Get Some (2 page)

“Let's roll.” Jimmy wiped his nose a few times. He kept sniffing and talked fast but was driving even faster. He drove over toward Dee's Parlor, and along the way they passed Vernita's shop. Trudy thought about asking him to drop her off at Vernita's. But it was late. It was almost ten now and although Vernita was known to do a few heads after hours, nobody would be in her shop now. Trudy could see the metal row of hair dryers gleaming through the window like plastic jack-o'-lanterns.

“Girl, I feel like a million bucks next to you.” Jimmy leaned over and rubbed his hand on her thigh. “So where do you stay?” Jimmy asked.

“I'm right down here. Turn left when you get to the end of this block.” Trudy showed Jimmy where she really lived. She knew he'd find out if she didn't.

He pulled up in front, unlocked her latch and walked her to her front porch. It was nothing like Baxter, her in-between stash. Trudy saw him when the nights got too lonely. Baxter drove his daddy's old beat-up Voyager. Its hubcaps were just as pitted as Baxter's skin. When he dropped her off he'd lean across her lap and flip the latch for her to leave, stopped right in the middle of the street. He'd be gone before she stepped on the curb.

Jimmy grabbed her waist and pulled her to him. He kissed her like he couldn't get enough. On her mouth, on her cheek, sucking her lips.

Trudy was trapped in a mixture of pleasure and fear, panting like she couldn't catch her breath.

“So when can I see you again?” Jimmy asked. He had one foot on the step and his hand on the knob, like he was waiting for her to ask him in. But suddenly he stepped back and opened his wallet. He peeled off three bills and gently tucked them in her bra.

“What's that for?” Trudy asked, kissing him back. It was strange, but he flared up a daring kind of passion. Her good sense told her to put bars on the door but her body begged him to come in.

“I'm just paying you back,” Jimmy said, stroking her braids, “for showing me a real good time.” Jimmy kissed her slowly, rolling his tongue over hers.

Trudy cracked her door, easing it open slowly. She wanted him to come in. As her hands rubbed the muscles in his back, a moan escaped from his lungs. But Jimmy pulled away and turned toward his car. The next thing she knew he was back at his fender. “Girl, you going to have a hard time getting rid of me.”

He waited until she was all the way in the house and Trudy flashed her porch lights like they were already tight.

When she got in, Trudy pulled the money from her bra. There were three fresh hundred-dollar bills.

“Well, I'll say,” she said out loud to herself. This was the first time a man had given Trudy money. Her mother could always pull change from Mr. Hall. She worked Hall like a damn ATM machine. She'd sit in his lap, whisper in his ear with her tongue. Begging for small things she wanted.

Suddenly she heard a sharp rap at her door. She tiptoed to see. Her breath became labored. Was this Jimmy again? Did Jimmy suspect her already? She edged toward the peephole and stared through the slot. It was the landlord. He looked like he was about to use his key.

“Yes?” Trudy said. “What do you want?”

“Your rent's three weeks late! I need to get paid.” The man stroked his beard. His hands were in his pockets. “Unless you want to make other arrangements.”

Trudy didn't have her rent but she opened the door. She offered one of the hundreds to the man. “Will this hold you until next Friday?” she asked.

Today was Monday; that gave her less than five days.

The man's eyes rolled up and down Trudy's body. He loved his new tenant. He watched her every day from his porch. She was better than anything he saw on TV.

“Sure, that'll hold me. Uh-huh, Friday'll be fine.” The man took a long time leaving her door.

Friday is fine,
Trudy said to herself. She planned to be long gone by then.

Trudy unfolded one of the hundreds, smoothing it all out. She took out some scissors and a stack of newspapers. She held down the bill and traced around the edge, then began cutting up newspaper to the same size and shape.

She noticed the red light flickering on her machine and pushed Play.

“Trudy, it's Vernita. Me and Lil Steve's straight. Hit a sista back, you ol' stayin'-out-late hootch.” Click.

