Tyrell Read online

  “You sure?”

  “Now your next party, I’m in it for my cut, understand?” He laugh a little. Then he give me Leon cell number. “And tell him you with me, okay?”

  “A’ight,” I tell him. I wanna tell Regg ‘bout Dante and the equipment, but what Regg gonna do ‘bout that when he in Atlanta? Nah, I’ma hafta handle Dante on my own.

  “And when you see your pops, tell him I got his back, okay?”

  “A’ight,” I say again even though I ain’t seen my pops since he was arrested and don’t plan on seeing him no time soon. I don’t say nothing to Regg, but the truth is, I don’t do the whole prison bus-ride thing. I can’t even stand seeing them women lined up on Grand Concourse and 149th Street every morning waiting for them buses. That whole scene don’t make no sense to me.

  Saturdays and Sundays is even worse ‘cause them women drag they kids with them. Dress them up like they going to a birthday party or something. Like there ain’t nothing else them kids wanna do but go through metal detectors and get searched by guards just so they could spend a couple hours in the prison visiting area with they pops. With more guards watching they every move.

  I know how them kids feel ‘cause I used to be one of them. My moms used to make me wear my best clothes and take me on them buses with her. The whole way there, all us kids used to play ‘round in the back of the bus like we was friends or something. Nobody talked ‘bout they pops. We just acted like we wasn’t even going to prison.

  But I ain’t never going through that shit again. I’m too old for that now. If my pops wanna see me, he need to keep his ass home.

  SIXTEEN

  It’s practically midnight and I’m hungry. I still got that ham and cheese hero my moms brung home, but I wasn’t even gonna eat it ‘cause I ain’t want shit from Dante. But then I remember all them cookies I already ate and say fuck it.

  The bags Troy used in his sneakers got ripped up, so my moms put all the food and shit in the other bag. I open it and, damn, there ain’t nothing but roaches in there. Like fifty roaches all on the cookies and crackers. My sandwich is in some kinda plastic wrap, and I don’t know if the roaches got in there, but I ain’t reaching my hand in the bag to find out. That shit is nasty.

  I take the whole bag and tie it up with the roaches inside. If I leave this bag in the room, every roach in Bennett gonna be up in here. I put my key in my back pocket and go out in the hall to find a garbage can, but there ain’t none on my floor.

  On my way downstairs to the lobby I knock on Jasmine door again. This time I can hear the TV on in her room, but nobody still don’t answer the door. She must be back ‘cause I don’t remember hearing no TV when I knocked on the door before. But if she is back, then where she at?

  I go down the stairs, but I still don’t got no sneakers on, so I’m trying not to walk in no wet spots. And this ain’t easy ‘cause there’s a lot of wet boot prints and dirty, melting snow all over the lobby floor. But least there’s a garbage can by the candy machine.

  “Your girl still missing?”

  Wayne.

  I throw the bag away and try to act like I don’t care what he say. “I ain’t looking for her,” I tell him. “I’m throwing away a bag of roaches.”

  Wayne start laughing. “Them niggas wasn’t lying about Bennett the other night, was they?”

  “Nah,” I say. “This place is bugged.” We both start laughing then. Next thing I know, we sitting on them busted chairs in the lobby just talking ‘bout nothing. He all into the Knicks, like my pops is, so we talk ‘bout the team for a while. I used to be into them too, but now I ain’t got time to be no Knick fan. And even when I do catch a game on TV, it ain’t the same no more.

  “What you doing on Saturday night?” I ask him.

  “I don’t know. I hope I ain’t still here though.”

  I tell him ‘bout the party I’ma have and that I need some people to work.

  “How much?” he ask.

  “Two hundred for the night. But you gotta help set up and shit.”

  He don’t even think ‘bout it. “I’m in. You need some other guys?”

  “A couple, but not that guy you seen Jasmine with. I don’t trust him.”

  “He probably just talking shit, man.”

  “I know.”

  We stay down there in the lobby for ‘bout fifteen minutes just chillin’. And since there ain’t nobody at the front desk, Wayne give me a cigarette and we both light up and smoke. I don’t hardly know Wayne, but he alright, least from what I seen of him so far.

