Dough Boys

by Paula Chase

  “You got it,” he said. “I need go, all right?”

  Instead of saying bye, Tai struck a kissy face pose. She always wanted the camera to catch her looking fly. Rollie hung up, laughing.

  He wasn’t mad at Tai for playing peacemaker. He liked how close the squad had gotten since summer, too. Once the audition was over, he would have more time to think about getting Simp and Chris to chill out their differences. For now, he slid buds in his ear, laid back on the bed, and air drummed to the music.

  Too bad that wasn’t enough.

  Weeks of practice. Sore arms from beating both imaginary and real drums and he wasn’t ready. Not even a little bit. Why did he think he could do this?

  Rollie’s heart thumped in his ears, making it hard to understand what Mr. B was saying. He nodded along until he realized the sounds coming from his teacher’s mouth had stopped. Mr. B was squinting at him, saying something. Rollie widened his eyes and thankfully his ears popped.

  He caught the tail end of Mr. B’s question: “All right?” He was ready to lie but couldn’t even do that. He’d lost every ounce of chill he ever had.

  “I’m scared,” Rollie said, his legs melting under him.

  “I’d be worried if you weren’t,” Mr. B said. His hand clamped gently onto Rollie’s shoulder, steadying him. “Listen to me for a second. There’s nothing wrong with being scared of the unknown. You hear me?”

  Mr. B’s hand gripped just a little tighter. “Fear can be good.” He smiled at Rollie’s confused frown. “I’m serious. Fear is an instinct. It can keep you alive, make you run from that strange sound or that person who doesn’t seem quite right coming toward you. It’s a feeling coursing through your body telling you to pay attention—do something.” He patted Rollie’s shoulder. “Since you’re not in danger, use your fear to pound that beat out with as much energy as you can. Use it, Roland.”

  Rollie’s breath eased. He rested on the wall and used it to stand up straighter.

  The door across from them opened. The dude that came out was short and round, like he enjoyed a good meal three times a day, maybe four. He rocked an all-brown velvet tracksuit and a pair of all white J’s. It made him look like a walking teddy bear. Even more when his face lit into a smile.

  His hand was already out as soon as he saw Mr. B.

  “What’s up, Pee Wee?” Mr. B said, going in for a pound and hug.

  They thumped each other’s back for a good minute before Pee Wee let go.

  “Man, you looking good,” he said to Mr. B. He patted at his own velvety soft mid-section. “Look at you still at your playing weight.”

  They laughed. “I never could gain weight. That’s why I went into music. Y’all was starting to bust me up on the court throwing bows and what not,” Mr. B said. He interrupted their trip down memory lane. “This is Roland Matthews. I told you, he’s one of my star students in the county’s new talented and gifted program.”

  Rollie shook Pee Wee’s outstretched hand. His tongue was still mute.

  “I still can’t believe you a teacher,” Pee Wee said. He smiled over at Rollie. “Man, this cat used to prank teachers all the time. He better hope ain’t no get back waiting for him.”

  Mr. B’s laugh was a deeper baritone than usual. “Man, don’t wish that on me. My students are good kids. I don’t need them knowing about my past.” He pushed Rollie forward a bit. “I appreciate you giving Roland a tryout. He straight raw talent. Could be a good fit.”

  The words slammed into Rollie’s ears and wrapped around his chest. He wanted to hug Mr. B and hold on for a minute until the tingling nerves left his arms and legs.

  Pee Wee moved him along. “I trust your ear, Bones.”

  At that Rollie laughed, jangling free from the nerves. The nickname was perfect. Rollie didn’t have a hood nickname. And he wasn’t mad. It could be real messed up to end up with a name like Lockjaw or Pork Chop. But watching Pee Wee (who had been small at some point, maybe?) and Bones kicking it like they were still back in the day calmed him.

  “Friends always tell your business,” Mr. B said with a sad shake of his head. “Go on and show ’em what you got, Roland.”

  With Pee Wee’s hand on his back, Rollie was gently nudged toward the darkened studio. He didn’t know if the whole Rowdy Boys band was inside waiting or what. Strains of the song he’d been living and breathing played, pulling him its way.

  He took a breath and walked inside.

