Dough Boys
Page 9
Rollie cut her off. “All right, Ma, we gotta go.” He pecked her on the cheek. “See you after practice.”
He nudged Simp toward the door. Had that been G-ma, she would have laid him out for interrupting her. He thanked Him that it hadn’t been. But he didn’t want his mother talking about the Rowdy Boys band. It wasn’t that he was keeping it from Simp. Not really. But the closer auditions came, the less he wanted to talk about it with him. He was nervous enough and couldn’t take it if Simp teased him. Or worse, doubted him.
He’d told Mila. But that was different.
And, he’d almost told Chris. In the end, he knew there wouldn’t have been any explaining that. So, he hadn’t. He couldn’t do Simp like that. And since almost didn’t count, he was good.
Except, guilt nagged at him. He promised himself if Simp asked about it, right now, he’d fess up.
Only if he asked, though.
Their footsteps filled the silence until Simp blew his breath toward the sky. A puff of white drifted above their heads. “Mannn . . . we held it down at the J. Martins.”
“No doubt,” Rollie said. A warm trill ran down his back at the memory of Saturday’s game.
Simp grinned at him. “Can’t nobody stop us when we out there together. For real.”
Rollie nodded, happy to let him go on.
“Ay, if I’m hard on you in practice or whatever, know I ain’t tripping. All right?” He checked Rollie from the corner of his eye. “But you know Coach expect me handle mine. And that mean doing whatever to get us ready for the ’Peake. Know what I’m saying?”
“I ain’t tripping off your little drills,” Rollie said in mock irritation.
Simp burst out laughing. “Oh, you got jokes? Why my drills got be little?”
He stopped walking and they gripped. It felt like he held on a second longer than usual before he let go and busted back on Rollie.
“I bet your punk tail won’t say that if I make you run grizzlies today.”
Everybody hated grizzlies—six laps around the gym, three in a dead sprint and then three running backward. They were worse than sprint drills.
“Ohhh, that’s just wrong,” Rollie said.
The dissing went back and forth, growing louder as they neared the rec center.
Rollie couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this hopeful. Maybe if he just let it happen, everything would be all right.
Simp
February wind wasn’t no joke. It took his breath away as he stepped off the bus. The sixth and seventh graders beat feet around him, sprinting the one hundred yards to the nearest set of rows. He forced himself to slow down. It was cold, but he wasn’t trying to look like some sucker running from the wind. Besides, he lived in fifth court. Nobody was running that much. He pulled the strings of his hood just as it was yanked off his head. Cappy rolled past him, laughing.
“You a punk, yo,” Simp yelled after him.
“He really is,” Tai said from beside him.
“He be acting like he in kindeegarden, sometimes,” Simp muttered, tightening the hood to defeat the wind pushing at his back.
Tai laughed. “It’s kin-der-gar-ten, Simp. Not kin-dee-gar-den.”
He teased back. “When you get all proper? Bean giving you lessons or something?”
He waited for a typical Tai clap back—hands on hip, rolled eyes, sharp tongue. She surprised him by laughing. “I ain’t hardly proper. But you sound crazy saying it wrong.”
Simp slowed his pace, ignoring the cold stabbing at his face.
He wasn’t sure what to say next without the squad around to fill the silence. Tai didn’t have the same problem.
“You played real good at the J. Martins.” She adjusted the muffs on her ears and picked up her pace. “I was hoping y’all would shut ’em down, too. Marcus big mouth wasn’t running then.”
The venom in her voice surprised him. She snorted at his side-eye. “I can’t stand Marcus. He was out there saying some real foul mess about my father. And I don’t need my name or my father’s coming out his mouth.”
Facts, Tai and her father didn’t get along. Simp had seen them get into it before. She hadn’t looked one bit of afraid of him, either, going in on him like he was just some basic dude from off the streets and not her pops.
Another fact, Bryant, Tai’s father, was a regular customer of Tez’s crew. Simp had seen him drugged out plenty of times, walking the streets in his lazy swag like he hadn’t slept for days. He guessed that’s why Tai ain’t have no love for him.