  Me and him is just getting ready to go back upstairs to our rooms when the door behind the front desk open and Jasmine come out. She got her head down so I can’t hardly see her face.

  A second later the night manager come out behind her. He fixing his hair with his hands and looking at Jasmine body with a real nasty smile on his face. And I can tell that something went on in there. Ain’t no doubt in my mind. And I don’t gotta think ‘bout what I’ma do. I’ma kick his Puerto Rican ass.

  It don’t take me more than a second before I’m jumping over the front desk and rushing the night manager. I grab him by the neck hard, and when I slam his head back into the wall, he look at me like he don’t even know what the fuck is going on. I can hear Jasmine screaming, but I’m so mad there ain’t no way to stop myself.

  I punch the night manager in the stomach and he go down and, man, I wish I had my sneakers on so I could stomp him on the face. But before I could fuck him up anymore, Wayne grab me and pull me away from him. “C’mon, man,” he say. “C’mon, man.”

  Next thing I know, two security guards is there, too. One is grabbing my arm, pulling me away from Wayne, and the other is helping the night manager get up off the floor.

  “You okay, Mr. Mendoza?” the guard with the dreadlocks ask the night manager.

  “I…I think so. Yeah.” He standing up on his own, but his nose is bleeding and his face and neck is all red and shit.

  “Get off me,” I say to the other guard, and try to pull away from him, but he got me in a hold and I ain’t going nowhere. “Get the fuck off me. I ain’t done with him yet.” I look the night manager in the face. “You like little girls? What, you a fuckin’ child molester?”

  The guard tighten his hold. “Shut up.”

  “Fuck you,” I tell him, still fighting to get loose.

  Jasmine is just standing there crying. “Ty, stop!” she keep saying. “What are you doing? Stop!”

  Finally I break away from the guard, and in a second, I’m on Mr. Mendoza again. And when my fist connect with his jaw, I can hear the cracking sound, and I know he gonna be feeling that for a while.

  Then the guard I just got away from come after me again. He look me in the face with some jacked-up teeth and say, “Get away from him.”

  The guard with the dreadlocks pick up the phone. “I’m gonna call the police, Mr. Mendoza.”

  Teeth grab me up in a headlock and, I gotta be honest, that shit hurt. I’m trying everything I can to get free again, but he too strong.

  “Let him go,” Jasmine say. “Let him go!”

  “What you trying to do?” Wayne ask. “Break his neck?”

  “Put the phone down,” Mr. Mendoza tell Dreadlocks. “We don’t need to get the police involved in this. Everything’s fine now.”

  Dreadlocks drop the phone. “You sure, boss?” he ask.

  When Mr. Mendoza nod, Teeth release his hold on me. Now I’m the one that’s in pain, but I still wanna fight. I still gotta teach that nasty asshole a lesson. But just like that, Dreadlocks stand in front of him like he his personal bodyguard or something.

  Wayne put his hand on my back and start pushing me away from the whole scene. “C’mon, man. Let’s go.”

  I let Wayne push me away and try to calm myself down, but it ain’t easy. Just seeing the look that man gave Jasmine when he came out that room make me wanna hurt him. Damn. What he do to her in there?

  Me and Wayne get to the stairs, and
Jasmine is behind us crying. I swear I don’t get this female. Why she gonna let that man do whatever the fuck he did to her? I just wanna grab her and ask her what she doing, but if I put my hands on her, I ain’t gonna be able to control myself. Not now. Not when I’m so fuckin’ mad.

  We get upstairs and Wayne leave us in front of Jasmine door. She crying real hard, and her hands is covering her face. “Open the door,” I tell her. “Where your key at?”

  When she don’t move, I just reach my hand in the front pockets of her tight jeans and pull out all kinda shit: a Chap Stick, a twenty-dollar bill, the business card she got from the lady at the church, a dollar bill, and then the room key. “Here.” I give her back her money and the other stuff and open the door. We go inside, but I don’t even know what to say to her. The TV is on so loud and my blood is pumping so hard and fast, it feel like my head gonna bust open or something. It’s gonna take a while to get myself calmed down.

