Travon was the first one out of the store. He strutted to his car with all the pride of a victorious fighting cock and climbed inside.
“Say, I know y’all hungry,” Travon told Marcus and Frog. “So we gonna go and get something to eat, my treat.”
“Shit, yeah!” Marcus replied.
Frog nodded. “Cool.”
“We’ll go to Bob’s barbecue,” Travon told them. He started his car and pulled into traffic.
“Oh, hell yeah!” Marcus told him. “Bob’s is on!”
Travon cranked up the volume on his new stereo system, and the noise became deafening. The boys sank down into their seats, and began bobbing their heads and throwing up gang signs to the music.
Travon exited the highway, turned down W.W. White Road, and headed for Rigsby Road, home to South Texas’s most famous barbecue eatery.
“Combo plate, here I come!” Marcus announced, rubbing his stomach.
His fuel light blinked on. “Damn!” Travon exclaimed.
He had gone straight from the car lot to the stereo shop, and had yet to visit a filling station. The needle on his gas gauge was now pleading for him to do so. He maneuvered into a One Stop filling station and convenience store, and pulled up next to a gas pump. He peered into the backseat at Marcus.
“Say, kinfolk, you pump and I’ll go pay,” Travon told him. “Do you want something outta here?”
Marcus shook his head. “Naw, I’m cool. Besides, I’m a try to break your ass when we get to Bob’s.” Marcus laughed, climbed out and headed to the gas pump.
“Stop it on fifteen dollars,” Travon told him, as he and Frog headed for the store.
“Damn, T,” Frog said, as they walked into the store. “Your shit be hittin’. Man, my ears are still ringing.”
“I’ma try to enter into that bass contest that the radio station be having on Fridays and Saturdays,” Travon told him. He headed to the beer freezer, pulled three bottle of Bull from it, and then returned to the counter where he handed the clerk a twenty-dollar bill. “Put fifteen in the tank.”
“He stopped the pump at fifteen twenty-seven,” she told him with a flirtatious smile.
Travon nodded. “Okay, that’s cool.”
The clerk rang up the total and handed Travon his change.
“Thank you,” he told her with a smile.
“Thank you,” she told him seductively. “And thank you for shopping at One Stop.”
Travon stepped to the side and waited, as the clerk rang up Frog’s merchandise, and returned to him his change. Together, he and Frog walked out of the store.
A dark blue Honda Accord pulled up just as the boys were exiting. As Travon walked past the car, he glanced inside. The occupants looked familiar.
Travon’s memory served him poorly for several moments, and then it struck him. He picked up his pace toward his own vehicle. He could hear the doors to the Accord slamming.
“It is him!” a voice called out. “That’s the little nigga from the park!”
Travon dropped his bag of beer, pulled out his Desert Eagle pistol, and spun. Frog did the same. Marcus had pulled his weapon as soon as he saw the boys exit the blue Honda. Gunfire erupted.
Travon and Frog fired in the direction of the Accord as they raced back to Travon’s car. Marcus used the car as a shield and took his time. His aim was deadly.
“Aaaargh, I hit!” one of the boys from the Accord cried out.
Marcus aimed again.
“Aaaargh! Fuck, cuz, I’m shot!” another boy screamed. “It burns! It burns!”
Travon and Frog leapt over the trunk of the nine-eight and hunkered down. Travon immediately reloaded his weapon, by slipping in another clip. Screams echoed from the other side of the nine-eight, as Marcus continued to fire with deadly accuracy. Soon, the sound of screeching tires filled the air, and Marcus stopped firing.
“Fuck, Blood!” Travon rose. “I hope they didn’t hit my shit!”
“Say, Frog, they gone,” Marcus said. “You can stand up now.”
Frog shook his head. “I can’t, Blood. I’m hit.”
Travon smiled. “Bullshit!”
Marcus walked to where Frog was crouched down and helped him stand. Frog’s once pristine white T-shirt, turned crimson red.
“Fuck!” Travon screamed. “Aw, fuck!”
Frog fell back into Marcus’s arms. His pink lips were now pale blue.
“Go on, Blood,” Frog told them. He grabbed Travon’s hand. “I’m not gonna make this one.”
