Chulito (10 page)

“What about Joselito?” Martha asked and stroked the baby’s cheek. “He’s Kamikaze’s business and he never takes care of him.”

Brenda got comfortable on the parked car and sat Joselito between her legs. “I called him a hundred times and he doesn’t call me back, so if he’s coming here then I’m waiting for him.”

Chulito knew that Kamikaze doubted that Joselito was his son, but what if Kamikaze was wrong? “Kaz hasn’t called you back?” Chulito asked.

“Not once,” Brenda said. Debbie hissed out a “tsk, tsk, tsk” and sat next to Brenda. She pulled out a compact and applied a rose colored lipstick.

“Your macho, super hero buddy will dump cash on all his friends but he doesn’t bother to provide for his son—typical,” Martha said.

“Maybe you could talk to him, Chulito?” Brenda asked.

Chulito shook his head. “I don’t get involved in his personal business.”

Martha joined Debbie on the car. “Forget him. They just keep protecting each other. Brenda, you corner him and make him pay for a new carriage. Buuuut if you had your own job you could say fuck him and buy Joselito whatever he needs instead of depending on Kaz’s lame ass.”

“Go on Miss Independent Women’s Lib,” Debbie said, “all those Women’s Studies courses you takin’ are gonna make you a lesbian.” Then she offered her lipstick to Martha. “This might help.”

Martha refused it. “I’d rather be a lesbian who has her shit together than some stupid bitch whose making an ass out of herself trying to flirt with a fourteen-year-old while her boyfriend’s in jail!”

“Oh, no you didn’t.” Brenda laughed and kissed Joselito who seemed to be engrossed in the conversation.

“Yo, I’m sixteen,” Chulito said proudly, as he walked toward his building. He didn’t want to be there when Kamikaze arrived.

Debbie shifted her gaze slowly from Chulito to Martha. “I don’t have to take this shit from you. I’m out. Chulito, you going inside? You want some company?” She looped her arm around his.

“My mom’s is upstairs, girl.”

“Wait, Debbie,” Brenda called out.

“Nah, wait nothing. I mean we’re supposed to be going out to have fun and friends are supposed to be fun. You, Martha, are a fucking bitch. I don’t need to be put down by you all the time. You do all this talk of women’s lib and sisterhood, but it’s all shit ‘cause you just cut us down. We are supposed to be your girls. I’m outta here.”

“Debbie,” Martha said softly touching Debbie’s shoulder, but she shrugged Martha off. “I just care about you, girl. I don’t like seeing you be—”

“Be what? What?”

Martha draped her arm around Debbie, who stiffened up, and pulled her close. “You just stronger than how you act. And I know we can’t always be perfect.”

“We? So you mean you, too?” Debbie said, surprised to hear Martha admit to not being perfect.

“Yeah, I get tired, too.” Martha fixed Debbie’s hair, pushing it behind her shoulder. “I feel like I gotta fight for myself or else I’ll end up like my mom and sister who just watch TV all day or I’ll get pregnant, making life harder.”

Martha led Debbie to the car and put her other arm around Brenda. “I love you both and I want us to be strong together.”

Debbie looked at Martha as if she were speaking a foreign language. Chulito watched the three friends sitting on the car with little Joselito staring up at the women and for a moment he was transfixed. He never saw the fellas act this way toward each other. The women whispered to each other and then Debbie smiled and nodded her head. For a moment, Chulito felt like he didn’t exist. He turned to enter the building.

Debbie looked over to Chulito. “Where you goin’, Chulito?”

“I was just gonna give you all some room to do ya thing.”

Martha warned. “Don’t call Kaz to warn him that we’re here. We are gonna see his face and make him pay up.”

Debbie jumped in, “And make him pay for more than a fucking baby carriage. He wants to be a big ass drug dealer and roll around in his loot. The least he could do is take care of his responsibilities. It’s not like he ain’t got it. You dress good, Chulito, so somebody’s gettin’ it.”

“Yo, I told you I work for my shit.” Chulito looked around agitated. “Kamikaze will be here and he’ll pay up. He’s got the money. I know that.”

“Why doesn’t he return my calls then?” Brenda asked resting her chin on Joselito’s curly head.

“I don’t know. He’s busy.”