“Hey, bootylicious! I got your number from Tony. Call me if you want some good dick.” Laughter, click.

“Hi, Trudy. This is Charles. I've been thinking about what you said. Call me when you get this message.” Click.

Trudy picked up the phone and dialed Charles's number.

“Hey, Trudy,” Charles said. His voice sounded nervous and low. “I was wondering if we could get together and . . . ah . . . ah, talk?” His eyes darted around the room for Flo. He could see her reflection in the large bedroom mirror. Flo was rolling her hair.

“We have to meet tomorrow,” Trudy said quickly. She looked at the newspapers covering her floor. “Why don't I come over there?”

“Here?” Charles hadn't planned on Trudy coming to his house. He lowered his voice to make sure Flo couldn't hear him.

“You want to meet
here
?” Charles put his hand around the mouth of the phone.

“I wish you could come here but my place is being sprayed.” Trudy's floor was littered with newspaper shreds. “I'm going to be gone for three days.” Trudy used her slow, husky voice while she lied. “I don't know, baby. Maybe it's me. But I felt something deep that night when we talked. It's crazy but I've been thinking about you all day.” She could almost feel Charles swell through the phone.

“Yeah, I have been doing a lot of thinking too.” Charles watched Flo put the rollers in her hair. The upstairs neighbors sounded like they were pushing furniture across the floor. “Come on over. Tomorrow is fine.”

Trudy hung up the phone and took a long, nice, warm bath. While lying on her bed, she smelled a hint of male fragrance. Picking up her blouse from the floor, she brought her sleeve to her face and took a deep, strong whiff. Yeah, that was it, masculine and clean. It was the wonderful scent of Jimmy's cologne. He was right in her shirt, lodged there in her sleeve. Trudy dropped the whole blouse over her face, inhaling the deep male scent while laying in bed. She dreamed of him holding her and gently touching her face. She looked like a child, rubbing the silk against her cheek, and even though she had orange nail polish on, Trudy started sucking her thumb.

 

 

Trudy opened all the windows in her apartment. Whenever she got panicky she got hungry. She placed a thick slice of chocolate cake on a napkin and took the piece with her to bed.

She thought about the dog growling low in her crotch and that man and his son looking scared on the porch, and the long time she waited all alone in the car and the long, knowing smile of her landlord. But mostly she thought about wild, hungry sex and touching Jimmy's rock-hard biceps again.

Suddenly Pearl's voice came into her head. “It takes a smart woman to pick a good man. Don't be dumb, honey. Life can be short. You could lose your whole life picking wrong.”

But Trudy had her plan and was well on her way. She knew Jimmy and the tan-suit man were connected and that the Lexus was carrying a really big stash. Trudy inhaled the sleeve deeply. She wanted Jimmy. He could be her last taste of L.A. before leaving. So what if he had a slightly dangerous side. Who didn't? He hadn't done anything to her. She was already used to maneuvering herself around men. She'd handle him just like she handled her mother. She wouldn't be here long. She was leaving town soon. He'd be her last juicy swig before Vegas.

I'll be careful,
she thought.
Look out for signs. Won't be nobody's fool.

But see, that was the funniest thing about fools. They were always willing to be fools again.

E
verybody's got needs. Everybody's got wants. Lil Steve's was like hunger. Like going days without food. He could always feel that tight, awful pull under his shirt.

While Trudy was sleeping and dreaming of Jimmy, Lil Steve wandered the street in the dimly lit moon. It was one of those huge orange-hued moons, hanging so low you could touch it, like a flat pancake sopping in butter. He moved easily down the street. He passed the blurred neon of Dee's Parlor. He unrolled a bag and popped open a forty, taking huge swigs as he moved. He was almost there now. He downed the whole can and left it on top of a mailbox. There it was. The house he grew up in. Right down the street from Dee's Parlor. The grass was overgrown and the paint job was trying its best to hang on, but it still looked pretty much the same. The fig trees were there and the jasmine bush, too, and the low hedge he used to jump over.

