Push Comes to Shove

by Oasis

  “He’s going to do everything he can for you. The child endangering charges—dropped. Public disturbance—dropped. He’s fully aware of the whole situation. The fact of the matter is, whether Mr. Tharp deceived you or not, you and your wife assaulted the man with a deadly weapon. I assure you that Mr. Tharp has no intention of dropping the charges.” She handed GP another document. “He’s even pressing the DA so you can compensate him for the time he’s been out of work.”

  “What’s this?” GP wasn’t in the mood for another bit of bad news that would anchor him deeper in debt.

  “It’s the criminal complaint that Mr. Tharp filed against Mrs. Patterson and yourself.”

  Kitchie sat on the porch of the group home, surrounded by the other boys and girls, rocking Junior in her arms as Nancy Pittman and two squad cars entered the lot. “Help is here now, baby.” Her tears fell to his face. “No one is gonna hurt you again.” She exchanged looks with the other children. “Any of you.”

  “Mrs. P.” Nise slid an arm around Kitchie and leaned on her shoulder, imitating what Secret was doing at that exact moment.

  “Yes.”

  “I wish I had a mother like you; someone who cared about me.”

  Nancy slowed her pace when Kitchie’s facial expression rattled her sense of well-being. “I hope there’s meaning behind this.”

  “I told your stupid, spoon-fed ass not to separate me from my children. My husband even showed you proof that this Reynolds bitch was abusive. Now look at my baby. He won’t talk.”

  An officer came forward. “Your language, ma’am, in front of the children. Calm down and tell us what the problem is.”

  Junior blinked occasionally but failed to focus on anyone in particular.

  “He locked us in caskets ’cause we ran away.” Secret held hands with Nise around Kitchie’s back.

  “The old faggot beats me ‘cause…” The boy lowered his head and his voice. “‘Cause I wet the bed.”

  “That ain’t nothing,” Samone said. “He ties me to the bed most nights.”

  “Uh-huh, sure does.”

  “That’s awful. Why would he tie you to the bed?” Nancy felt her anger mounting as her cheeks turned red.

  Jason stuck his tongue in Samone’s direction. “’Cause she’s a creepy sleepwalker.”

  “Shut up, pussy, I can speak for myself. At least I wasn’t traded for crack.”

  Nise nestled against Kitchie. “I get punished with the nearest thing to me just for being me. Look what he did to me.” She took the cheap sunglasses off.

  Son of a bitch. An officer headed up the stairs. “Where is this Mr. Reynolds now?”

  “He locked himself inside.” Kitchie kissed Junior’s forehead.

  Nancy’s eyes searched to find Secret’s, to read them, as she took her hand. “I know you want to go home with your mother. Telling stories won’t make it—”

  “Where the fuck do you get off insinuating that my child is a liar?”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Nancy looked at Secret, her probing eyes continuing their search for truth. “Are you telling me that Mr. Reynolds locked you inside a coffin, a dead person’s coffin? That’s just a little far-fetched.”

  Secret sucked her teeth. “Yeah, me and my brother. Why do you think he’s acting that way?” She aimed a finger at Junior. “You know he’s afraid of the dark. Go inside and see for yourself.”

  “You got a lot of nerve,” Nise said. “Coming down here, accusing people of lying. You don’t know any of us. You high-class white hoes is a trip, with your ugly outfits. I’m the one who let Secret and Junior out, but I guess I’m lying, too.” She pulled out a Newport. “Somebody give me a light; this bitch shot my nerves.”

  Kitchie shook her head, communicating much more than no.

  “Sorry, Mrs. P.” She shoved the cigarette back in the pack, then placed them in the palm of Kitchie’s open hand.

  One officer went to the rear of the facility. Another began to interview the children one by one. Nancy and the remaining officer pounded on the heavy oak door.

  The door eased open. “Thank God you’re here. I want that woman arrested.” Mr. Reynolds pointed to Kitchie.

  Grief overwhelmed Miles as he watched his mother strain her tired eyes, staring at a school picture of Jap. Miles set his skateboard down and closed the door behind him. “Are you okay, Ma?”

