Chulito (32 page)

“I’m going to enlist, bro.”

“You joining the Army?”

“The Navy, bro. Enough talk. I was chilling with a recruitment officer last night at El Coche, and we made an appointment for one thirty
P.M.
You think about it and maybe you should enlist, too, man. There ain’t shit for us here and they have a lot of jobs. I may not even go to Iraq or some fuck place, but even if I do, it’s just peace-keeping shit. You have to wait until you eighteen, but you should do it, too.” Papo nodded to Damian across the street.

“That’s not my thing, but you go, Papo.”

“I’m going. The recruiter said that after all the paper work is done I could be at boot camp by the middle or the end of August.” Papo’s bright smile erased any trace of the hard dude he purported to be. “See ya.” He saluted and continued down the block.

“Hey, Papo,” Puti said. “You looking mmmm, mmmm, good.”

Papo walked over to her first floor apartment window, reached up with one long arm and slapped Puti’s face.

“Ow, you fuck!”

“Cut your shit, faggot. I ain’t like the other niggas around here that let you get away with that. I don’t like it.” Papo looked back at Chulito and pointed his thumb at Puti. “Check him out.”

“You don’t have to hit me, you fuck. I’m gonna call the cops and press charges.”

Papo turned to her and walked backward holding his wrists up as if he were handcuffed. “Call them and try to have me arrested. You the one starting shit. I was just walking down the block.”

“You gave her what she deserved,” Damian yelled from across the street and slapped a high-five with some of the other auto glass guys.

“Him. I gave him what he deserves.” Papo crossed Garrison Avenue. Damian ran over to high-five him.

Puti held her face. “You lucky my girls are not around or we would fuck your asses up.”

The guys laughed as Papo left for the recruitment office.

Chulito remembered that by her “girls” Puti referred to the Gay Bandits of Hunts Point, a group of drag queens who robbed liquor stores and then had parties on the rooftop. Their crime sprees lasted several summers before they were caught.

“You know about my girls, Chulito?”

He nodded and walked away from her.

“I miss so them so much. They were my whole world. Sometimes I feel like I have nothing left to live for. Betty is still in jail and Cuketa.” She paused. “Those motherfuckers killed my beautiful Cuketa. They tried to kill me, too. I fought like a motherfucker, but they still messed me up. I used to be pretty, you know.” She dug her bony elbows further into the dirty pillow and looked forlorn.

Chulito had distant memories of her being extravagant and wondered if she would spend the rest of her life looking out at the small world of Hunts Point from her perch, looking frail, unkempt and sad. As a kid, Puti was who he thought of when he imagined a gay person—feminine and flamboyant, but now he pitied her. Would she ever find love like he had with Carlos? Who could love someone like Puti? Then there was Julio, who was a different type of gay. He was feminine and strong. He took care of himself. There was nothing shabby or pitiful about Julio. And Carlos helped him see so much more and he met so many different kinds of gay people that, although Chulito still felt like an outsider, he knew he was part of a tribe. Chulito walked to the corner, bought Puti a Creamsicle, and handed it to her.

“You so sweet, Chulito. You gonna be a good husband.” She winked at him and unwrapped the Creamsicle.

When Kamikaze rolled up to the building, Chulito slipped into the car as Damian ran up to Kamikaze.

Damian handed over a $50 bill and Kamikaze gave him a sandwich bag with some weed and vials.

“Thanks, Kamikaze. How you doin’?”

“Workin’,” he said sternly. “And consider this a one-time delivery.”

“I know I owe you big time.” Damian tapped the ’hood of the car. “I had me some good pussy last night, how ‘bout you?”

“I had me a big dick,” Kamikaze responded matter-of-factly.

“What, yo?”

“My own.” Kamikaze pretended to jerk himself off and they both laughed.

“You crazy, but that shit can be good, too.” Damian looked at Chulito. “How ‘bout you, little bro. You get any last night?” He winked and went back to chasing cars without waiting for an answer. Chulito’s stomach tightened. Did Damian see something? They’d kept the shade down and the lights out. He remembered a soft breeze lifting the shade every now and then, but it was too dark, he thought.

