Push Comes to Shove (26 page)

GP leaned against the pay phone while keeping a watchful eye on the booth. He wiped the receiver with his shirt, then placed it on his ear. “Ninth Street Artwork; GP speaking.”

“One day you’re gonna be able to answer the phone like that for real, in your own place of business.”

“Let’s face it, Jewels, this is a dead dream. How are you? Ready to come home?”

“Yeah, homeboy. I’m getting discharged now. I was thinking about Limbo, Tink, and Manny Cool. Man, GP, you don’t know how things would be different if they were home.”

“Tell me about it. When is the last time you heard from them? I wonder how they are.”

“I haven’t heard from them in a minute, but I called Congress today and played my part so they can bring parole back.”

“That’s what’s up. Give me the number. I’ll call, too. Kitchie will be here soon; then we’ll be there.”

Jewels zipped her jeans. “You sound fucked up. What’s wrong now?”

“Ain’t nothing.”

“Motherfucker, please. I hear it in your voice.”

“Looks like I’ll be finding out how Manny Cool and them is doing for myself. I found out today that I’m going to prison. This white boy is really pressing charges, knowing he was in the wrong.” GP glanced at the dark clouds circling overhead. He smelled rain. “You should see all the shit in this criminal complaint against me and Kitchie.”

“You have the actual criminal complaint?”

“A certified copy of it.” A spec of water hit his nose.

Jewels tied her shoe and was ready to leave. “There’s an address on it, right?”

“Yeah. The lame lives in South Euclid.”

“Don’t stress the charges. I’ll handle it.”

“Jewels—”

“I ain’t trying to hear it.” She touched her stitches again. “People get hurt every day. You can’t help me get my niece and nephew back, or help me pay Squeeze, if you’re blowing my phone up with collect calls from the joint. I’ll handle it.”

“You are truly a jewel.”

“And I’m still waiting on my diamond.”

“Let me go; it’s about to rain. We’ll be there soon.” He returned the receiver to its cradle.

The weather had changed for the worse over the course of the last twenty minutes. By the time the Escalade stopped at the curb, GP was soaked. The afternoon downpour showed no sign of slowing. He opened the rear door to load the merchandise and saw that Kitchie was crying. “What’s wrong with you, Mami Chula?”

I
t had been exactly two weeks and one day since Jewels was discharged from Metro Hospital. Now she stood inside Conrad Tharp’s bedroom, disgusted. She could feel her stomach churn. The room had been converted into a porno set. There was high-tech equipment and high-velocity power cords all over. Pornographic pictures and film clips had been thumb-tacked to a corkboard. Everything from leather restraints to sex toys to libido-stimulating drugs were in this room.

Jewels was not one to frown upon an individual’s sexual practices or preference, but Conrad Tharp was a deviant. The stars of his homemade films were he and boys and girls who couldn’t have been any older than Secret, Jewels speculated, while forcing herself to view the images on the corkboard. “Sick caveman.” Jewels held her stomach, which now felt queasy, then threw-up. She wiped her mouth with a sleeve, then flipped a light switch.

A pulsating instrumental music began to play. She went to the stereo and lowered the volume. The electronic equipment lit up. Fluorescent tube lights lining the ceiling shined bright, and the video cameras zoomed in on the messy bed. Two computer screens showed the bed from different angles. Another screen boasted the video footage of some of the same shots that had been pinned on the corkboard.

She knocked a set of cue cards, with script lines on it, to the floor and began to ramble through the computer station’s drawer until she found a CD. She sat down in front of the computer and burned Conrad Tharp’s entire file onto the CD.

Thirty minutes later, Jewels yanked the CD out of the disc drive. She heard the door slam shut as someone hummed the same tune that she heard earlier.

Crutchfield and his annoying sidekick, Thomas, made their way up a broken sidewalk, then rapped on a warped screen door.

“Go away.”

“Miles, it’s Detective Crutchfield. Can I have a word with you?”

“Come back when you die.” His words were slow and slurred.

Thomas cupped his hands around his face and looked through the screen. “Sounds like he’s been drinking pretty heavy.”

“Miles, thanks for inviting me in.” Crutchfield opened the door and led the way.

Thomas fanned the air. “You look like shit, Miles…and this place smells like a used pamper.”

Miles was stretched across the couch. He was holding on to a bottle of brown liquor. He sat upright and paused until the room was no longer spinning. “What are you…Why are you here bothering me? I don’t like you.”

“Sorry to hear about your mother’s passing,” Crutchfield said.

