At the Crossroads (12 page)

“They’re bad news, Franky,” she said, staring him down. “What did he give you?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, busted.

“What did you put in your back pocket?”

Franky sighed. He didn’t want to lie to her, but the truth just wasn’t an option. “I had to borrow some money from him so that we can pay the rent.”

“And how are you going to pay it back?” she asked, sitting down on the bench.

“Rico said he would get it back to him,” he lied, taking a seat beside her.

“Okay,” Khadija said. “But please stay clear of them. Bubba is cool, and I really wish he would stick with basketball, but he’s a lost soul. Doesn’t realize that he can make legitimate money if he just focused on the right things. He’ll be in jail or dead in two years.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right.”

“And Nard will live forever. His kind don’t die—they multiply,” she said, shaking her head.

Franky was ready to change the subject. “I’m happy you came by today, and I’m sorry to put all of my problems on you like that. I bet you wish you never met me, huh?”

“Nah, man,” she said, smiling. “I like being with you, shawty. I’m not one of those girls who run at the first sign of trouble. You’re a good dude, Franky. And all of the drama you’re dealing with doesn’t have anything to do with choices you made.”

Franky placed a hand on her leg and turned to look into her yes. “Yeah, I know, but still … I’m happy we are here. I’m happy to be here. With you. Sorry we didn’t get much studying done.”

“You’re good, shawty,” she said. “It’s Friday. We have all weekend long to make something happen. Do not go to that club with them or I’ll have to stop talking to you. I don’t do thugs. I told you that when we first met.”

“I’m not in a clubbing mood,” he said. “Besides, I’d much rather spend my time with you than be up in some club with all those fine girls with short shorts, cleavage, and all of that other mess.”

“Get knocked out, shawty,” she said with a smile.

The bus came and Franky stood. He turned around to look at Khadija, who was still seated.

“This is your bus, right?” he asked.

“Yep,” she said. “But I’ll catch the next one. If you don’t mind.”

The driver opened the door and let some people off. Four more people got on. The driver looked at them and held his hand out as if to ask them what they were going to do. When no reply came, he closed the door and pulled off.

“I don’t mind at all. Nothing but drama back where I’m headed. I could stay away forever, and it would be a’ight with me,” Franky said, sitting back down beside her.

“Good, because I’m not ready to leave you just yet, shawty,” she said, and slid closer to him. She laid her head on his shoulder.

Franky sat back and placed his arm around her shoulder, forcing her to lie on his chest.

“It’s getting dark,” he said. “Won’t your parents be worried about you?”

“Nah,” she said. “They told me to be home by ten o’clock, and it’s only nine. The bus ride is only ten or fifteen minutes from here. So I have a little more time, and I’m using it all up.”

“That’s cool,” Franky said. “So everybody is saying we are together. I guess that’s true, huh?”

“I guess so, shawty,” Khadija said with a smile. “You have been checked out, and you’re official.”

Franky smiled and pulled her a little closer. She felt good in his arms, and he realized that this was the most peace he’d felt in three years.

F
ranky sat in the living room waiting while Rico talked on the telephone with somebody. Franky could pick up bits and pieces of their conversation, and he was grateful because Rico wasn’t very forthcoming with anything. Her heard Stick’s name mentioned several times, and he was happy because that meant Rico wasn’t sticking to the dumb no-snitching street crap. Over the last few days, he had become obsessed with finding Stick. The bum’s mother wasn’t answering her door for anyone, and although there was movement in the house, Stick seemed to have up and vanished into thin air.

“What did she say?” Franky asked as soon as he heard Rico say good-bye.

“Nothing,” he said. “Let’s go. Have you seen where I put those car keys?”

Franky shook his head and stood up. He would prefer to catch the bus because Rico’s driving was atrocious. He walked out on the front porch and waited for Rico to findthe keys he seemed to lose every day. He stood there, noticing how quiet the streets were for a Saturday morning. In his old neighborhood of Jefferson Parish, Saturday mornings were filled with people out in their yards working. Cutting grass, jogging, chatting with neighbors about the trials of the previous week and just enjoying the morning sun. Suddenly, all of the differences between his past life and his present were coming to mind, and he wondered why that was.

