Two Tears in a Bucket (3 page)

“
Yeah.” Kevin spoke nice and slow. “I heard you, Lil’ Bits.”

“
I know he robbed me,” Lil’ Bits replied through clenched teeth as he forced the barrel deeper into Kevin’s jaw. “And I’ma get my money back one way or another.”

Removing the shotgun, Lil’ Bits marched off like a solider at battle. But the streets were a different type of war, and Lil’ Bits had forgotten the most important rule—never pull a gun on a gangster and not use it. Kevin’s nerves erupted into anger as he spat a wad of blood on the ground.

“
I’m gon’ get your ass.”

“
Damn, Kevin!” Tuffy’s friend, Sean, stepped from Kevin’s building. “I saw that shit, man! You a’ight?”

“
Watch out!” Kevin ordered. “I’ma get that muthafucka.”

“
Naw, here, man. Take mine before his ass runs off somewhere.” Sean reached in his pants and offered Kevin his gun. “This ain’t that raggedy shit Tuffy had earlier. My shit works.”

Kevin preferred his 9-mm, but snatched the .25 automatic from Sean, determined to get Lil’ Bits before he disappeared. But as long as he remained in the vicinity, he couldn’t hide. Kevin knew every inch of the strip like the back of his hand. Ducking between parked cars, he went on the prowl, searching the complex for Lil’ Bits. Finally, he spotted him puffing away on a cigarette, still armed with his shotgun.

Yeah, you bitch muthafucka,
Kevin thought as he crept up behind Lil’ Bits.
I got your ass now
.

“
Ah, Lil’ Bits!”

Lil’ Bits dropped his cigarette and spun around on his heels. Kevin met his eyes. He remembered the bullet in the chamber of the shotgun and fired before Lil’ Bits had a chance to pull the trigger. The bullet connected, ripping open the side of Lil’ Bits’ face.

“
Aaaggh!” he cried. Blood oozed down his face. Lil’ Bits fired back but missed. He tried to run, but Kevin shot again. The bullet snatched open Lil’ Bits’ back and sent him to the ground in a pool of blood.

Police cars flooded the scene within minutes, illuminating the dark drug strip with their flashing lights. In the midst of the crowd, Kevin spotted his mother. As the police car zoomed from the scene, Kevin threw his head against the backseat of the car and mumbled, “I’m sorry, Ma.” The image of her tear-drenched face rode with him all the way to the station.

● ● ●

September, 1987 - six months later, Fat Ed sat outside the prison, waiting for his god-brother in his milk-white S500 Mercedes, with two bottles of Moet chilling in a Styrofoam cooler in the trunk. It was time to celebrate. Lil’ Bits survived the ordeal but failed to appear in court as the state’s key witness, forcing the judge to throw the case out due to lack of evidence. Kevin was a free man.

Fat Ed exploded on the drug scene while Kevin was incarcerated. He’d stumbled across a Floridian with aColumbian connection and invested the money he’d earned as a corner pusher in large quantities of cocaine and marijuana. Now, not only was he one of the area suppliers, but the corner pushers on the strip were employed by him. With money pouring in from all ends, Fat Ed purchased a fleet of automobiles—a white S-Class Mercedes, a black Porsche, and a money-green Range Rover, all of which he parked in the driveway of his new house.

“
Welcome home, man! I got you a little something,” Fat Ed beamed, dangling the keys to the Benz as Kevin made his way through the prison gates.

“
You got who a lil’ something?” Kevin asked, staring at the car in awe.

“
You! This is your car. Your Benz. C’mon and drive,” he said as Kevin took inventory of the flashy automobile. “I’m serious.” He chuckled. “It’s yours, Kevin.”

“
What I do to deserve this?”

“
Nothing, yet.”

“
That’s what I thought,” Kevin said and detoured to the passenger seat. “I don’t like that yet shit, so I think I’ll ride over here.”

Fat Ed’s brows drew together. “What, you don’t like it?” he asked as he climbed in the driver’s seat.

Kevin ran his hand along the polished wood grain while his body sank into the soft, cream-colored leather seats. “Shit, what’s not to like?”

“
Well, it’s yours,” Fat Ed repeated. The jolliness in his voice had subsided.