Martha made a sound like air being released from a tire, “Psssssshhh, don’t make excuses for him. He’s an asshole. C’mon, he can give Brenda a hundred and fifty bucks for a fucking baby carriage.”

Debbie snapped her fingers in the air. “I’ve seen him shove that kind of shit down some saggy tit stripper at El Coche.”

They all stared at her.

“Back in the day. When Benny took me there with the guys.”

Martha rolled her eyes. “Classy.”

Small, tinny tones of Big Pun’s “Still Not a Playa” came out of Chulito’s cell. He saw Kaz’s number on the display and flipped it open. “Yo, wassup.” Kaz had spotted the women, so to avoid Brenda and the ambush, he asked Chulito to meet him near the McDonald’s down the block. “Cool, I will see you there, pa.”

“Girls, maybe we should go,” Brenda said. “I think we’re wasting our time.”

“Call him back,” Martha said stepping up to Chulito.

“Forget it, Martha. He ain’t gonna answer.” Brenda handed Joselito to Debbie so that she could slide off the car.

“He will answer Chulito’s call. Phone him from your cell, Chulito.”

“That wasn’t him,” Chulito said.

“Give me the phone,” Martha demanded.

Chulito hated Martha for pressuring him, but knew she was right and was pissed at Kamikaze for ignoring Brenda and Joselito. It didn’t make sense to Chulito because he’d seen Kaz peel off bills with ease in social situations. He paid for everything when they went out and he always bought the rounds at bars. He kept his crew well paid because as he often told Chulito, “Sharing the wealth is good karma. It builds trust, loyalty, and keeps the natives at bay.”

Chulito looked down Garrison Avenue in the direction of the McDonald’s and adjusted the tilt of his baseball cap. “O.K., I’ll call him.”

When Kaz picked up the call, Chulito said hold on and handed it over to Martha.

“Hey, Kaz, it’s Martha. Look, Brenda and Joselito need some help from you. Joselito’s carriage broke and Brenda has been carrying him around, and it would make things easier for her if you could help them out with at least buying a new carriage for him.” Silence.

“Let me talk to him,” Brenda whispered.

Martha put up her hand. “O.K., that’s cool, Brenda wants to talk—O.K., O.K., I will tell him. Thanks.” She flipped the phone shut.

“What the fuck?” Brenda complained.

“He didn’t want to talk to you.”

“So?”

“I’m sorry girl, but I wanted to deal with one issue at a time,” Martha said. “He’s gonna pull up on the corner in front of Rivera’s and he’ll give Chulito some money to bring to us. We should just stay here and not go to the car. He’s on his way.” For a moment, Chulito saw a shimmer of defeat in Martha’s face, but just a shimmer, because she’d won a small battle.

“That’s fucked up, Martha. I wanted to talk to him.”

“Brenda, he didn’t want to talk to you. It’s hard to hear that shit but try to understand.”

“He’s an asshole.” Debbie bounced the smiling Joselito in her arms and sang, “Your daddy’s an asshole.”

“He’s paying for a carriage,” Martha said. “I thought that’s what we wanted.”

Kamikaze pulled up in front of Rivera’s, windows shut up tight, air-conditioning on high inside, and the beats of Fat Joe buzzing through the speakers. Chulito walked down the block to the car. Kamikaze handed him a roll without looking at him. Chulito stood for a moment, staring at Kamikaze who then turned to him. “What the fuck are you looking at? Give her the shit and get back here.” Then the window rolled back up.

Chulito handed Brenda a fist full of Benjamins.

“Holy shit,” Debbie said. “Look, Joselito, your mami and your two titis are going to buy you a super deluxe baby carriage.” She clapped his hands.

Chulito walked into the building to get his wallet.

“Hey, Chulito,” Martha called out. “Thanks.” Debbie and Brenda chimed in their thanks as well. Chulito was glad that he could help and felt that it was worth any shit Kamikaze might give him.

Chulito nodded, then ran inside, grabbed his wallet and ran out to Kamikaze’s car and slipped in. The doors locked. “Wassup.” Chulito greeted Kamikaze who made a U-turn on Hunts Point Avenue without talking. As they passed the building Chulito saw the women waiting to cross the street. Brenda had her eyes locked on the car, as if she could see through the dark windows. Martha passed Joselito off to Brenda to distract her and they scurried across Garrison Avenue.