“Let’s go,” Rico said as he locked the door behind him.

They walked out to the car, and Franky got into the passenger’s seat.

“How much money do you have now?” Rico asked.

“I have a grand,” Franky said. “But I have three hundred more coming in on Monday.”

“That’s good,” Rico said. “Let me get it.”

Franky reached into his pocket and handed Rico the money.

“I know what you doing to get this money, Franky, and I know you think I don’t care, but I do and I don’t like it. I’m not in a position to do too much about it right now, but once this is over, I want you to stop, ya heard?”

“I don’t want any part of it, either, so that ain’t no problem,” Franky said, not even bothering to try covering up his new gig.

“I also know that you gave dem boys some cash to get started. Now, I’m gonna ask you one more time. How much money did you get from that so-called backyard find?”

Franky huffed. “I got six hundred dollars, and I didn’t find it in the backyard. This dude was running from you and Stick, and he jumped in my window. He gave me thesix hundred because I hid him from y’all. I gave Nigel half to pay the rent, and I gave the other three to them dudes at school to make this money for Nigel’s lawyer. That’s the truth.”

“You hid him?” Rico snapped. “Let me tell you some-thin', lil whoadie. We family and family don’t take food outta each other’s mouths. You might not like what I do, but you don’t ever go against me, ya heard?”

“Man,” Franky said, “that boy was scared to death. I would’ve wanted somebody to do that for me, so I just put myself in his shoes.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t you. Like I said, don’t ever go against family. And if that’s the case, why did you lie?”

“Because I’m tired of being hungry all the time, and I didn’t want to give you the money because you know how you get all these crazy ideas, and the next thing you know the money is gone, and we’re back to eating red beans and rice every night. I’m tired of my ribs touching my back, so I kept the other money so I could eat,” Franky said.

Rico looked at his cousin and for the first time in his entire life, he showed some compassion. He reached over and tapped Franky’s leg. “I understand, whoadie. We’ve been tryna do the right thing so we can stay together, but tough times call for touch moves, ya heard. I’m sorry ‘bout going off on ya. I’m a desperate man right ‘bout now.”

“It’s cool,” Franky said. He looked out the window at two pit bulls. The dogs were standing guard beside some guy’s shiny car. “Who was that girl who came by the house looking for you? The weird-looking one,” Franky asked.

Rico smiled. “That’s my secret weapon. Made a call down to Louisiana and got me a bayou geechie girl. She’s from South Carolina and Louisiana. They say she was bornin Carolina, died at birth, and when they crossed over into Louisiana, which is where they were taking her to bury, she found a heartbeat. She was raised deep in the swamps. Smarter than you but never stepped foot into a school building. She gone flush Stick out of whatever hole he’s hiding in. She’s costing a pretty penny, too.”

“How are we gonna pay a lawyer and some witch doctor?” Franky said.

“Forget them lawyers. They all in cahoots together. They stay making side deals with each other. If you got money, then you can be a’ight in the system, but if you poor like us, they ‘bout to getcha. Plus, you only need a lawyer when you guilty. You need a geechie woman when you’re innocent.”

Franky frowned. He hated when Rico started thinking. He was about the dumbest person in America, and his wild, harebrained ideas always put Franky in a bad mood.

“So, what if she can’t find him? We just lose the money and Nigel stays in jail?”

“The geechie girl gone come through. They never fail, ya heard. She gone make that fool an offer he can’t refuse,” Rico said, nodding. “There people in this world you don’t know nuttin’ ‘bout, whoadie. And Geechie Girl is one of them. She will have him in her grasp in no time. Let me handle this.”

Franky prayed silently that God would release Nigel and find a brain for Rico. He looked over at his cousin who was biting his bottom lip so hard Franky thought he was going to draw blood. Rico turned up the radio and listened to the new Mystikal song that they were playing in heavy rotation. As the New Orleans rapper yelled about agirl with a real big butt, Rico bobbed his head to the beat until they made it to the Atlanta City Jail.

Rico pulled into the parking lot of Free at Last Bail Bondsman and almost hit a car. Franky shook his head, thanking God for allowing them to arrive in one piece. They got out of the car and started walking toward the jail when someone yelled, “Yo.”