Travon’s mouth fell open and he shook his head.
Frog let out a half-smile. “Leave now,” he told them. “The po-po is coming.”
Frog tried to smile again, but this time a cough interrupted him. Blood shot from his mouth and nose onto Travon. Marcus stepped back and gently lowered Frog to the ground. Travon dropped to his knees and lifted Frog’s head into his lap.
“Naw, Blood, fuck this shit!” Travon shouted. “Fuck this shit!”
Blood poured out onto the concrete and soaked Travon’s pants.
“You gonna make it, just breathe,” Travon said nervously. “Breathe!”
Marcus heard the sirens in the distance, and gently tugged at Travon’s shirt. Travon yanked away and began crying heavily.
“Stay awake!” he told Frog, shaking his head slightly. “C’mon, Frog, fight!”
The store clerk ran outside. “I saw what happened,” she told Marcus. “Those boys started shooting at you first.”
Marcus pointed at Frog. “Stay with him!” he told the clerk. He pulled at Travon’s shirt again. “C’mon, Tre, we gotta go! You hear those sirens? Let’s go!”
Travon gently lowered Frog to the ground and rose. He held out his arms and examined himself, only to find that he was covered from head to toe in his friend’s blood. He turned to the store clerk. “Lady, don’t leave his head like that. Get his head outta the dirt, please.”
Marcus grabbed Travon and shoved him into the car. He turned back toward the clerk. “Tell the police what you saw. Forget about our car, our names, our descriptions, and our license plates. But tell them that Frog was innocent. Thanks, lady.”
Marcus quickly climbed inside of the car, cranked the motor, and raced away.
The boys drove through the Skyline residential area instead of taking the main street. Marcus knew that the police would be crawling all over the place.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Travon screamed. He began kicking and banging on the dashboard of his car.
“He’ll make it, Tre,” Marcus told him.
Travon continued bawling.
Marcus glanced over at his cousin. “Let’s just get back to the hood, posse up, and go and serve them muthafuckas.”
The boys headed back to the Heights as fast as the streets could take them. The trip home was a silent one.
Before Marcus could bring the car to a complete stop, Travon leapt out of the vehicle and ran upstairs to his room, stripping his clothes off along the way. Marcus parked and ran into the house after him.
“Tre! Tre!” Marcus followed him. “Say something! Speak to me!”
Travon ignored his cousin’s pleas and continued to strip. When he finished, he bolted into the bathroom. Marcus listened as the shower went active, and then turned and shouted down the hall.
“Darius! Darius!”
“What’s up?” Darius shouted back from his room down the hall.
“Come here real quick,” Marcus said nervously. “Let me holler at ya!”
“Where you at?”
“I’m in T’s room.”
Seconds later, Darius appeared at Travon’s door. “What’s up?”
He followed Marcus’s eyes down to the floor, where he spied the pile of bloody clothing.
“Fuck!” Darius said. He stepped into the room and quickly closed the door behind him. “What in the hell happened?”
“We stopped at the gas station to get gas,” Marcus explained. “Me, Tre, and Frog.”
“What happene
d to Ace and Robert Jr.?”
Marcus shook his head. “They weren’t with us. Tre bought this nine-eight and we split up. Anyway, we stopped at One Stop on W.W. White to get some gas.” Marcus began pacing. “Tre and Frog went in, while I pumped. We was getting ready to leave when Mike Vay drove up in a little blue car.”
Marcus stopped pacing, stared at Darius, and shook his head. “Them fools just started busting at us.”
Darius tilted his head to one side. “Where did Tre get hit?”
“He didn’t get hit, Frog did.” He swallowed hard. “I don’t think he made it.”
Darius shook his head. “Fuck! Where’s Frog now?”
“We had to leave him, because the po-po was coming.”
Darius leaned forward. “Y’all left him?”
“We left him with the lady at the store,” Marcus explained. “The ambulance and police was coming. We had to! We had to get the fuck outta there! The ambulance was almost there, plus he was hit bad.”
Marcus twirled his index finger toward his body. “I think he was bleedin’ on the inside, ’cause blood didn’t come out ’til he stood up.”
