Get Some

by Pam Ward

  Under the small hanging light, Tony’s worried face creased. His eyes darted around the room like a brown, scurrying rodent, hoping for some kind of opening.

  “I’ma go in my pocket. Look, man, don’t shoot.” Tony slowly pulled a handful of hundreds from his pocket. “All right. See. Looka here. I got five hundred dollars. Take it. It’s yours. You can have it all, son. Now come on, man, put the gun down!”

  Ray Ray looked down at the sad wad of cash.

  “You must be sick. Where’s the rest of my ends, nigga? I played Jones to win. I ain’t leaving without my eight grand.” Ray Ray shoved the gun farther into Tony’s fat stomach. Tony’s whole face was dripping sweat now.

  “Now, hold up, man, hold up! I done tol’ you already!” Tony’s eyes looked crazed. Sirens were blaring. He had to get out. “I ain’t got it, I said! The man came and took all the cash. I know you musta saw him. I put it on Jones. Just like you said.”

  Ray Ray didn’t say a thing. He raised the gun higher. Putting it right next to Tony’s bald head, he pulled the safety way back until it snapped.

  “All right, man! Okay!” Tony pulled a small briefcase from below the desk but didn’t open it. He saw Jimmy coming up behind Ray Ray real quiet. “Let me get you your shit, before you act a stone fool.” Tony unsnapped the case. It was stuffed full with money. “This is what I get hiring a damn convict.” Tony slowly stepped back. “Here’s yo’ shit, man.” Tony stepped farther back. “Go ahead, take it.”

  But when Ray Ray leaned forward to reach for the case, Jimmy grabbed Ray Ray’s throat and snatched back the gun, pointing it back at Ray Ray’s face.

  “Be cool, man. Don’t move,” Jimmy whispered. “All I want to know is where is my stash. They said brothers jacked my man this morning at the bank. Said one was a tall, thin, pretty-boy type.” Jimmy grinned in Ray Ray’s scarred, scowling face. “Now that sho’ ain’t you.” Jimmy continued to smile. “Naw, cuz you as butter-black ugly as they come.”

  Jimmy rolled the gun over Ray Ray’s large, gravelly scar. He stood in Ray Ray’s face and continued to whisper. “But my man said the other one had a nasty burn mark peeking out under his scarf.” Jimmy took out a knife and ripped open Ray Ray’s skin. Ray Ray winced. Jerking back, he clenched his back teeth. Dark blood rolled from his keloid. Ray Ray stood there in pain as the sticky blood seeped over his neck.

  Tony walked up to Ray Ray and spit in his face. “Yeah, it was him. Dumb stupid convict. Came in today with a whole gang of money. I bet he and Lil Steve been plotting this shit all week. Lil Steve probably snatched your cut, man.”

  Jimmy socked Ray Ray’s gut and he doubled over. “Where’s my shit, huh? Where the fuck is it at?”

  Tony closed the brown briefcase and put it under his coat. This wasn’t his fight. He wasn’t in it. He scurried down the stairs while the sirens grew fierce.

  “Put both hands around your neck,” Jimmy barked loud to Ray Ray. “Now, don’t turn around or I’ll blow your damn head.”

  “Open up,” they heard the cops yell from downstairs. They were banging the wrought-iron door with batons, but they couldn’t get the door to bust open.

  Jimmy backed out of the room, aiming his pistol at Ray Ray. Jimmy didn’t want to be caught at the club with the cops. He backed all the way out of the room and ran out the back door.

  Tony didn’t want the cops to see he had a gambling room upstairs, so he locked the gated door tight.

  But the officers were prepared. Two of them held a battering ram. They hooked the ram onto the large steel door. With both of them holding the thick metal pole, they knocked the iron door off the hinge.

  The police charged up the stairs with all their guns drawn. Ray Ray’s eyes darted around the small closet he was in. He could hear their feet on the stairs. He couldn’t go back to jail. He couldn’t get caught.

  “Please, Lord,” Ray Ray said, rubbing the cross at his neck, “don’t put me in that black hole again.” Even though he was two floors up, Ray Ray broke a small window over a water heater with his gun. He said one last prayer and then jumped. His body was almost completely halfway out when someone grabbed his leg and dragged him all the way back.

  “I got one,” a police officer proudly announced.