No matter how late it was, Lil Steve would wind up walking or driving past his old house. Something kept pulling him back down this street, even though he hadn't lived there in years.

This was her house. It belonged to his mother. He remembered the steak, and heaping plates of steamed cabbage, and those warm, sudsy baths in the green tiled bathroom. But that was way back, when they all lived together. Before Daddy left for work and never came back and his mama hadn't learned how to drink.

Something changed in Lil Steve once his daddy was gone. Nothing he could put his finger on, but the change was still there. He didn't care much for school or model airplanes anymore. He just hung from his windowsill night after night, watching folks go into Dee's Parlor. He liked seeing the men in their nice shiny cars. Dudes with good clothes and nice rides and plenty of money, holding fine chicks with Jolly Roger smiles.

See, Lil Steve's mama had stopped smiling a long time ago.

“Heathens,” she'd say, sweeping away at her porch. She'd suck her tongue hard at the short-skirted women, slam the screen door if a man tipped his hat. But as time passed, she'd stop and watch those folks too. The next thing Lil Steve knew, she was coming home late and the jasmine that stayed in her hair all the time was replaced with the foul smell of cigarette smoke and her breath held the tense scent of gin.

Lil Steve watched the house for a real long time. He looked in the window. The kitchen light was on and the front room glowed blue, and the TV blared from the barred metal door. Earl never could hear good. Lil Steve saw his foot. It was flung over the couch and his snoring oozed through the windows. He remembered when Earl had put the metal door up. How he covered all the windows with cold steel bars and the pretty yellow curtains that blew in the wind were replaced with the black grid of metal.

Lil Steve kicked a rock and moved farther down the street.

His mother thought Lil Steve had just messed up his life. She couldn't understand why all his good friends were hoodlums and thieves. Why he spent all his time in the streets. But his homies were the only ones he could really count on. The only ones who ever stayed loyal. Ray Ray was never gonna not be his boy. They had stolen lawn mowers and cars and had grown up out there together. He was the only one Lil Steve trusted. Besides, the people in the street were all just like him. Nobody had shit. Nobody was nothing. All of 'em hustlin', just trying to get over.

There was only one time Lil Steve felt like something. Only one person who could make him drop his cold-blooded guard. Make him look at life serious or lay back and laugh mighty. That was the short time that he was with Trudy.

Lil Steve kicked the rock farther down the dark street.

Yeah, Trudy was the best, and Lil Steve had had plenty. She was pretty and smart, with a criminal streak, and she treated him like he was special. But Lil Steve had fucked that up, like most things in his life.

“Besides, she'd have left me,” Lil Steve said out loud. “She'da drop-kicked my ass once she saw I was nothing.”

He picked up the rock and threw it up at the moon. Lil Steve lied to everyone he knew about Trudy. He called her lazy and fat and ugly and cheap. He couldn't bear thinking of her with anyone else.

“Yeah, she'd have left me. I'm damn sure of that.” He opened the white pack and shook out a Salem. “Eventually, most women do.”

A crow flew from one of the juniper trees, shaking tiny dead leaves to the ground. The sound startled Lil Steve and he crossed the street toward Dee's. The neon lights shone even when it was closed. He sunk his hands deep inside his front pockets and kicked a glass bottle across the street.

He gave Ray Ray a pound when he got to the door. Tony was inside wiping down the bar. It was well after one in the morning now, and Dee's would be closed in an hour.

“What are you doing in here?” Tony asked.

Lil Steve lifted his pant leg and pulled a fresh hundred from his sock. He handed it to Tony. He'd just gotten that bill from Vernita the night before. Now he and Tony were straight. Even if he couldn't gamble upstairs anymore, maybe Tony would let him come in for a drink.

“All right. Okay. Can I get you a beer?” Tony put the hundred in his pocket.

“Yeah, man,” Lil Steve said, putting the beer to his lips. “We want to talk to you about the fight next Friday. You taking the odds for Liston?”

