He held the ace out to her. “Last time it was Windex. He swore that it extended the shelf life of the shit,” he said, trying to talk and hold his breath at the same time.
Maria slapped at his hand as if he held an actual roach. “Ew! Windex? You’re serious? I don’t believe—I can’t believe that shit.”
Tim smiled and grabbed her around the waist. The skinny DJ had just hit them with a slow jam. “You don’t have to believe it. It’s better that way,” he said turning her around to kiss her on the neck.
Maria wriggled free, turned and looked him in the eyes. “Anyway—why you want to bring up ancient history? Forget about it! Come on, dance with me,” she said, pulling him close again. “The last day of school was so long ago. Besides you were being an asshole and you know it!”
“I was being a what?”
She held on to him, ignoring his attempt to pull away. “Insisting on going to the bathroom ten minutes before the whole term was over and shit.”
Tim held her tighter now, their moves became more exaggerated as the music became louder. “True that—I guess. But Jones was trying to dis me. You saw it.”
“Maybe, baby, but you didn’t have to get in his face like that. Did you even see how he looked at you when you went up to his desk?” She had to stop talking to move Tim’s hand that had traveled way too far south. “It’s no wonder he kept you after class. I would’ve paid to be a fly on the wall. So, out with it, brother! What happened after we left you in the room?”
Tim released his grip suddenly—having to grab her again to break her fall. Now he was pissed. Somebody’s cell was ringing. “Why you so worried about it?” he yelled.
Maria was already on her phone. “Hey, Daveed! Yeah…nice!”
Tim turned around.
She grabbed his wrist. “Wait—wait a minute, Tim. I have to take this call. My little sister’s at home alone.”
“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled, happy for her touch.
She put her phone away, he couldn’t figure out where. “I thought you were about to leave me again, Timmy.”
“Nah, girl. Everything cool at home? Come here,” he said, taking her hand.” Another slow one floated through the air. “And don’t call me Timmy!” he said with a silly smile on his face.
“Okay, Teeeiiiim!” she said, pinching his cheek. “Yes, everything is fine at home. How is it with you? I thought maybe you had seen Rene over there!” she said pointing across the room.
Tim jerked around to see. “What? She’s here? Now? Where?”
Maria slapped him across the back of his sweaty neck. “Got you! Nah man, she’s not here. Try and chill, okay?”
They laughed, embraced and—after a while—simply moved to the music without speaking.
In fact, the entire room swayed in silence to the seductive groove. At the mention of Rene, Tim’s thoughts went into a tailspin. But the problem with tailspins is that they are usually preceded by a series of breakdowns and followed by a crash. It occurred to him that breaking up with his girlfriend was just another one of his failures.
Maria spoke very softly. “So, what happened with Jones?”
“Why you wanna know?”
“Just curious, that’s all. Something didn’t seem right when he kept you from leaving that day and…”
“He didn’t keep me from leaving nowhere. I hung back ‘cause he wanted to talk to me,” he said, not breaking their rhythm.
Maria spoke carefully now. “Sooo, that’s it? You guys just talked?”
Tim had had enough of this shit. “What the fuck is this, anyway? You training for the police or something?” he said, pushing her away.
“Oooh, baby, go get yourself something to drink. Uh oh, here comes Maurice—I mean uh—Fidel.”
Tim leaned in close to her ear now. “What? You been talking to Maurice?”
Fidel’s spooky voice cut through the noise. “Yo, Tim! Come on in the back. Spank wants to speak with you about something.”
“Ye-yeah okay. Hey, Maria. I’ll be back in a minute.”
She waved him on in a cutesy manner. “Yeah, yeah…sure, Timmy. Oh, hey, Saraj! Hey, sweetie!”
“Whoa, bro! Take it easy. That table has legs, but it’s not going to get out of your way, no matter how bad you think you are!” Fidel smiled as he spoke. He looked funny.
“There’s so much shit everywhere. You’d think the dude would at least clean up some…” Tim said. As they entered the next room, Fidel’s jacket opened enough to expose a nine-millimeter in the pocket. “Oh shit, Fidel! What you going to do with that?”
He pulled it half way out. “What? This?” he said. The funny smile was back.
“Nah, nah, man, don’t put it away. Let me see.” Tim reached out as if to touch it.