  Ray Ray was caught in a black uniformed knot.

  The cops cuffed him quickly. His hands dangled in front. His silver cross glittered against his gray pinstripe suit. His dark suit was splattered with blood.

  “That’s him!” Tony said, walking back inside the room. He wasn’t carrying the old briefcase anymore. He looked straight at Ray Ray. “Yeah that’s the one who done it. I hired him to work. Didn’t know he was a felon. He shot one of my best paying customers too.”

  “You a lie! You know I didn’t shoot nobody!” Ray Ray said. He struggled to get free, but the officers held him firm. They dragged him downstairs and out the front door toward the blinking squad cars at the curb.

  Ray Ray tried to resist, twisting and contorting his body. But once they got him on the sidewalk they beat Ray Ray down. Their batons smacked his arms, his rib cage and his legs. They beat him so hard on the back of his head, blood flowed from out of his nose. Jamming Ray Ray’s dazed and doubled-over body into the backseat, they slammed the door hard and took off.

  Ray Ray lay unconscious on the black vinyl seat while the car screeched down the dark street. His silver cross medallion dangled next to his face. It was a thick chain with a fat cross of Jesus. The officers didn’t bother to take it. He was cuffed and inside the backseat metal cage. Ray Ray wasn’t going nowhere but jail.

  Ray Ray gradually regained consciousness. He opened his eyes. He looked around, trying to figure out where he was. The car was racing downtown. Ray Ray had trouble breathing. His ears were ringing loud and his nose was all caked with blood and he had to pry his face from the seat where Jimmy had opened his wound.

  He looked up and saw the two officers’ heads. They were cracking jokes and laughing and running red lights. They never once looked back at him.

  Now, officers aren’t supposed to handcuff in the front, but sometimes they get lazy. They let their guard down. Ray Ray knew one thing. He had two strikes already. He wasn’t about to go back to the pen.

  Ray Ray raised his cuffed fists and used the tips of his fingers to work the medallion he was wearing. The flat silver cross had four slender tips. He put one of the tips inside the narrow keyhole. He started fiddling the cross around and around with his fingers until he heard the gentle snap of the lock.

  Ray Ray kept his head down. His eyes searched for an escape. But the backseat was as tight as a cage. He didn’t want the officers to know he was awake or notice his free, uncuffed hands. He felt around the seat but came up with nothing. He checked the side windows but they didn’t roll down. He looked under the floor mats and that’s when he saw it. There was a dim light coming from the front seat.

  There was an opening! A space wide enough for a shoe. Ray Ray dropped his whole head all the way down and saw the officer’s boot on the ground. He stretched, reaching his hand as far as it would go. He grabbed hold of the foot and wouldn’t let go.

  The driver slammed the brakes hard but the car skidded toward the sidewalk. It jumped the curb and kept flying down the street, slamming into a dense concrete bus bench. The car dangled halfway on the curb and the road. The driver was knocked out and slumped over the wheel. The horn tortured the normally silent street. A Mitsubishi swerved and braked hard but couldn’t stop. It smashed the police car with such a strong force it knocked the driver’s door open. Ray Ray kicked his door window until he shattered the glass. He leaped out and grabbed the slumped officer’s gun. He started running down the block. The other officer was conscious but dazed. He grabbed his gun and shot at Ray Ray but Ray Ray shot back. He clipped the officer in the shoulder.

  Ray Ray raced down the street like a wild, rabid dog, hopping a fence and scaling two walls and then ducking into a beat-up apartment. He crept down into the apart
ment’s garage and saw an old blue Ford pickup parked against the garage wall. Ray Ray popped the hood and examined the engine. He looked around the garage for a tool and spotted a mangled coat hanger on the floor. He wrapped his bandana around the end of the hanger. He touched the solenoid and the battery cable. The Ford engine roared to life. Ray Ray busted the window and leaped inside the truck. He sped down side streets until he reached the 110. Keeping his eyes on his rearviews, he opened the ashtray. He found half a butt and popped in the lighter, but Ray Ray didn’t light up until he was all the way past Gage. Ray Ray knew one thing; he had two strikes against him and had just shot a cop. He’d best get out of the state. But as he drove, something gnawed him. It clawed at his gut until he couldn’t shake that sick feeling away anymore. It was against his best judgment. He knew it was wrong. But Ray Ray made a U-turn and went all the way back.

