Packing Heat

by Zuri Day

  “I’m available, but I don’t know about the musicians who play with me. I’d have to check with them once I have more details.”

  “Okay. Do you know about our organization?”

  “Only what Doug told me, which is that you work with troubled youth.”

  “Yes, H.E.L.P. works with not only those troubled and disenfranchised but also disabled, discarded, dismissed, and/or disengaged. We try and help everyone know that despite whatever circumstances may cause them to think otherwise, their lives matter. We are a small organization that is part of a large network that does similar work. This party will involve many of those entities and as such will be on a grander scale than if it was just us.”

  “How many people are you expecting, and what is the entertainment budget?”

  Cynthia told her and explained what type of entertainment they desired. The two women continued to chat, not only about the party but some of the other services they offered. Jan ended the call and immediately called Doug. She now had a reason.

  “Hey, Doug, are you awake?”

  “I am now.”

  “Sorry for calling so early. I just finished talking to Cynthia and I’m really excited.”

  “Oh, you did? What’d she say?”

  “She gave me the details on the holiday party. It sounds really nice. I’ve got to call Thump, though, and make sure the band is available.”

  “Who?”

  She laughed. “Our bass player and the band leader. Everybody calls him Thump because of the way he plays his guitar. Matter of fact, I don’t even know his real name.”

  “That’s pretty crazy.”

  “Yeah, most musicians are crazy.”

  “And singers, too, right?”

  “I walked right into that one.”

  “With eyes wide open. What about their budget? Is it enough, comparable to what you normally get?”

  “It’s more actually. Thump and the guys will love this news.”

  “See what a good friend I am?”

  “Yes, I do. That’s another reason I called. To thank you for thinking of me for this job. I haven’t had much support in my goal of becoming a professional recording artist. My mom thinks it’s foolishness.”

  “What does your dad say?”

  “Not much.”

  “So he’s not supportive either?”

  “No, and that’s goes for more than my career goals. I didn’t grow up with him in the house. He and my mom were never married, and when I was around four years old he moved back to Texas, where he was from. Mom says he was around me a lot before then, but I don’t remember. He came back into my life when I was nine and from then until around the age of sixteen I’d go there in the summer and spend two weeks with him. Not a lot of time to really get to know people, you know? I’ve tried to keep in touch with him, but there’s not much of a connection.”

  “Does he have other kids?”

  “Yes, three with the woman he eventually married. They’re still married, and my half siblings are grown.”

  “But you’re not close to them either.”

  “No, it’s funny. You can be related by blood but not related by spirit, you know? Plus, I’d see them so rarely, we never got close. I think a part of me resented the fact that I didn’t know him like they did or have the life they had, with a mom and a dad. So when it came to establishing a close relationship, I can’t say that I tried too hard.”

  “Wait until you become a star. Then you’ll become their favorite sister.”

  “Lionel is the only one I’m a sister to. Which reminds me. Cynthia mentioned there were some programs aimed at disabled youth. I wanted to know more about it, but she had a meeting and had to go. I’m hoping it’s something Lionel can get involved with, a support group of sorts where he can gain the tools to have a real life, and not spend all day watching TV and playing video games, just existing. He could use a role model and more men around him who are doing things in life.”

  “I could talk to him if you want.”

  “It couldn’t be as though I’d asked you to mentor him. He’s sensitive and wouldn’t appreciate feeling like a case or something.”

  “Really? So you think I’d walk in and announce that I’m the dude his sister asked to help get his lazy, unmotivated behind out of the room because he needed male mentors and role models? Come on, Jan. Give me a little more credit than that.”

  “I didn’t think you’d say it like that.”

  “I know how to handle brothers. I have four of them.”

  “Oh, no. There’s four more of you?”

  “Ha! No, there’s four who are worse than me: Byron, my older brother. Nelson, the middle. And Marvin and Barry, who Mom obviously had while feeling sentimental about the seventies.”

  Jan cracked up. “No sisters?” she asked, once she’d stopped laughing.

  “One, Ava. She’s a sister in spirit, as you say, but we’re as close as if it were by blood. She’s been in my life since I can remember.”

  “She came with you to Breeze?”

  “Yes, along with Byron and Cynthia.”

  “Maybe I’ll meet her one day.”

  “Maybe I’ll meet Lionel.”

  “I’d like that.” Noticing the time, she stood. “Let me run. It’s open mike tonight and I still need to practice. See you later.”

  “Don’t be late.”

  “I just hope I don’t have to stay late. There aren’t many slots left, so I need to go and do my thing.”

  “Show Starr what you’re working with.”

  “Exactly.”

  19

  The next morning, it was Doug who called Jan. “Good morning.”

  “Hi, Doug.”

  “Ooh, obviously not a good morning. What’s the matter?”

  “Oh, just a bit bummed, that’s all.”

  “What about? Talk to me.”

  “Still waiting for my spot on the reality show.”

  “You didn’t get picked again?”

  “Nope.”

  “Did you get eliminated?”

  “No, thank God.”