Either way, wasn’t none of his business.
“Marcus always out there starting stuff,” he said, plunging his hands into his pockets. He stayed talking like it was a warm June day as they arrived to Tai’s front stoop. “You know he out there saying Rollie leaving the ’Rauders?”
Tai’s mouth scrunched. “It figures. He gossip like a girl.”
Simp laughed. “True shizz. True shizz.”
Tai pushed him in the chest, gently. “Wait. I can say that ’cause I’m a girl. You can’t.”
He put his hands up in surrender. “Just agreeing with you.”
“Rollie ain’t going nowhere,” she said, folding her arms. “We talk all the time and he ain’t never say nothing about not balling no more.”
She seemed so certain it made Simp jealous. He wished he could hit Tai up like that and talk about . . . whatever her and Rollie talked about so much. It also made him mad. Right after the J. Martins, Rollie was at every practice the next week. But now he was right back to rolling in late and had missed another Wednesday practice.
Simp had made him run extra sprint drills. If he hadn’t, it would have looked like he was playing favorites.
How was Rollie too busy to make every practice but had time to hit Tai up?
Just then he remembered how Rollie’s moms said something about him having auditions. How was he gonna be doing all that?
The answer was, he wasn’t. He was slacking, and Simp was sick of it.
Tai was looking up at him, eyebrows knitted, head cocked. “You all right? Did you hear me?”
Simp looked away to give himself time to fix his face. “Naw. My bad. What you say?”
“I said he’d be crazy to quit the team right now. Y’all running things this year.”
“No lies told,” Simp said. “He brought that fire at the J. Martins, for sure. But he gonna have to make up his mind sooner or later.”
Tai wrapped her arms around herself against the cold. “About what?” She raised her eyebrow, a smile tugging at her mouth. “Y’all little side hustle?”
“Ain’t nothing little ’bout our hustle,” Simp said before he could stop himself. He took a step back. “Aight, look, I gotta dip.”
Tai laughed. “Simp, it ain’t like people don’t know y’all work for Tez.”
His face turned to stone. Simp was good at lying about the game: a) it wasn’t nobody’s business and b) first rule of the game is Don’t talk about the game.
One time, when they first started working the front, Bean’s father, Mr. Jamal, drove by. When his big black SUV slow rolled back, Simp knew he was in for a lecture or worse. He had been nervous. Mr. Jamal would call leecee on lookouts in a heartbeat.
By the time his window was down, Simp was ready for him.
“Ay, Mr. Jamal,” he’d said, easy smile on his lips.
“What’s up, Deontae? What you doing out here?” he’d asked, eyes scouting the area. But Simp was alone. Rollie had been at church that day—choir or something.
“Nothing. Just chilling,” Simp had said. He forced himself to stay looking at Mr. Jamal. Everytime a car rode by, he’d pray it wasn’t a customer and that he wasn’t missing something. One, two, three cars rolled by as Mr. Jamal went on about how it looked bad when people just hung out near the neighborhood’s entrance. If Simp didn’t want people thinking he was doing wrong, then he should find something more “constructive” to do.
For real, if it had been anybody els
e, Simp would have mouthed off. But he was a little afraid of Mr. Jamal, and he also had mad respect for him. Mr. Jamal was always doing stuff to help people out. Every year he collected school supplies and made sure nobody was in school without notebooks and pencils. Simp and his brothers had needed some of the supplies once or twice till he started trapping. Now, he had them covered.
So, he couldn’t be mad at Mr. Jamal. Everybody had their hustle. Mr. Jamal’s was doing good. So, Simp had played along. Said he was waiting on his boys so they could walk up to the Wa. Mr. Jamal had squinted, like he was thinking whether to call Simp out for lying or naw. In the end, he had shaken his head side to side—like how people do when they know ain’t no sense in going on—and told Simp to watch his self out there before driving off.
