Get Some (12 page)

F
lo's headlights pierced through the dark anxious night. She raced down the street like a three-legged dog, hell-bent on biting a truck. No, Flo could not wait to catch Charles now. This was it. It was on. She was fit to be tied. She was definitely going to get him tonight.

As Jimmy was racing Trudy over to Dee's, Flo swerved her Camaro there too.

Flo flew through the greens, floored it on yellows and when she had to stop once at the blaring red flame, she took off before it changed back. At last, there it was, Dee's Parlor's rusty orange neon, laughing at her from the gloom. Flo slowed and pulled into Dee's gravel lot. There was a green awning over the large wooden door. The club did its best to look upscale outside but this hit-and-run parking lot said it all. Potholes full of old, stagnant water. Smashed cans of beer and miniature bottles of liquor. Bloated cigarette butts floating in dank, murky puddles like hundreds of tiny drowned bodies.

Flo eased in and rolled to the back of the lot. She didn't want to be seen by the huge wad of people choking the front door.

She rammed the brake down, put the car in Park and was dabbing her lipstick when she heard the grinding sound of wheels on rock. That was one good thing about the lot next to Dee's. You could always hear when someone pulled in. Those pebbles barked loud under your tires.

Flo slithered down a few inches and watched an older couple go inside. She wanted to get out of the freak clothes she'd worn for Tony and put on the jumpsuit she had in the trunk.

Flo got out of the car and inched her leather pants off. She opened the trunk, taking a black jumpsuit from a plastic cleaner's bag, and stepped one leg inside. Just as she was about to pull her leg through the hole, she heard the loud crunching sound of gravel. Flo ducked down behind her fender to avoid the headlights. A giant black Suburban pulled in and parked two spaces from hers. The headlights illuminated the parking lot so much that Flo had to press herself flat against the fender and door. A big man waited a long time before he got out. He looked like he was arguing with the person inside. Suddenly, the man looked over her way. But Flo was no fool. She stood still, didn't move. She held her breath until the man looked away.

Flo hurried her other foot into the other pants leg and zipped the suit up to her neck. She could hear angry shouting coming from inside the car. She slowly lifted her head and peeked over her hood to take a look. But before she could see, she heard a door open and slam, so she ducked her head down again. There was a crumbling-gravel sound of large heavy feet, and Flo peeked up over the hood to see.

The big man was yelling loud. He was furiously upset. His arms were hawked up and his huge chest was swollen. He ran over, yanked open the passenger side and screamed.

 

 

“Get out!” he yelled to the person inside.

A silhouette slithered out from the seat.

When the streetlight hit the woman, Flo could see her pained face. “Well, I'll be,” Flo said, recognizing her now. It was Trudy. “I guess having my man ain't enough for her trifling ass. Them chickens finally came home to roost.”

But when Flo moved to adjust her foot, which had fallen asleep, she accidentally dropped her car keys.

“What was that?” Jimmy said. “Didn't you hear something?” he said to Trudy.

Pulling out his gun, Jimmy started over toward Flo's car.

Flo didn't know what to do. She was shaking in fear. The man was almost at her car! Flo slithered around her fender, ducking lower than before.

Jimmy stood next to Flo's passenger side. She could hear him breathing. She watched him peer inside. He waited a long time before he finally put his gun back and turned around. While Jimmy was gone, Trudy inched toward the club's door, but Jimmy grabbed her arm like a hostage.

“Where the fuck do you think you're going?”

Trudy hung her head and froze.

Her dress slipped from her shoulder and Flo saw her full breast. It loomed large under the orange neon moon.

Jimmy grabbed her, yanking her hard through the densely packed crowd. Trudy tried to cover her body. Her dress flopped off one side. The zipper was all the way down in the back.

“Whatchu say, Percy,” Jimmy said, giving a pound without smiling.

“You got the winning hand,” Percy said, gazing at Trudy's backside.

Jimmy slipped him a fifty. “Keep an eye on her, man. Don't let her out of your sight.”