  “Dang, that’s messed up, Jan. I’m sorry you didn’t get selected. How many weeks are left in the competition?”

  “Five.”

  “Then keep the faith. There are five slots left. All you need is one.”

  “You’re right. And I will. Thanks.”

  “Hey, I’ve got some news for you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I talked to Cynthia about the program you asked about, the one for your brother.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes, she said there are several different programs for kids in the chair. Does he like sports?”

  “Loves them, especially basketball. Before the accident, he used to play all the time.”

  “Turns out I know one of the dudes who coaches over there. He handles the basketball program. So this might be a perfect fit.”

  “You should talk to him about it.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you have time right now? I can see if he’s up.”

  “Sure.”

  Cynthia muted the call and walked the short distance down the hall to Lionel’s room. Her first knock yielded no answer. She knocked harder. “Lionel.”

  “What?”

  “Are you decent?”

  “I sure hope not. Those who are live a boring life.”

  She opened the door. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, just bored.”

  “Then this phone call is perfect.”

  “Who is it?”

  “A friend of mine who knows about a program you might be interested in.”

  “What kind of program?”

  “He’s on the phone now and wants to talk about it. Five minutes. Okay?”

  He clucked his tongue. “Whatever.”

  Jan unmuted the call and put it on speaker. “Doug, you there?”

 
“I’m here.”

  “I’ve got you on speaker and am here with my brother, Lionel.”

  “What’s up, Lionel?” Doug asked.

  “Yo, man.”

  “I hear you used to play basketball.”

  “Yep, used to.”

  “Would you like to play again?”

  Lionel snorted. “I’d like to do a lot of things again, bro.”

  “I’m sorry about what happened to you, Lionel. I’m a bike man myself. Been riding since I was a kid. Been lucky, too. So while I can’t say I know how you feel, I know how I’d feel if I couldn’t do that anymore.” Lionel nodded but said nothing. “Anyway, nice chatting with you, man. I need to run right now, but I’d like to meet up with you, maybe talk about b-ball, the program, and some other stuff, if you’re interested.”

  “Yeah, I guess that sounds cool.”

  “All right, then. Jan, you still there?”

  “Yes, I’m here.” She blew a kiss to Lionel on her way out. Once back in her room with the door closed, she continued. “Thanks for talking to him, Doug. He sounded a bit distant and uninterested, but please don’t hold that against him. He’s a good kid.”

  “He’s not a kid anymore, babe. He’s a man who needs to be around other men. As for his attitude, it’s pretty typical and sounds like all the other hardheads out there who are his age.”

  “Thank you for taking an interest in him.”

  “I’m interested in you, which makes me interested in him.”

  “As a friend, right?”

  “Girl, I can’t even continue with that bald-faced lie. Not that I date women I work with,” he hurriedly added. “But if that were to change, I’d want to date you. Last night I went to sleep thinking about your pillows.”

  “My pillows?”

  “I was wondering if they’d crush my chest when laying down the way they do when we’re standing up.”

  “You’re talking about my . . . Doug!”

  “What? You think I hadn’t noticed? Especially in that top you wore to the bowling alley and the way those stripes cut across them in just the right way. But it’s not just that, though. Or the way those pants fit your hips and squeezed your booty, on full display when you’d bent down that little bit the way I showed you and threw the ball. Or,” he continued over what was surely an objection, “that spray of freckles across the bridge of your nose that’s barely visible and those dimples. Damn . . . they’re hella sexy. Even that tiny scar beneath your right eye. I’ve been meaning to ask how you got that?”

  “When I was seven and got pushed into a swimming pool. You should be a private detective or something. Few people ever notice that scar. You’ve really been checking me out. Why?”

  “I just started noticing what I just said, about the physical and all. That was after I realized that while you seemed a bit stuck up—”

  “Excuse me?!”

  “I didn’t stutter. Let me finish. You told me once you could come off as standoffish, and that’s true. You also said you weren’t into games and again, you didn’t lie. Although I’m glad to see glimpses of your playful side. Then again, if people hang around me long enough they tend to come out of their shell, no matter how thick it is.”

  “Oh, really?”

  Doug ignored her smart-alecky tone. “The fact that you’re unselfish, a hard worker, goal-oriented, and put your family first makes you good people in my book. A lot of women I know feel it’s all about them. They’re either self-centered, approaching you with ulterior motives or trying to get with you sexually before even knowing your last name. Don’t get me wrong, because I like to get down as much as the next guy. But that you’re more careful about that, and think a little differently . . . it’s refreshing.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Last time I asked about why you’re single you told me you’d tell me later. Is this later?”

  “I really don’t want to talk about that right now.”

  “What about talking about it this Saturday? When I take you out.”

  There was barely a pause before, “I’d like that.”

  “What? No questions? No quippy comebacks?”

  “Doug . . .”

  “I hear you. Quit while I’m ahead.”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s your address? Because this time I’m coming to get you. Maybe I can even come earlier and meet Lionel. Talk to him for a minute.”

  “You got a pen?”

  “Just text me.”

  “Okay.”