“What’s up?” Rico said, turning around.

“Y’all can’t park there unless y’all using us to bail somebody out.”

“We would love to bail him out, but he ain’t got no bail,” Rico said.

Ain’t got no bail,
Franky thought.
What kind of way is that to talk to businesspeople?

“Come on in,” the man said. “Let me see what I can do for ya. I got people over there who might be able to bend a few rules.”

Rico turned to Franky. “You go ahead and handle the visit. I’ma see what this dude is talking about. Tell Nigel I got a call in to the bayou. That might lift his spirits.”

“Since when did we get money to be paying a lawyer, a witch doctor, and a bail bondsman?” Franky said.

“Let me handle this, boy,” Rico said, balling a fist and threatening to punch him.

Franky threw his hands up and ran across the street, up the steps of the Atlanta City Jail, and into the lobby. Once inside, he signed the visitors’ list and waited for his name to be called.

He sat on the hard plastic chairs of the waiting room, flipping through outdated magazines and half watching the television that was mounted up in the corner of thelarge room. ESPN was on and they were talking about the New Orleans Saints. He missed going to the games with his dad and uncle.

“Franky Bourgeois.”

He turned away from the screen when he heard his name being called over the intercom. He stood and walked back to where an old security guard was standing with a clipboard.

“You Franky?” the old man asked.

“Yes, sir,” he said.

“Follow me.”

Franky walked behind the slow-moving man until they came to an orange door. The old man scanned a card, and the hard steel door clicked and opened. The guard pulled and pointed inside.

“Have a seat at booth number seven,” the guard said. “He will be with you in just a second.”

Franky walked in and the big door closed behind him. He wasn’t sure why but he was afraid. He had never been inside of a jail before. He took a seat at booth number seven and looked around. There was a really thick glass that someone had tried to carve their initials on. Gang signs and other forms of graffiti were all over the walls of the booth. Franky sat fidgeting with the phone on the wall while he waited for his cousin to come out.

Nigel walked in and smiled. He sat down across from Franky and lifted the receiver. He had on an oversized navy blue jumpsuit, and his hair was growing wildly. His face was covered with a beard.

“What’s up, whoadie?” he said with a huge smile on his face. “How you doing?”

“I’m all right,” Franky said. “What a difference a couple of weeks can make. Look at you.”

“Yeah,” Nigel said, rubbing his head. “I need a shave and a haircut bad. Where is Rico?”

“He went to talk to some bail bondsman across the street. Man, that dude is crazy. He wants to spend our money on some witch doctor from New Orleans. Geechie something.”

Nigel frowned but didn’t say anything. He just hunched his shoulders as if Rico’s way was a viable option.

Franky was amazed at how good of spirits he seemed to be in. He couldn’t help but think of how depressing it had to be to sit in jail for a crime you didn’t commit.

“That boy,” Nigel said. “He thinks he can make up his own rules. I’ve been thinking real hard ‘bout Mrs. Bertha and lil Jason. Have you spoken with him?”

“Yeah, he called, but his auntie or somebody hung up on me.”

“They probably think I had something to do with Mrs. Bertha’s death. You can’t blame them too much. Especially if they listening to these lying police, ya heard.”

“Yeah,” Franky said. “I guess you’re right.”

“I keep thinking that maybe I shouldn’t have said anything about Stick being in her house. I should’ve just went after him myself and had lil Jason put the stuff back. Maybe she would still be with us, ya know,” Nigel said. “She was a sweet lady.”

“Did you tell the lawyer that it was Stick? I mean, forget that no-snitching bullcrap. This isn’t a petty theft. This is real.”

“Yeah, I told her, but she wants a lot of money. I mean a lot. This is a murder case now.”

“So whatchu gonna do?” Franky asked.

“I think I’ll be okay,” Nigel said with a smile.

“Why you smiling?” Franky asked as if his cousin had finally snapped and lost his mind.

“I just found out where Stick is,” he said.

“Where is he?”

“Right in here,” he said, nodding. “Came in early this morning they say. Ain’t been able to touch him yet, but I got the goons on it. Cuz, they got so many cats up in here from Nawlins. It’s like a lil homecoming up in here. But I ain’t tryna get too comfortable, ya heard.”