Takedown (7 page)

“Very funny,” she said, fighting a smile.

Warmth spread through my chest, and it wasn't the hot drink. Jessica was achingly sweet. The memory of our kiss filled my mind. I zoned out for a few seconds, reliving every hot moment, then started listening to her again. She was saying how much she loved my music.

“I'm going to make it my career,” I told her. “Me and a friend are planning to start up a record label.”

“That's exciting. I wish I could be involved somehow.”

“Do you sing?”

“Very badly.”

“You can dance in one of our videos, then. I know you can dance.”

She fluttered her lashes downward, and I bet she was thinking back to Smalls's party, where we'd gotten so close there wasn't a breath of space between us. I wished we could be that close right now.

“If you liked my dancing so much, you should've called me.”

Did she have to put me on the spot like that? She knew I was interested. I wouldn't be here at two thirty in the morning if I wasn't.

“I've been focused on the streets. Lot of shit going down.”

Her eyes went big. “Oh.” She was thinking about Albert's murder, of course. She must've heard about Rico's murder too. “I'm sorry. I didn't realize that's why you didn't call.” She looked worried. About me.

“Don't be sorry. You hungry? I'm thinking about a chicken shawarma.”

“I'll have one too.”

I went up to the counter to get the food. When I came back, I made sure we stayed on safe topics. School. Filimino's grading methods. Gossip—that was Jessica's territory. But instead of trash-talking people, she managed to make excuses for them, no matter what they were into. The girl didn't have a mean bone in her body. I guess I should be glad; if she were more judgmental, she wouldn't be hanging with me.

By the time she suggested we leave, the sky was lightening. I wasn't even tired. Being with Jessica made my blood buzz. We headed outside and hailed a cab.

In the backseat, the tension between us was electric. We sat right against each other, and she laid her head on my shoulder. When she looked up at me, I couldn't resist kissing her. She cupped the back of my head and kissed me back. Her kiss was slow and sensual. There was no staying away from Jessica. No pretending I was indifferent. I wanted her more than I'd wanted any girl.

I knew that I was lost. And it was the best place I'd ever been.

Lost

That girl is a rocket ship

She blasts you up so high

That girl is a lightning bolt

Flash of brilliance in the sky

For that girl you'd do anything

Everything

Anything

For that girl you'd do anything

Even give your life.

B
e careful out there, Darren. This isn't over. Walker will hit back. One of his dealers is dead, and he has to save face.”

Prescott's words echoed in my brain as I rode the subway to meet up with White Chris. Weird, but when I'd called Prescott that morning, I'd half expected him to tell me to get out of the game. To say that it was too dangerous.

Maybe part of me
wanted
to get out. But I was just being weak. If I abandoned my mission, the bodies would keep piling up.

I got to Local's Restaurant before White Chris and ordered a basket of suicide-hot wings. Local's was a dark, seedy place, but I didn't care because the food was good, cheap, and there was lots of it.
The waitresses were old but still showed off their wrinkly goods, and the same men always hung out at the bar hoping some woman would take them home. TVs were all over the place showing different games. Sometimes White Chris and I watched, hardly talking at all. Other times, we made plans for our record label and wrote lyrics.

Today, though, I needed to talk.

White Chris strolled in a few minutes later, his baggy clothes dangling off his lanky six-foot-three frame. The way he dressed, you'd never know his parents had money. But you could tell by the way he talked that he was from the suburbs—that's why the guys in juvie called him White Chris.

“Hey.” He sat down, helping himself to a chicken wing.

White Chris was more than a friend, he was a brother. He'd been in juvie for two months when I got there, and he had given me the lowdown on which guards were cool and which never to piss off. That knowledge was key to my survival. I just wished I'd been there when he was cornered by Jongo and his gang. I'd been working in the laundry that morning, clueless about what was happening to my friend. I'd do anything to go back in time to stop the beating that'd left him half-blind. Someone should've had his back, and it should've been me.

