by Leo Sullivan
Sasha shook her head at them. She knew no matter what, they were all die-hard best friends, and as much as she hated to admit it, she envied their close friendship. She wanted Freddy all to herself, and it just seemed like when his friends came around, he changed. Hell, sometimes he’d rather spend time with them than with her. Plus, she felt they were to blame for most of his shortcomings. Freddy had not been to school since the sixth grade, while his two friends were about to graduate high school. Dee had even won a scholarship. Now as she looked at all three of them, she realized that their loyalty may have been what saved Freddy’s life from the vicious attack by J.J. and Dirty Red.
Dee looked at Mykle and then pointedly at Freddy’s emaciated condition. His cheekbones were thin and something just didn’t look right with his eyes. “Damn! Man, you look bad,” Mykle said in sympathy as he stood gesturing for Freddy to lie down. Dee stepped to the side, accidentally knocking over the Mad Dog. The red wine spilled, staining the expensive carpeting.
Sasha quickly reached down, picking it up. “Negroes!” she hissed, looking around for something to clean it up with. “Where is the kitchen?” she asked with an attitude.
Mykle pointed, and Dee turned to watch her walk away. Freddy winced in pain as he eased himself down onto the couch, his friends sitting back down on each side of him. “I have something, man, I think you might wanna see.” Mykle reached his hand under the couch and removed a package from a hole he had cut in the couch’s lining. He handed Freddy a large yellow envelope. Freddy recognized it instantly as the one he had stolen from the safe in that pervert’s mansion. Mykle removed the contents.
“Man, those are some sick ass pictures,” Dee said.
“Naw, I ain’t talkin’ about the pictures. I’m talking about this…” His finger rested on some kind of Deed of Ownership. They all knew that Freddy couldn’t read too well, but he was able to recognize the names on the papers. “Runny Thugstin” was scribbled on the frayed and yellowed paper. “It’s a land deed for the Williams’ plantation estate, eighty acres of land. Your father’s signature is third from the top.
Freddy looked at the paper, and his father’s name was on it, plus Willie Thugstin and Otis Thugstin. Freddy pondered, shaking his head. It just couldn’t be… Out of five-billion people on the planet, he just happened to rob the one person who had paperwork with his family’s name on it. Right now, he didn’t know if that was a good or bad omen. Willie Thugstin was his granddaddy and Otis Thugstin must have been his great granddaddy, but he wasn’t sure. The names sounded familiar and his senses were tingling, the names jumping out at him like voices at a séance.
Mykle, sensing his distress, dug in his pocket and removed a large wad of cash. “Here… It’s five grand, half of what you gave me.” Freddy didn’t hear him as he still stared at the paper, his mind distant, eyes glassy, far away in some other place.
“Fred? Fred! Freddy, man, come back to earth!”
Freddy snapped out of his daze. “Yeah? What up man?” he asked. Mykle handed him the money, and he shoved it in his pocket. “Man, it’s so much shit goin’ down… Dirty Red getting’ killed… the police on our asses, and now these papers. I just don’t have a clue,” he said pensively, feeling a headache coming on.
“Well, I’ma tell y’all now. I didn’t shoot that nigga,” Dee said as he reached for the bottle of wine, taking a swig and passing it to Freddy.
Mykle fired up the joint, inhaling the potent herb deeply. Freddy primed his lips to take a swig of the sweet wine just as Sasha reentered the room. “Freddy!” The bottle froze in mid-air, inches from his lips. He turned to see Sasha stalking towards him. She snatched the bottle from his hand and flashed a killing look at Mykle and Dee. In her hand she held cleaning utensils and the smallest vacuum Freddy had ever seen.
“Y’all tryin’ to kill him! Look at him,” Sasha shrieked. A billow of reefer smoke curled around her face, and she fanned it away with her hand.
Freddy smiled weakly up at her. “Girl, wine is good for the soul. That’s why Jesus drank wine with his boys.”
“Freddy, Jesus didn’t drink no damn Mad Dog.” Freddy went into a coughing fit. “And put that damn weed out, it stinks,” she instructed Mykle.
There was a knock at the door. Freddy tried to suppress his coughing, placing a finger over his lips for silence. They waited, wondering who could be at the door. The knocking came again. Freddy pointed at Sasha, then at the window.