“I don't mind putting in work for you, homes.” Percy sucked his tongue until it smacked.

 

 

Flo quickly got back inside her car. She needed to catch her breath. She needed to think. Flo decided to move her car forward and park where she could watch Dee's busy front door.

“S
tick him!”

“Throw that right again, man!”

“Don't show that sucka you weak.”

The club was filled up. People were packed to the rafters. The fight blared on three television sets: a big screen, a nineteen-inch over the bar and a thirteen-inch with no color left that sat by the cook in the kitchen. Even people who normally didn't go to Dee's Parlor were sitting there slinging back beer after beer, laughing and munching on chips.

The ring girl grinned big. She was all lips and thighs. No one could see the large wart on her hand.

Ed “Meatloaf” Jones and Billy “The Hitman” Liston stood glistening on the taut canvas floor. Glaring, they looked anxious to finish the assault. The referee stood in between.

Ray Ray's eyes were glued to Dee's Parlor's front door. He hadn't seen Trudy yet or Lil Steve either. He got up and skimmed the packed parking lot, then he walked all the way back to the kitchen.

At that moment, Charles saw Jimmy pull Trudy in. Aw shit, he thought! Trudy got popped. What could he do? He better sit and stay quiet. But when Jimmy ran upstairs, leaving Trudy alone, Charles pushed his way to her table.

“Is this seat taken?” Charles looked at Percy.

“Yeah,” Percy said, mad-dogging him hard. Trudy flipped her braids and rolled her eyes up at Percy.

Charles stood by the table but didn't sit down.

“You all right?” Charles asked, talking low.

Trudy gave a quick shake “no.” Charles stared in her eyes; they were red like she had been crying.

Jimmy was coming back downstairs again. He was rapidly talking to two well-dressed men. One of them started to shout. When Jimmy saw Charles standing next to Trudy, he stormed over to the table, knocking over a glass.

“Who the fuck are you?” Jimmy angrily screamed.

Charles looked down. He wished Ray Ray were there.

“I asked you a question. You mute, muthafucka?” Jimmy stepped up to his face.

Charles stuck out his hand. “Charles,” he said fast. Charles didn't have a clue who Jimmy was, but he looked like a man you don't mess with.

Jimmy stared at Charles's hand but just left it hanging.

Charles put his hand in his pocket.

Jimmy abruptly snatched Trudy up from her seat.

Charles wanted to say something but he scanned Jimmy's wide body. It had already bumped the table and knocked down two chairs. The bar was loud, and the brutal fight had turned the crowd rowdy. Nobody noticed how rough Jimmy handled Trudy's frame.

Meekly, Charles quietly sat down and smiled at Jimmy. He wasn't no fool; he was the one holding the money. He drank from a flask in his jacket. Though he felt bad for Trudy, he didn't want any trouble for himself. He stared at the TV like everyone else.

It was already round three. Liston stuck Jones against the ropes. Liston's bloated glove cut Jones across his jutting-out maw. Jones' skull turned a horrible Merlot.

Charles silently watched Jimmy twist Trudy's arm behind her back. He sipped from his flask as Jimmy slammed her into the men's bathroom. Charles bit his lip. He could taste the peach brandy. He looked up at Percy. Percy smiled down at Charles, daring him to move. Charles looked back at the set.

Jones broke from the ropes and snatched the battlefield back. In a blizzard of hits, he nailed shot after shot. Liston did a strange dance, like his legs didn't know each other. He swayed in a dull haze and almost went down. The crowd jumped from their seats and flew into a frenzy.

“Stomp his ass, man!”

“Bash Hitman's teeth!”

“We want to see that punk bleed!”

Jimmy grabbed a whole handful of Trudy's thin braids. An elderly man quickly zipped up and left when Jimmy slammed her against the cold tile.

“Now, I'm going to ask you, and I'm only going to ask once.” Jimmy breathed hot, angry air in her mug. “Where the fuck were you today?” His hand was balled-up, his neck muscles bulged and her braids were wrapped tight around his fist.