  Ms. Silex lifted her saggy eyes. “I miss him.” Her hands trembled. “I miss him; that’s all. I can feel it; he’s never coming home.”

  Miles walked around the glass coffee table, eased the photo from her grasp, and sat beside her. “There’s something I should tell you.”

  She grabbed a hold of his wrist. “You got your cast off. Boy, you need to get this thing some sun. It’s so pale. How does it feel?” She rubbed his arm.

  “It’s good.”

  “Now, if I can only keep you off that skateboard. You’re too old to be breaking bones. Baby, you don’t heal like you would if you were still a teenybopper.”

  “I didn’t break my arm on the board…”

  Her forehead wrinkled; her brows pointed inward. “You told me—”

  “I know what I said, Ma.” His voice softened. “That’s what I came over to talk to you about.”

  “Why would you lie to me about a broken arm?”

  He sighed. “Because…I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “Well, I’m worried.” She folded her arms.

  “I owed these people some money. They broke my arm because I couldn’t pay them on time.”

  She took her purse from behind a throw pillow. “I have about twenty dollars; my Social Security check will be here in a few days.”

  He stopped her from rambling through the purse. “Ma, I—”

  “No, you take this money, you hear me?”

  “It was ninety-thousand I owed.”

  The look in her eyes was disturbing. “How could…” She paused. An irritating silence hung heavy in the air. “How could you owe somebody that type of money, Miles? You fooling with them cracks?”

  “I have a gambling problem. I’m getting help now, and I haven’t gambled since Jap’s been missing.” His eyes fell on the photo. He whispered, “I’m sorry, Jap.”

  Her skin puckered with goose bumps. “What…Miles, what does Jap have to do with this?”

  “I think they did something to him as a personal message to me.” He blinked a tear loose.

  Ms. Silex nibbled on her lip. Her heart began to pound irregularly in her chest. She staggered a bit as she attempted to stand.

  Miles tried to assist her.

  “Keep your filthy hands off me.” She felt light-headed. “If you’re the cause of something terrible happening to Jap, then I’ve lost two sons. I’ll never forgive you for…for—” She went into cardiac arrest and crashed through the glass coffee table.

  “There has to be a thorough investigation done into the accusations made by these children.” Nancy followed the group to the loading dock. “There will be someone here from Social Services around the clock. Whatever is going on here is going to stop today.”

  Secret stopped in front of a door marked with an Off Limits sign. “Right in there.”

  “Your fat ass is going to jail now.” Nise rolled her eyes and put her hands on her narrow hips. “Betcha won’t lock nobody else in a coffin.”

  The tallest officer tried the door. “Open it up, Mr. Reynolds.”

  “I always keep it locked. I don’t want the kids playing back here and hurting themselves.”

  “Yeah, right.” Kitchie held on to her mute son’s hand.

  Mr. Reynolds unlocked the door and pushed it open.

  The loading dock was bare, with the exception of a broken broom handle.

  “I told you that these children have outrageous imaginations.” Mr. Reynolds shook his head at Secret. “I haven’t stored coffins back here in over a year.”

  Secret turned to Nancy. “I swear they were here last night.”
/>   “Sure were.” Nise tugged on an officer’s sleeve. “On my grandma’s grave.”

  A truck horn was blown just outside the mechanical garage door.

  Mr. Reynolds went to the loading platform and pressed a pudgy finger on a red button. “The dairy delivery is due.” The door was fully raised.

  Tucker leaned out of the semi’s window. “Claude, will you ever stop being an asshole?” He scratched his beard stubble. “The Smiths have no room for these caskets. You need to find a place for them, or you and these brats can get them off my truck.”

  “You’re carrying coffins for Mr. Reynolds?” the smallest of the three officers said.

  Mr. Reynolds frowned, a signal for his asinine brother to keep his rotten mouth closed.

  “Yes, sir. Took the job this morning. Picked up twenty from right where you’re standing.”

  An officer took a set of handcuffs from his waist. “Mr. Reynolds, you’re under arrest for child abuse. You have the right to remain…”

  The children clapped as the officer recited the Miranda warning.

