Want Some, page 7
Lil Steve looked at the trash cans lining the street. “I had to cut her loose, dog. My shit was all fucked up. That’s when I owed Tony that money.”
Ray Ray remembered. Word was, he still owed him some.
“Man, how’d you get her to make that nude movie?” Ray Ray knew lots of women who did lots of freaky shit, but never in front of a camera.
“Had forty copies made the same day,” Lil Steve bragged.
Ray Ray had one too but he never did watch it.
“Nigga, how you even think of some crazy shit like that?” Ray Ray put half a smoked joint in his mouth.
“Common sense, loc. Marketing is all. I told her I was gonna make that big ass a star. I said Hollywood’s not ready for the body she got. Man, her shit looked way better than them babies in Playboy. I couldn’t believe how easy they sold. All the barber shops wanted ’em, auto mechanics, men hanging at the car wash were asking for some and them dudes sitting up high at the track. I even rocked ’em at a few of my friends’ bachelor parties.” Lil Steve stopped to laugh at his own crazy antics. “Never had a problem having cash after that.”
“You was flowin’ for a hot minute, player.” Ray Ray nodded. He blew his smoke out real slow.
“I sho’ didn’t expect her to find out, though, dog.”
“I’m surprised she’s even speaking to yo’ ol’ janky ass.” Ray Ray took another long drag. “How you know this bank shit ain’t her getting you back?”
“’Cause she’s sprung. That’s a damn woman for yo’ ass. You dog ’em real bad and they still call you back. Trudy ran the thing down to Vernita the other day. Told me somebody could make some quick money off that white boy. Said they better move soon before the deal dries up. Said the tan-suit man’s been talking about leaving that bank. I’m telling you, fool! We could make a killing putting that cash on the fight.” Lil Steve wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “So, whatchu say, homie? You in or you ain’t?” Lil Steve leaned closer into Ray Ray’s marred face.
“I’m thinking about it, man.”
Ray Ray was fresh from the pen and didn’t want to go back. He looked down at the long silvery scar on his arm from the last time.
“Study long, study wrong,” Lil Steve shot back. “Look, this Friday is the day. That gives us just enough time to place our bet and bust Tony’s fat ass for good. You know he be treating you wrong at the club. Messing around with your scrilla and shit. Talking about hold your check till next week. You know that ain’t right. Got all kinda money coming in every day and he talkin’ ’bout hold your damn check.”
Lil Steve took the forty out of the bag. He downed the rest of the can, wiping the corner of his mouth, and let it roll down to the curb.
Ray Ray stared Lil Steve straight in the eye.
“Straight up, man, is this shit legit or what? You ain’t in it just to bust that big ass again, is ya? How I know you the one who ain’t sprung?”
“Me sprung? Nigga, please. You must be sick. You know every woman I hit turns into an addict. She just wants my black juicy dick.”
Ray Ray studied Lil Steve’s smooth face. He knew Trudy wanted something. But he didn’t know what. “So how’s this shit s’posed to work?”
“Damn man, I done tol’ you twice! Dude comes in and takes out the cash. Been taking it out every fuckin’ month. All we got to do is gank his ass and go. No guns, no drama, no bullshit, all right? Man, I’m trying to tell you it’s cool.”
Ray Ray knew it had to be cool. He had just come back from doing eighteen months in Norco. If this went bad he could face eight years upstate. Ray Ray picked up a bottle and threw it out in the street. It crashed next to an old Dodge.
“I need to get my hands on some ends, fast,” Ray Ray said. “Tony don’t pay on time at the club, and things getting worse around the house.” Ray Ray worked at Dee’s Parlor as a bouncer. It was the only job he could get as a felon.
“Your moms don’t sew at that factory no more?” Lil Steve asked.
Ray Ray fingered the cross at his throat. He relit a Newport and sucked the dank smoke, blowing it out long and slow.
“When I was locked up she worked late at the shop. Used to have to leave my little niece Kelly alone. So this social worker comes nosing around, asking questions and shit. Kelly lied. Told the lady Mama went to the store. You can’t tell those welfare folks you got a gig, no matter how below minimum wage it is.”
“Dig it,” Lil Steve said, cleaning his shades.