She walked over a peeked furtively out the curtains, expecting to see police cars. The only vehicle she saw was a lawn maintenance truck. Hesitantly, she turned and walked straight to the door. They all watched aghast as she looked through the peephole and then unbolted the door locks. They just sat there, exchanging glances as if t say, the only thing that one could expect from Sasha was the unexpected.
She opened the door and there stood a hunched over old woman barely five feet tall. The old woman glanced inside the apartment as she spoke, weaving and bobbing her head, trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on. She sniffed at the air. Her disdain for Sasha was written all over her face. “My name is Ms. Crabapple. I’m the President of the homeowner’s association of this building. Your car is improperly parked in front of your carport, so you will be receiving a written reprimand and a fine.” She waved a paper in front of Sasha’s face. The bold acronym read, “C.O.A.P.,” Condominium Owner’s Association Policy. “It is my duty,” the old woman continued, “to inform you that your car has been parked in violation of Code Section number eight.” She then began to read aloud from the manual.
Sasha had just about had enough of the garrulous old woman and was about to tell her that she didn’t know whose vehicle was illegally parked. “… so, Miss Fox, I suggest you move your car now.” The old woman turned up her nose and added, “A tow truck is already on its way.” With that said, she shoved the papers into Sasha’s face at the same time she tried boldly to stick her head into the apartment.
Sasha stepped out, closing the door behind her. “I hear a lot of noise coming from inside ther… and what’s that awful smell? Oh, and before I forget, it’s been two whole months since you’ve paid your monthly twenty-eight dollar maintenance fee. The association will probably have you evicted for that.” Sasha opened her mouth to speak, but the old woman walked away, leaving her standing there.
Sasha went back inside, holding the papers at her side. As she shut the door, Freddy asked, “Who was that?”
“Some old hag. She thinks I’m Ms. Fox. She’s about to have her car towed away and have her evicted too. I kinda get the impression she ain’t too keen on havin’ black folks livin’ in the same building with her. Ms. Fox owes her twenty-eight dollars and the old woman has her panties all in a bunch. Plus, Ms. Fox’s car is supposed to be illegally parked in front of the carport.”
Freddy limped over to the window. Only one car was parked outside of the carport; a candy-apple-red Mercedes Benz convertible gleaming in the sun. What Freddy couldn’t understand was there were other cars parked askew on the streets, yet no one was raising hell about them. “That’s Marilyn’s car all right,” Freddy said as Sasha walked up behind him. She read the license plate; “MS FOX.” Freddy moaned softly as he grabbed hold of the window ledge. “Sasha, we need to move that car!”
“I saw a ring of keys on the kitchen cabinet while I was looking for something to clean up the mess they made.” She went to investigate. Freddy Sat back on the couch, unbuttoned his shirt, and painfully began to remove the soiled gauze. Sasha returned, playfully jingling the keys until she saw the death-defying scar curved into his chest. It jagged all the way to his pubic area, an ugly pinkish-black wound, evidence of the macabre tool of a surgeon’s knife. Flushed by the gory sight, the keys fell to the floor as Sasha threw her hands over her mouth. “Lawd-haf-merch!”
He just lay there, all stitched up and battered. It was evident that he had barely escaped death, if he had at all, judging from the grim look on his face. Both Mykle and Dee scoo
ted away from him on the couch. They all stared with horrid fascination at the scar.
In a raspy, phlegm-congested voice, Freddy spoke softly. Sensing the affect that the scar was having on them, he seized the moment as always. “Sasha, since that old bag thinks you’re my aunt, you’re going to play the part, at least until we leave here in a couple weeks or so.” Sasha nodded her head as she stared at the scar, wringing her hands together tremulously. She then turned and fled the room.
Mykle peered down at him. “Nigga, you done fucked up! You shoulda stayed your ass at the hospital.
“He’s right, man,” Dee intoned. “I don’t think it was such a good idea to have left. And what’s up with her!” he said, referring to Sasha. “That girl fine as hell with that big ole ass, but she be actin’ retarded. Besides, all this is her fault anyway.” He shook his head, getting emotional. “Man, if you wasn’t runnin’ up behind her tryin’ to get a piece of ass, none of this woulda happen,” he said, pointing at the scar.