“You know I got the odds on anybody fighting these days.” Tony looked at Ray Ray real close. He was standing there shifting nervously back and forth on each foot.

“What's up brotherman? You gotta take a leak or something?”

“Naw, man, but we do need to talk. I wanted to know if you had my check.” Ray Ray avoided looking in Tony's eyes. He didn't want him to see how bad he needed the money.

“Your check? Nigga's always wanting to get paid. You lucky I gave you a fuckin' job, boy!” Tony kept rubbing the bar. He didn't look up either. “You'll get paid when I say. Didn't I tell you that already? You about to piss me off out of a job.” Tony waited. He wanted to see Ray Ray's reaction. Percy watched Ray Ray close under his dark tinted shades. Ray Ray gritted his teeth but he didn't move, and Tony chuckled out loud to himself.

Lil Steve stepped up this time. “Is it cool to talk, man? Are you busy right now?”

Tony threw down the towel; he filled an iced glass with gin. He smiled at Ray Ray but not Lil Steve. “Yeah, it's cool. Y'all come on upstairs.”

Next to the gambling room upstairs was a tiny separate space where a couple of folding chairs kneeled against a wall and a leather chair peeked from a desk. Tony led them up the narrow wood staircase near the back. The stairs moaned and creaked under his weight.

Ray Ray and Lil Steve stood in the room. A hanging bulb swung over the ceiling.

Tony pulled the chain. He looked right into Lil Steve's face. “So how can I help you, Mr. Slick?”

Tony never liked Lil Steve. He had seen him take one too many card games, and some of the regulars claimed he had a system, but Tony hadn't figured the 411 on that yet. He watched him, though. Watched that ready smile and smooth handshake. Yeah, he was watching him steady. “Why don't you boys sit down, take a load off your feet?”

Tony jammed his body into a ripped leather chair. He put one of his feet on the desk.

“What can I do you for, Ray Ray? You look like a hound that hasn't found the right tree to piss on yet.” He cracked up at his own joke and slapped Ray Ray's back. Ray Ray shrugged his hand off his shoulder.

“Listen, Tony, we want a cut on some of the odds on Jones,” Lil Steve said.

“Oh yeah?” Tony said, raising one eyebrow. He took out his red pack of Winstons and lit one up.

“And what makes you boys think y'all can get in? That's a man's game, son. You got to have more than a few chips. I'm talking double digits, boy.”

Lil Steve stepped forward. Tony didn't mean shit to him.

“Look, Tony, I know you got this card thang, and it's cool. You the man. I'll give you that, but who can we talk to about fronting some long money on this fight you got coming this Friday?”

Lil Steve was smooth. He knew Tony didn't trust him. He had to come correct. That's why he paid Tony up front, as soon as he came in. He had to pretend to give Tony his props. Respect in the hood was all some brothers had. But it was hard for Lil Steve. The hardest thing he ever did in life. See, Lil Steve couldn't stand Tony's pasty black ass, after what had happened that night to his mother.

Lil Steve didn't know the whole story. But the parts he did know were hard. All he knew was his dad had left, and his mama took it bad. She used to wait every day for Lil Steve's father to return. She'd wait until sunset, until the streetlights came on, sitting on her front steps watching Dee's neon lights burn the sidewalk. After Lil Steve went to sleep his mother would watch Dee's doors. She hated the club but didn't mind watching all the people go by, like a child does a carnival ride. Tony would always wave for her to come over, but his mother always shook her head no.

Well, one night Lil Steve's mother was watering the lawn and Tony crossed the street with a drink in his hand. He'd garnished the rim with pineapples and cherries; a green monkey held an umbrella. Tony winked at her and left the tall drink by her screen. His mother waited for Tony to get all the way back inside Dee's before she picked up the drink and took a sip. The liquid was sweet but it burned going down, so she spit the drink out and splashed the rest across the grass. But she saved the small monkey and fingered the umbrella while looking at Dee's from her porch. And one long, lonely night after twisting in the sheets and biting her pillow, she bolted straight up, knocking her water glass to the floor. She smeared on her lipstick and crossed the dark street toward Dee's.