Simp had told Coach about the convo, and after that nobody was supposed to work alone anymore. A lot of times they’d all hang out at the fence together, whether it was their shift or not, just so it looked like they was just bulling and kicking it. Either all of ’em were dough boys or some were, but nobody really knew which ones. They was all each other’s cover.
Tai was one of them people who was always trying to figure out who was down with the game. And Simp had a feeling she was probably cool with the hustle. The way her eyes lit with what else she wanted to say told him so. He still played it off. “You probably gon’ go back and tell Rollie everything we said anyway, so go ’head and let him know he better stay on his grind before Cappy become the starter.”
She rolled her eyes. “Cappy not as good as Rollie. And I’m not saying nothing. If you and Rollie beefing, y’all need work that out.”
“Ain’t nobody beefing,” he said, uncertain.
Had she heard something?
“Then say what you just said to his face,” Tai said, hands on her hips.
“I have,” Simp said. Everything but that part about Cappy. But Tai didn’t need to know that. “He know what’s up if he keep missing practices.”
“Um-hm, few seconds ago you wasn’t talking about no basketball,” Tai said with a snort.
“Bye, Metai,” he said, walking off with her shouting at his back, “I know you ain’t just full name me, Deontae.”
He threw his hand up in a good-bye and picked up his pace. His legs were wobbly.
First rule of the game was Don’t talk about the game. But, for a second, he had wanted to admit to Tai how deep in he was. He couldn’t lie; part of it was to brag. Let her know about the money he had hidden. It wasn’t the only thing, though. He wanted to feel like somebody was in it with him, knew his secret and was all right with it. ’Cause, for real, he didn’t know if Rollie was still down. He kept saying he was but . . .
Simp shook off the doubt.
He needed to be around somebody who understood. He could have hit up anybody on the team, but as he walked to the row, he texted Rollie: ay u should slide thru and let me beat up on you in Crown Battle.
He stuffed the phone deep into his pocket, not wanting to hold it in case Rollie didn’t hit him back. Which would be messed up. But even more messed up if Rollie straight told him no.
Dom was watching some animal show on television. His eyes were glued to a big herd of elephants throwing dirt on their backs. Derek came racing downstairs making as much noise as the animals.
“My turn to pick something to watch,” he yelled, standing dead in front of Dom. “You said I could pick once Simp got home.”
Dom craned his neck around their younger brother and turned up the volume. Derek lunged at him to steal the remote.
Simp had his hoodie halfway off when the phone buzzed. He fought with the sweatshirt, his locs tangling in the fabric, anxious but scared to see the message.
Little Dee tackled his legs. He toppled back onto the sofa without crushing his baby brother as the hoodie finally let him loose.
“Let him watch something, Dom,” Simp fussed.
“My show almost over,” Dom said, never looking away from the TV.
“Where Dre?” Simp asked. He knew better than to have Dee down here while Dom was zoning. Dee could have gotten into anything.
His brothers didn’t answer.
“Thimp.” Little Dee crawled into his lap and shoved a small car at him.
“What you want me do with this, man?” Simp asked, his voice gentle. He tucked Dee back on his lap in the crook of his arm as he dug out his phone. He ignored Derek’s pleading that he make Dom give him the remote. Derek was a whiner, not a fighter, and Dom knew it. They could go on like that for as long as he let them.
Dee pushed the toy at Simp. “Car. Car.” He rolled the car over Simp’s leg and made car noises.
“Vrooom,” Simp said absently as he finally looked down at Rollie’s message: Chris jus asked me come chill. Want roll?
He couldn’t think with Derek’s whining. It was like a fire truck siren that wouldn’t pass.
His voice rose. “Didn’t I tell you give him the remote?”
His fist clenched, ready to punch Dom in the chest. Not enough to hurt him, just enough to remind him to do what he was told. But Dee wiggled in his arms and it made Simp look back down at the phone. A knot of black anger sat in his stomach. Rollie was going over Chris’s to play video games, now?
The text had a grip on him.
He read it again and pulled the message apart like a doctor doing surgery.