Miles turned the bottle up to his face and let out a satisfying, “Aaah. Did you arrest Squeeze?” He stood and staggered in place. His shirt had been buttoned all wrong.

“I think you better sit back down.” Thomas helped Miles to the couch.

“I need to take a look in Jap’s room.” Crutchfield pointed out a bag of marijuana to Thomas.

“Don’t be scoping out my weed. Get your own; it ain’t enough for all of us.” He shoved it in his pocket. “Don’t worry yourself
about busting Squeeze.” He beat on his chest. “’Cause can’t nobody, nobody, you hear me? Nobody can make things right by my mother and Jap but me.” He started laughing. The scent of alcohol poured from his breath.

“You’re drunk; you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“You’re right; I am a little tipsy.” He hit the bottle again. “But my tongue is sober. Look around. I don’t have a fucking thing to lose. It’s gone already.”

“If I thought you really knew what you were saying,” Thomas said as he touched Miles’ shoulder, “I’d take you in. Instead, I’m gonna let you sleep your liquor off.”

“You’d take a drunk man to jail…” Miles paused to remember what he wanted to say. “Just ’cause I had a few drinks, you’d threaten to arrest me, but you won’t arrest Squeeze for…whatever he did to my brother. I’ll arrest him since you two are chickens.” He closed his eyes. “I’m gambled out. I have to make it right.”

Crutchfield patted Miles’s back. “Get some rest. I’m gonna take a look in Jap’s room.”

“Hurry up and get out. Jap ain’t into people bothering his things.”

Blue Eyes closed the back door of his home with a dull thud. “I’m home, honey. I’ve been thinking of you all day.” He adjusted a leather bag that he had thrown over his shoulder. He hummed an upbeat tune and danced his way to a downstairs closet. He pulled the door open and smiled. “Were you thinking of me like I’ve been thinking of you?”

An adolescent blow-up doll wearing a training bra and lace thong smiled back at him.

“You’re trying to make me love you; tell the truth.” He picked
up the life-sized doll with care, pinched its synthetic nipples, and kissed its mouth. He turned around and caught a vicious blow from the butt of a nickel-plated .45.

“You nasty fucker.” Jewels knelt down and latched on to his blond hair and looked into his blue eyes. “If I didn’t need you alive, I’d kill you.”

“Don’t hurt me. There’s plenty of money in the bag. Take it. Please don’t hurt me.”

Jewels glanced at the open leather bag beside him. “That’s a bonus. Open your mouth.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

She backhanded him. “Open your mouth, pervert.”

He complied.

“Wider.”

She could now see his tonsils. She filled his mouth with the long barrel. “I’m only gonna say this once, so turn your ears on.”

He nodded.

“This guy was a true military fanatic.” Thomas placed a model tank back on the dresser. “Might have served our country well.”

Crutchfield backed away from a closet filled with camouflage clothing and various styles of army boots. “I always knew you were a little off, but to be slow
and
off brands you retarded.”

“You’re worse than my wife. What are you fussing about now?”

“It finally sank into your mentally-challenged head that Jap is dead.”

Thomas examined a plastic model of a .50-millimeter machine gun. “I never said that.”

“Not per se, but you implied it. What does ‘
might have
served
our country well’ mean? For some apparent reason you think he’s not capable of serving our ass-backward country anymore.”

“Uh…” Thomas opened a drawer. “You made me lose my train of thought.”

“Impossible; you’ve never been trained to think. So what does ‘might have’ mean?”

Conrad stretched his mouth as wide as he could.

Jewels pushed the barrel in. “I’m only gonna say this once, so turn your ears on.”

He nodded.

“I know all about your extracurricular activities. I’ve saved everything in your computer files on my CD. All of it, including the pictures and the parents who rent you their kids.” She tightened her grip on his stringy hair and pushed the gun deeper until he began to gag. “Sick, perverted bastard, you probably like it this way. You want to keep me quiet?”

He nodded as best as he could.

“You filed some bogus charges against my partner GP.”

His brows furrowed.

“Greg Patterson and his wife.”

His eyes widened.

“Now you remember. You have two days to drop the charges or I’ll turn my CD of your child molesting ring over to the cops, if I don’t decide to come back and rid the world of you myself. Did I make myself clear enough for you?”

“Hmm.” He confirmed.

She released his hair to show him the CD. “Two days.”

Another nod.

“Good.” She delivered a blow to his head so hard, that when Conrad awoke from the realms of never-never land, he’d certainly have a splitting headache.