by Oasis
“These ain’t mine.” Secret glared at Denise.
Mr. Reynolds urged Secret from her seat when he grabbed her ear.
Junior didn’t let go of her hand.
“Sit down, boy!” Mr. Reynolds put his wrinkled face in Junior’s. “I’m sure you’ll do something stupid and get your turn.”
“What is it?” Hector’s Spanish accent boomed through the intercom.
“Buzz me in; it’s Miles. I came to straighten my hand with Squeeze.”
The glass door hissed. Miles put the skateboard under his broken arm, adjusted the backpack on his shoulder, and went inside. Once on the elevator, he turned the Walkman’s volume up a few notches and rode the mechanical box to the penthouse.
Hector was blowing a bubble when the elevator opened. He waited for Miles to step off. “Put your hands on the wall.” He frisked Miles and smiled when he saw the money inside the backpack.
Squeeze was lounging on the balcony, stimulated by the spectacular view of Lake Erie, when he heard Miles approaching.
Miles dropped the bag beside him. “Now tell me where my brother is. I know you know.”
“It’s a helluva morning to be in good health.” He pulled in a breath of air as if it were a piece of heaven. “Is it all there?”
“Every penny.” Miles took the headphones from his ears and let them rest around his long neck. “My mother is worried that something has happened to Jap. He’s been missing going on a week now. Please tell me where he is.”
“I would like to help you uncover your brother’s whereabouts, but I don’t have a clue. He’s probably laid up somewhere. You know what I mean?”
Miles unconsciously fingered the cast and drifted back to the day Hector had broken his arm with a golf club. He could still hear Squeeze’s menacing voice in his head. This time it was an arm, next time I’ll pluck a leaf from your family tree. Get my cash to me.
The sun reflected off of the murky lake. Hector stood in the balcony’s entrance smacking on fruity-flavored chewing gum.
Miles’ shoulders sagged from the heavy tension. He wore a pained expression on his handsome face. “So you don’t know where Jap is?”
Squeeze squinted in the direction of the sun. “Who knows? Maybe he’ll pop up somewhere, you dig?” He turned to Miles. “It was a pleasure doing business with you. Get at me if you need another loan. Hector will see you to the door.”
“I’m through gambling.” He headed for the elevator.
Outside of the building, he jumped on top of his skateboard and rode it to an awaiting van three blocks away. He climbed inside the Astro van and tossed the cassette to Detective Crutchfield. “He knows where my brother is.”
Secret cried out each time the rawhide connected with her skin.
“Be still!” Mr. Reynolds jerked Secret’s arm and whacked her again. “You little bastards need a good ass cutting to keep you in line.” He whacked Secret for the last time. The strip of rawhide wrapped around most of her body. “While you’re under my roof, you’ll learn to follow rules. Do you understand?”
Secret fell to the bed and curled her partially nude body and cried.
Mr. Reynolds raised the rawhide over his head and brought it down on her fast. “Speak when you’re spoken to.”
She managed to push out a choppy, “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Reynolds threw the rawhide beside her. “I’ll be back for that, next time you need a reality check. Get up and cover yourself. There are boys here. Be in my office in five minutes; it’s time I assign your chores.” He paused at the door. “Bring your brother.”
Secret dressed herself while praying that her parents would soon come for them. They had never given her a beating that intense. She thought about Junior and ran toward the cafeteria.
GP couldn’t stand to look across the conference table to see Kitchie handcuffed. He lowered his head and sighed. Kitchie was an emotional wreck. He could tell that she had spent the majority of last night bawling and stressing. This was the longest time they had ever spent apart since Junior’s birth. GP felt her eyes searching the small room for his, but he refused to make the connection. You’re worthless; you’ll never amount to nothing. Mr. Reynolds had invaded his thoughts.
“I’m Vivian Green. I’ve been appointed by the court to represent you.”
Kitchie might as well have been completely broken because she talked as if she were. “Could you tell me where my kids are?”
“They’re at the Eastside Group Home on Eddy Road.”