White Chris was one of those suburban kids who got into trouble because he was so damned bored. He'd learned how to
hot-wire cars from YouTube. He didn't even sell the cars he jacked. He did it for the rush, then dropped them off in random spots.

One day he saw an opportunity he couldn't pass up—a car parked in front of an ice cream shop. The driver hadn't bothered to lock her doors before she went inside. Chris hopped in and drove off. He'd only made it down the street when a toddler said from the backseat, “Ice cweam?” That part of the story always cracked me up.

So Chris pulled over right away. Nice guy that he was, he put down the windows so the kid could have some air and even called in an anonymous tip to tell the police where the kid was. Too bad there was a cop car one block away. Chris got caught, and the press had a field day with the whole thing: privileged suburban kid joyrides with toddler in the backseat. Chris got locked up for eighteen months.

I told him about Albert. When I finished talking, I felt drained, but lighter. Chris stared at me with his good eye. I'd learned to focus on that eye, not the one that had a swirl of yellow where the pupil should be.

“Maybe you should rethink your plan,” he said.

“What plan?”

He snorted. “Come on. You cursed Diamond Tony out the whole time you were in juvie. Now you expect me to believe you just up and went to work for him again? I know you.”

Holy shit. He might be half-blind, but he saw right through me.

“Why didn't you say anything?” I asked.

“No point. I wasn't going to try to talk you out of it. But now I am. It's not worth getting yourself killed over this revenge thing.”

“It's not only about me. It's for everybody.”

“Like with Jongo, huh? You were going to get him out of there no matter what you had to do. That was some crazy shit you pulled. You could've gotten yourself killed.”

“But you're not sorry I did it,” I pointed out.

“Hell, no! Jongo got what was coming to him.” His face darkened. “But if you'd been killed, then I'd be sorry. That's the thing, Darren. You don't know how this is gonna turn out.”

“You don't have to worry. I'm watching my back.”

“I'm sure you are. There's just one thing you've got to realize.”

“Oh yeah?” I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

“You're not smarter than Diamond Tony.”

“I'm not saying I am.”

“You think you're gonna outsmart him, but you won't. Look, I'm on your side. I want you to squash that motherfucker. I'm just not sure you can do it.”

I didn't say anything. Of all people, I could count on White Chris to tell me the truth. Unlike Prescott, he wasn't looking for a promotion.

“If I try to get out now, they might think I was the snitch who
told the Bloods the location of our meeting—not that I'm thinking of getting out.”

“Do what you want. But I need you around to drive when we take girls out. I can't be taking them on the subway all the time.”

“You know I don't have a car.”

“Want me to jack one for you?” He smiled. “At least you've got your license. That's more than I'll ever have.”

“I hear you. I'll get us a car when this is all over,” I promised.

“Let's hope you'll be alive to drive it.”

There it was again, the darkness in his expression. I didn't like being confronted with his fears, because they were mine, too.

It was cool hanging out with White Chris, but sometimes he saw too much.

H
is name is Darren/You'll never hear him swearin'/Because he's really carin'.” Jessica and I were in her bedroom. She rapped while I did some beat-boxing. Her goal was always to make the worst lyrics possible.

“Wait, I've got something better.” She cleared her throat. “Darren has nice cologne/But don't leave him home alone/He'll be eating a calzone.”

I cracked up, and so did she. The more time I spent with her, the more I realized that Jessica wasn't only beautiful and sexy, she was funny as hell. And she loved to laugh at herself.

The Christmas holidays were under way, and we were spending
all of our free time together. It just happened that way. If one of us needed something at the mall, the other would go along. If there was a movie one of us wanted to see, the other went too. If her mom was cooking something good, she told me to come right over. Truth was, everything was better with Jessica by my side.