  19

  Trudy and Charles

  After Charles was shot, and before the cops arrived, Dee’s Parlor was going berserk. People raced through the streets like they did during the riots. Some folks were screaming, and one man waved a toy gun. Others just went in and took what they wanted. They ran holding six-packs and bottles of gin. An elderly lady struggled with a big stack of plates. One dropped in the street but she didn’t break her stride. She just hoisted the stack farther up her hip.

  Trudy roared Charles’s Buick down side streets and through alleys.

  “Don’t worry,” Trudy told Charles’s slumped-over body. “I’m going to take you to a doctor. We’ll get you fixed up. Just sit tight and keep trying to breathe.” But Trudy didn’t take Charles to the hospital at all. She drove down the street until she got to her house. She wanted to pick up her black leather satchel and get rid of these old bloody clothes. But when she got near her block she made a U-turn instead. Was she crazy? It wasn’t safe to go home right now. Jimmy might be waiting for her there. Charles’s gas tank was on empty; the red light had come on. She couldn’t keep driving for long. She parked behind a Dumpster in an alley to think. Charles’s body slithered down in the seat. Flies were buzzing around the car on his side. Leaning him back up, Trudy sucked in her breath. The whole front of his shirt was drenched in red blood. Her white dress was splattered in rusty blood too. Trudy was frantic. Charles was hurt bad. She found a water bottle in the backseat and tried to give Charles a sip but the water just rolled down his chin. She ripped part of her dress to make a quick bandage. But the blood wouldn’t stop coming out.

  “Damn it,” she said, beating her fists against the wheel. “I’ve got to get you to a doctor.” Trudy raced through back streets, hovering at stop signs. There weren’t many emergency wards anymore. She’d have to go down to King Drew. Trudy raced to the hospital and parked in the red lanes; she struggled to get Charles’s limp body out. Grabbing his arm all the way over her shoulders, Trudy dragged Charles through the large sliding glass door.

  But as soon as she came through the Plexiglas door the alarm started screeching like crazy. Everyone stopped and looked at them both. Blood was splattered all over her dress. The bottom half was completely ripped off. Charles was so wobbly and weak, he barely could stand. Bright red blood soaked through most of his clothes. But it was late Friday night and this was “Killer King” Drew. The lobby spilled over with bullet and stab wounds. Some folks were worse off than them.

  A security guard raced up to where Trudy was. Trudy panicked. Oh God, she was trapped. There was a guard waiting at the entrance to the lobby and a guard standing where she came in. She was captured inside a small plastic room. Everyone stared at her hard.

  “Ma’am!” the guard barked. “Are you carrying a weapon?”

  Trudy had forgotten about the gun in her purse. The gun had set off the metal detectors and the alarm brought out both guards.

  “I have to take it, ma’am,” the guard said, coming toward her. Oh no! Trudy began breathing hard. She didn’t want to be arrested. What if they thought she shot Charles? What if they called the police?

  “It’s my husband’s. He shot himself cleaning his gun. I begged him to not buy that thing. Please come take it away.” Trudy kissed Charles softly on the cheek. “You’ll be all right, honey. We’re at the hospital now.”

  Trudy handed the officer the gun. He studied her awhile but eventually walked back toward the door.

  A nurse handed Trudy a clipboard filled with forms.

  “You got to see him now!” Trudy pleaded to the nurse. She wanted to get out of the room and away from the guards; they kept watching her from the front door.

  The lady didn’t look up at Trudy at all. She leaned over the counter and took Charles’s pulse. She examined his wound. “He’s breathing,” she said. “The bleeding has stopped.”

  “He’s bad off. You got to look at him now!” Trudy said.

  “Honey, I got an arm sawed off, a drive-by that left eight people bloody and a hand ripped from fixing a disposal. Just take a number and please sit him down. I don’t want no blood on my counter.” The woman’s eyes never left the chart she was holding. “We’ll call you as soon as we’re ready.”

  “A number? Is this a god damn butcher shop or what?” But when Trudy saw the hard looks of the other people waiting she quickly grabbed a number and sat down. There was a man whose hand drooped in a loose homemade sling. The fingers and thumb were completely chewed off. Blood caked in the folds of his skin. A pregnant woman twisted and turned in her seat. Her loud groaning echoed throughout the whole room. Trudy looked around the room for two seats together. A man with a gash in his leg moved down one. He sat next to a woman with a black and blue face.

