by RM Johnson
“I don’t even think about it no more,” Rafe said, his head hanging low. “Just try to forget about it, but I don’t want the secret coming back, biting me in the ass.”
“Then just tell her.”
Rafe gave Wade a look suggesting he was crazy.
“Is she a good woman?”
“From the little I know about her, she’s a damn good woman.”
“Then she’ll understand. But wait a little while, and tell her when the time is right. That’s not the type of thing you want to tell her after your second date.”
“Guess you’re right,” Rafe agreed. “What about you? You look like a smooth old pimp. How come they ain’t lined up, bangin’ at your door right now?”
“Ah,” Wade blew, setting his glass down. “I’m just like you. Got my eye on one, trying to close the deal, but seems she’s got other plans. Called her a few times after taking her out once, and she hasn’t called back.”
“So. Call her ass back again,” Rafe said.
“Obviously she’s not interested.”
“Did you pay for the date?”
“Yeah.”
“Dinner, drinks, someplace after that?” Rafe asked.
“Yeah.”
“Then call her back. She owes you another date just because you spent all that money. Ain’t nothin’ free around here,” Rafe said, getting pumped up. He raised his glass to Wade. “She at least owe you a little action after all that. Know what I’m sayin’!”
“Yeah. Hell yeah!” Wade said, getting equally excited, raising his glass to Rafe’s.
“Us men got to stick together and watch out for each other. Right?”
“That’s right!” Wade barked enthusiastically.
“Then let’s drink to that.”
“All right!” Wade said, and they both tossed back their drinks. They finished at the same time, and slammed their glasses onto the table in unison, making one loud clop as both hit. They smiled at each other in silence for a moment, then Rafe said, “It was good meeting you, Wade. And by the way, people call me Rafe.” He extended his hand to Wade. Wade took it, and gave it a hearty shake.
“Okay, Rafe.”
Rafe stood, turned to leave, but stopped and said, “Now call that woman, and get what’s coming to you.”
WADE was happy that he had met Rafe, glad that he had taken his advice, because two hours later, he had Livvy in the passenger seat of his car. They were heading north to get ice cream at Ben & Jerry’s and then take a walk around the Lincoln Park Zoo.
When he called, Livvy picked up the phone, and after hearing her sweet voice, Wade was paralyzed. He wanted to talk to her, but felt he should hang up for fear he was pestering the woman.
“Hello,” she said, for the second time.
“Hello,” he finally answered.
“Is this Wade?” she asked, and that made him feel a little better, knowing that she at least remembered his voice and his name.
“It is,” he said.
“I’m sorry I haven’t called you back,” she said, “but I’ve been so busy with …” and he didn’t know if he should believe whatever she was about to say or not. But when she was finished giving her explanation and suggested that they do something, he rushed right over to get her.
At Ben & Jerry’s, Wade bought Livvy a double scoop of pralines and cream and chocolate fudge brownie, and himself two scoops of strawberry.
As they walked across the street toward the zoo, Livvy said, “So I’m doing what you told me.”
“What’s that?” Wade said, licking his ice cream.
“I’m making plans to go to nursing school, whether I win the scholarship or not,” Livvy said, smiling.
“That’s great, Livvy. That’s terrific!”
They walked around some more and ended up on Wade’s blanket again, stretched out in front of the pond on the farm section of the zoo, watching as chickens and roosters poked and pecked about on the grass in front of them.
Wade’s head was in Livvy’s lap and she was running her fingers through his hair as she gazed off into the sky.
“Easy there. Old man’s already receding. You don’t want to pull out all my hair and have me walk around bald do you?”
“Stop it,” Livvy said, tapping him on his forehead. “You aren’t receding. And just how old are you?”
“I don’t want to say.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want the cops coming to arrest me for child molestation.”
“Oh, so I’m a child now,” Livvy said, laughing. “Just tell me, old man.”
“I’m forty-eight,” Wade said, expecting her to lift his head out of her lap and break for the gate, hurdling a couple of pigs and a cow in her hurry to get out of there.