Trudy panicked. Her air passages felt closed. She took quick, panting breaths. Her eyes darted back and forth but no one else was in the room. She wished someone would come in and help.

Suddenly the whole place filled with loud, whooping screams. Liston left-hooked Jones in the rib cage and chin. Liston kept drilling Jones with heart attack jabs, hammering him with swift combinations to the head and the body. When a right jab caught Jones smack-dab in the eye, the weak tissue ripped and people went crazy. The cut man had a hell of a time stopping the ooze.

Jimmy's veins bulged like snakes slithered under his skin. His red face was tense with hot venom.

Trudy held her mouth shut. She decided to stay quiet. She was afraid if she said something, uttered one small wrong word he'd slam her face into the glass.

“Talk to me, girl! I asked you a question.” Jimmy tightened his grip around Trudy's long braids. “Where the fuck were you? I drove by your place twice. Tony ain't seen you all day.”

Trudy struggled not to cry. She had to think of some lie that would stop Jimmy's rage, but her whole brain was numb and her skull really ached from him yanking her hair. Her scalp felt like it was inflamed.

“You in this, huh?” Jimmy slapped her face hard.

Trudy shook her head no. Her lids brimmed with tears. She struggled to stop them. To not let one drop. This was just how she felt when confronted by her mother. Her mother would scream and yell right in her face while Trudy willed herself not to weep. She knew if she let one fall, let one single drop, her whole face would flow like an ocean.

Jimmy let go of her hair and took a step back.

Trudy took a half breath when she saw Jimmy smile. It took everything she had to try to appear calm while her insides raged on like a storm.

“Come on, baby, it's me, Jimmy. I wouldn't hurt you, girl.”

Jimmy smiled at her cunningly while he pulled out his gun. He wiped the gun clean with a white satin cloth. He spoke to her softly, saying each word nice and slow.

“Now I'm going to ask you one time.” Jimmy folded the cloth, putting it back in his pocket. He was standing so close she could count the lines in his eyes. Jimmy aimed the clean gun against the hollow of her throat.

“Tell me everything and you won't get hurt.”

Trudy wouldn't speak. She just stood there silent. She tried to breathe easy as her blood blazed with fear. She was losing the fight in trying to stay calm and was almost engulfed in full panic.

 

 

Trudy's mind flashed to the only time she ever got caught. It was two years ago and she hadn't stolen in weeks. She was desperately trying to stop. But before she left this store she saw a beautiful jacket. It was lavender suede with a furry fox collar. She looked around the store without moving her head. She quickly unlooped the big metal ring and pulled the chain out through the arm. She glanced around the store again. She slipped the coat on. She casually took the escalator downstairs while the fluorescent lights shined on her brow. She could see the front door. She saw the cars in the lot. When she finally got both feet all the way out and inhaled deep, someone violently grabbed hold of her arm. Trudy was shocked. The undercover came from nowhere. She'd never seen the man anywhere near her in the store.

“Come with me, miss,” he said, holding her firmly. He brought Trudy to a small basement room. A man behind a desk asked her all sorts of questions. “Who are you with? Where are your parents? Don't you know stealing's a crime?”

While sitting there still, Trudy unzipped her purse. Her body was rigid. She just moved her hands. Her fingertips searched through her purse for her wallet. When she found it, she lifted her pants leg with one hand and shoved the wallet inside her boot.

Trudy was eighteen. She did not want to go to jail. But taking a five hundred–dollar coat was considered grand theft. She had no choice but to lie through her teeth. “I'm only fifteen,” she told him without blinking. “I thought you had to treat minors different.”

“You're under age?” the man examined her hard. With her body and made-up face she looked at least twenty. “Hand me your purse.” The man grabbed her bag and dumped the contents on his desk. There was makeup, a mirror, a Mr. Goodbar and sixty-five dollars in cash.

Trudy knew as a minor she couldn't be charged, but the manager was pissed. He didn't like losing a suspect. So he called the cops to come down to the store anyway and take her. They cuffed her and took her back to the West L.A. station. Trudy was petrified riding in that black and white car. One cop rode in the backseat with her.