  Jewels punched in the numbers on the phone’s keypad. “May I speak with Congresswoman Cynthia Martin?” She rubbed her stitches; they were still sore.

  “Speaking.”

  “My name is Jewels Madison, and I’m calling in support of Parole Bill H.R. 3072.”

  “What state are you in?”

  “Ohio. Ms. Martin, get them brothers out of prison.”

  “We’re trying, but it’s going to take the people to force the government to act. Your call is the first step, and it will be logged in its proper order. Thanks for your support. Spread the word.”

  “You’re welcome.” She hung up and called GP.

  GP leaned against the pay phone while keeping a watchful eye on the booth. He wiped the receiver with his shirt, then placed it on his ear. “Ninth Street Artwork; GP speaking.”

  “One day you’re gonna be able to answer the phone like that for real, in your own place of business.”

  “Let’s face it, Jewels, this is a dead dream. How are you? Ready to come home?”

  “Yeah, homeboy. I’m getting discharged now. I was thinking about Limbo, Tink, and Manny Cool. Man, GP, you don’t know how things would be different if they were home.”

  “Tell me about it. When is the last time you heard from them? I wonder how they are.”

  “I haven’t heard from them in a minute, but I called Congress today and played my part so they can bring parole back.”

  “That’s what’s up. Give me the number. I’ll call, too. Kitchie will be here soon; then we’ll be there.”

  Jewels zipped her jeans. “You sound fucked up. What’s wrong now?”

  “Ain’t nothing.”

  “Motherfucker, please. I hear it in your voice.”

  “Looks like I’ll be finding out how Manny Cool and them is doing for myself. I found out today that I’m going to prison. This white boy is really pressing charges, knowing he was in the wrong.” GP glanced at the dark clouds circling overhead. He smelled rain. “You should see all the shit in this criminal complaint against me and Kitchie.”

  “You have the actual criminal complaint?”

  “A certified copy of it.” A spec of water hit his nose.

  Jewels tied her shoe and was ready to leave. “There’s an address on it, right?”

  “Yeah. The lame lives in South Euclid.”

  “Don’t stress the charges. I’ll handle it.”

  “Jewels—”

  “I ain’t trying to hear it.” She touched her stitches again. “People get hurt every day. You can’t help me get my niece and nephew back, or help me pay Squeeze, if you’re blowing my phone up with collect calls from the joint. I’ll handle it.”

  “You are truly a jewel.”

  “And I’m still waiting on my diamond.”

  “Let me go; it’s about to rain. We’ll be there soon.” He returned the receiver to its cradle.

  The weather had changed for the worse over the course of the last twenty minutes. By the time the Escalade stopped at the curb, GP was soaked. The afternoon downpour showed no sign of slowing. He opened the rear door to load the merchandise and saw that Kitchie was crying. “What’s wrong with you, Mami Chula?”

  CHAPTER 14

  It had been exactly two weeks and one day since Jewels was discharged from Metro Hospital. Now she stood inside Conrad Tharp’s bedroom, disgusted. She could feel her stomach churn. The room had been converted into a porno set. There was high-tech equipment and high-velocity power cords all over. Pornographic pictures and film clips had been thumb-tacked to a corkboard. Everything from leather restraints to sex toys to libido-stimulating drugs were in this room.

  Jewels was not one to frown upon an individual’s sexual practices or preference, but Conrad Tharp was a deviant. The stars of his homemade films were he and boys and girls who couldn’t have been any older than Secret, Jewels speculated, while forcing herself to view the images on the corkboard. “Sick caveman.” Jewels held her stomach, which now felt queasy, then threw-up. She wiped her mouth with a sleeve, then flipped a light switch.

  A pulsating instrumental music began to play. She went to the stereo and lowered the volume. The electronic equipment lit up. Fluorescent tube lights lining the ceiling shined bright, and the video cameras zoomed in on the messy bed. Two computer screens showed the bed from different angles. Another screen boasted the video footage of some of the same shots that had been pinned on the corkboard.