“So. You’re fifteen years older than me. So what?” Livvy said, not blinking an eye. “We’re both adults. And besides, I like older men. They’ve accomplished things. They’re successful,” she said, caressing the side of his face. “That’s why I’m trying to better myself, make more money, so I can bring something to the table. I want a man who makes some nice money, so why shouldn’t I too? You know?” Livvy looked down into Wade’s eyes.
Wade nodded, gazing up into Livvy’s beautiful face.
“So don’t worry about the age thing. It took you those years to become the success you are. Owning a car dealership doesn’t happen overnight,” Livvy said, smiling even brighter down into Wade’s face.
“Yeah, guess you’re right,” Wade said, feeling uncomfortable. He had told her that lie on their first date because he guessed that’s what she wanted to hear, what all women wanted to hear. She kept commenting on the beautiful car he had, how nicely he dressed, and how high a position she assumed he had at work. What else was he supposed to tell her?
“So you never told me what kind of cars you sell. Lincolns, right?” Livvy asked now.
“Yeah, those and some others, but I don’t want to talk about business now. You said you have daughters?” Wade said, changing the subject. “What are their names?”
Livvy smiled, thinking about her girls. “The oldest is named Hennesey.”
“Hold it,” Wade said, sitting up. “Hennesey?”
“Yeah.”
“And don’t tell me that you have twins, and the other one’s name is Alizé?”
“Yeah, how did you know that?” Livvy said, looking at him suspiciously.
Wade laughed. “I just met a fella by the name of Rafe today. You know him?”
“No. Why?”
Wade thought for a moment, then said, “It’s not important. He’s a good kid, and hopefully, if things work out, one day you’ll meet him.”
“And that’s it?”
“It’s really not important,” Wade said, letting his head fall back into Livvy’s lap. “How about instead we talk about how beautiful you are to me?”
“Oh, all right,” Livvy said, feigning disappointment. “If we have to,” and she bent down and gave Wade a kiss on his lips.
TWENTY-ONE
THE NEXT morning, Rafe didn’t lie in bed, dreading the fact he had to go to work. It was something he had to do, at least for right now, until he found a way to get himself out of there.
When he got to work, he went about the routine of getting dressed and only saying a few words to the guys. He didn’t want them trying to pry into his business.
Rafe didn’t know if Smoke was there today or not and didn’t really care. He would do his job, the job he was so lucky to have, as Dotson told him, collect his check, and be out. He’d treat Smoke like he did all the other people who worked there. He would pretend nothing had happened between them over the last couple of days, pretend they had no history at all, because something deep inside his gut, he didn’t know exactly what, was telling him it was best that way.
Late that morning, Smoke appeared behind Rafe. “C’mon, let’s take a ride.”
“Don’t want to. Got work to do,” Rafe said, turning the bolt on the exhau
st of a vintage Jaguar raised up above him.
“Don’t have no choice.”
“Or else what?” Rafe said.
“There is no ‘or else.’ You my boy, but I’m still your boss, and I’ll tell you when you have work and when you don’t. Now, c’mon,” and Smoke turned to walk out the service area.
Rafe tossed the wrench toward the tool box, picked up a rag to wipe his hands with, and followed Smoke.
SMOKE had them in a different car now—a Mercedes S500. It was gold, with smoked-out windows. Smoke’s window was cracked so he could look out the top of it as he slowly cruised down the street. He rolled them through their old neighborhood, past the spots they used to sell at before Rafe got sent up.
As they continued to drive, looking at the old run-down buildings, the familiar stores that had long ago been boarded up, Smoke would say, “Remember that?” Or “Remember this?” Or “Remember over there where you beat that kid down, because he was talkin’ about your mama?” Images of those times found their way into Rafe’s head, and though he tried his hardest to fight them, push them away, they played out anyway.
