Inside Doug’s small, cramped office Xavier took a seat in the chair beside Doug’s desk. He couldn’t shake the image of Brenda lying motionless at the bottom of the stairs. When the paramedics had been rushing her out on a stretcher, Xavier swore he’d heard one of them say that she’d suffered a concussion. Xavier’s heart went out to Brenda. He didn’t know if she would lose her baby, but he was still 100 percent sure that it wasn’t his.
Doug took his time pouring a cup of coffee. He eyed Xavier suspiciously as he placed the hot, steaming cup on the desk and sat down. It gave Xavier the feeling of being a suspect in one of those drab, white interview rooms on The First 48.
Doug blew away the steam rising from the liquid. “Did you hear one of those paramedics say that she’d possibly suffered a concussion? Hope the baby is all right. Word around the school is that you are the father. Her fall, was it an accident?”
“I know you ain’t trying to lay her fall on me.”
Doug laughed cynically. “Why are you so defensive? I wasn’t about to say that, but since we’re on the case, did you have anything to do with it?”
Xavier sighed. “You just plucked me out of world history. Did it look like I had anything to do with it?”
Doug carefully slurped the hot coffee. “God, I would like to hope that it was just an accidental fall. Hope that nobody’s that ruthless and cruel.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Let’s get serious. I heard about what happened at the after-party over at LaMarcus’s house. And I’m going to tell you again: You need to go to another school.”
Xavier said nothing. He just wanted to see where Doug was going with this.
“A few of the neighbors reported to the police that they couldn’t see the occupants, but the assailants were driving a dark-colored GMC SUV. Why didn’t y’all wait around and report the assault to the police?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Doug laughed and slurped some coffee. “You are a hardheaded young man.”
“Even if I was there, how do you know they were after me?”
Doug reared back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. “We can play this little game all day, but we both know that the SUV was there for you. Don’t know if it was the same one responsible for Felix’s death.”
Xavier took his time. “The last time I was in this office I snitched on Romello.”
“You were caught up in a bad way and didn’t have anywhere else to go. I gave you an out. And it’s because of that out that you are able to sit here today as a free young man. You did what was best for you.”
“That’s all good in theory. But because of my snitching, Slick Eddie and Romello have probably got every wannabe hit man after me.”
“Well, that’s the price you pay for steppin’ in my shoes and trying to provide protection for the students with the aid of Zulu. Told you when you start messing around in another man’s backyard, the drama it would bring.”
Xavier thought on it a minute. “You know, I’ve seen this outsider walking around the school.”
Doug sipped a little coffee. “What does this outsider look like?”
“Big, black, satellite dishes for ears—cold eyes.”
Doug scratched his head. “Nobody like that rings a bell.”
Xavier looked Doug straight in the eyes. “I rest my case.”
Doug was offended. “So now you’re telling me that I’m not doing my job.”
“This fool has shown up a few times. The last time, he pointed his fingers at me like a gun.”
“So you think he’s connected to Slick Eddie and Romello?”
Xavier shook his head. “Don’t know. For all I know, the Hoover murder, the big-eared clown, and the shooting that happened three nights ago might be all connected—I don’t know.”
“I’ll have my officers keep a close eye out for someone fitting the description. Meanwhile, have you told your father any of this?”
The history book lay in his lap. Xavier ran a hand over its smooth surface. What went on at the crib was none of Doug’s business. Even though Doug and Noah went back quite a ways, Xavier wasn’t going there with him.
Doug saw that he wasn’t getting anywhere and switched gears. “So what’s going on with you and Samantha? I mean—last school year, you two were booed up.”
Xavier gave him a hard Are you for real? look. “You tell me, since you know everything,” he said with a little attitude.
Doug got up from his chair to refill his cup. “Whoa, did I touch a nerve?”
Samantha was doing her thing and Xavier was most definitely getting his in.
Doug sat back down and slurped some hot coffee. “Ooo-eee, this stuff is good. Black. Just like I like it.” He rubbed his hands together. “You know an old man once told me never let anything get away that was of any value. That girl loves you, but too bad you can’t see it because you have your head stuck straight up your behind.”
Xavier just shook his head.
“The new girl Heather seems to be taking a shine to you.” Doug smiled.
Xavier stood from his chair. “You don’t have anything else to do, do you? When you gonna stay out of other folks’ business and get with Ms. Dowdy, the geometry teacher. She’s got a thing for you. Why don’t you go take her out for a night out on the town?”
Doug sipped his coffee like the taste was the best thing in the world to him. “Sean Desmond is a punk. Don’t like him. Never have. Don’t let that baseball-playing hotshot steal your lady.”
“Are we about done?”
A look of concern wrenched Doug’s face. “I still think you should switch schools, but it’s your life, Mr. Hunter. Just be careful.”
Thank God he’d never deleted Brenda Sanders’s number from his contacts. Outside of Doug’s office he called her phone. It went to voice mail after a few rings like he knew it would. His aim was just to leave a message.
“I hope you’re all right,” Xavier concernedly spoke into the phone. “Call me if you need anything.”