  She knocked a set of cue cards, with script lines on it, to the floor and began to ramble through the computer station’s drawer until she found a CD. She sat down in front of the computer and burned Conrad Tharp’s entire file onto the CD.

  Thirty minutes later, Jewels yanked the CD out of the disc drive. She heard the door slam shut as someone hummed the same tune that she heard earlier.

  Crutchfield and his annoying sidekick, Thomas, made their way up a broken sidewalk, then rapped on a warped screen door.

  “Go away.”

  “Miles, it’s Detective Crutchfield. Can I have a word with you?”

  “Come back when you die.” His words were slow and slurred.

  Thomas cupped his hands around his face and looked through the screen. “Sounds like he’s been drinking pretty heavy.”

  “Miles, thanks for inviting me in.” Crutchfield opened the door and led the way.

  Thomas fanned the air. “You look like shit, Miles…and this place smells like a used pamper.”

  Miles was stretched across the couch. He was holding on to a bottle of brown liquor. He sat upright and paused until the room was no longer spinning. “What are you…Why are you here bothering me? I don’t like you.”

  “Sorry to hear about your mother’s passing,” Crutchfield said.

  Miles turned the bottle up to his face and let out a satisfying, “Aaah. Did you arrest Squeeze?” He stood and staggered in place. His shirt had been buttoned all wrong.

  “I think you better sit back down.” Thomas helped Miles to the couch.

  “I need to take a look in Jap’s room.” Crutchfield pointed out a bag of marijuana to Thomas.

  “Don’t be scoping out my weed. Get your own; it ain’t enough for all of us.” He shoved it in his pocket. “Don’t worry yourself about busting Squeeze.” He beat on his chest. “’Cause can’t nobody, nobody, you hear me? Nobody can make things right by my mother and Jap but me.” He started laughing. The scent of alcohol poured from his breath.

  “You’re drunk; you don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “You’re right; I am a little tipsy.” He hit the bottle again. “But my tongue is sober. Look around. I don’t have a fucking thing to lose. It’s gone already.”

  “If I thought you really knew what you were saying,” Thomas said as he touched Miles’ shoulder, “I’d take you in. Instead, I’m gonna let you sleep your liquor off.”

  “You’d take a drunk man to jail…” Miles paused to rememb
er what he wanted to say. “Just ’cause I had a few drinks, you’d threaten to arrest me, but you won’t arrest Squeeze for…whatever he did to my brother. I’ll arrest him since you two are chickens.” He closed his eyes. “I’m gambled out. I have to make it right.”

  Crutchfield patted Miles’s back. “Get some rest. I’m gonna take a look in Jap’s room.”

  “Hurry up and get out. Jap ain’t into people bothering his things.”

  Blue Eyes closed the back door of his home with a dull thud. “I’m home, honey. I’ve been thinking of you all day.” He adjusted a leather bag that he had thrown over his shoulder. He hummed an upbeat tune and danced his way to a downstairs closet. He pulled the door open and smiled. “Were you thinking of me like I’ve been thinking of you?”

  An adolescent blow-up doll wearing a training bra and lace thong smiled back at him.

  “You’re trying to make me love you; tell the truth.” He picked up the life-sized doll with care, pinched its synthetic nipples, and kissed its mouth. He turned around and caught a vicious blow from the butt of a nickel-plated .45.

  “You nasty fucker.” Jewels knelt down and latched on to his blond hair and looked into his blue eyes. “If I didn’t need you alive, I’d kill you.”

  “Don’t hurt me. There’s plenty of money in the bag. Take it. Please don’t hurt me.”

  Jewels glanced at the open leather bag beside him. “That’s a bonus. Open your mouth.”

  “I didn’t mean to—”

  She backhanded him. “Open your mouth, pervert.”

  He complied.

  “Wider.”

  She could now see his tonsils. She filled his mouth with the long barrel. “I’m only gonna say this once, so turn your ears on.”

  He nodded.

  “This guy was a true military fanatic.” Thomas placed a model tank back on the dresser. “Might have served our country well.”