The shooting was the buzz on the strip. Just like Fat Ed’s drug game, Kevin’s reputation had stepped up, making him just what Fat Ed needed—a notorious, no-nonsense gangster that the knuckleheads on the strip feared, one they knew would pull the trigger.

“
I want us to be partners. This here is like a lil’ signing bonus.”

“
Partners?”

“
Yeah. I need a no-nonsense type of partner to collect that paper and deal wit’ them knuckleheads when they don’t pay.”

“
Deal wit’em how?”

“
However you see fit. That’s your department. If they owe a few dollars, hell, just beat their asses. But if it’s major paper,” Fat Ed said, looking over at Kevin, “flatline ’em.”

“
Boy, you must be crazy!” Fresh out of the penitentiary, the last thing Kevin wanted to discuss was an illegal activity that would send him right back. “You want me to kill a chump ’cause he owes you a few dollars? What’s a few dollars to you anyway? Hell, if they mess up one time, cut ’em off. Just don’t fuck wit’ ’em no more.”

“
Man, you know it don’t work like that! Then all them lil’ youngins will be tryin’ to get over at least one muthafuckin’ time. That ain’t no way to run the business, and plus, you the only person I’d trust collecting for me.”

“
Well, then, you got a problem, ’cause I ain’t no hit man,” Kevin said. “I ain’t a killer.”

Fat Ed sucked his teeth. “Why you cold fakin’ on me, man? You damn near killed Lil’ Bits!”

“
That shit was different. You know the laws on the street. You don’t pull a gun on nobody unless you plan on using it.”

“
But…”

“
Ain’t no buts, man,” Kevin interrupted, tired of the meaningless chatter that was going nowhere. “Hey, look. What’s up? What we getting ready to get in-to? I’m fresh out the pen. We ’pose to be celebrating.”

“
Hell, I know your ass gotta be horny, so I got some strippers waiting for you up in a hotel.”

“
Word?”

“
Yeah, man. They some stripper bitches, too. And I got some Mo on ice in the trunk.”

Kevin smiled his approval. “Now, that’s what I want to hear.”

“
I figured you’d like that shit. Maybe after you bust a nut or two, you’ll stop lunchin’ and we can talk business. I want us to be partners for real.”

● ● ●

Kevin’s mother stretched her depleting budget and said farewell to her three-bedroom apartment in the drug-stricken community in exchange for a two-bedroom in a better neighborhood. She knew LeCount and Kevin would scream bloody murder about having to share a bedroom, but she didn’t care. She had to get control over her sons before the streets swallowed them whole.

A registered nurse at an area nursing home, Beatrice had pulled a few strings and got Kevin a job caring for the elderly men. To make it even better, she was his supervisor and therefore made sure their schedules coincided.

After three weeks, Kevin finally had his first day off and had no plans on spending it cooped up in the house under the watchful eye of his mother. He hadn’t had a moment to himself since Fat Ed brought him home.

I gotta get out of this house,
he thought, just as Beatrice strolled from her room dressed in her nurse’s uniform.

“
Where you going?” Kevin asked, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.

“
Where it look like I’m going?” Beatrice huffed.

Kevin could tell from her sigh that a lecture was a syllable away.

“
I almost told them no, I couldn’t work overtime because part of me feels the need to stay here and watch your behind. But,” Beatrice said, heading to the front door, “you’re twenty years old, Kevin. I’ve taught you right from wrong. I can’t sit here and babysit you every day.”

“
Ma, I’m not gonna get in no more…”

Beatrice threw up her hand, silencing him. “I’ve heard it all before. This time, I just hope you mean it. One day your luck is gonna run out.”

Kevin didn’t waste a second. The minute the deadbolt turned, he jumped from the couch and headed to the room he shared with LeCount.

I wonder if it’s still in here.

He yanked the covers and sheets from his unmade bed and squeezed his large hand inside the secret compartment he’d cut in his mattress a long time ago.

Yes
, he rejoiced as he pulled out the plastic baggie filled with tiny rocks of cocaine.
I gotta get me a car, Ma. Then I’ll be done with this shit for real.

● ● ●

Kevin ignored the October chill and placed the tiny baggie into the addict’s hand.