Just then, Sasha entered with a towel and a pan of soapy water. “Y’all need to stand back! She ordered, sensing they had been talking about her because the room was too damn quiet. She got down on her knees between Freddy’s legs and dabbed the moist towel on the viscid mucus that oozed from his wound. He winced as she wiped. She then began to talk to the scar. “I’ma heal you, you ugly thing, I’m gonna make you better. You’ll see.” Afterwards, she kissed his nipple.
When she stood, she noticed that Dee was still staring at her, and for some reason, it irked the hell out of her. It was like he had something he needed to get off his chest. She was about to give him a piece of her less-than-delicate mind when Freddy looked up at her with those big, brown eyes, telling her to go move the car. She looked at all three of them, wanting to make a statement. Mischievously, she pushed a lock of hair away from her eyes, and strutted to the door. On her way out, she turned and tossed them a look that said she was up to something. “I’m gonna move the car.”
As soon as the door closed, they rushed to the window. Freddy tried to get up, but he was powerless to move. Whatever Sasha had done to him with her hands, he felt too relaxed to move.
Mykle and Dee watched her exit the building and walk pompously up to the automobile, as if this was her every day routine as the owner of the expensive car. As soon as she got in, the top slithered down, the candy-apple-red gloss shimmer-ing in the sun. The brand new convertible was an eye-catcher.
“What she doin’… what she doin’,” Freddy asked anxiously from the couch.
“She getting’ in the car… letting’ the top down,” Mykle said, giving Freddy details of her movements. “She’s backin’ out the carport into the street.
“What?” Freddy asked.
They watched as Sasha reached inside the glove compartment taking out a pair of sunglasses and a scarf. She wrapped the scarf around her neck and put on the shades, her impression of a Hollywood star. She checked herself in the mirror, and satisfied, she waived at the window as if the cameras were rolling. Then she sped off, burning rubber, laughing at their grim faces.
“What she doin’? What is she doin’ now?” Freddy asked.
Agrravated, they both turned from the window, neither one wanting to tell him what she had just done. “Man, I told you that damn girl ain’t nothin’ but bad news. Now she done haul ass with the car.”
Freddy cursed, “Shiiit! Sashaaa!”
“What are we gonna do now?” Mykle asked, rolling up another joint.
“She’ll be back,” Freddy answered.
“Yeah, but this is Ford City… these white folks might scalp her big head ass.” Mykle blew out a cloud of smoke jovially.
Freddy yawned, the room got quiet. He reached back under the couch removing then envelope, looking at the deed once more.
“You think it’s something to do with your family?” Dee asked sincerely.
“Man, I just don’t know, but judging by my life and my strange fate on this earth… Hell, I’ve died twice and was saved both times by the same doctor. Maybe there is such a thing as God and he really does have a purpose for our lives. We need to find someone to take a look at these papers, someone we can trust…”
“Man! That Fox broad is fiiine,” Dee exclaimed while admiring one of her photos on the mantelpiece.
“How did y’all get here?” Freddy asked, ignoring Dee.
“We was hidin’ out at the abandon Army base on Fifth and Drexel when a limousine pulled up and Ms. Fox gets out. Them cats, Stone and them were gettin’ ready to touch her on the robbery tip. She just walked right up to the door like she was some plain Jane. Luckily, mosta the fellas recognized her from bein’ with you and them tired ass commercials she be doin’. At first, we thought she come to tell us you died or something. We left with her, and niggaz was lookin’ at us crazy as we stepped off in that limo. That shit was cool! She asked us if we needed anything, so we stopped off at that Arab liquor store under the Shell station on Fifty-First Street and she went in and got everything we asked for, including rolling papers.” Mykle took a long drag on the joint, offering it to Freddy, but he refused. “She told us you was comin’, but man… I had no idea you was messed up like that.” Mykle’s words trailed off as he somberly shook his head, looking away from Freddy.
“Fred, man, you got two beautiful chicks, “ Dee said while holding a picture of Marilyn upside down, trying to get a better look at her cleavage.