The news in the cafeteria was all about Brenda falling down the stairs. Word had gotten around Coleman. She’d sustained a concussion. But no one mentioned anything about whether or not the baby was okay. Maybe that bit of information was lost, because what everybody originally thought was an accident wasn’t looking so accidental anymore. Brenda had been alert when she’d reached the ER. She’d reported being pushed down the stairs. Five-o was everywhere in the school asking questions, interviewing students. Nobody seemed to know a thing.
Xavier was hardly drinking his vanilla milkshake when Samantha appeared through the south entrance. His heart skipped a beat. Butterflies in the stomach. Damn, she looked good. Hair styled to perfection. Tight jeans showing off her booty. A thin leather biker jacket and three-quarter boots to match. He admired her from a distance, just wishing things were back to normal. Xavier thought Samantha was headed for the lunch line, but when he noticed that she was coming toward him, the butterflies in his stomach seemed like they were in a hot rush to break out through his throat and fly out.
The first thing out of her mouth—“Sorry about your baby mama, Xavier.”
“You trying to be funny?”
“No. I’m just trying to say that it’s messed up.”
“So where’s your little baseball player? I’m sure he wouldn’t be all good with you slumming.”
Samantha sat down beside him without waiting on an invitation. “You don’t have to be nasty, Xavier. Just heard about what happened Friday night and came over here to see if you were all right.”
“It’s all good, you feel me?”
Samantha shook her head no. “I don’t believe that. And it’s not all good to have people after you. Do you think it’s Slick Eddie?”
“What do you care?”
Samantha simply ignored his childishness and looked around the lunchroom. “Do you understand the word going around school is that standing next to you is bad for one’s health? Example, look at how the ot
her students are scattered out in here. Last semester, you were their hero. They adored you. Now look at them. They are afraid of you, thinking that any moment something is going to pop off.”
He looked into Samantha’s big, pretty eyes. And for a fleeting second he remembered all of the moments—the places they’d gone and had mad fun. He wanted to reach out and grab her, hug her softness, sniff her perfume—he wanted those things very badly.
“What are you going to do?” Samantha asked, laying her soft hands over his. In the past, her presence was like magic, like some kind of invisible fairy dust that had a calming effect on him. Xavier relaxed and loosened up. He turned his hands over and cupped hers from underneath.
“Sam, stop worrying. I’ll be—” He couldn’t finish his statement because Heather walked over carrying another vanilla milkshake.
She placed the drink in front of him. “Here, honey.” Heather looked over at Samantha with the biggest of smiles and extended her hand. “You must be Samantha.”
He couldn’t believe it—just when he and Samantha seemed to be bonding, this chick showed up.
Samantha curled her upper lip, looking at Heather’s outstretched hand like the joint was lathered in dog crap. “Yes, I am. Who might you be?”
Before Xavier could stop Heather, she put her arm around his neck and kissed him on the crown of his head. “I’m his new boo.”
Samantha slowly stood up, sizing up what looked to be a bimbo Barbie doll dressed in Third World rags.
Samantha, calm and ever so ladylike, dismissed her by saying, “You might be his new boo, but you look like a hood rat wearing thrift shop rags to me.” Samantha turned on Xavier. “I can’t believe I came down here feeling sorry for you. Stay the hell away from me. I wouldn’t want to get caught up in any of your foolishness.” She stormed out.
Xavier forcefully snatched Heather’s arm from around his neck. “What are you doing?”
The heated exchanges had flown underneath the radar of the others in the cafeteria. But Heather changed all of that when she yelled out, “You weren’t saying all that in that dark corner at the State Theater, now were you, Hunter?!”
She had everybody’s attention. The room fell silent, as if they were waiting on Xavier’s reply. Before Xavier knew it, he had her by the arm, almost dragging Heather up out of there.
There was an open janitor closet next to the restroom. He shoved her in, closed the door, and clicked on the lights. It was a small room with tons of shelves of cleaning supplies. The strong smell of bleach rose up from the dirty water in a mop bucket.
“You already know what that was, ma. Just one of those things,” he said, checking her.
She tried to hug him, desperately looking for some affection. “Baby, I understand that, but you understand whoever I hook up with, I expect some type of commitment.”
Xavier shoved her away. “You already know what it was, like I said. We were just having fun, you feel me.”
She lurched at him, grabbing him around the neck with both arms and struggling with him to force her lips on his.
“Please. Give me a kiss. I want a damn kiss from you, Hunter!”
Xavier pushed her away, which caused her long hair to fall across her smiling face. Washed over with dull light, it gave her a rather unsettling crazy look.
Then the look eased up on her face. The smile was back but not so intense.
“Don’t you want what I gave you in the dark corner of the State Theater again?” she cooed softly.
Her offer was proper, even if it was in a janitor’s closet. Xavier was weak because ol’ girl’s heat was all that. He couldn’t help himself. He gave up and let her have her way. People were looking to rub him out, but at the moment, he didn’t give a damn. They kissed until Xavier was able to break away, lock the door, and cut off the light.
8
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 8
4:00 P.M.