“
Thank you, Mr. Kevin,” the addict said with a bow. “We missed you, man.”

Kevin filled the hours slinging the few rocks he had and catching up with the fellas he hadn’t seen in months. Glancing at his watch, he knew his mother was home, smoldering on the couch in disappointment.

Shit, it’s damn near eleven o’clock,
Kevin thought as a sparkling black Lincoln slowly crept down the street. He eyeballed the car as he reached underneath his sweatshirt and wrapped his fingers around his 9-mm. He gripped it tighter as the driver’s window eased down.

“
Hey!” Puffing on a joint, James blew a cloud of smoke out the window and grinned. “What’s up, man? Fat Ed told me you were home. Why it take you so long to come see a brotha?”

Kevin released his gun and breathed a sigh of relief. He stepped into the parking lot to slap hands with James. “Man, I was gettin’ ready to blast your ass.”

“
You still shooting muthafuckas? Your ass must like the pen.”

“
Yeah,” Kevin said as he looked over the shiny Lincoln. “You must like it, too. Whose car your hot ass don’ stole now?” A screwdriver was jammed inside the ignition, clear as day.

James chuckled. From the front passenger seat, Nic leaned his head forward. “What’s up, Kevin, man?”

“
What’s up, Nic?” Kevin greeted the one and only friend he had who sought education over dealing drugs. “What, you slingin’ drugs to pay for college?”

“
Naw, man.” Nic chuckled. “I’m tryna catch a ride, but James is sightseeing and shit.”

“
Well, hell,” Kevin opened the door and climbed inside the back. “I’m tryna catch a ride, too. Take me home, James, and I mean straight home. I ain’t tryna get caught in no stolen car fuckin’ ’round with you.”

Chapter Three

At the top of her lungs, Simone sang along to her Jody Watley cassette as she ran the vacuum across the living room floor. Every morsel of Simone’s being wanted to celebrate. Finally, she was in her own place after spending the last ten days on her grandmother’s couch nursing her fractured nose, thanks to Ricardo’s backhand slap. A smile eased across Simone’s face when all of a sudden she realized she could blast her music as loud as she wanted, just as she’d envisioned. She danced over to her boom box to turn the music up even louder.

Shoot. That’s as loud as it’ll go.

Melanie snatched the boom box’s plug from the wall.

“
Girl!” Simone protested as she turned off the vacuum. “What you doing? I was listening to that.”

“
The whole neighborhood was listening to it. C’mon,” Melanie said. “Me and Lavon are done in the kitchen. Let’s take these boxes out.”

“
Yeah, I left my bag in your trunk, too, Melanie,” Lavon added as she eased into her shoes. “What’s up? We going out tonight or we staying in?”

“
I’m tired,” Simone said as she gathered up a few boxes and led the way out the door. “I say we stay in.”

● ● ●

James pulled the stolen Lincoln into the parking lot. “That’ll be fifty dollars,” he said over his shoulder to Kevin.

“
Yeah, I got your fifty dollars,” Kevin said, tugging at the crotch of his pants as he climbed from the backseat. Nic opened the front door and hopped out, too. “Where you going, Nic, man?” Kevin asked as he slammed the door.

“
What?” Puzzled, Nic looked around. “You getting out here, too?”

“
Yeah, I live in that building right there.”

“
Man, get outta here. My girl’s best friend just moved in that building. They having some lil’ girly sleepover. I came over here to crash that mug.”

“
Girls? Now that’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout,” James said from inside the car. “Close the door, Nic, so I can park this muthafucka.”

“
What he parking for? Don’t nobody want his dirty ass,” Kevin joked.

Before Nic could close the door, James punched the gas and whipped the stolen Lincoln into a parking space.

“
Damn, man,” Kevin said. “Look at them bammas over there? The one holding the bag looks familiar.”

Nic turned his focus toward the handful of scruffy roughnecks seated on a rusty, abandoned car parked next to the trash dumpsters. While sipping on bottles concealed by brown paper bags, they took turns puffing on a joint.

“
Ah, Kevin, you know them. That’s whatchaface and ’em,” Nic said as he snapped his fingers to recall their names. “Shit, I can’t think of slim’s name, but all them hang with your brother.”