  The studios at school were that in name only. They were classrooms without desks. Chairs were usually scattered around the room and there was space, with a platform, for a small group of students playing instruments. This was a real studio. Inside the control room was a huge soundboard in front of a glass facing several mic stands and a drum set in the room across from it.

  Rollie’s stomach shriveled. He followed Pee Wee into the empty room.

  “Go ahead and warm up, while I check the levels,” Pee Wee said, not bothering to wait for an answer.

  Rollie sat down behind the drums. They were nicer than the school’s set. Nicer than the church’s. The silver rimming each drum glistened against the set’s deep burgundy color. He stroked the top of them, letting the coolness calm his shaking hands. For a second he forgot he was in an audition. He was excited to see what these drums felt like.

  He pulled drum sticks out of his bag before sliding it into a corner.

  He jumped at Pee Wee’s voice coming through the PA overhead. “Throw your hand up when you ready.”

  Rollie nodded, shakily. It took nothing to put his nerves on edge.

  He blew a breath. Closed his eyes and mumbled, “Dear, Lord, I don’t know if You listening. G-ma said You are so . . . yeah, You probably listening. Help me to do well. Amen.”

  He put his hand up and got a nod from Pee Wee, then began playing a beat that usually always got him a good ’nome score: Boom tat boom tat tat. Boom tat boom tat tat. Tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat . . . boom tat boom tat tat.

  Just as he was ready to get into it, Pee Wee’s voice bassed, “Cool. We’re good, Roland. Let’s get it.”

  Rollie had no idea what that meant. He opened his mouth to ask when suddenly the audition song played overhead. His heart sped up. He’d rehearsed enough. Air drummed it enough and knew exactly when he was supposed to come in with the beat. Still, he missed his cue.

  The music stopped.

  “My bad,” he said. Unsure if Pee Wee could hear him, he sat up straight and spoke louder. “My bad, I wasn’t ready. But I am now.”

  “It’s good,” Pee Wee said, throwing a thumbs-up. “Take a breath, man. It’s just me listening to how you vibe.” When Rollie nodded understanding, he put up five fingers then slowly took away each one, counting down. He pointed at Rollie and the music played again.

  This time, Rollie slid right in, caught the beat, and rode it.

  His hands and feet were robots tapping out the sounds. He floated over his body and let them do their job.

  Simp

  “Just remember to focus,” Simp said. He took two steps away from behind Chrissy as Tai walked into the rec. Her, Bean, Mo, and Sheeda piled their thick coats on the small sofa, then crowded around the Ping-Pong table.

  “You ready, girl?” Mo asked.

  “I can’t wait to see Chris wearing the sunflower costume,” Sheeda said.

  “I have to beat him first,” Chrissy said. She swung gently at an invisible ball.

  Simp looked toward the door. “Where Chris at? He backing out?”

  At that moment, Simp wished for it. He didn’t want to lose. The thought of having to dance in front of everybody at the rec had him in a panic like an angry fly trying to find its way out of a closed window. Chrissy had gotten better. But she played like she was scared. He couldn’t do nothing about that. If he was Chris, he would slam the ball her way every time. It would be a sure win ’cause she’d be too busy flinching away from it. But she was dude’s sister. He doubted Chris would come hard at her like that . . .
if he showed up.

  Just then Bean dashed his hopes.

  “No, he’s in the lobby talking to Roland,” she said.

  Simp stared at the door, fingers curling into a fist, waiting on them to walk in together. He stretched them straight, forcing himself not to care. He peeled his eyes away and listened to the girls talk.

  “I’m ready for summer. I might be going to stay with my aunt,” Sheeda said.

  “Is anybody thinking about trying out for Sam Well’s dance team?” Mo asked.

  “Come on, Christol, you can do this,” Bean said, with a light clap.

  “Girl, I cannot with you and this wanting to call people by their whole name,” Tai said, but she was already leaning into Bean in a halfway hug, laughing. It didn’t seem to bother Bean, anyway. Simp had the feeling they weren’t as tight as they had been before Tai’s father got caught up on the molestation charges, but he had to give it to Bean—she rocked with Tai’s teasing. He couldn’t think of anybody she didn’t get along with. For real, she was probably the reason Chrissy and Chris had melted into the squad so easily. Everything she did was about making everybody get along. It made him want to make things right with Rollie.