  “I’m gonna take a shower,” Jasmine say. She don’t wait for me to say nothing. She just grab her towel and some clothes and go into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

  First I sit on the bed, then I lay back and look up at the ceiling. There’s a couple roaches up there and I hope they don’t fall on me, but at the same time, I don’t move out from under them. This girl got me going through mad changes. I know she like me and wanna get with me, but the second I ain’t with her, she off screwing the guy in the Sean John jacket or that asshole downstairs. What she doing?

  But that don’t mean I ain’t still pissed off at that night manager ‘cause he the one that shoulda knew better. No matter how Jasmine look and what she do, he a grown-ass man and don’t got no right doing nothing with her. That shit is just wrong.

  Jasmine come out the bathroom only wearing this big pink T-shirt with BORICUA ‘cross the front and no bra on. She still not saying nothing to me. She just stand in front of the mirror and start brushing her hair. Only thing is, every time she raise her arms up, her T-shirt lift up in the back and I get a look at the little red panties she got on. And with half her ass hanging out, she definitely got my attention. Damn. Her body is off the chart. She got a big ass, a small waist, and big titties. I ain’t so mad at her that I don’t like what I see.

  When she finish putting her hair up, she turn ‘round and ask me if I’m staying. I wish I could say no, but something is keeping me there. “Yeah, I’ma stay,” I say.

  “You gonna sleep in your clothes again?”

  “Yeah.”

  She turn off the light and we both get under the covers in the dark. At first she on one side of the bed and I’m on the other, and we ain’t touching. Then she move closer to me and whisper, “Thanks for staying with me. I really hate being alone, especially at night.”

  “Why?”

  “I just don’t feel safe when I’m alone.”

  Next thing I know, our feet is touching. I got my socks on, but still, it feel nice. Jasmine give me a little kiss on the cheek. “That’s for beating that guy up,” she say. “I didn’t know you could fight like that.”

  “I can take care of myself,” I say, and I gotta admit, it kinda feel good hearing her say that. Like she respect me for doing what I had to do.

  Novisha wouldn’t be like that. She woulda got mad at me for fighting and almost getting in trouble. Then she woulda got all worried that I’ma end up like my pops. Least Jasmine understand that sometime a man gotta step up.

  Me and Jasmine start talking in the dark. She tell me all ‘bout her life and how much fun she used to have when she was little, living in the South Bronx, not all that far from Hunts Point. Her family used to go to Puerto Rico for Christmas and Disney World every summer. They was a real tight family.

  But when Jasmine was five, her moms and little brother died in a car accident. “It was just me, Reyna, and my dad left,” she say. “We were so sad all the time. It was terrible. Terrible.”

  She stop talking and I don’t know if she want me to say something or not, so I don’t.

  “My dad, he had a lot of problems.” Jasmine is whispering now. “He was on methadone. Do you know what that is?”

  “Yeah,” I say, but all I know is that they got a methadone clinic a couple blocks from Bronxwood and every morning there ain’t nothing but skinny-ass drug addicts lined up in front of it waiting for the place to open, no matter how cold it is outside. Whatever that methadone is, folks be wanting it, that’s for damn sure.

  “Well, he was on methadone for a long time and it was helping him stay away from heroin, and he could still work and take care of us. But sometimes he would start using again and lose his job, and he wouldn’t come home and we couldn’t find him. Me and Reyna would be all alone and scared and worried.”

  “Was y’all ever put in foster care?”

  “No. Nobody ever knew we were alone. Reyna always used to feed me and take care of me. We would go to school and act like nothing was wrong. Everything was a secret. Then my dad would come home after a few days or a week. Just like that.”

  “And he would be okay?”

  “No. When he came back he would look terrible and dirty, like he was sleeping on the streets or something. Reyna used to take care of him, put him in the bathtub, give him food, make him sleep. Then he would promise us he would stop using. And he would. Just for us. He was a strong man, Ty, but the drugs, they made his heart weak. When I was eleven, I came home from school one day and found him on the floor in the hallway. He was dead. They told me he had a heart attack. A forty-one-year-old man.”

