Bronxwood Page 6

  Thing is, my pops get a piece of all they action.

  This how my pops parties go. Folks pay to get in, but they don’t only come out to hear the music. They come for everything.

  Me and my pops go straight to where the DJ table need to be set up. The way we work, it’s like ain’t no time went by from the last time he threw a party to now. We both know what we gotta do and we just go through it, no problem, which is good ’cause it mean we don’t gotta say nothing to each other. While my pops set up the turntables and mixer, it always been my job to run the speaker wires, burn the ends, and make sure they connected right. Then I gotta tape them wires down to the floor with duct tape.

  When I get all that done and everything’s hooked up, my pops put on one of his old-skool records to test out the sound, and he just let it play while we stand next to each other, not saying nothing, just stacking the crates of records and making sure everything in the right order, ’cause with my pops there’s definitely a order, and I know in the back of his mind he checking to make sure I ain’t fuck up his system while he was gone, which I ain’t. Matter of fact, when I DJ, I keep everything in the same order he use.

  The way he plan his parties is always the same. First, he start out with whatever R&B dance music that’s hot right now, just to get folks in the door and let them know what kinda party they gonna be havin’. Then, when the place get full, he crank the party up to high and put on old shit like the Fatback Band, which always get folks they age up on the floor dancing and getting theyself thirsty so they hafta buy drinks. After a long time, he bring the beat down and throw on some slow reggae, get people in the mood for slow dancing and grinding. Sometimes he even pick out a girl to dance with hisself, a girl that ain’t got no guy with her, make her feel good even if she ain’t the best-looking girl there. When he dancing, I play a couple more reggae jams and, when we done with the slow music, that’s when I really take over and play some new stuff, so the folks in they twenties can hear something they into too, keep them coming to the parties and maybe bring new people with them. Then, when my pops take back over, he end off the night by playing some more old music from back in the day, stuff like Shalamar and The Whispers, and while some of the younger people start leaving, most of the people stay and dance ’til the end of the party. My pops always end his parties with the same song, “Before I Let Go” by Frankie Beverly and Maze. Folks lose they mind with that song. And they leave happy. All the time.

  “You see this,” my pops say. He holding up a Brothers Johnson record in my face.

  “What?” I go, even though I know I was playing “Strawberry Letter 23” at my last party.

  “This ain’t supposed to be here. This look like rap to you?”

  Damn. Fuck.

  “I ask a question, I want a answer.” He staring at me now.

  “I don’t know. You musta put that in the wrong place ’fore you — ’fore you went on your trip, ’cause I don’t even play that kinda music at my parties.” I’m lying out the left side of my neck, and me and him both know it. But damn, it’s only one fuckin’ album. Why he gotta make a big deal ’bout everything?

  He stare at me for a couple more seconds. “Where my chain at?” he ask me.

  “I forgot it.” Fuck him. Like he in a rush to get that chain back.

  I don’t wait for him to say nothing back. I just walk away and go over to the other side of the room to the bar. No doubt I’ma need something to get me through the night with that man.

  I ask Bones for a couple beers and he like, “You old enough to drink, man?”

  “Yeah,” I go.

  Dude used to give me beers when I was still in middle school.

  He hand me the bottles. “Something wrong, Ty? Your pops is back, man.” He say it like that’s s’posed to mean something to me.

  “Yeah, I see that.”

  “You lucky. Some men, they go in and never get out.”

  I nod my head, take my beers, and walk away. I ain’t in the mood tonight. I just wanna get this party over with.

  After we done setting up, it’s, like, practically ten o’clock and folks is gonna start showing up in a while. I plug in the microphone and turn the lights on over the DJ table, and we good.

  “Tyrone!” Regg call out from the other side of the room. Even though he calling my pops, for a second I think he callin’ my name. “You ready to open the doors?” He in charge of the money, and keeping out anybody who he think gonna start something.

  “Born ready,” my pops say, and him and Regg laugh. Then my pops crank the music up.

