit.
Durrell’s nose was bleeding and he’d stopped fighting. He just turned to the side and protected his face. But Love hadn’t gotten all the fight out of him yet. He jumped up and went after Turrell, but Turrell ran away with his skates in his hands.
“I hate you!” Love yelled. The crowd laughed, and some applauded. “I hate you!”
Love stood in the center of the circle by himself now. He felt the throbbing of his swollen hands and the pounding in his head and his burning knees, but he felt good, better than he’d ever felt before, like everyone there had given him ten dollars, a hundred times over.
* * *
A WEEK AFTER the fight with Durrell and Turrell, the older kids of the neighborhood took Love into their set. Even Durrell’s older brother, Murrell, had to tolerate him because the OGs liked him. It was an OG known as Soda Pop who had given Love the name Pit Bull at the fight, and Soda Pop brought him to their crib the next time he saw Love on the street.
The crib was an abandoned room on the sixth floor of the corner building. The laughing demons in the darkened doorway were sentries for the crew, tweakers who got free rock for watching the entrance. Now they nodded to Love and cleared the center of the hallway as if he were a rap star coming out to the stage. He had free passage into the tunnel and up the stairs. Next he’d run up the stairwell, two steps at a time, until he reached the fifth-floor landing, where another guard stopped him and used a walkie-talkie to let them know he was coming. They always radioed back saying exactly these words about him: “He cool.”
When he got to the door, he knocked once, paused, and then three times quickly, for 13th Street, Ace Trey. Ace Trey controlled the blocks from 11th to 14th, High Street to Fruitvale. All the pushers went through them, including David, although he saw them simply as the only suppliers in the area, like Lucky’s was the only supermarket.
In general, it was safe to claim Ace Trey anywhere on the East Side of Oakland. The rivalry with West Side had started before anyone could remember, but Carlyle, another member of the set, explained that it had to have started around the time the Cypress Freeway went up, when many of the people left West Oakland and built up East Oakland. Love knocked the secret code and Onion came to the door, named so because his smell alone was enough to keep people out. He was over seven feet tall and had a cut-eye look, as if he thought you’d called his mama out of her name. Only people in the set knew how nice he was. He opened the door, looked straight over Love’s head, and put his hand to his brow.
“I thought I heard someone knocking.” He turned back into the room. “You guys hear something?”
“I’m here,” Love yelled from below him.
“That! You hear that? Like some sort of mosquito. Oh well.” He began to close the door, and Love pushed against it.
“Oh, it’s Pit Bull.” Onion grabbed Love and swung him up on his shoulder like a plank of wood and then dropped him in the kitchen.
The next best thing after getting in the crib was going around and tapping everyone on the fist. Carlyle was in the kitchen making pancakes on the flat iron burner. Carlyle was always cooking, and Love was always hungry, so they naturally became good friends. Carlyle gave him a tap and then Love went into the living room. The windows were boarded up and the room was lit from each corner by a naked bulb, casting long shadows across the walls. Web and Sam, two Lebanese brothers, played dominoes at the table with their girlfriends, Sandy and Letreece, whom everyone called Puke for her bulimic tendencies. Love went over and tapped each one of them.
Murrell sat on the couch with his shoes up on the windowsill, smoking a jay and listening to his headphones. He was eleven and used to be the youngest member until Love was let in. Love walked over to tap him, but he closed his eyes.
“What the hell’s that, Snapple!” Soda Pop yelled at Murrell as he came out of the bedroom, five of the older members behind him.
Snapple shrugged. “What?”
“Pit Bull, get back in here. You can’t let this punk dis you like that.”
Love turned slowly, knowing that even coming back was like calling Murrell a punk.
“I didn’t do nothing, Pop,” Snapple said.
“You best watch yourself. Pit Bull gonna catch on to your shit and take you like he
did your brothers. Now give him some love.”
Snapple tapped Love’s fist with a covert hardness as Soda Pop walked past them. Snapple didn’t wait for Love to tap him back.
“You two are going on a mission,” Pop said. “You’re going to get me a chili burger from Adam’s.”
“I can do it on my own,” Snapple protested.
“So can I,” Love said.
“So could I,” Soda Pop said, “but you two are going together, to keep an eye on each other. Here.” He handed Snapple some cash and both boys headed downstairs, Snapple moving too quickly for Love to keep up.
“Come on. Pop wants his food fast.” Love did his best to catch up as Snapple yelled questions to him.
“Where you live at before?”
“Cranston.”
“West Side? You a traitor.”
“No,” Love said, losing his breath.
“You better not be.”
“I’m not.” They reached the hallway on the first floor and ran through the addicts blocking the passage.
“What your daddy do?” Snapple asked.
“He’s a m-u-s-i-c-i-a-n.” Love spelled it exactly as Marcus had taught him.
“What’s that?”
“A musician.”
“He ain’t no musician.”
“He is so.”
They got onto the block and Love ran faster, but so did Snapple.
“What about your mama? What she do?”
“Slow down.”
“I thought you was fast. You want me to slow down for you? All you got to do is ask.”
He slowed to a walk, panting hard himself. Love caught up to him.
“Everyone know what your mama do,” Snapple said.
“So?”
“Never mine. You too young to understand.”
“No I ain’t.”
They turned left on East 14th, past the Army Supply and Bait Shop.
“What your mama do?” Love asked.
“She a nurse.”
“What about your daddy?”
“He in the air force. He fly jets.”
“Hornets?”
“No, fool. Airplanes.”
“I ain’t no fool.”
“Yes you is.” Snapple spit near Love’s foot.