GP slammed his fists against the table and sprang to his feet. “What?” A folding chair fell back. “This shit can’t be happening!”
Mrs. Green jumped. Her heart began to sprint at the onset of GP’s unexpected outburst.
An overworked, droopy-eyed correctional officer rushed into the attorney-client room. “What’s the problem? I don’t like to work for free money. Sit yourself down, Patterson.”
GP scowled at Droopy, wanting to throw his angry engine into Drive and run the man down.
“Boy, watch your eyes. You making me nervous.” Droopy wagged the point of a finger on one hand. With the other, he rested a thumb on his radio’s panic button. “Do what I tell you, sit yourself back down and relax some. I don’t want to terminate this attorney visit.”
“GP…Que te pasa, Papi?”
“That group home is what’s wrong.” GP made eye contact with Kitchie for the first time. A tear of anger formed as he sat the chair upright.
“Attorney Green.” Droopy was relieved that GP had put his rage on standby. It saved him the task of filling out an incident report.
“We’ll be fine.” Attorney Green waved him off.
They all remained quiet until the door shut behind the officer.
GP sat at the edge of his chair. “Mrs. Green—”
“Call me Vivian. Mrs. Green makes me feel old.” Which she was not.
“Vivian, you have to get my kids out of that place. They abuse children there.”
Kitchie raised her head and arched a brow.
“I know you’re concerned about your children’s welfare, Mr. Patterson. If the situation at hand were reversed, I’d be just as concerned. But—”
“Look, goddamn…Vivian, I grew up in that place from an infant until my eighteenth birthday. I know what goes on under Mr. Reynolds’s roof.”
The Reynolds name sent a shock wave of fear through Kitchie that only a mother could feel. She remembered in great detail all the horrific stories GP had shared with her about his experiences under the supervision of Mr. Reynolds. She had been rubbing him down for years with cocoa butter and love in an effort to mend his wounds and emotional scars. Tears leaked from her eyes as she constantly shook her head. “Don’t say that. Please move them somewhere else until we get out of here.”
“There’s other places they can go.” GP lowered his head in defeat, matching Kitchie’s voice.
“The Reynolds home no longer accommodates children over the age of twelve. The other facilities are either overcrowded or your son and daughter don’t fit the age requirements.” Vivian shuffled through papers in her briefcase. “I have a friend who works for DSS; I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, let’s work on getting you both out of jail so you can take your children home yourselves.”
Silence.
Vivian opened a manila folder. “We’ll be in court for arraignment after lunch. You both have several charges. A criminal complaint was filed against you by the light company Saturday morning, so you’re also being accused of destroying city property and theft. I’ve been advised that they’re going to prosecute to the fullest extent of the law.”
“I did that alone.” GP interlocked his fingers. “My wife didn’t have anything to do with it. She tried to stop me.”
“If either of you expect professional and competent help, I need for you to be honest with me. I don’t care what roles either of you played in the commission of these all
eged crimes. I need the truth in order to best represent you on these allegations.”
“That was the truth.” Kitchie fiddled with her handcuffs. “We don’t need to lie to you. Who the hell are you?”
“Fine, have it your way.” Vivian opened the folder. “The light company has an eyewitness who will testify on their behalf. He claimed that he watched you both in the commission of the crime from his—”
“Mr. Irvington.” Kitchie buried her face in her hands.
“Our neighbor?”
“No, our cat. I told you, you shouldn’t have done that.”
“Not right now, Kitchie.”
“Whatever the case.” Vivian pushed an ink pen behind her ear. “You’re both being charged. Also, on the same day the warrants were issued on this charge, you were both arrested for aggravated assault, strong arm robbery, child endangerment, creating a public disturbance, and, Mrs. Patterson, you managed to add resisting arrest to your list.”
“I’m responsible for those charges, too.” GP couldn’t stop tapping his foot.
Vivian wrote herself a note. “That is honorable of you, Mr. Patterson, to claim responsibility, but there is no way I can get these charges—” She eyed Kitchie. “—against you dropped, Mrs. Patterson. You were caught red-handed with the victim’s wallet in your possession.”