“Tell us everything,” the nice cop said, “and you won't get hurt.” He smiled with the warm face of a father.

“She's a thief,” the other one barked. “Don't waste your time. I can't wait to lock her up in a cell.”

The police jumped right into their Mutt and Jeff routine. She ignored the hard one driving and looked at the one who stayed nice.

“Tell us everything,” the nice one said. “We'll go easy on you, honey. Is there anything you want to say? Do you have more stuff at home? How long have you been shoplifting?” he wanted to know. “Tell us and I promise you won't get hurt.”

Trudy shook her head no. She blinked tears from her eyes. She tried to create a look that mixed sweetness with sorrow. She knew about Mutt and Jeff, the good cop, bad cop routine. She knew it was best to keep her mouth shut.

When they got to the station she looked on the floor. There was a thick yellow line, two outlined feet and letters saying, STOP HERE AND FRISK.

Trudy was frantic. Were they going to frisk her right there? They would find her ID. They'd realize she was lying. Damn, she was going to get caught. But Trudy toyed with the cops, she asked them questions about their job, and when it was time to walk up to the frisk line and stop, the cops walked her right over the letters. They brought her inside the station. They joked with her more. Someone brought her a cold can of Sprite. They liked having this sexy young thing in the station and leered at her giant young breasts. She watched when they brought in a young-looking brother. He held her gaze for a second. They worked him over hard and threw him down inside a cell. Trudy watched the man standing, holding the dark steel bars. She was glad she'd kept her mouth shut. She'd always be grateful for what her mother did for her that day. Joan came to the station as soon as she got the call. Trudy didn't have to tell Joan she'd lied about her age. Joan came in and sized up the whole situation. In ten minutes she had gotten Trudy released. She scolded the cops for “handcuffing babies” and immediately took Trudy home. Joan never got after her about stealing that stuff. She thought getting handcuffed was punishment enough.

Trudy clenched her back teeth as Jimmy's gun pressed her neck. She knew one thing for sure: it would be worse if she talked. So Trudy did just what she did back then. She stood there and did not say one word.

When Jimmy realized Trudy was not going to talk, he cold-cocked her hard in the jaw.

Outside the bathroom door, the club went berserk. People were howling and screaming and hitting spoons against bottles. Jones left-hooked Liston in the ear. Liston looked stunned. He swung at the air. He tried to throw a right but his timing was off. He took a full swing but he missed and lunged forward, teetering back and forth on his water-hose legs. Liston was dazed, like someone who forgot where they'd parked, like any minute he'd be eating the canvas.

Trudy dropped to the floor. Her mouth tasted like salt. She could move her front tooth back and forth with her tongue. Trudy wished she could blast Jimmy's head with her gun, but her gun was in her purse on a chair.

Jimmy stood over her, putting one foot on her chest. “Look, I don't care. This can go either way. Just tell me where my cocaine is at.”

He started choking her neck with his boot.

Just then Pearl burst through the men's bathroom door. Jimmy had one foot at Trudy's throat and aimed his gun straight at Pearl's face.

Pearl stopped in her tracks. She squinted hard at Jimmy. She was wearing a long, silvery, sequined gown. One fist was hitched to her thick, strong, firm hip, and the other fist held the neck of a long wooden bat. She glanced quickly at Trudy but held a steady gaze at his eyes. Pearl stood like he could shoot her nine hundred times and she'd still be posed the same way.

Jimmy held the gun, but he dropped it a few notches. “Oh, I'm supposed to be scared.” Jimmy laughed in her face. “Come on,” he said to Pearl. “Go ahead, take a swing. I'll even put my gun down.”

Jimmy loved this. This was big fun to him. He loved taunting folks. To him this was pure pleasure, like a kid stabbing bugs with a stick.

“You need to be clocking some of these fools up in here instead of wasting your time messing with her.” Pearl threw a glance over her shoulder toward the door. “I heard someone came in here with a
whole
bunch of money. You need to go see about them.”