“So, everything cool with you, Chuly-chu?”

“Good.”

“No more crying fits?”

“Things are good. We talking again.”

“Good. I think that nigga Damian is trying to start some shit. This morning when he calls beggin’ for his bag, he asks me if everything was cool with you. He said that he saw you and Carlos come in together last night and leave this morning. I told him that was no big deal. You and Carlos have known each other your whole lives and you guys live in the same fucking building.”

Chulito felt the heat rise in his face.

“Damian is a trouble maker, so I didn’t pay too much attention to him, but you know how ghettos love gossip.”

“What do you think he’s saying?” Chulito struggled to remain calm but his voice cracked on the word “saying.”

Kamikaze moved his head from side to side, weighing Chulito’s question. “He’s not coming out and saying anything direct. He just said, ‘Yo, I saw Chulito hanging out with Carlos, he better be careful the faggot don’t rub off on him.’ ”

Chulito’s felt his heart pounding in his ears. “He’s fucking stupid.”

“Screw him. If he wants to start trouble with you, he’s gonna have me to deal with.” Kamikaze grabbed Chulito’s neck and squeezed it.

Chulito tensed up and Kamikaze noticed.

“What’s going on, Chulito?”

“Nothing.” The car’s air conditioning was on high but the sweat trickled down Chulito’s arm pits and beaded on his upper lip. “Could you pull over to that store, I need to get something to drink.”

“Are you O.K.? You don’t look good.”

“I’m just…my throat’s dry.”

Kamikaze pulled over.

“You want something, Kaz?”

“I’m cool.”

Chulito went into the grocery store, paced around, then flipped his cell open and called Carlos.

“Hey, this is Carlos. I can’t answer the phone, but leave your info and I will call you back when I can. Adios.”

Chulito felt good to hear Carlos’ voice, even if it was just voicemail. “Yo, Carlos, I gotta talk to you. I think some shit is starting and I’m freaking the fuck out. I don’t know if I can do this. I want to talk to you. I gotta talk to you. Call me when you get this message.” Then he grabbed a bottle of water, laid a $5 bill on the counter and walked out of the store. As he approached Kamikaze’s car, he could hear Fabolous playing.

He stepped into the car’s coolness and looked at Kamikaze who sat there expectantly.

“Tell me what’s going down. You my boy, and I know shit ain’t right with you. If something is up, I gotta know now.”

Chulito looked into his eyes. He could see that Kamikaze was concerned. He wanted to lay everything out—how much he loved Carlos, how happy being with him made him feel, how he was thinking of big changes and how he wanted to get out the game. He didn’t know how to begin. What would be the hardest news to break? “I can’t tell you. I don’t understand what’s going on with me.”

“Is it about that chick you seeing?”

Chulito felt sick, his stomach churned. It was now or never. If Damian had figured out that he and Carlos were together or wanted to start planting that seed in the minds of the peeps in the neighborhood, then he would either have to pull out completely from Carlos and stop everything cold or go forward with loving Carlos. He was not going to back-pedal. He couldn’t do that to Carlos, or to himself. As Kamikaze waited, Chulito thought that loving Carlos and holding onto that love was stronger than any other feeling he’d ever had. Stronger than being afraid that people would find out he was gay.

“Nah, there ain’t no girl.”

“Then what is going on, bro?”

Chulito feared losing Kamikaze as a friend, but maybe if Kamikaze rejected him, then he would find his way out of the drug game. Regardless of the outcome, Chulito had to tell Kamikaze and then he’d have to keep telling and telling and telling.

“You know last week when I was losin’ it?” Tears clouded Chulito’s eyes.

“Yeah.”

Chulito took a deep breath and talked without pausing. “Well, it was because Carlos didn’t want to sneak around anymore and he said that if we can’t be open, that he didn’t want to be with me. And at first I said fuck it. I ain’t about to be dealing with this shit, but then I felt like I was gonna die without him—”

“Hol’ up. Hol’ up. You sayin’ that you messin’ with Carlos?”