  “And, Jan . . .”

  “Huh?”

  “Just so you know . . . I’ll have more on my mind than just being your friend.”

  20

  On Saturday, Doug pulled into the Baker driveway around five o’clock. They’d decided on a casual evening, so along with a closely cropped cut and freshly shaved goatee he rocked jeans, a Lakers T-shirt, and a pair of sparkling white Nikes. He knocked on the door. Jan answered. He gave her CJ jeans, baby-doll top, and curly do an appreciative once-over before leaning in for a quick hug.

  After a minute of small talk, Jan said, “Come meet my brother.” Doug followed Jan across the living room and down a short hall where she stopped and knocked on a door that sported KEEP OUT and BEWARE OF DOG signs.

  “Yeah,” said a gruff voice behind the door, partly muffled by sounds of a video game.

  Jan opened the door. Lionel was in his usual spot—middle of the room, directly in front of his new forty-two-inch TV—passionately involved in Grand Theft Auto V. She stepped into the room. Doug followed behind her.

  Lionel glanced up at both of them before looking back at the screen. “What’s up?”

  “Hey, Lionel. I wanted you to meet Doug, one of my coworkers.”

  “Hey, Doug.” Said while successfully popping off five would-be killers. “Not today, muthafuckas!”

  “Lionel, that’s rude. Can you pause the game long enough to be civil?”

  “It’s okay,” Doug quickly interjected. “Let him handle his business. As hard as he’s working, this is probably his highest score. Best not to break his concentration.”

  “I thought you said Doug worked at the PO, sis.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Naw . . . gotta be a garbage collector. All that trash he’s talking.”

  Jan snorted. Doug laughed and took a step closer to Lionel, watching the screen intently. “Nothing I can’t back up.”

  Jan read the words scrolling across the bottom of the screen as she watched the criminal (whom she assumed to be Lionel the way he was smiling) who’d just sprayed bullets in a dark alley, then carjacked a Camaro and dropped off drugs at a house in the hood.

  WTH?

  “Oh, yeah?”

  Lionel asked the question, but Jan’s face transmitted the same. “You did not just challenge him to a video game.”

  “I sure did. Baby, I’m one of the best to ever pick up a controller.” Lionel laughed. Doug looked at him. “Think I’m lying?”

  “I think that you think you’re the best. But that’s just because you’ve never played a real ninja.”

  “Oh Lord.” Jan let out an exasperated breath.

  “Well, put your money where your mouth is, son. Let’s put your theory to the test.” He turned to Jan. “Where’s another chair?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Do I look like I’m playing?”

  “Spending the evening in my brother’s funky bedroom isn’t quite the date I had in mind.”

  “This butt-whooping won’t take long,” Doug said.

  “No, it won’t,” Lionel added. “I’ma send your boy out with his tail between his legs real quick. And my room’s not funky either.”

  Jan directed Doug to a dining room chair, which he brought and set next to Lionel. Soon after, he and Lionel were engaged in racing, killing, selling drugs, and “hitting licks.” Jan shook her head, brought them cans of soda, and retrieved her laptop from her bedroom. Back in Lionel’s room she plopped on his bed, alte
rnately watching the onscreen drama, checking e-mails, and posting on social media.

  The game continued. The tighter the score the more Doug and Lionel bantered and the louder they became. When it was over, Lionel raised his hands in victory with a whoop for emphasis.

  “I’ve got to give it to you,” Doug said, reaching over for a handshake. “You’re pretty good. But I couldn’t beat you up in your own house, in front of your sister.”

  “Oh, so you let me win.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Lionel leaned over engulfed in laughter. “A comedian and a singer. Good match.”

  Doug smiled. “Hey, man, do you have a cell phone?”

  “Yeah.”

  Doug pulled out his phone. “Give me your number. I need to get Jan out of here before she beats me up, but maybe tomorrow I can call and talk with you about the basketball league that my partner coaches. Maybe even take you over before the season starts to shake the rust off your fingers.”

  “What, play you?”

  “Why not?”

  An unreadable look scampered across Lionel’s face before he said, “You going to be in a chair?”

  “Of course! You think I’d give you that obvious excuse, that I beat you because of legs? Man, I’ll lay down and kick your butt.”

  All three of them laughed this time. Doug and Lionel exchanged numbers and soon Doug and Jan were heading down the boulevard.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I don’t know. Where do you want to go?”

  “You came to pick me up with no destination in mind?”

  “Oh, I’ve got a destination all right.” He wriggled his brows.

  She tsked and shook her head.

  “Don’t sit over there with an attitude. Sometimes the best experiences in life are those not planned.”

  They drove a ways in silence before Jan turned to look at him. “It was so good to see Lionel happy, I mean really happy. He hasn’t looked that way in a long time.”

  “I tend to have that kind of effect on people.”

  She smiled, settled into her seat, and looked at the scenery they passed. “I hope that basketball program works for him. He could make new friends, maybe find some type of employment. I don’t want to get ahead of things, but it’s hard not to get excited about him living a fuller, happier life.”