Tony had two old-time hard-drinking friends. One was an out-of-work drunk named Stan and the other was a jackleg mechanic named Earl. They were the kind of men who preyed upon middle-aged women. Women with pensions and old, roomy homes. Places they could live free and eat.

Earl started coming over and forgot how to leave. Like a mouse you couldn't get out your house. His mother acted different whenever Earl was around. She fawned over him. She spoke high-pitched and phony. Laughing too loud when stuff wasn't funny. Wearing extra makeup and heavy perfume. Saying all the time, “Earl, you kill me.”

Lil Steve couldn't see what she saw in that fool, but the next thing he knew they were married. Ol' nasty Earl with his mechanic fingernails that were permanently black and that large retarded daughter of his. The first thing Earl did was put bars on the windows. He killed the front lawn with the gasoline jugs and dented car parts he stacked all over their grass.

But the worst was when his mother gave that retarded girl his room. Just gave it away like he was nothing. Made Lil Steve sleep on the couch.

Lil Steve tried his best to make his bad feelings heard. He stared Earl down, flashed him cold, evil eyes, calling Earl “son” even though Earl was thirty-nine years older, anything to make Earl mad. But Earl didn't care. He just laughed all the time. All he wanted to do was play dominoes or checkers or drink with his buddies. Yelling for Lil Steve's mother to bring his greasy ass a beer. Like his sloppy ass ruled the whole house.

In one swig his mama wasn't his anymore. The family life he'd known was a memory now. It had slipped through the cracks like a black row of ants. His mother stayed so busy with cooking or cleaning or drawing the girl a bath. Earl and the large girl both lounged around all day while his mama waited on them hand and foot like a slave.

He couldn't understand why she gave them so much. Why she sacrificed her life for two total strangers, just so she could say she had her
a man
.

One day Lil Steve just asked her point-blank, “Why you let that ignorant nigga pimp you like this?”

His mother stood there with both hands on her hips. “Boy, a woman has needs, a woman has wants. There are some things you can't understand.”

Lil Steve couldn't stand watching her act so damn stupid, so he packed up and moved into his car. It was just after high school, so not many of his friends knew. He parked that car all over, traveling all over town, from Crenshaw to Compton, to Venice Beach or Pacoima, staying with anyone who'd feed or let him crash on the couch. He kept a gym membership so he had a place to shower and keep clean or to park for long hours without worrying about all those signs saying
NO STOPPING
.

But the simmering hate and street life scorched his heart. He started smoking crack to black out his brain. He started hustling full time to make money to eat. When his money ran low he broke up with Trudy and sold her nude video for cash. After that, he only dated honeys with money. He didn't like it but it gave him time to spy on his mother. Make sure she was all right.

But as much as Lil Steve hated Earl, he hated Tony more. He blamed him for what happened last summer to his mother. But Lil Steve didn't even know the worst part of the story. If he did, Tony wouldn't be breathing today.

See, last summer, Lil Steve's mother had gone over to Dee's. She was looking for Earl, who was having trouble finding his way home lately.

Tony blocked her path when she got to the door.

“Hey, girl, how you doin'?” he said, leading her away from the giant black gate that led to the gambling room upstairs. “Come on, have a quick drink on me.”

Tony was always trying to get Lil Steve's mother to drink. He always stayed after her about it.

“Come on, sugar, it won't hurt you none. It's real nice and sweet. Guar-an-teed to make all pain go away.” Tony poured her a white creamy piña colada, garnishing it with a dead-looking pineapple wedge.

“Now, Earl ain't doing nothing but gamblin' some. A man's got to do what a man's got to do. You don't want to chase him away.” Tony knew about Lil Steve's father leaving. He knew where to put in the knife.