  He pulled a stool over so he could coach Chrissy from the sidelines just as Chris walked through the door by his self. Simp waited for Rollie to walk in right behind him. When he didn’t, Simp broke into a smile. His boy hadn’t totally dipped on him.

  Chris dropped his jacket onto the girls’ pile. He pushed the sleeve of his T-shirt up and stood at the opposite end of the table, silent. Chris was one of the few dudes Simp knew that still rocked simple straight back cornrows. Most dudes in the Cove had locs, caesars, or twists. Chris wore his eight thick braids like he was still stuck back in whatever little boon he’d come from. Chris didn’t seem to care what people thought about him. But he was gonna take an L today if Simp had anything to do with it.

  “Somebody got their game face on, I see,” Simp yelled over at him.

  Chris wouldn’t take the bait.

  “Where’s Rollie, Chris?” Tai asked.

  “I don’t know,” Chris said. He picked up his paddle. “You ready, Chrissy?”

  “We gotta wait for Rollie,” Tai said, neck stretching as she scanned the doorway.

  Simp found himself watching, too. He’d been happy that Rollie hadn’t rolled in with Chris, but now he wondered if Rollie was skipping out on watching. No matter what, they was never on the same page. Normally Simp would have texted him or walked out in the lobby to tell him to come on, but none of it felt right anymore. He wasn’t gonna chase after him.

  He scooted his stool so he was out of Chrissy’s way but close enough to talk.

  “You ready?” he said, with one last side glance toward the door.

  She blew out a big breath. “Yeah. Let’s go.” She giggled. “It’s stupid, but I’m nervous. Y’all please don’t laugh if I lose.”

  “We won’t,” Bean promised.

  “Girl, it’s just your brother. And it’s just us watching. You act like somebody taping it,” Tai said.

  “Eww, please, nobody post this. I’m serious,” Chrissy said.

  “Who gonna be the ref? Deontae can’t do it ’cause he coaching,” Chris said.

  “I thought Rollie was gonna do it,” Tai said, neck still craning on the lookout. “There he is. Rollie, come on, we ready start.”

  Simp wasn’t sure whether the kick in his heart was fear or excitement. Then Rollie walked in and dapped him up without acknowledging Chris, and everything was good again. He was too relieved to talk trash.

  “What’s up, y’all?” Rollie asked, stuffing his hat into his coat pocket. He added to the coat pile and took his place at the side of the table. “Y’all ready?”

  Chrissy and Chris nodded.

  “You got this, C,” Simp said.

  Chrissy rolled her neck and nodded. “You serving, Chris?”

  Chris tossed the ball her way. “Naw. You can serve first.”

  “And that’s your doom, son. Come on, Chrissy, get that first point,” Simp said, pumped.

  He kept his eyes on Chris as Chrissy raised the ball. He could tell from the side of his eye that she had the ball too high, as usual. He clamped his mouth shut but cleared his throat. As if understanding, Chrissy lowered the ball and served. “Yes,” he muttered under his breath.

  They volleyed back and forth. That’s what Chrissy had gotten best at. Simp prayed she could score. Chris wasn’t into it at first, but as the ball kept coming back his way Simp saw the concentration in his eyes.

  Simp leaned in, directing Chrissy with his mind.

  “Try and score,” he urged aloud.

  Chrissy brought her hand back, smacked at the ball, and squealed when her brother missed. Everybody except Rollie clapped.

  “Dang, Simp, let me find out you good at something. Got her all coached up,” Mo said.

  “Man, forget you, Mo,” Simp said.

  “Boy, I’m joking. Good job, Chrissy,” Mo said.

  “Point, Chrissy,” Rollie said.

  “So, nobody rooting for me?” Chris asked, smirking. “That’s messed up about y’all.”

  “I’m with you, Chris,” Bean said.

  “Of course,” Tai said with an eye roll.

  “I still love you, Chrissy,” Bean said, and made the heart sign with her hands.

  “It’s okay,” Chrissy said, already bent in her serving stance.

  “I mean, I’m not on anybody’s side, for real,” Tai said.