“It wasn’t like that; he stole from us.” Kitchie wiped her tears with the back of a hand. “Can you get us out of here or not?”
“Mr. Patterson, you have a history of theft. With these charges, the judge will probably set bail at…about eighty thousand. Mrs. Patterson, your ballpark figure should be somewhere around fifty thousand. Before we go into this courtroom, how about letting me in on what’s going on?” She leaned back and crossed her arms.
Trouble swerved in and out of lanes, laughing at the “Star & Buc Wild” radio show. It wasn’t all that funny to Dirty, though.
The cell phone rang.
“Hello.” Trouble turned down the radio.
“Put Jewels on. Tell her it’s Sticky Fingers.”
“She went out of town to take care of something.” Trouble tapped Dirty. “She said to let you know that it’s all good for Saturday.”
“Cool.”
“All right, Player.” Trouble hung up and tossed Jewels’ cell phone out of the car window.
Dirty knew that Trouble was a little off his rocker, but now he was thoroughly convinced. “You gone. What did you tell him that for? We don’t know if Jewels even has that type of money. We don’t even know if she’s gonna meet Sticky Fingers after she listens to her messages. And we don’t have the slightest idea if she’ll be back by Saturday.”
“It don’t make a difference.” Trouble shrugged. “Somebody is getting robbed. Either Jewels for the loot or Sticky for the corporate numbers. If things go right, we’ll have our cake and eat it, too. Feel me?”
“We can’t do diddly with a set of fucking numbers.”
“True, but Ms. Hobbs in the projects know all about them. She said if I come through with it, she’ll get me top dollar.”
Junior and Secret observed a group of children playing kickball in a field from the sleeping quarters’ window.
He shoved his ashy hands inside his pockets. “Why haven’t they come for us yet? I don’t…Maybe they can’t find us.”
“Good question. I think they’re still in jail.”
“Do you know the way home from here?”
“Think so. If I could find Euclid Avenue, I know the way from there.”
Junior eyed Secret. “Let’s find it. I got this.” He flashed some money.
“Where did you get all that from?”
“It’s only fifty. Daddy gave it to me, showing me why he couldn’t buy me a bike, remember?”
“Give it to me.” She stuffed the bills in her left sock. “We should find Aunty Jewels.”
“If you find Euclid Street, can you take us to her house?”
“Yup.” She watched a little boy running bases to reach home plate.
“Time’s up.” The heavy wooden door closed with a thud behind Nise and her two sidekicks. “You must’ve thought I was playing about fucking you up. And when I’m done tapping that ass, you gonna pay me for my smokes.” She made sure her hand-me-down sneakers were tied tightly.
Secret pushed Junior aside, stepped in front of him, then balled her small fists and stood in a kickboxer’s stance. “Nise, find someone else to beat up on. I don’t want to fight you.” Her heart was pounding a mile a minute. In the confines of her head, she heard Jewels’s reassuring voice. Calm down and relax. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. Let your opponent commit to the attack. Use their force to counteract.
“I found who I wanna crush.” Nise charged.
Secret squatted some, then sprang into action, meeting Nise’s momentum with a snap-kick to the solar plexus.
“Oof!” Nise hugged the pit of her stomach.
Secret caught Nise with an openhanded power thrust to the nose, then pushed toward the ceiling. She jumped back into a fighter’s stance and stared at the tall girl blocking the door. “My aunt taught me that.”
First Nise’s eyes watered, then she fell to the hardwood floor unconscious.
“Ooh, I’m telling. You gonna be in a world of hurt.” The door blocker rushed out of the room. “Mr. Reynolds!”
The other girl tried to wake Nise from her forced sleep.
Secret held Junior’s hand and stepped over Nise.
Junior gave Nise a good, swift kick. “Told you to leave us alone. That’s what you get.”
They made it to a flight of stairs before being confronted. The unqualified door-blocker and Mr. Reynolds were on the landing right below them.