Jessica lived in a three-bedroom apartment with her parents and thirteen-year-old sister, Kendra. As families went, hers was solid. She had two parents who seemed to like each other. Parents who actually gave a shit and asked the right questions. They weren't happy about Jessica waitressing at the club, but they said it was her choice. As for me, they'd welcomed me warmly. But I knew that wouldn't last if they found out I was a dealer.

Jessica's bedroom was twice the size of mine and as picture perfect as she was. The walls were pastel pink with a thick yellow stripe around the middle—Jessica said she'd done the painting herself. All of the furniture was white IKEA, draped with silky fabric or done up with colorful designs. She had a dozen nail polishes on her dresser, arranged by color, and a neatly organized bookshelf. Nothing was out of place, except for the pile of socks that were peeking out from under her bed.

“I'm starting to think you're not going to want me to write lyrics for your album.” Jessica bit her lip against a laugh.

“Your lyrics are definitely . . . unique.” I smirked. “It's a shame I already have a writing partner.”

“Oh yeah. What was his name again?”

“White Chris.”

“
White
Chris?”

“A nickname from juvie. He lives in a big house in the burbs. His dad's a principal and his mom's an English prof.”

“Hope I'll meet him sometime.” She paused. Jessica never ran out of things to say, so I knew something was up. “Are you afraid of going to juvie again?”

“If I was, would I still be dealing?”

“I'm not sure. Maybe it's the only way you can keep status.”

“You sound like a shrink.” I stretched out on her bed like it was my own, folding my hands behind my head. “So where are you taking me today? I hope I don't have to smell more perfumes.”

“I wouldn't do that to you two days in a row. Today you can watch me try on jeans.”

“So I'm gonna have to say you don't look fat in a million different ways.”

She giggled. “Get practicing, honey.”

I looked her up and down. “You look good in those jeans, Jessica. So good you don't even need to wear pants at all.”

“Darren!” She dove on top of me. I caught her arms, rolled her under me, and kissed her.

Kissing Jessica was my favorite thing to do these days. All
thought and worry left my brain, and there was nothing but the feel of her against me.

“I've wanted you for so long, Darren,” she whispered against my lips.

“Oh yeah?”

“I had a serious crush on you in junior high. But you never paid any attention to me, or any girl, really.”

“Are you kidding? If I'd known, I'd have been all over you.”

“You're all over me now.”

“Not the way I'd like to be.”

She whispered in my ear, “Not yet, Darren.”

The tickle of her breath in my ear only made my heart pump harder. “Whatever you want. You're the boss. I'm the humble employee ready to do anything you like.” I kissed the sweet spot behind her ear. “Anything at all.”

*  *  *

An hour later we were at the mall. So was everyone else in the neighborhood. It was the place to be seen, to show off your threads, hair, bling. And now everyone was scrambling for last-minute Christmas gifts. Not Jessica, though. She'd finished a month ago.

“Let's go into Dynamite. I need that jacket.” It wasn't Jessica talking, it was her sister. Kendra looked like a mini Jessica, except she had pink braces and a different nose. That was the catch of
spending so much time with Jessica—sometimes Kendra tagged along. It was annoying, but part of the deal.

My cell buzzed. It was a text from Vinny. A reminder of the streets I didn't need.

“You still haven't gotten a gift for Mom yet,” Jessica was saying to Kendra.

“I know. I'll only be a minute,” she insisted.

“I'm gonna sit this one out.” I parked myself on a bench outside the store.

“We won't be long,” Jessica said.

“No worries.” I was already reading the text.

Hey d. Good news. Found new rims. Watching empire strikes back w the boys. Merry xmas hahaha.

Yeah, it was real good news. I wondered what chumps Vinny had found to replace Albert and Pie. The job description wasn't very appealing: Take over from a guy who got shot to death and his best friend who was so wired with post-traumatic stress that he had to be taken off the streets. I bet Vinny found a couple of lookouts who wanted to move up in the ranks, kids as dumb as I used to be. Kids who saw the turf war as nothing but a video game.