Freddy’s mind was still riddling at the latest puzzle he confronted, that paper with his family’s name on it. “Listen,” he said, his eyes distant, “right before I ran into them cats, J.J. and God-bless-that-dead Dirty Red, I swear there was this white dude following me and Sasha. I’m sure of it. He was parked outside your Mom’s apartment that morning that I left.”
“Fred, someone was bound to come looking for that missing jewelry and all that loot,” Mykle said.
“Yeah, but they’ll never find it. I can’t help but wonder whether this could all be tied together…”
“Hell naw, son, you’re paranoid,” Dee shot back.
“It’s just too much heat, especially with that cop Fermen goin’ out his way to nail me. It’s almost like it’s personal with him.” Freddy began to trace the outline of the scar with a delicate finger in contemplation. “Somehow, we got to get to the bottom of this. Ain’t no sense runnin’ from something that we ain’t done. It only makes us look more guilty. I’m the one with a record. Dee, you‘re almost about to go off to college with a scholarship for track and basketball.” Dee looked up with a bucktooth smile. Freddy turned to Mykle. “And you too, this is your last year of high school, ain’t no sense y’all jeopardizing y’all life over me.” Freddy turned his attention back to Dee who was still drooling over pictures of Marilyn Fox. “Did you shoot Dirty Red?”
“I shot up in the air three times… Man, I swear!”
“He ain’t lyin’,” Mykle interjected. “I was right there with him.”
Freddy closed his eyes. He had an idea, a long shot, but at least it was a start. Freddy’s next words caught them completely off-guard. “Y’all gonna have to turn yourselves in and just tell the cops what happened.”
“Hell naw, man, you crazy?” Mykle said, walking up to Freddy. Dee returned the photo to the mantel and turned to study Freddy, trying to read his expression.
“Look, man, Marilyn will get y’all out. She already told me she’d get the best attorneys money can buy—“
“I don’t care if she gets Perry Mason… I ain’t goin’ to the House of Corrections wth all them Disciples and Vice Lords gangbangin’ niggaz,” Dee said.
Freddy erupted in anger, slamming his fist down on the couch. “Y’all are innocent! I’m not gonna mess y’all’s lives up ‘cuz I had a beef with them two fools and y’all tried to help me. Dee, all you been talkin’ about is goin’ to college to be a gynecologist.” Dee couldn’t help but smile that crooked tooth grin of his, and Mykle cracked up. Dee was the only one of the three that had nev
er been with a girl. Women found him unattractive and, in school, often told him so bluntly. By studying gynecology, he reasoned, it would give him an up close perspective on a woman’s anatomy and aid him in getting around the obstacle of not being able to approach attractive women.
After carefully weighing all the options, Mykle decided to concede the validity of Freddy’s reasoning. “Yeah, Dee, he’s right. We ain’t done nothin’ wrong.”
“Well, maybe you ain’t done nothin’, but I ran away from a murder scene and dropped a gun,” Dee said with a serious expression on his long face.
“That really ain’t that much of a big deal. In fact, that should help us. By now, the police have run ballistics on that gun and it should show that wasn’t the weapon that killed Dirty Red, especially if what you’re sayin’ is true, about only firin’ the gun in the air. Trust me… as much as I stay in trouble with the law, possession of a gun ain’t nothin’ as long as you’re not a convicted felon. Besides, all they’re really after is me.” The hum of silence resonated in the room. “Tomorrow I’m gonna have to leave again.” They looked at him like he was crazy.
“Man, you can hardly breathe, much less travel to wherever it is you always disappear to. Freddy, damn, man, it’s time to stop playin’ games with your life—“ Mykle was saying before Freddy cut him off, his frail body raised off the couch.
“Oh, you think my life is a game? Man, this is all about dedication. While you niggaz was layin’ up in the warmth of y’alls mamma’s houses, I wsa struggling to stay true to my blood, not because of a game, but because I had to. For me, it’s death before dishonor, and don’t ever forget that!”
“Take us with you?” Dee asked tentatively.
“No, but not because I want to leave y’all out. If I thought it would help me conquer the demons that are causing me so much hell, you two would be right there with me to help. I’m just gonna game Sasha like I always do, and take Marilyn’s car…”
“You can’t drive that expensive ass car without the police pullin’ you over,” Mykle said.