Saturday evening was windy and cold. Sporadic showers came and went. Noah had asked Xavier if he could help him clean out Sister Pope’s basement. Noah had volunteered because the elderly lady was a member of his church and didn’t have anybody to help her wage war against a nasty mouse infestation. Sister Pope lived in a shabby colonial off of Woodward and East State Fair Street, where through the years she’d accumulated—hoarded is more like it—a lot of useless junk.
Noah and Xavier could barely get down the basement steps. It was a good thing that Noah had rented one of those gigantic residential Dumpsters. The thing sat in the driveway. This job looked like it was going to be one of those all-day affairs.
For the job Xavier wore a crunchy pair of old Levi’s, a faded black Adidas hoodie, a pair of barely-clinging-to-life Adidas Top Tens, and on his hands were working gloves.
“Son, grab the headboard and take it out,” Noah ordered. “Be careful on your way up the stairs.”
“We just have to clean up her basement, right?” asked Xavier.
“You got somewhere to be?”
“I have an exam on a book in English class this Monday.”
Noah removed the glove on his right hand and scratched his forehead. “Is that that book you’ve been reading around the house?”
“Yup. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.”
“You might want to start reading the Bible more. Because when Jesus comes back, Huckleberry Finn is not gonna be able to save you from burning in hell.”
“Nor will Jesus be able to save me from the bad grade I’ll get from Ms. Scott on my exam if I don’t read that book.”
Noah became irritated. “Son, that’s blasphemy and I won’t have you speaking like that.”
“Do you realize the amount of pressure you put on me? No, you don’t. I have to keep my GPA up to get a scholarship to one of the universities. No disrespect, but please back off.”
Noah laughed off his son’s insolence to cover his anger. “I pray for you every night that that rebellious spirit of yours leaves your body. But unless you stop wearing those clothes from them brand-name designer devils, you won’t be healed. I know you hid them, son. And when I find them I’m going to burn the devil right out of ’em. That’s the only way I’ll be able to free you.”
Xavier shook his head at his father and went back to work. He quickly shook it off and set his mind to another topic.
As he grabbed a fake brass headboard and struggled up the basement steps, Xavier was tripping on how close he and Heather had become. The girl was cuckoo but her special skills more than made up for it. Never one to be labeled “whipped,” but he couldn’t deny it. This was something that he would never tell any of his homeboys. Samantha was becoming a distant memory, though. Oftentimes he would see her in the hallway and there wasn’t even a casual glimpse his way. He wondered about her relationship with that ballplayer. Was it working out? Was she talking to Sean in the back parking lot that day to get him jealous, because he’d had sex with Brenda? Had that been the end of their relationship? He knew the answer to none of these questions.
Somehow Xavier had managed to avoid confrontation with Noah by simply ignoring him. The two would sometimes go days without speaking to each other. Xavier refused to bow and accept this new way of life. He was willing to accept Jesus Christ as his personal Savior, but he wasn’t buying the rest of his father’s foolishness. He’d gone to church with his father over the past month. But it was on his terms. Xavier would not be bullied into it. When he’d gone, Xavier dressed like he wanted to. There were no more of those thrift-shop dress suits.
But Xavier knew that his father’s hunt for his oldest son’s elusive “Satan wear” was far from being over. One night Xavier had caught the old man snooping around the bungalow where he hid his clothes. Xavier had walked out into the backyard and hid himself out of sight. It was so funny to see Noah trying to jimmy the lock on the back door. Somehow he’d caught on to Xavier’s hideout. And it would only be a matter of time before his father burglarized the place and discovered where he kept his designer labels. Caug
ht up in the drama at school, Xavier had forgotten to find a better place for his stash. He had to move them, and quickly, before his junk would be next on the old “designer label up-in-smoke tour.”
The month of October had gone by without further incident. Xavier hadn’t seen that dark GMC SUV or Tall and Husky again. It was like both had vanished from the face of the earth. It led Xavier to think that they’d been hired by Slick Eddie. Logically it made sense. But if so, why did they go after Felix? He’d had nothing to do with Eddie or Romello. Xavier left it alone. Out of sight, out of mind is how he chose to deal with the issue right now.
He walked down the side of the house and chucked the headboard into the Dumpster, noticing Alfonso sitting on Sister Pope’s rickety wooden front-porch steps, like he was in deep thought. The kid’s face was long and sad. Xavier couldn’t tell if the water trickling from Alfonso’s eyes was tears or raindrops, as thunder burst overhead and light raindrops started falling.
“What are you over here pouting about, rug rat?” Xavier took off the work gloves and sat down beside his little brother.
Alfonso didn’t say anything. He just looked like his red eyes were about to make more water than the clouds overhead. His bottom lip was stuck out so far that it looked like the boy was wearing a turtleneck sweater.
Xavier pushed. “That lip hang any lower, I’ma wipe off the bottom of my shoe on it. Now you want to tell me what’s up?”
Alfonso’s voice started shaking at first but leveled out. “There’s this boy who be walking a pit bull up to my school.”
Xavier’s protective instincts kicked in. “What’d he do?” he asked, his voice deep and serious.
Alfonso almost jumped out of his skin at his brother’s tone. He put his head down in shame. “Those times when you don’t pick me up and I’m waiting around in front of the school for Dad, the boy makes fun of me.”
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