Darius pounded the air with his fist. “Shit! Are you sure it was Mike Vay?”
Marcus nodded rapidly. “Yeah! I think I shot BK, Pooh-Pooh, and Lacy. I’m not sure, but I think I hit one of them fools in the head, and the other two in the chest.” Marcus pounded his fist into the air. “Fuck, D! They just came outta nowhere.” He held up his hand. It was trembling.
“It’s okay.” Darius extended his hand in a calming motion. “It’s okay, just sit down and take it easy.” He turned and walked to the bathroom door. “Tre, are you all right?”
No answer.
“Tre?” he called out again.
Silence still.
Darius opened the bathroom door, and was hit with a tremendous wave of steam. He fought through it, walked to the shower, and pulled back the curtain. Travon was scrubbing himself with a steel wool pad, in steaming hot water.
“Got to get the blood off,” Travon mumbled. “Got to get the blood off.”
Darius cut the cold water on and turned the hot water down. He removed the steel wool pad from Travon’s hand, causing Travon to acknowledge him.
“Got to get the blood off,” Travon repeated. “Got to get the blood off!”
“Tre! It’s all off!” Darius told him. “Tre, it’s all off!”
Darius tossed the steel pad to the floor and grabbed Travon by his arms. He shook him. “Tre! Tre! It’s over. It’s over! All of the blood is off!”
Travon shook his head. “No, no. I’m still sticky. It, it’s sticky.” Travon broke down into tears. “It’s sticky. The blood is so sticky.”
He raised his hands and stared at them. “They killed Frog. They killed him, Darius. They killed my friend!”
Tears streamed from Travon’s eyes, mixing with the water from the shower. Darius grabbed his cousin and hugged him.
In the bathroom, in the shower, soaking wet they stood, and together, mourned the loss of their friend.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Next Day
Frog’s Mother’s House
Travon parked along the curb across the street. There were several cars parked in the driveway of Frog’s mother’s house, and many more parked in front of the residence. Travon climbed out of his car, crossed the street, and walked up the long pathway leading to the front door. He carried with him a large shopping bag and some flowers.
Yvette, Frog’s oldest sister, answered the front door. Today she wore a white T-shirt, a pair of blue jeans, some pink house shoes, and a scarf tied around her normally well groomed hair. Makeup was completely absent today, and her usually sparkling emerald green eyes were bloodshot and tired.
“Hey, Tre,” she greeted him softly. “C’mon in.”
Travon stepped into the living room and was greeted by several of Frog’s relatives. Sheila, Frog’s other sister, rose from the couch, rushed into Travon’s arms, and burst into tears.
“Oh, Tre!” Sheila cried out through her heavy weeping. “They killed my brother!”
Travon wrapped his arms around Sheila and tears fell from his eyes. “I’m sorry, Sheila,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”
An aunt rose from the couch, grabbed Sheila, and began to comfort her.
“Momma’s in the kitchen, Tre,” Yvette told him. “She’ll be glad to see you.”
Travon nodded and walked through a set of double doors into the kitchen. Mrs. Davis was seated at the breakfast table alone. Travon could tell that she had not slept. She looked up at him and smiled.
Travon lifted his hand and wiped the tears from his face. Mrs. Davis quickly rose from her seat and embraced him.
“C’mon, baby, it’s all right,” she told him. “It’s all right. Freddy is with God now, baby. He’s run his race. He’s okay now, baby. Trust me; he’s in a much better place. Now come on over here and sit down.”
Travon broke down and began crying again. “They killed him, Mrs. D,” he said through his heavy weeping. “They killed him.”
“I know, baby. I know.” Mrs. Davis clasped his hand. “Come on over here and sit down by me.”
They walked to the small Formica breakfast table. Travon took the seat across from hers, and lowered his face into the palms of his hands.
“Tre, I know you were there,” she said softly, as she reached forward and patted his hands. “I know that you and Freddy were together when he got shot. The police say it was a big shootout. Two of the boys y’all were shooting at died. Another is at the hospital in critical condition. Listen to me, Tre. They know that Freddy wasn’t by himself.”