Chulito got startled when Kamikaze slammed the gas and the car jerked forward. One of its custom features was to go from zero to sixty miles per hour in 4.8 seconds. Chulito scrambled to put on his seatbelt as they zoomed down Garrison. The light on Longwood Avenue turned red, but Kamikaze sped right through it. A few blocks later at a corner he slammed the breaks. “Don’t you ever do anything like that again!” he yelled pounding on the dashboard. “I handle my own shit! Don’t forget that. There’s no proof that Joselito is mine, ya hear? And what’s with you helping those bitches out? Don’t be getting soft on me.”

Chulito was out of breath and for a split second he feared for his life. It was the first time Kamikaze had directed his rage at him. He’d heard how much of a roughneck Kamikaze was when he was running corners back in the day and he had witnessed it only once when Mikey, one of Kamikaze’s new boys, tried to get over. Raheem, the lieutenant overseeing the bars in the Upper East Side, reported that cash receipts were low from the lounge where Mikey was stationed. Mikey ignored several warnings until one day Kamikaze cornered him in the men’s room at a bar. He pressed his boot against Mikey’s stomach and shoved him against the wall. Kamikaze pulled out his gun and pointed it at Mikey’s crotch. “You’ve got fifteen minutes to call Raheem to hand over the cash or the stash!” Mikey nodded as a puddle of piss formed around his feet.

“What the fuck are you looking at?”

For the most part, it had all been smiles, good times and feeling Kamikaze’s protection. As they continued down Garrison Avenue with the New York City skyline in the hazy horizon, he realized there were lines he couldn’t cross and didn’t want to discover what would be done to him if he did so again. “Sorry, Kaz.”

Kamikaze looked at him, then reached over and squeezed the back of his neck. “You still my boy.”

Chulito flinched. Kamikaze’s hand felt cold.

Chulito walked up Hunts Point Avenue toward Cruz Travel Agency. His mother had asked him to go pick up their tickets to Puerto Rico before she left for work that morning. Carmen worked as a lunchroom attendant at P.S. 48 and left her house every school day morning at 5:45 A.M. She was looking forward to taking Chulito to spend the summer with her mother and older sister. It was only June 1 and they were set to leave on July 9 after the neighborhood’s big Fourth of July party. At first Chulito didn’t want to go, but lately he was feeling like he needed to get away from Kamikaze, the fellas, even Hunts Point.

In P.R. he could take time to get his head straight again. He was having second thoughts about telling Carlos that he dug him, too. Then what? What would they do? Be boyfriends? That shit was whack, right? Besides, he hadn’t heard from Carlos since their conversation in front of the building over a week ago. Maybe since Chulito didn’t reciprocate, Carlos’ feelings changed.

When Chulito reached Cruz Travel Agency, Julio, or La Julio as he was sometimes called, was at his desk talking on the phone and Brick was sitting in a chair in front of him. He leaned the chair back and balanced it on one leg and rocked. Chulito nodded a greeting to him and Brick responded by raising his eyebrows.

Chulito was about to take a seat on the couch when Julio waved him to the empty chair beside Brick.

Julio covered the receiver on the phone with his slim hand. “Have a seat, papito. I got your tickets.” Julio placed a thick envelope on the desk. “Just sign for them, and I’ll print out a receipt.”

“You taking a little trip?” Brick asked as Chulito sat next to him.

“Puerto Rico with my moms.” Chulito leaned forward to sign for the tickets, not making eye contact with Brick.

“For about six weeks,” Julio added as he hung up the phone.

“Wow, that’s a long vacation. Did Kamikaze give you time off?”

“Not yet, but it’s not a problem.”

“Kamikaze must have changed.” Brick got up and served himself from the water cooler. “You want some, Chulito?”

Chulito looked over and nodded. Above the water cooler there was one of Brick’s posters. The seductive stare in his dark eyes was familiar. He had a tight fade haircut and his skin glistened. His chest was small, but his arms and shoulders were big.

Chulito’s gaze traveled from the poster back to Brick who had his back to them. Brick’s crucified Jesus tattoo could be made out through the worn white ribbed tank top.