Smoke drove by all the places he and Rafe used to visit as kids. The places they used to ride their bikes to when they were in grade school, Smoke balancing Rafe on his handle bars the time Rafe’s bike was broken. Half the time, the bike would swerve this way and that, and ultimately, Rafe would always get dumped off onto the sidewalk or grass. But he never minded, because Smoke always tried his hardest to keep the bike straight.
Rafe wanted to crack a smile, even laugh, as he saw the faded image of the two boys on their bikes, racing down the street, both their front teeth missing, as they smiled wide, the wind whipping them in their faces, but he fought against it.
Smoke slowed the car some, powering his window down so Rafe could see out of it, at the rundown house across the street.
“Whose house is that, Rafe?” Smoke said, a smile spreading across his lips.
Rafe didn’t turn around.
“C’mon, man. Just look at it.”
Rafe turned to see the house. He knew who it used to belong to, knew the significance it held for both of them, but he didn’t speak a word of that.
“Whose house?” Smoke asked again.
Silence.
“It’s Tanya Jackson’s house,” Smoke answered for him. “The girl wit’ the big-ass tits and fat ass that was fuckin’ everybody. ’Member her, Rafe? She took us down in her basement, did us both on that nasty-ass mattress layin’ on the floor. We was both virgins. Didn’t know what the fuck to do. Both of us nutted in less than thirty seconds combined.” Smoke laughed so hard he had to hold his stomach against the pain. Even Rafe could no longer hold his smile. “And then her ole man came down the stairs and we took off running wit’ our pants around our ankles ’cause your ass was moaning so loud.”
“That wasn’t me moanin’, that was … ,” Rafe said, enthusiastically chiming in, then caught himself, remembering that that was all in the past, that times had changed.
Smoke looked at Rafe, the wide smile still hanging on his face, as if waiting for Rafe to continue so they could keep on joking and reminiscing. Rafe just sat quietly, Smoke’s smile slowly disappearing from his face.
“Fuck is your problem, Rafe?” Smoke wondered, turning to him.
“Don’t know what you mean,” Rafe said, his face turned toward his window—not looking out, just trying to avoid Smoke.
“You actin’ like you don’t want to be brothers no more. Actin’ like you don’t want to work for me. That’s what I mean.”
“It ain’t that I don’t want to work for you anymore. I can’t. I’m tryin’ to keep my ass out of prison, and you want me to hang around you. You the nigga that got me there in the first place. The one that got me started sellin’ drugs. How can it be good, me hangin’ wit’ you again, working for you again?”
“Because I’m paid as hell,” Smoke said, cutting off the car, turning in his seat to face Rafe. “And the beauty of it is, the shit’s all legal, baby.”
Rafe gave Smoke a scrutinizing look, staring deep into his black eyes. “Is it really, Smoke?”
“What the fuck you talkin’ about?” Smoke sounded as though he was hurt by Rafe’s accusation.
“You know what I’m talkin’ about. Is it really legal, or is this just some front for your real business?”
“I’m clean, man,” Smoke said with a straight face. “I gave all that up. You was my boy, my brother. And the day the cops dragged you out of that courtroom, man, I lost a part of myself. I told myself then that if those drugs could do something so terrible as take my brother away, then I ain’t want nothing to do with them anymore.”
Rafe looked over at Smoke, still not knowing what to think, what to believe.
“Ain’t you got nothing to say?” Smoke said.
“Naw, nothin’,” Rafe said, looking away.
“You know you actin’ like a little bitch.”
“Then I’ll be that.”
—Fine. Fine then, Rafe,” Smoke said, throwing up his hands. “Be that then, but all this nonsense is making me hungry. We gettin’ something to eat.”
Smoke drove them a block off Roosevelt Street, near the South Loop. He stopped the car at a little Polish sausage stand where they once used to eat. Smoke jumped out the car. “Get out. We eatin’.”
“Ain’t hungry.”
“Get out anyway. I want the company.”
Rafe got out, walked up to the stand they used to ride their bikes to to buy sausages and cans of pop, which they would eat as they rode back home. Rafe remembered loving those sausages. They were so good, with all those grilled onions and peppers, and they smelled even more delicious now. There was a huge grill in plain sight, and at least a dozen of the dogs sizzled there, covered with onions and peppers.