Travon lifted his head and stared at her. His eyes were now bloodshot.
“They don’t know who was with him, but they found shell casings from three different guns by where Freddy was lying,” Mrs. Davis continued. “My point is this, Travon. I helped raise you. You and Freddy were like two peas in a pod, when y’all were growing up. Me, Elmira, and Vera all grew up together, and went to all the same schools when we were younger. You are like my child, Tre.”
Mrs. Davis leaned forward and cleared her throat. “My Freddy is dead. He ain’t never coming back. Two other mothers are crying right now, because they child ain’t never coming back. I ran into them at the hospital last night. Even after I was told that my baby was dead, I stayed there with them. We held hands together, and we all prayed together. Tre, it’s over.”
She shook her head and stared Travon in the eyes. “Our babies are never comin’ home. Now don’t you go out there and get yourself hurt or killed, or hurt somebody else, all in the name of my son. If you want to do anything for Freddy, Tre, you finish school for him.”
Mrs. Davis softly jabbed her finger in Travon’s direction. “You go to college for him, and you help take care of his son, and you make sure that he goes to college. That’s what you can do for Freddy.”
Yvette strolled into the room. “Momma, do you want some more coffee?”
Mrs. Davis shook her head. “Naw, child. I’m caffeined out. Tell Tamara to bring Lil Freddy here.”
“All right.” Yvette nodded and left the room.
Mrs. Davis turned back to Travon. “I’ve shed my tears, Travon. Last night, I shed enough tears for all the rest of the mothers in this city. I’ve paid their bill for them. So now, they shouldn’t have to cry. I don’t want them to cry.” She lifted her thin, worn, wrinkled hand to her face and began to cry. “Nobody! Nobody should have to bury their child!”
Travon rose.
“I have to bury my child,” she whispered softly through her sobbing.
Travon wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry, Mrs. D.”
Mrs. Davis shook her head. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry.” She quickly wiped away her tears. “I shouldn’t be acting like this around you kids.”
“It’s okay, Mrs. D,” Travon told her. “It’s okay.”
Tamara walked into the room holding Little Fr
eddy. Her hair was twisted into long, thin micro braids and tied up in a French roll. Three of the braids hung loosely in the front, with gold balls attached to their tips. Like the others, Tamara was wearing blue jeans, a T-shirt, and some house shoes.
Little Freddy wore tiny blue jean overalls over a white T-shirt with tiny blue and red teddy bears sewn into it. On his feet he wore tiny Michael Jordan tennis shoes, while a red pacifier hung loosely out of his mouth. Travon lifted him from his mother’s arm and held him tightly.
“He looks just like his dad,” Travon declared with a smile.
Mrs. Davis and Tamara smiled.
“Mrs. D, I brought something for you to have, but instead, I’m going to give it to the baby,” Travon told her.
Mrs. Davis leaned back. “Oh?”
Travon handed the baby back to Tamara and grabbed the flowers that he had brought with him. “These are for you,” he told Mrs. Davis, handing her the bouquet.
She smiled. “Thank you, baby. I’ll have Yvette put them in some water for me.”
Travon reached into his bag, pulled out two sympathy cards and handed them to Mrs. Davis.
“Thank you, baby,” Mrs. Davis told him. “Here, give me some suga.”
Travon leaned forward and kissed her on her cheek. He then reached inside of his bag again, and this time produced an old, worn football.
“Remember when you took me, Too-Low, and Freddy to the mall that time, and Freddy cried the whole time about this football? He cried until you turned around and went back to the store and bought it for him. Well, I won it six months later while we was shootin’ marbles. It’s the football we was always playin’ with in the Courts, even up ’til last year. I kept it all this time. It has everybody’s signature on it, even my brother’s. It was Freddy’s football, and now it’s Lil Freddy’s.”
Travon sat the ball on a chair. Mrs. Davis rose and embraced Travon tightly. She began crying again.
Tamara covered the lower half of her face; tears streamed from her eyes as well. Travon and Mrs. Davis stood hugging and crying for several moments, until finally, Mrs. Davis released him and began wiping away her tears. She seated herself again, and pointed toward the ceiling.
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