“So the lady say, ‘You here all alone by yo’ self?’ Man, you seen them Section Eight wenches with they wide, bulging eyes, tapping they clipboards and shit.”
“Running up in here like some roaches,” Lil Steve said.
“So the bitch hauls Kelly off to a foster care ward. Said Mama’s unfit. Some endangerment law. Man, my moms ain’t been the same since.”
Ray Ray threw a rock at a parked beat-up car. It ricocheted off of the curb.
“I was locked down and couldn’t do a muthafuckin’ thing. All she does, dog, is just sit in her chair in a big apron, staring. Looking out at the busted-up pavement outside, blinking at nothing but the hot sun.”
“Damn, man,” Lil Steve said. That’s not what he heard. He heard Ray Ray’s mama was smoked out on Sherm.
“When I finally got out, I tried to watch her myself. Bought food, cleaned up the place some. Tried my best to cheer her back up. But, man, it’s no use. I can’t leave her alone. Almost torched the place once when she fell asleep with the stove on.” Ray Ray rubbed the large burn on the side of his face. “I gotta pull all the knobs off the oven when I go.” Ray Ray popped open his Newports and pulled out one more smoke.
“Look at this.” Ray Ray pulled up his sleeve, revealing large, pumped-up arms. The kind you only see on wrestling shows, or on men who just got out the pen. Ray Ray lit his cigarette and held in the smoke.
“Man, I tried to go legit, but every interview’s the same. Muthafuckas always asking, ‘What skills do you have? Where have you worked?’ I want to leap across the desk and slap the smirk from they mugs. Punks always asking questions. What can you do, what have you done? White boys don’t want you to learn no new shit. They got all the fuckin’ power. Own every got damn thing and do the hiring too. My parole officer told me to go work for Roadway. I don’t want to sit in no funky-ass truck. Riding all damn day in a jail cell cab. Getting hemorrhoids and shit, breathing cheap gas and fumes, just to bring home minimum wage.”
“That’s right,” Lil Steve added. “That’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout, dog!”
“Chump change once they gank you for taxes. Look, man,” Ray Ray said, showing the inside of his arm. “I’ve been selling my own blood to get me some cash.”
Lil Steve studied the bruises of Ray Ray’s thick arm.
“They stab a long needle deep down in my veins. Make me lay down and give me cups of grape juice to drink while I watch my blood fall in ajar. I get $15 a pop each time I strap down. When I ain’t manning the front door at Dee’s Parlor, dog, I’m feeding Mama on plasma donations alone.”
Lil Steve didn’t know if homeboy sold blood or not. But he did know Ray Ray used to like him some heroin. “Listen, G, if we do this, you gotta be straight. You can’t be fuckin’ with no needles and shit.” Lil Steve didn’t want to do no heist with no addict.
“Well yo’ ass can’t be up on that cheap liquid crack.” Ray Ray looked at Lil Steve’s empty malt liquor can. But he smiled at him too. The deal sounded smooth. A little too smooth. But he had to admit, Lil Steve was one of the best hustlers he knew. Ain’t been caught on no serious shit yet.
Lil Steve squinted his eyes at him hard. “So what you say, nigga? Is you down or what?”
“Yeah, man, I’m down. Handle yo’ business. Meet me at the club and let’s work this shit out. But listen, cuz, don’t fool around and fuck this shit up. I ain’t playing with yo’ crazy ass. Call ol’ girl and pick her brain about this mess.”
“You ain’t got to tell me. See, I’m Teflon, baby! Nothing sticks to me.” Lil Steve flashed Ray Ray a big gold-tooth smile. “Woowee,” he said, wild. “We gonna jack his ass and be counting fifties on the freeway, baby!” He gave Ray Ray a pound and did a little backyard boogie dance.
Ray Ray flashed him back a mild smile. “You’s one crazy fool.” He took one final drag and dropped the butt to the ground, smashing it out with his toe.
7
Joan and Pearl
Pearl poured her sister Joan a shot glass of tequila. Two frosty margaritas sat next to each short glass. They liked to sneak a quick shot before the club opened up. The metal fan rattled trying to beat back the sun. The weatherman said they were in store for a scorcher. It was supposed to hit a hundred and one.