Rollie had said Chris just invited him. So, they didn’t have no set plans.
That made Simp feel better.
The other thing was, Rollie coulda lied and said he was busy or couldn’t come out but he’d asked Simp to roll through.
Simp held on to that. He didn’t really want kick it with Chris, but it was better than arguing with his brothers all day. Plus, the surprise on Chris’s face when he busted in there with Rollie would make it worth it. Smug satisfaction melted the last of his anger.
Dee stood on Simp’s lap and drove his car up the wall, his car noises a high-pitched babyfied hum.
“Dre, come here,” Simp hollered. He texted around his baby brother: yeah I slide thru.
Dre took his time coming down the stairs. Of all their brothers, him and Dre were the only two that shared the small forehead, thanks to their deep hairline. But where Simp’s eyebrows were thick, Dre’s were a tapered line. If Simp always looked confused, Dre’s face had a constant look of expectation. He studied Simp, his face neutral, like he already knew what was coming.
“What?” he asked, leaning on the curve of the wall where the kitchen and living room separated.
Simp scowled. “What you mean, what?”
“You call me?” Dre said, with a little less bite.
Simp didn’t mind the snap in Dre’s voice. He’d taught him to stand up for himself and it was working. He plopped Dee beside Dom.
“I need run out.” Simp automatically took a twenty-dollar bill out of his pocket and handed it to Dre. “Mommy be home soon.”
Dre crushed the bill and stuck it in his pocket without looking at it.
“I’m sick of babysitting,” he muttered under his breath.
“What you say?” Simp’s eyebrow shot up. “If youn want it, give it back.”
His hand was out but he wasn’t expecting to have the crushed bill tossed back to him.
“Keep it then,” Dre said. “I don’t feel like dragging Dom to the Wa anyway.”
At the mention of going outside, Dom frowned. “I don’t feel like walking to the store. It’s cold.” He tossed the remote to Derek and grabbed a book sitting on the end table like it would anchor him in the house.
Simp’s anger eased. Dre was salty because on top of not wanting to go outside, Dom hadn’t felt like playing video games lately. And it was hard playing anything with Derek. He got mad too easily and threw tantrums.
It was like this 24-7. Everybody wanting to do what they wanted. Simp understood, but he wasn’t about to let Dre get away with that much lip. He stared into Dre’s eyes until his brother squirmed.
Dre’s chin quivered as he talked. “Why I gotta always stay here? Dom can watch Derek and Dee sometimes. He old enough.” He swiped angrily at the tears rolling down his face. “How come I can’t never go with you?”
“I be taking care of business,” Simp said, feeling bad for the lie.
“I could still go with you. I wouldn’t get in the way or nothing,” Dre said.
The hope in his voice tore Simp up. He could have easily hit Rollie up and told him he’d kick it another time. Rollie probably wouldn’t care either way, and that’s what spurred him on.
Dre would be fine. Everybody getting their way wasn’t how it was.
“Man, look, you can’t come with me. All right?” Simp said. “You next up. That’s just how it is. Moms be—”
Dre’s arms folded as he went into a full pout. “Mommy ain’t even here half the time. You be leaving and saying she be home soon, but she never is.”
At that, Derek panicked. “Who gonna cook us something to eat?”
His big brown eyes searched his brothers for answers.
It was too much for Simp. All he wanted to do was get out and kick it with Rollie for a little bit. Kick it like they used to before TAG and Chris.
He felt like wild’n out on his brothers, remind them that none of this was his fault. He was doing the best he could.
Dre’s voice shook with emotion. “I look like a lame always locked up in the house. Then Mommy don’t even let me have company over talking ’bout she don’t need people messing up the house.”
It broke Simp. He couldn’t blow up on his little man. He knew how Dre felt. It wasn’t their fault that they had to stay cooped up in the house all the time. Derek got into too much when he was outside. Dee was too young to be outside, and Dom didn’t like going outside anymore. They didn’t have no choice but to drive each other nuts in the house waiting on their mother to deliver on her fake promises of going this place or that once she got home.