  Me, when I throw my parties, this is when my mind start running, thinking maybe nobody gonna show up and I ain’t gonna make no money. It never happened like that for me, but still. My pops though, he chillin’, drinking a beer, and moving his head to the beat of the music, just knowing the word is out that he outta prison and people is gonna pay to come and see him.

  And they do. The second Regg open the door, there’s, like, ten, twelve people coming in, like they was standing out there waiting. My pops don’t say nothing to me, but he line up a couple more records for me to play, then he leave the DJ table and go over to where everyone standing at. All the females is giving him hugs, and all the dudes is smiling and shaking his hand. I put on the records and try to get into the music, feel it.

  My pops come back and start DJing, and I step to the side and let him try and show off for his friends. I hand him the records he need and keep drinking. It’s after two o’clock when my pops finally let me play some of my music. I’m up there jamming, feeling good. The music pumping in my headphones and in my body, and I got a buzz from the beers I been drinking. I got everybody out there dancing, young people and even them forty-year-olds like my pops. He out there looking like a old fool, dancing with two young girls. But with the way I’m playing and the way everybody happy, everything is good ’til I look up and see this dude Dante coming into the party and walking ’cross the floor toward my pops.

  Dante one of my pops friends, but he ain’t cool like Regg. I don’t even know why my pops even deal with that asshole. Dante walk over to my pops and they hug like they best friends. Course I can’t hear nothing they saying, but he cheesing in my pops face, telling him something and both of them is laughing and shit. And I ain’t even hardly hearing the music no more ’cause I’m just watching him, pissed that he treating my pops like a chump or something.

  A second later, I’m like, fuck my pops. Let his ass get played by his friend.

  After a while my pops come over to the DJ table and just take back over. He don’t say nothing ’bout how good I was doing, probably ’cause he know I’m better than him now. The little bit of skills he used to have is gone. He lost it in jail. Knowing him, he probably don’t want me playing too long ’cause his guests gonna know they don’t need to be coming to his parties when mines is probably better.

  I walk away and out the corner of my eye I see Dante looking at me. I stop walking and stare back, just to let him know I know what he doing, trying to fuck with me, and I ain’t scared to say nothing to my pops ’cause both us know what would happen to Dante if I did say something.

  After a couple seconds of me and him staring at each other, he the first one to take his eyes off mines. Asshole. I keep walking ’cross the room, over by Regg to see if he need anything from the bar.

  Regg is standing in the doorway, and he so big he just ’bout fill the whole thing up. When I get there, he lean over close to me so I can hear him and go, “What up? You look like you ’bout to choke that nigga.”

  Regg is cool. I can tell him everything. When we was driving down south, I told him ’bout me and Novisha and all that bullshit that happened between us, but for some reason I ain’t never told him ’bout Dante. And now, I ain’t sure I wanna get into it. So I just go, “Nah, it ain’t nothing. Don’t worry ’bout it.”

  But Regg just stand there like he waiting for me to say more, fill him in. It ain’t easy to get nothing past him. />
  So I ask him to come outside with me for a second, and when we out there, I say, “A’ight. I’ma tell you. In the winter, back when we was living in that shelter, Dante was coming ’round all the time and buying my moms food and clothes for Troy and shit. Actin’ like he was lookin’ out for us, just ’cause.”

  I look over my shoulder and make sure nobody coming up behind me. In a way I wish someone was, so I wouldn’t hafta even talk ’bout none of this.

  “One night,” I say, “the same night ACS came and snatched up Troy, my moms ain’t come home at all. And that’s when I found out that her and Dante …” I don’t even gotta say it.

  “Damn,” Regg say, shaking his head. “I thought something like that mighta went down. That’s some fucked-up shit.”

  “True that,” I go. “She even went to live with him for, like, a couple days after I left outta the shelter. She said it was ’cause Bennett is a family shelter and they wouldn’t let her stay there if she ain’t had no kids living with her, but I don’t know, man.” I stop talking ’cause just thinking ’bout everything again make me wanna kill Dante.