Fidel closed his jacket. “Fuck you! Mind your own business. Spank wants to see you in the back room. That’s all this is about.” He turned and pushed through another door.
Tim followed. “Yo, just don’t be pulling that thing on me!”
Tim could barely see for all the thick smoke in the room. Cigarettes mostly. They had run out of weed a long time ago. The group sat around a card table. Spank gestured towards a chair.
Tim sat down and chuckled. “What’s going on? Some kind of meeting?”
“Not without you, brother Tim. Uh…close that door, Fidel! Okay, fellas, we gotta problem.”
“Tim, you know Fidel and his cousin Chucky.”
Tim returned the cold look Chucky gave him. “Yeah, I kind of already know Chucky,” he said with a faint smile. “So—what’s up, Spank-a-Lank?”
“You got any money?”
Tim leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, like, of course. Uh—no!” he said laughing.
Spank’s hands lay flat on the table. Side to side, they looked like a black bat splayed out in front of him. “Exactly,” he said without smiling.
“Exactly what?”
“We don’t have no money either. But it’s only 10:30 and we’re already outta beer an’ shit!” He turned his hands over as he said this.
“Uh…sorry. I ain’t got no beer on me either!” Tim said, noticing that he was the only one laughing.
Fidel broke in. “You know Rasheed, right?”
“Fr-from the liquor st-store?”
“Yes!” they all said in unison.
“And so?”
Spank slapped the table. “And we figure since he’s a friend of yours, you could get him to front us some beer tonight,” he said, taking a drag on a butt.
“You mean, like, on credit or some shit like that?”
Chucky laughed, his face scar formed a tight S. “Yeah, hee-hee, I like that. On credit. That’s funny.”
The light finally clicked on for Tim. He looked dead at the scrawny dude as he spoke. “I don’t think so. Besides liquor stores close at ten, dawg,” he said and tried to stand up. Fidel pushed him down in his seat and wagged a finger at him as if to say be a good boy.
Spank spoke real business like. “Yes, we know that. But maybe you could convince him? He lives upstairs over the place.”
“Ha! Man, that fool is blind on gin and dead asleep by now. Nothing’s going to wake him up.”
“You say nothin’?”
“Yep, nothing.” Tim relaxed, feeling the matter was closed.
Spank picked up a deck of cards as he spoke. It practically disappeared in his giant hands. “Cool then. What do you say, Fidel?”
“Yeah. It’s cool with me.”
Tim leaned back in his chair. “Wait-wait-wait…what the fuck y’all talking about?”
“Tim, my man! We knew about Rasheed,” Spank said, with a smirk. “We just needed some confirmation from you. We gonna stop by the joint and borrow some of his stock.”
Tim waved his hands. “No-no, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Everyone in the room exchanged looks.
“I’ll tell him, Spank,” Fidel said with a dead serious tone.
“No, I’ll tell him.”
�
��Yo!” Fidel yelled, fixing Spank with his eyes. “I said, I GOT THIS! Tim, we didn’t bring you in to ask for your opinion. So, what you think doesn’t carry much sway here. Understand?”
Tim looked at the bulge in Fidel’s jacket. “Yeah, man. Chill okay? No problem. W-when y’all going?”
“What do you mean y’all, dawg. You goin’ too!” Chucky said, letting his southern accent slip in.
“Is there a problem, Tim?” Spank’s down-to-business tone was back.
Tim looked at Fidel sitting next to him. The creepy dude didn’t return his gaze. Instead he just stared straight ahead at the wall and listened to the conversation. “N-no…Spank-a-Lank. I was just…who’s that coming in?”
A girl from the party pushed into the room. “Uh…Spanky, when you comin’ back out to the party? I mean…”
“CLOSE THE DOOR, BITCH. WHAT DID I TELL YOU LAST TIME!” Spank yelled. “Alright, let’s go! Hurry up! Fidel, you drivin’—right?”
Fidel shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Okay, get a hussle on, Tim,” he said pointing to the door. “Let’s go! Me and Chucky in the back, Fidel, you and Tim in the front seat.”
RINGTONE
They rode in silence, listening to the quiet of the dark streets. Fidel drove under the speed limit and hadn’t turned on the stereo. They’d already seen one police car and didn’t want to attract attention. Suddenly Fidel hit the steering wheel with the butt of his hand. “Aw man…somebody farted. Say something, Spank!”