“Two of those for me, extra onions,” Smoke told the man in the paper hat and white apron. “Two for him and two cans of grape pop.”
“I told you I ain’t hungry,” Rafe protested, but his stomach said something entirely different. It moaned loudly, reacting to the scent he was breathing in.
“Oh, you ain’t hungry, huh? You don’t have to eat ’em, but I’m buying ’em anyway.”
They sat at a wooden table. Smoke was devouring his first dog, ketchup and mustard all over the sides of his mouth. He had opened the foil packages of the other two dogs and set them in front of Rafe.
“I know you said you ain’t hungry, but I’m gonna just open these and set them there, so you won’t have to go through the trouble, just in case you change your mind. All right?”
Rafe didn’t say anything.
“These is damn good, man. I’m tellin’ you, you don’t know what you missing.”
But Rafe did, and he could smell them, almost taste them, and he was so hungry that he could’ve damn near eaten the foil the dogs were wrapped in along with the dogs themselves. He couldn’t fight the urge any longer. He quickly picked one up, took a huge bite out of it, then set it back down.
Smoke laughed, his mouth still full. “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout.”
They drove around some more, Smoke taking them who knew where, but Rafe felt a lot better now that he had something in his stomach. He sat there in the passenger seat, rubbing a hand over his belly, still tasting the sausages.
Smoke caught sight of this. “They was good, weren’t they?”
“They were all right,” Rafe said, coolly.
“Aw man, they were the shit. You know it,” Smoke said, giving Rafe a hard nudge with his shoulder. “You wouldn’t be rubbin’ your stomach, suckin’ your teeth, tryin’ to still taste them if they weren’t.”
Rafe smiled and conceded. “All right. Yeah, they were good as hell. Almost forgot how good.”
“I know, I know,” Smoke said, bobbing his head.
When they stopped again, Harriet Tubman Elementary School was sitting in Smoke’s front windshield.
“Damn, man,” Rafe
said, the sight taking him back, as he stepped out of the car.
“Memories like a motherfucker, hunh,” Smoke said, getting out as well.
This was where they met. It was the beginning of sixth grade, and Rafe was new. Now they walked across the small lot the school sat on and ended up behind the building, both staring at one particular area of its brick surface.
“Remember this?” Smoke asked, and there was no way Rafe could forget it. It was after school his second day there, and five boys had him backed up against a wall, a floor tile cutter to his eye. They wanted his brand-new Nike gym shoes and the knock-off Members Only jacket his parents couldn’t afford but bought him anyway.
“I thought I was gonna die that day, or at least be blinded for the rest of my life, until you showed up.”
“Yeah, I saw what was going on and rushed over here,” Smoke remembered. He had noticed the new kid only once, but Smoke himself had been the new kid only a year ago and understood what it was like, how the other boys had been plotting to get him all day. Smoke was smaller than those kids, but even in sixth grade, he had a reputation for being a crazy little nigga. He spent more time in detention than in class. People weren’t necessarily scared of him, just uncertain, and Smoke knew that a little uncertainty could carry him a long way.
“I been lookin’ all over for you, man,” the young Smoke had said, walking coolly through the crowd of boys, casually pushing aside the hand of the boy who held the cutter to Rafe’s eye. He threw his arm around Rafe and walked him away from there, as if none of the other boys even existed. He stopped for a moment, looked over his shoulder at the boys, and gave them a menacing look. Smoke saw something in each of those boys weaken just a little. He smiled to himself and continued walking off with Rafe.
“You saved my ass that day,” Rafe said. “I’ll never forget that.”
“Is that why you saved mine the day we got popped?” Smoke asked.
“Maybe. I don’t really know,” Rafe said, being honest.
They walked over to the play lot. Smoke stepped away from Rafe, his head down, looking for something on the ground. Rafe just stood there watching him. Smoke looked as if as he had dropped a contact.