  By the time the score was four to four, the cheers of the squad were so loud that everybody else in the rec had crowded around to see what was up.

  Champ had started a side bet. A pile of quarters and dollar bills laid on the floor near Rollie’s feet as Champ called out the newest bet—who would make the next point, whether the point was a slam, double bounce, or off the table.

  In the Cove, if they could make bets on it, they did. It could be two roaches crawling up the wall. At some point somebody would spin a dollar out of their pocket onto the table or floor and say, “I bet that little sucker on the right get to the top first.” And it was on.

  Once money was involved, the game got heated. Mo became the official “can y’all shut up” assistant ref to help Rollie keep order.

  Rollie put his hand up to quiet the arguing.

  “Score goes to six. But you gotta win by two points,” Rollie said, more to Chrissy than Chris.

  “Wait, if I have five and he has six, does he win?” Chrissy asked.

  “Naw, he gotta get seven then,” Simp said. He could tell she didn’t really get it.

  Rollie waved the game to start again. The second the ball went up in the air, shouts of encouragement rang from everywhere. Thanks to the side bets, Chris had fans when they were betting on him. It gave him life and he scored fast.

  “Game point,” Rollie said, yelling above the cheers.

  Simp shot up and was behind Chrissy. “Remember what I said. Watch his hands. He gonna try and slam you. Don’t be scared. Slam back.”

  “Let her win on her own,” Chris said, his face tight.

  “She already owning you anyway,” Simp said. He slid back onto the stool, his throat dry.

  Chrissy swayed side to side. Her mouth was an O as she blew out in bursts. Simp was horrified as she closed her eyes just as Chris went to serve.

  “He serving. He serving,” he yelled, hopping up.

  Chrissy’s eyes popped open. She swung wild and it connected, sending the ball Chris’s way. The ball double bounced.

  “Chrissy’s serve,” Rollie said as groans from a new set of losing bettors rose.

  “Oh my God, this is crazy,” Sheeda said, hands over her eyes.

  “We at least got to get the end on video,” Tai said. She pulled her phone out and pointed it at the action. “Come on, Chrissy. You can do it.”

  Tai’s video captured the rest. Caught when Chrissy pulled ahead to six. Saw Cappy yell, “Beat that trick,
Chris.” Which started an argument when Chris yelled back, “That’s my sister, mark. Don’t be calling her no trick.” Zoomed in on Rollie keeping the peace as he made Cappy apologize.

  The rec center buzzed with cheers and a few boos when Chrissy scored the winning point. Hands scrambled for their dollars. Some dissed Chris for losing. Others gave Chrissy her due for handling the game. Sheeda and Mo were hugging Chrissy in congratulations. Bean was standing by Chris, saying, “Good game.” Seconds later he rigidly accepted a hug from his sister.

  “Good game, but I ain’t wearing no dance costume,” Chris said.

  “That was the bet,” Chrissy said. Simp could tell by her smile that she didn’t take what he said that serious. She probably figured he was just saying it to save face and maybe he was, until Simp came over and asked, “What you say?”

  “I said I’m not wearing no dance costume.” Chris put his paddle down. He squared himself up to his tallest. “She won. I ain’t taking that from her. But I ain’t doing it.”

  Simp had expected Chris to do that. He wouldn’t admit it to nobody, but if Chrissy had lost he would have done the same thing. Still, he wasn’t about to let him just get away with reneging on the bet. All he’d meant to do was bark a little bit, so everybody saw that he was against Chris going back on his word. But it had got out of hand fast.

  Later, Simp watched the video a dozen times. He didn’t pay attention to nothing or nobody else except Rollie. The camera showed him in the same spot he’d stood while he ref’ed the game. Simp couldn’t tell if he could hear what him and Chris was saying. It was a lot of noise. Even he had to put his ear to the phone to hear what him and Chris was saying. But it didn’t matter. Rollie saw they was jawing at each other and never moved. Not even when Simp stepped in, inches from Chris. Their faces close enough to feel each other’s breath. Only the girls stopped them from fighting. Right before Simp went to swing, Bean and Chrissy pulled him back. Even Tai stopped taping and was up in the fray, keeping them apart.

  The whole squad was between them, begging them to stop. Everybody but Rollie.