“That’s your breath, Fidel. How’s that? Just concentrate on not speeding…just like you’re doing. We don’t need no problems tonight.”
“Hey y’all,” Chucky said. “I gots me some fine honeys waitin’ back at the spot. So, we need to make this quick.” He paused for a moment, laughed and then said, “I think Maria is waitin’ on Timmy boy. What say you, big cuz? You feel me?”
“Ah yes! Maria. Ooo la la, Tim,” Fidel said taking his hands off the wheel to do a little dance in his seat.
Tim tried to change the subject. “Fidel, Chucky—y’all cousins? For real? Hey, Spank, is that somebody’s cell ringing?”
Chuck-keeee, Chuck-keee, pick-up swee-teee…
“Oh-oh-oh! Or should I say—ho-ho-ho! Is that Maria? Ha!” Fidel half spoke, half sang. The entire car shook as they bounced in their seats and sang, Chuck-keeee, Chuck-keee, pick-up swee-teee…
Spank snatched off Chucky’s cap and slapped him with it. “Put that motherfucker on silent, yo. Tim! What did you say?” he sounded angry.
The ringtone had freaked Tim out. “Yo, Spank, I-I don’t see what’s so fffff-fuckin’ funny.”
Fidel glanced at Tim out of the corner of his eye. “Ahhh-ha! Shit, Chucky, I can’t believe you got her to record that!” he practically screamed.
“Chucky? What you sayin, dude? Speak up!” Spank said, nudging him in the ribs.
“I-I don’t ssss-see wha-what sss-so ffff-fun-ny.”
Spank couldn’t keep the laugh out of his voice. “Aw, man! That’s cold—makin’ fun of somebody’s defect and shit. That’s not cool.”
Fidel chimed in. “Well, Spank-a-Lank, at least with our boy Tim in the car, we’ll always find us a handicap parking space! Ahhh-haaa.”
“Oh shit, Tim my man! Everybody’s bustin’ on your ass now! Shhhh! We’re here. Slow down, Fido!”
“Fido my ass! I’ll break your face, Spunk!”
Spank shook his head and waved a hand at the back of Fidel’s head, “Aw, man! Could y’all tell Mr. Sensitive I’m just fuckin’ with him?”
Chucky stuck his head out of the window. His voice echoed off the buildings, half of which were abandoned. Only a couple cars were parked. Except for a couple addicts and prostitutes, no one was on the street. “Damn, check it out, the place is all dark, shit. Tim, what’s it like in the back?”
Tim had to crawl out of a deep sulk to answer. “Uh—it’s dark back there too. But you can get in through the bathroom window. It’s really small so it stays unlocked. Uh—you probably could get through it though,” he said, turning around to look at Chucky.
“Why you smilin’ at me, bitch? I gotta go? Spank!” he said, snatching back his cap. Why me? I ain’t…”
“You heard the man—cause you can get through the fuckin’ window. Maybe you should’ve eaten your Wheaties when you were a kid,” he said, opening the door. “Come on, let’s go! Tim, you stay with the car. I’m calling your cell now—answer it. Ok? Now, don’t hang up. Just listen and let us know what’s goin’ on out here on the street or upstairs. Lemme know if you see anybody moving around.”
Tim was still dealing with his sulk. “Ye-yeah…okay.” He got another look at Fidel’s piece as the thug got out of the car. “Yo—yo,” he said. “Be cool with that, that—you know! Chucky, talk to your cousin.”
Chucky’s eyes got wide. “Oh shiiiiit! Fidel, I see you be ready!”
“Shut the fuck up, Chucky! And you, I told you before, Timmy boy, to mind your business and keep your eyes open.”
“Yo, don’t wo-worry about it, da-dawg,” Tim said as coolly as he could.
“It’s not me who will have to worry if things go south,” Fidel threatened. “I’m not going tell you again. Let’s go, y’all.”
Tim watched the trio disappear into the shadows. His thoughts wouldn’t let him rest. How the hell did I get myself into this shit? Sitting here like an ass—asphalt—listening to some fools trying to break into a liquor store…what the fuck can they be talking about?
The windows above the store were still dark. Rasheed was surely dead to the world. The phone had only a couple bars of juice left. Listening to their bullshit, he wondered if they would make it back before his battery went dead.
Shh…be quiet y’all.
Oh—oh shit, man, I think I cut myself.