“Right there, Mr. Reynolds.” She pointed. “She did it; she jumped on Denise for no reason.”
Mr. Reynolds cracked his knuckles. “I see that I have a habitual rule-breaker on my hands.” He turned to the door-blocker. “Go get me an extension cord—a thin one.” He started up the remaining steps.
CHAPTER 6
The detectives were keeping an area under surveillance from a parked car.
“Stop with the bullshit. It’s not as complex as you make it, Thomas. You’re doing too much fucking thinking as usual.” Detective Crutchfield stretched and yawned. “It’s simpler than that. I think the boy is dead. Hell, he’s been MIA for, what is it, six days now? He doesn’t have a history of being a troubled or wild kid; a little eccentric maybe. If I had to take an educated guess based on the information I have, Squeeze and Hector nabbed the kid and wasted him as a personal message to Miles. The arm job didn’t get the damn point across.”
Detective Thomas kept his eyes focused on the rearview mirror. “Could be, but you’re a professional speculator. We need more to go on than this.” He tossed the mini-cassette player onto Detective Crutchfield’s lap. “You’re talking murder without a body to support that claim. No murder weapon, no snitch, no eyewitness. Pure speculation. Jap could be laid up in a tender piece of ass somewhere. I’ve been after Squeeze for as long as you have.”
“I’m the fool for even talking to a thick head. They really screwed up when you made detective. There’s no standard anymore. Jap is dead and Squeeze knows about it.” He looked at the cassette player. “This conversation isn’t a coincidence. Squeeze was taunting in his sarcasm. This conversation is so broad, it asks more questions than it answers. If Jap isn’t dead, what did Squeeze mean by ‘uncover your brother’s whereabouts?’ Why did he place so much emphasis on ‘maybe he’ll pop up somewhere, you dig?’ He told us everything we need to know, if you listen with those things mounted on the side of your head. Uncover the body’s whereabouts and dig it up.”
Detective Thomas started the car. “Our boy is on the move.” He watched Hector open a car door for Squeeze. “You think you have all the answers.”
“A man who knows he knows something knows that he knows nothing at all.” Detective Crutchfield buckled his seatbelt as T
homas pulled into traffic, four cars behind Squeeze and Hector. “We’ll get the other answers when we ask the right people the right questions.”
“How did it go?” GP’s cellmate came in and lay across the bunk.
GP watched rush-hour traffic on Ontario Avenue from the window, ten stories above. “The judge had it out for me ’cause I’ve been in his courtroom before. Prejudiced bastard gave me a ninety-thousand-dollar bond. Hit my wife with sixty. He wouldn’t even release my wife to her own recognizance so she can see after my kids.”
“That’s what these crackers do; make shit hard for us so we never forget our place. They get a kick out of reinforcing the Willie Lynch Syndrome.”
“Can I use your three-way before we eat?”
“Yo, my brother, you’re getting real heavy. I don’t mind helping, but I can’t carry you. The collect calls are stressing my queen, and she’s venting on me. This gonna have to be the last time, at least until my queen come off her period. Feel me?”
GP nodded.
“Dinner’ll be here in a few. You want to try now?”
GP nodded again.
“Girl, you have to chill with all that crying. You’ll get in touch with somebody. At least you know your next court date.” A shapely woman sat down beside Kitchie. “Dinner wasn’t bad today.”
“I don’t know many people; I don’t socialize like that.” Kitchie wiped her tears. “And the few people I do talk to have blocks on their phones. Court ain’t until next month; I can’t stay here that long.”
Trish giggled and scratched her neck. “Well, when you use your key to open the door, take me with you. Until then, you’re stuck like the rest of us.” She flipped her hand at a large day room packed with women, then rested it on Kitchie’s thigh. “Move in my cell with me; I could use a close friend.” She rubbed. “I’m sure you can use someone you can open up to.”
“Working on another one already, Trish?” A boney woman sat on the bench behind them. “Damn, your last bitch ain’t been gone two days.”