  When Trudy lifted Charles’s jacket to cover him up, the blue envelope fell to the floor. Trudy opened the envelope to examine the contents. The envelope was more than three-quarters short. Trudy nudged Charles’s slumped body.

  “Charles, wake up,” Trudy whispered in his ear. “Where is the rest of the money?” But Charles was groggy. Trudy shook his leg gently. “Charles!” Trudy said, more determined this time. Charles opened his eyes wide but then shut them slow. He groaned, folding his body in the seat. “Charles!” she said low, shaking his leg harder. The man with the gash looked at Trudy and frowned. The marred woman sucked her tongue and sadly shook her head.

  But Trudy wanted to know. She had to find where he put it. “Charles, can you hear me? Charles, wake up!”

  “Can’t you see he’s bleeding?” The man with the sling shouted. “Why don’t you leave the poor fellow alone?”

  Trudy crossed her arms on her chest and stayed quiet. She didn’t dare say anything else.

  “Ma’am!” the woman behind the counter calmly called. “The doctor will see you both now.” A nurse came and helped Charles into a small curtained room. She swabbed his chest, took his temperature and left.

  “Charles!” Trudy said, holding on to his arm.

  Charles raised his head but then collapsed down.

  The nurse rushed back in. “You’ll have to leave, ma’am. He’s lucky. It’s only a flesh wound.” She plugged in a monitor and thumped a syringe. “We’ll let you know how he’s doing,” the nurse bluntly said. She yanked the curtain in Trudy’s anxious face.

  Trudy waited until the nurse left. She lingered way down the hall. When the nurse turned the corner, Trudy slipped back into his room.

  “Charles!” Trudy whispered inside of his ear. “Where is the money? Where is it hidden in your house?”

  Charles turned over. He opened his eyes. He started to mutter something but the morphine knocked hard at his door.

  “Charles!” Trudy said, shaking his shoulder real hard.

  “Get out,” the nurse said sternly, rushing back in the room.

  When Trudy refused to move, the nurse touched her arm.

  “Charles!” Trudy said trying to hold Charles’s shoulder. Charles was struggling. He tried to mouth a word.

  “Paint,” he said weakly. His lids fluttered and closed.

  “Charles!” Trudy screa
med at the top of her lungs.

  The nurse tried to pull Trudy but she was frail and small. Her thin arms were no match for Trudy’s big-boned girth. So she pushed a green button and set off the alarm. A buzzing sound consumed the room.

  Well, this was it. This was her final, last-ditch effort. In a minute they’d be tossing her out the front door.

  “Charrrrleees!” Trudy hollered. She let her voice roar. It carried like a Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom song, thundering way down the hall.

  A male nurse came in and grabbed Trudy hard but not before these words crept from Charles’s slurring tongue.

  “. . . back . . . yaaaaa . . . rrrrrrd,” Charles said. One eye was shut. “Paint can in garaaaaageeeee,” he muttered, then passed out.

  Trudy smiled big when she heard these last words. Even when the male nurse tossed her out of the double lobby doors, she grinned all the way to the car.

  Less than five miles away, Shirley grinned too. She had followed Jimmy trying to drive on four flattened tires. She pulled alongside his black SUV. Her dinged Cougar rattled and choked at the light. She looked like an old carnival ride.

  “Your left tires are gone.” Shirley gestured toward his rims.

  “It’ll be all right,” Jimmy said unfazed. His tires were slashed but he could still drive. It was useless to put on his spare.

  “I can help. I think I know who you’re looking for, baby.” She gave him a snaggletoothed grin.

  Jimmy’s black tinted window rolled the rest of the way down. He was angry as hell but smiled back at Shirley. He cracked open and lit a brand-new cigar.

  “If you’da asked, I’da told you to not fool with that girl. Trudy thinks she’s all that and a big bag of chips, but that girl ain’t never been shit!”

  Jimmy stared at Shirley. He wanted her to talk. “Where is she?” he asked her point-blank.

  Shirley smiled and popped her gum for a minute. She wanted her last comment to sink in. The car parked behind started blowing its horn. Shirley waved the car to go around. Shirley rubbed her thumb and fingers together, gesturing she wanted money.