Shut up, Chucky, keep moving.
Here’s the back door.
We don’t want the door, we looking for a small window to the bathroom. It’s here somewhere, I can smell it. Fidel, where are you?
Ahmmmm-riiiiight-heeeerrrrre beeeeehiiiinnd y’aaalllll!
Shit! Quit fuckin’ around, Fidel.
Yo-yo-yo, here it is! Cool! Ok, Chucky, get over here!
Man, I don’t wanna—
What? Shhh! Psst…Tim. Everything’s cool out there?
Having entered the first stage of a nod, it took Tim a minute to reorient himself. Spank’s voice surprised him. “Yeah-yeah man. Everything’s cool. Y’all sounding like y’all fucking around. Hurry up!”
Just chill and keep your eyes open. Fidel, put that shit away and hold open the window. This ain’t no cops and robbers and shit. Okay cool, now help me with Chucky. Awwwwright. PUSH!
Ahhhhhhhhh! Oh—shit, oh shit!
Sup, Chucky? You alright? I can’t see you.
Ooh, oh yeah, I’m alright. My foot went in the fuckin’ toilet. Splashed shit all over. Shhh…y’all it ain’t funny, yo!
Well, I ain’t sittin’ next to him on the way back.
Shh…Chucky, open the fucking door. Push on it, dawg, it’s not locked.
Tim couldn’t help but wonder if the line had finally gone dead. No one had said anything for a couple minutes. Damn! Sure is quiet in there. Wonder what they doing? Probably drinking. What’s that? A light? Oh shit! THE COPS! Ugh…where the fuck is my phone? Got it! Shit! I gotta get out of here. Oh, who’s that? Ha, just a bum. Ok think, dawg—easy does it, turn-off-the-ceiling light, wait for the dude to walk past, now-open-the-door—slowly—close it. Walk, don’t run, you’re almost to the corner—MADE IT!
Tim jumped at the hissing static noise the phone made just as he rounded the corner. It was Spank talking to him.
He peeked back around the corner once just to confirm to himself what he’d just seen. Fidel’s old black Dodge was sitting next to a hydrant. Damn! Why hadn’t he noticed before? Too late for that shit, he thought.
“Psst…psst…hey y’all—the cops are coming. I see lights. I’m getting outta the
car.” The phone crackled again.
Don’t go anywhere, man. We’re coming now.
Tim had already made it halfway down the block before he responded. “Must have been an alarm or something. Anyway Fidel got the keys. I’m out.”
VISIT WITH DADDY
As they ate, the drip drip from the sink’s faucet annoyed Sheila, but she said nothing about it. The place stank of mold and old farts and the canned beans over rice didn’t help anything. But it was cool. The early August heat had little effect on her dad’s subterranean hovel.
Even though Tim had been very descriptive of their dad’s place, she’d mostly heard the hurt in his voice. Now she understood that it had been more pity than hurt. Here now—pity and its principal sidekick sadness were loafing around her dad’s dungeon like chronically obese demons. And they were hungry. She could feel herself under attack from her first step onto the concrete floor. The low ceiling and dankness squeezed out of her any sense that she would leave with hope for something better.
Maybe she simply wanted to see her dad, talk with him and laugh at his silly jokes. He had a talent for mimicry. She particularly loved the way he could impersonate their uncle Gentrale. At the mention of his brother, Victor would go straight into a routine that they’d come to know well—his take on Gentrale’s penchant for laughing at his own jokes. Her dad was on that same roll right now and she, chewing her beans, struggled to keep her mouth closed.
Sheila was enjoying herself until he picked up the vodka bottle from the floor. From that point forward, each punch line was punctuated with a shot and a snort. His movements became increasingly uninhibited and fluid as if he were alone in the kitchen recounting old memories to himself. Partly out of fascination, she didn’t interrupt him for quite a while. Yes, he was an alcoholic, but curiously she’d never actually seen him drink. Suspecting that she herself was delusional, she told herself that Victor, by hiding it from her, wanted to shield her from the sorry truth.
The jokes became cruder, the cackling louder, the bouts of coughing longer. It seemed to her that he’d stopped seeing her, that her presence had been reduced to another reflective surface like the walls, the fridge or sink. She’d stopped eating as her head came to feel like a tank being filled with, with—bullshit, the only word she could come up with.
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