Chulito nodded and searched Kamikaze’s face for a response as he stared at him incredulously.

“Fuck.” Chulito turned away and tried to get out of the car.

“Wait.” Chulito felt Kamikaze’s hand on his back. “You still my boy.”

Chulito didn’t turn to face him, but rested his forehead against the passenger door window and sobbed. When he saw Kamikaze staring at him a moment ago, he didn’t think he would ever feel his touch again. Kamikaze made those soothing circles on his back like he’d done back in his crib. Chulito’s heart slowed down a few beats. “I’m scared, man. I’m scared of losing you and my mom and the fellas, but I don’t want to lose Carlos either.” Chulito didn’t turn to look at Kamikaze.

Kamikaze switched off the radio. “You sure about this?”

Chulito nodded and turned to face Kamikaze.

“Then let it go.” Kamikaze tapped the dashboard and a small drawer opened. He pulled out a plastic box containing a half a dozen joints. He lit up and offered a puff to Chulito.

Chulito inhaled one long drag and relaxed into the seat. “I don’t know where to start.” He wiped away tears, sat up and then sunk back down. “I feel embarrassed.”

Kamikaze sniggered. “With all we been through, you ain’t got to be embarrassed with me.”

“I know what I want to say, but the words keep getting caught in my throat.” Chulito took one more puff and passed the joint back to Kamikaze. He looked down at his Tims and said sadly, “I don’t know how to explain it, but I’m just feeling Carlos.” He let his head drop back against the headrest. “I can’t believe I’m saying this to you.”

“You sure you feeling Carlos, because people in love are usually all happy and stupid acting and you a depressed motherfucker.”

Chulito chuckled through his tears.

“Damn, Chulito. This is some shit.” Kamikaze shook his head. “Well, it explains why you been moody and hard to reach.” Kamikaze lit up. “By the way, you cannot be vanishing on me. How am I supposed to be running a business when my right hand man is nowhere to be found? In a way, I’m glad you came clean about Carlos. You don’t have to be hiding and sneaking anymore.”

Now that he’d broken the news, Chulito considered letting Kamikaze know that he wanted to get out the game, too, but one step at a time. He stayed quiet about that.

Kamikaze turned on the radio. “Fuck, I knew it was somebody but I had no idea it was Carlos. You definitely kept that shit on the low.”

Chulito told him about the bottle, the telephone conversations and how he dissed Carlos the night of the party posse. He told him of the conversation in front of the building and the trips to the pier.

Kamikaze looked out the front windshield. “The problem is fuckheads like Damian like to start trouble. I got your back, bro, no matter what. So what are you gonna do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is this going to be our little secret?”

Chulito shook his head. “Julio and Brick know, too.”

“Brick knows? How’d he find out?”

“Carlos and I were on the roof kissin’ and Brick saw us.”

“Whoa, too much info,” Kamikaze said, waving his hands.

Chulito chuckled. “What you mean? Me and Carlos kissin’?”

“Yeah, I’m having a little trouble taking this all in, little bro.”

Chulito turned to face Kamikaze. “Well, last night we did the deed for the first time.”

Then, Kamikaze sighed and laughed. “Well, you going to hell, bro.”

“Don’t play like that, man. You sound like those religious freaks who preach on Southern Boulevard. I already feel a little bugged out about all this.”

“I’m just playing. And don’t be listening to those religious fucks, man. They really get to me with their yelling and their bullhorns. I don’t how that shit is even legal. Hallelujah this and hallelujah that, it’s more like hallelujah, pow!”

Chulito laughed.

“Nah, that shit is serious. They claim to be trying to help people but they be beating us down with their fucking Bibles. Preachin’ hate and fear and judgement. They really need to know what love is.”

“Damn, I didn’t know—”

“Well, now you do. My grandma used to be religious like them, singing Jesus songs on the corners when nobody wants to be hearing their sad voices, so don’t get me started. The shit they dish out gets in here.” Kamikaze tapped his temple. “And fucks you up. I can’t even joke with you and say you goin’ to hell without you getting all serious. So ignore those fucks, especially now that you all gay and shit.”