Joan sat there stiff with her gold cigarette lighter. Her long legs were crossed, her nails immaculate. She wore a tight pencil skirt and a white low-cut Danskin. Though her wig was pinned up off the back of her neck, her scalp heated up like a skillet. She kept studying the room like she smelled something bad and kept wiping her lap with a napkin. She would only visit her sister in the day while the club was all closed. She thought the women at Dee’s were beneath her and cheap. Joan would never be caught dead in Dee’s Parlor at night.
Pearl pulled open a drawer and peered deep inside. She brought out a giant stack of old mail. One by one she held each piece to the sun.
“What in God’s name are you looking for, Pearl?” Joan asked.
“Tony’s not slick. Something’s here, I can feel it. He shipped Miss Dee off to some home who knows where and I swear I will look till I find it. ’Member what Mama used to say to us all the time? If you keep looking, nine times out often, you bound to stumble on something.” Pearl’s glasses slipped farther down her nose.
Joan looked at her sister like she was a fool. “Nine times out of ten you’ll find something you don’t want. Admit it, you like snooping in other folks’ junk. You’re like an old dog gumming away at some shoes.”
Joan sipped her drink. She twirled her gold lighter. She noticed the chipped plates and wobbly-looking chairs. “How can you work here? This place is a dump.”
“’Cause, if I stay, I may find something out about Miss Dee and I’ma keep looking until it’s all said and done.”
Joan shook her head in disgust and popped open her compact. She urgently started plucking hairs from her chin. “Growing old ain’t no joke. Tony sure dogged Miss Dee bad.”
“Acting all slick just to get in that will,” Pearl said. “’Member what Sally Jenkins did to poor ol’ Mr. Wade?”
“Dumb man shouldn’t have trusted her with all his life savings! That bitch woulda pinched a penny from a dirty hog’s ass.”
“That’s the same thing Tony did to Miss Dee. The last time I saw her I asked her point-blank, I said, ‘Excuse me for prying and I mean no disrespect, but that man ain’t worth spit and I know folks, Miss Dee. Been working here too long to let it go down like this. Every time I see that fool he got his hand out and you keep greasin’ it like some damn Vaseline.’ You know what she told me?”
“What?”
“Told me Tony was nice.” Pearl sneered.
“Nice! Did you tell her that man’s half iguana?” Joan opened her compact again and dabbed on more lipstick. “The man’s skin’s so thick I bet he can’t even bleed.”
Pearl adjusted the pull of her giant bra strap; it snapped against the skin on her shoulder. “I remember telling Miss Dee, you know what I told her?”
“What?”
“I said, ‘Miss Dee, he’s stealing.’”
“You told Miss Dee that?”
“Sure did,” Pearl said. “But she didn’t do shit.” Pearl downed her shot and wiped off her lip. “She told me she knows. ‘Been knowing,’ she said. Said the little bit he takes she don’t miss.”
“Little bit!” Joan screamed. “Shit, the man has it all!”
“She told me Tony was the only one that comes by to see her. Said he perked up her day. Girl, you should have seen her smile. It gave me a window to the girl she once was.”
“Tony drove all her good friends away. Always hanging at her door like some old hungry vulture. No one wanted to see Miss Dee with his big ass around.”
“The ones bold enough to come, he wouldn’t let get upstairs. He just takes their plates of food and don’t even say thanks, lets the screen door smack back in their faces.” Pearl studied Joan’s face. She watched her and waited.
“Trudy tried to see her once,” Pearl continued softly. “Told me Tony got out of line.”
“And you believed her. Girl, you know how she lies. She must have led Tony on.”
“Led him on! Tony don’t need any leading.”
“But you’ve seen her, Pearl. Look at her power around men. They can’t keep their eyes off her. I’ve seen grown men turn right into putty. At ten years old, when some of my men friends came over, I swear, I just turned my back for two minutes and Trudy was in the man’s lap.”
“That’s not power! Them grown men were bothering her, Joan! She told me about your men friends,” Pearl said knowingly.
Joan glared at her sister but let the comment drop. And the big thing they weren’t saying finally came up, like the spins after a night getting smashed.
“You shouldn’t have thrown her out,” Pearl scolded her sister. “Trudy’s too damn young to be out on the street.”