  Regg get close to me and he look real serious when he say, “If I was you, Ty, I wouldn’t say shit to your father. He—”

  “What? I’m s’posed to let Dante stand in there and act like he his friend when—?”

  “Ty, your pops just got out.” He look ’round real quick. “You tell him any of this shit and he gonna end up right back in there ’fore the end of the night. You understand what—”

  “I could kick Dante ass for showin’ up here, smiling in my pops face.” I feel heat moving up through my body. “It would feel so fuckin’ good to stomp on Dante face and make him pay for—”

  “I’m telling you, Ty, don’t tell your pops. A man hear that and he ain’t never gonna get it out his mind. He gonna be picturing that shit forever. Him and your moms is doing good now. He hear what she did behind his back, he ain’t never gonna forget that. Trust me.”

  I stand there, feeling my head getting hot. This whole thing is pissing me the fuck off. Why I even gotta deal with this? All this should be between my moms and pops. Why I even gotta know who they messing with?

  “I’m serious, Ty. Keep this shit to yourself.”

  I’m tired of hearing Regg too, like it’s up to me to keep my moms and pops together or something. “Whatever you say,” I tell him, and open the door and go back inside. And right away I see Dante ’cross the room. I walk in his direction, staring him down the whole time, and when we close enough that he can hear me over the music, I say, “Stay the fuck away from my moms.”

  He get this little smile on his face, but he don’t say nothing back. He just walk to the other side of the room where he got some friends. After he outta my way, I turn back and, course, Regg seen the whole thing. He shake his head, like he warning me again, but I just turn ’round and head back over to the DJ table so I can finish helping the man and get my money. Yeah, I’ma listen to Regg. I ain’t gonna say nothing. But this whole situation getting me more tired and more pissed than I need to be.

  SUNDAY, AUGUST 3

  TEN

  When the party over, my pops and all the guys sit ’round getting high and relaxing. Course I get some of they weed too. After a while we break down the equipment and clean up the room the best we can so Regg friend that own the place don’t get mad. Me, I just wanna get paid and bounce, but my pops wanna go back to the diner like we always do after his parties. I don’t know why he dragging this thing out, but it don’t matter. I’m cool with going and eating another one of them Beasts. ’Til I hear Dante tell my pops he coming too.

  I gotta go in the van with my pops to help him bring the equipment back to the storage place, but we don’t hafta talk ’cause on the way he call my moms and they talk for the whole ride. Then, when we get there, he tell her to get in a cab and meet us at the diner. I know she was ’sleep ’cause it’s only something after five in the morning and she hate getting up early, but my pops tell her he miss her and all that shit, and next thing I know he hanging up and telling me, “She coming.”

  I don’t care one way or another. The whole time I was down south, the only time she called me was when she wanted to complain ’bout something. She would say shit like, “I don’t know why you out there in Atlanta having fun and you got me here with no money or nothing.” Them calls pissed me off, but they wasn’t nothing new. I mean, I been taking care of my moms for a year and she been acting like that the whole time. The one good thing ’bout my pops being back is, least that’s over with now.

  When we get to the diner, all the other guys is already there, sitting at a big table in the back of the place. I sit next to Regg, on the other side of the table from Dante. Regg too busy to say anything to me. He on his BlackBerry, typing some shit, probably handling his business, but I’m like, it’s five in the morning. Who he doing business with now?

  Being that we all still kinda high, everybody start getting loud, talking and laughing ’bout some of the shit that happened at the party. I gotta say, for one of my pops parties, this one wasn’t all that wild.

  We order our breakfast and for a while we sit there having a good time, but every time I look over at the other end of the table, Dante staring right at me. I’m like, what he want from me? ’Cause if he looking for a fight, I’m ready.

  Then my moms get there, and I ain’t lying, soon as she see Dante, the look on her face is like, oh, shit.