  “Damn,” I say. “That’s messed up.”

  “And he wasn’t even using nothing then. He was clean. I’ll never forget that day, coming home all alone and seeing him like that. I’ll never forget it.”

  I put my arm ‘round her and we move even closer together. Her legs is pressed up against mines and the only thing between us is my jeans and them red panties. I gotta be honest. It ain’t easy holding myself back.

  But I do. She here talkin’ ‘bout her family, and I ain’t the kinda guy that would try to get with a girl when she all sad and shit. That ain’t right, and that ain’t me. Plus, I don’t wanna do nothing with her if she just been with that nasty night manager. And I ain’t looking to mess up what I got with Novisha.

  “What your mother say when she got back?” Jasmine ask, and I know she trying to change the subject. “Did she say why she left your brother all alone?”

  “Nah. She just blamed me for everything.”

  “Is she always like that?”

  “Only when my pops is locked up. When he ‘round, she a’ight. She like a regular mother. But when he gone, she don’t know how to act. She just lose it.”

  “Well, you still lucky you got a mother,” Jasmine say. “Even if she’s not perfect.” Then she tell me ‘bout how Reyna been trying to be her mother for the last four years, but that things ain’t working out. “She was only eighteen when our father died, so she didn’t know what she was doing, and I went wild. Ay! She couldn’t control me for nothing. Then when I met Emiliano and we moved in with him, everything changed. He calmed me down and tried to teach me how to respect myself and only date boys who respected me. He was so strict with me. He used to take me to school and pick me up everyday. In the bread truck. It was so embarrassing! I had to prove to him that I wasn’t gonna do nothing wrong before he stopped doing that.” She stop talking for a while, then she say, “You know something, Ty? I really, really need him. I don’t know what I’m doing without him.”

  “That why you was with Mr. Mendoza? I mean, I know it ain’t none of my business, but, c’mon. Ain’t he kinda old?”

  I hear her start crying, and it’s a real long time before she talk again. “Reyna came back here this afternoon and she took me to some guy’s apartment. And guess what? She’s moving in with him, just another guy she met in some club. Well, I’m not doing that no more. He was looking at me…funny. He gave me the creeps. Reyna said if I don’t move with her she’s no
t coming back here, and she doesn’t care if ACS finds out I’m all alone and puts me in a group home. But I left anyway and took the bus back here.” She stop talking again, but she still crying. “Then I got hungry, but I only had a dollar left. So I went downstairs to the machine for some chips or something, but the machine wouldn’t take my dollar bill. I went up to Mr. Mendoza and I asked him if he could change my dollar, and he said if I’m hungry he would split his sandwich with me. So I said okay.”

  “You know a guy like that ain’t gonna give you something for nothing,” I tell her. “You ever look at yourself?”

  “I know what I look like, Ty. Guys been trying to get with me since I was twelve. I know how to handle men.”

  She try to sound like she all confident and shit, but I ain’t buying it. Just ‘cause she hooked up with a lot of guys don’t mean she wasn’t being used by them. “And you was gonna handle Mr. Mendoza?”

  “I was gonna eat for free!” she say. Then she tell me that he took her in his office and they ate his sandwich together. That’s when he started in on her, asking her if she needed money. And when she told him yeah, he told her he would pay her for sex. “I told him hell no, but that didn’t stop him. He was, like, trying to see what I would do for how much, treating me like I’m one of those Hunts Point hookers out there.”

  My body tense up and my breathing get heavy. I don’t like what the fuck I’m hearing.

  “I told him that I’m only fifteen and I wasn’t gonna let him touch me,” Jasmine say. “But I really needed some money, Ty. My sister abandoned me with nothing.”

  “He gave you the twenty, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What he do to you?”

  “He didn’t do nothing to me.” But then them tears start again, and we so close now, the side of my face is getting wet from them. “I, um, I just stripped for him and…and I gave him, like, a lap dance, and…he touched himself.”

  “A’ight, that’s it.” I move away from her and get out the bed. “I’ma go back down there and finish kicking his ass.” I turn the light on and look for my sneakers. Then I remember I ain’t had them.