“Bullshit, you and me were out at sixteen.” Joan flicked the tall flame from her shiny gold lighter. “Trudy’s twenty. That ain’t hardly too young.”
“Being out was a helluvalot different back then,” Pearl said.
“Shoot, when you kicked Johnny out I didn’t say boo! I let you handle your business. That was your son.”
“I wish you’da said something.” Pearl sadly stuck her hand in a big bowl of chips. “He’s been locked up in Chino ever since.” Pearl hated this subject. She’d tried to bring it up before but Joan cussed her and hung up the phone.
“Why are you tripping? Trudy’s only been gone a few months.”
“It’s been well over a year and I’m worried about that girl. She’s gravitating to the wrong kind.” Pearl angrily munched on her chips.
“Look, she’s grown. My job is finished. Why are you jumping in stuff when you don’t have the facts?”
“What facts?” Pearl asked. “What the hell did she do?”
Truth was, Joan knew exactly why she’d made Trudy leave. Trudy was in her way. She blocked what Joan really wanted. See, Hall told her he’d leave his wife once Trudy was gone. But Joan couldn’t tell Pearl any of that, so she decided to fabricate a story.
“She was stealing!” Joan said. “I caught her red-handed myself. The police were bound to be knocking on my door.”
Trudy was stealing, but Joan didn’t know that. Pearl quietly poured them both drinks from the pitcher of margaritas and shook some more chips in a bowl.
Joan opened her compact and patted her heavily made-up face. “Greedy folks always get caught left and right. Some folks can’t work next to all that stuff. Thieving fever sets in. If I’ve seen it once, I’ve seen it a hundred times. Oh, they get away at first. Steal a few things; let their friends shove a pair of pants in the bag. But they always got caught. Greed caught their ass in the end. I remember this guy. Oh, man, was he crazy. He kept filling bag after bag after bag. Talking all the time about how easy it was. But that fool couldn’t stop. It was never enough. That Oriental rug was where he crossed the damn line. You can’t steal a thousand-dollar rug and not expect red flags to go up. They took that fool boy out in handcuffs.” Joan sat perched on her stool like a queen and took a neat sip from her glass.
“I remember that guy. He took you to nice west side restaurants.”
“Had the nerve to ask me for three hundred dollars. Fool wanted me to come bail his ass out,” Joan said dryly. “Only thing he got was a piece of my mind.”
“That was that rich fella lived over there in Hancock Park, right?”
“Rich, hell. He wasn’t doing nothing but fronting. Had the tiniest house on the whole fucking block. Told me he couldn’t bear to tell his mama he stole. Skinny, stuck-up boy with big Coke-bottle glasses. Bragging all the time ’bout his argyle socks, like anybody gave a hot damn!”
“You were stealing, too. You used to get lots of stuff.”
“The hell I was!” Joan snapped back. She crushed her butt in the ashtray.
“Thievin’ fever has always run in this family.” Pearl slowly stood up and emptied the ashtray. “No use tryin’ to deny it with me.”
It was never really talked about, but all of them did it. Switching tags, grabbing an extra pair of shoes. All of them came home with bags. “Oh, I got this or I got that,” someone would say. No one asked where or ever asked how. All they saw growing up was price tags getting ripped off with teeth late at night or burned loose with cigarette lighters in cars so they could wear the clothes right away. Their mother claimed it was because they were all born on that new stolen bed. She got the bed hot out the back of a Beakins moving van. Some roughnecks had robbed the big furniture store and their mama, the neighborhood bookie at the time, heard about it and asked for first dibs.
“Uh-uh. Don’t point your finger at me. I know what you’re thinking, and you’re out of your mind. Trudy didn’t get none of that stealing from me. You and Sonny was doing it. That was you all. Don’t put me in the middle of that mess.” Joan sat up and recrossed her shapely legs tight.
“Me and Sonny was doing it! Well, ain’t this a bitch. Girl, that hot comb musta burnt what was left of your mind.”
Joan snapped her compact and pursed her tight lips. “That was you all. That wasn’t me, I remember. That was Sonny and y’all.”
“Well, I remember when Mama had to drive across town.” Pearl picked up a chip and munched it right in Joan’s face. “Picked yo’ thievin’ ass up from the West L.A. station.”