  A second later, she try and play it off, and smile like it don’t matter. I gotta say though, my moms is looking kinda okay, ’specially for somebody that just got theyself outta bed. She ain’t wearing them cutoff shorts she been running a lot this summer, or one of them tank tops that she probably too old to be wearing anyway. She got on jeans and a red T-shirt, but she musta put makeup on or something ’cause her face look good. Either that or it’s ’cause she smiling. Ain’t seen her do that since they sent my pops up.

  My moms go over and sit down next to my pops, and they start hugging and kissing, acting like they ain’t seen each other for years instead of just, like, a couple hours. Kinda embarrassing, you ask me, but okay, least they happy. When I look over at Dante, he staring at them, mad. But what he got to be pissed off ’bout? He the one that used the situation we was in to get my moms in bed with him. He knew my moms since she was, like, my age. He know she don’t know how to act when her man ain’t ’round.

  Not that she ain’t responsible for what she did. She fucked up, and I ain’t never gonna forget it. Wish I could.

  Our food come, and all through breakfast my moms and pops sit so close they practically on top of each other. They eating but still kissing and shit. And I can see Dante getting madder and madder. Regg must see it too, ’cause he get up from the table and go over to Dante and say he wanna talk to him ’bout something outside. Dante look kinda scared, which make sense with the way Regg standing over him, big as he is, but Dante don’t got no choice ’cept to go with him.

  After they leave, my moms flash me a look like, what’s up with them? I shake my head like I don’t know, ’cause I don’t want her to know I told Regg. I don’t need her going off on me any more than she already do.

  It don’t take long for Regg and Dante to get back. Dante still walking and ain’t got no broken bones or blood coming outta his body, so it don’t look like Regg laid a finger on him or nothing. Regg go back to eating, and so do Dante, but he eating mad fast now. Like three minutes later, he done. He throw some money on the table and say he gotta go. Nobody hardly pay him no mind though, ’cept my moms, and soon as he leave, she look ’bout ten times happier and more relaxed.

  I don’t know what it is, but something ’bout the way Dante was looking at my moms and pops, and something ’bout how my moms is acting, make me think shit is even worse than I thought. I been thinking they only hooked up for them couple days, ’til I got my moms her own place, but now I can tell that ain’t what happened. They probably ain’t stop this w
hole time, knowing my moms. She don’t know how to be by herself.

  When we through eating, my pops and Regg go over to another table in the corner and count the money. Regg get a piece of what everybody pay at the door, so they always count together. After they through, my pops come over and pay the other guys. When he come over to me, he hand me some cash and before I can even count it, he go, “Tomorrow, I’ma gonna need you. We gotta get all the furniture and shit out the storage place, into the new apartment. I got some guys helping out, but I’m still gonna need you.”

  “What time?” I ask.

  “Early. I’ma call you when I’m on the way.” He don’t wait for me to say alright or nothing. He just go back over by my moms.

  I ain’t gonna lie. I’m confused. My pops say he want me to help him move into the new apartment, but what that mean for me? I’m s’posed to move in there or not? Or I’m s’posed to help him move and then keep staying with Cal?

  I’m still sitting there when Regg come over to me and say my pops asked him to drive me home. He laugh and say, “Your pops don’t wanna take no time away from your moms.”

  I get up from the table. “They too old for all that.”

  “Never too old,” he say, still laughing. “Your pops is what? Forty-one? How old is your moms?”

  “Thirty-five. Gonna be thirty-six next month.”

  “They young, Ty. They still wanna—”

  “A’ight. I get it.”

  Regg still laughing when we walk outta the restaurant and ’cross the parking lot to his truck. “I can drive,” I tell him. “If you too tired, I mean.”

  “I got this,” he say. “I already risked my life one time this week.”

  I get in the passenger seat and right away start counting my money. Eight hundred dollars, all in twenties. It’s more than I thought he was gonna pay me, but I still need a lot more.

  The second we get out the parking lot I ask Regg what he said to Dante, how he got him to break outta there so fast.