Get Some (14 page)

A
fter Charles was shot, and before the cops arrived, Dee's Parlor was going berserk. People raced through the streets like they did during the riots. Some folks were screaming, and one man waved a toy gun. Others just went in and took what they wanted. They ran holding six-packs and bottles of gin. An elderly lady struggled with a big stack of plates. One dropped in the street but she didn't break her stride. She just hoisted the stack farther up her hip.

Trudy roared Charles's Buick down side streets and through alleys.

“Don't worry,” Trudy told Charles's slumped-over body. “I'm going to take you to a doctor. We'll get you fixed up. Just sit tight and keep trying to breathe.” But Trudy didn't take Charles to the hospital at all. She drove down the street until she got to her house. She wanted to pick up her black leather satchel and get rid of these old bloody clothes. But when she got near her block she made a U-turn instead. Was she crazy? It wasn't safe to go home right now. Jimmy might be waiting for her there. Charles's gas tank was on empty; the red light had come on. She couldn't keep driving for long. She parked behind a Dumpster in an alley to think. Charles's body slithered down in the seat. Flies were buzzing around the car on his side. Leaning him back up, Trudy sucked in her breath. The whole front of his shirt was drenched in red blood. Her white dress was splattered in rusty blood too. Trudy was frantic. Charles was hurt bad. She found a water bottle in the backseat and tried to give Charles a sip but the water just rolled down his chin. She ripped part of her dress to make a quick bandage. But the blood wouldn't stop coming out.

“Damn it,” she said, beating her fists against the wheel. “I've got to get you to a doctor.” Trudy raced through back streets, hovering at stop signs. There weren't many emergency wards anymore. She'd have to go down to King Drew. Trudy raced to the hospital and parked in the red lanes; she struggled to get Charles's limp body out. Grabbing his arm all the way over her shoulders, Trudy dragged Charles through the large sliding glass door.

But as soon as she came through the Plexiglas door the alarm started screeching like crazy. Everyone stopped and looked at them both. Blood was splattered all over her dress. The bottom half was completely ripped off. Charles was so wobbly and weak, he barely could stand. Bright red blood soaked through most of his clothes. But it was late Friday night and this was “Killer King” Drew. The lobby spilled over with bullet and stab wounds. Some folks were worse off than them.

A security guard raced up to where Trudy was. Trudy panicked. Oh God, she was trapped. There was a guard waiting at the entrance to the lobby and a guard standing where she came in. She was captured inside a small plastic room. Everyone stared at her hard.

“Ma'am!” the guard barked. “Are you carrying a weapon?”

Trudy had forgotten about the gun in her purse. The gun had set off the metal detectors and the alarm brought out both guards.

“I have to take it, ma'am,” the guard said, coming toward her. Oh no! Trudy began breathing hard. She didn't want to be arrested. What if they thought she shot Charles? What if they called the police?

“It's my husband's. He shot himself cleaning his gun. I begged him to not buy that thing. Please come take it away.” Trudy kissed Charles softly on the cheek. “You'll be all right, honey. We're at the hospital now.”

Trudy handed the officer the gun. He studied her awhile but eventually walked back toward the door.

A nurse handed Trudy a clipboard filled with forms.

“You got to see him now!” Trudy pleaded to the nurse. She wanted to get out of the room and away from the guards; they kept watching her from the front door.

The lady didn't look up at Trudy at all. She leaned over the counter and took Charles's pulse. She examined his wound. “He's breathing,” she said. “The bleeding has stopped.”

“He's bad off. You got to look at him now!” Trudy said.

“Honey, I got an arm sawed off, a drive-by that left eight people bloody and a hand ripped from fixing a disposal. Just take a number and please sit him down. I don't want no blood on my counter.” The woman's eyes never left the chart she was holding. “We'll call you as soon as we're ready.”

“A number? Is this a god damn butcher shop or what?” But when Trudy saw the hard looks of the other people waiting she quickly grabbed a number and sat down. There was a man whose hand drooped in a loose homemade sling. The fingers and thumb were completely chewed off. Blood caked in the folds of his skin. A pregnant woman twisted and turned in her seat. Her loud groaning echoed throughout the whole room. Trudy looked around the room for two seats together. A man with a gash in his leg moved down one. He sat next to a woman with a black and blue face.

When Trudy lifted Charles's jacket to cover him up, the blue envelope fell to the floor. Trudy opened the envelope to examine the contents. The envelope was more than three-quarters short. Trudy nudged Charles's slumped body.

“Charles, wake up,” Trudy whispered in his ear. “Where is the rest of the money?” But Charles was groggy. Trudy shook his leg gently. “Charles!” Trudy said, more determined this time. Charles opened his eyes wide but then shut them slow. He groaned, folding his body in the seat. “Charles!” she said low, shaking his leg harder. The man with the gash looked at Trudy and frowned. The marred woman sucked her tongue and sadly shook her head.

But Trudy wanted to know. She had to find where he put it. “Charles, can you hear me? Charles, wake up!”

“Can't you see he's bleeding?” The man with the sling shouted. “Why don't you leave the poor fellow alone?”

Trudy crossed her arms on her chest and stayed quiet. She didn't dare say anything else.

“Ma'am!” the woman behind the counter calmly called. “The doctor will see you both now.” A nurse came and helped Charles into a small curtained room. She swabbed his chest, took his temperature and left.

“Charles!” Trudy said, holding on to his arm.

Charles raised his head but then collapsed down.

The nurse rushed back in. “You'll have to leave, ma'am. He's lucky. It's only a flesh wound.” She plugged in a monitor and thumped a syringe. “We'll let you know how he's doing,” the nurse bluntly said. She yanked the curtain in Trudy's anxious face.

Trudy waited until the nurse left. She lingered way down the hall. When the nurse turned the corner, Trudy slipped back into his room.

“Charles!” Trudy whispered inside of his ear. “Where is the money? Where is it hidden in your house?”

Charles turned over. He opened his eyes. He started to mutter something but the morphine knocked hard at his door.

“Charles!” Trudy said, shaking his shoulder real hard.

“Get out,” the nurse said sternly, rushing back in the room.

When Trudy refused to move, the nurse touched her arm.

“Charles!” Trudy said trying to hold Charles's shoulder. Charles was struggling. He tried to mouth a word.

“Paint,” he said weakly. His lids fluttered and closed.

“Charles!” Trudy screamed at the top of her lungs.

The nurse tried to pull Trudy but she was frail and small. Her thin arms were no match for Trudy's big-boned girth. So she pushed a green button and set off the alarm. A buzzing sound consumed the room.

Well, this was it. This was her final, last-ditch effort. In a minute they'd be tossing her out the front door.

“Charrrrleees!”
Trudy hollered. She let her voice roar. It carried like a
Ma Rainey's Black Bottom
song, thundering way down the hall.

A male nurse came in and grabbed Trudy hard but not before these words crept from Charles's slurring tongue.

“. . . back . . . yaaaaa . . . rrrrrrd,” Charles said. One eye was shut. “Paint can in garaaaaageeeee,” he muttered, then passed out.

Trudy smiled big when she heard these last words. Even when the male nurse tossed her out of the double lobby doors, she grinned all the way to the car.

Less than five miles away, Shirley grinned too. She had followed Jimmy trying to drive on four flattened tires. She pulled alongside his black SUV. Her dinged Cougar rattled and choked at the light. She looked like an old carnival ride.

“Your left tires are gone.” Shirley gestured toward his rims.

“It'll be all right,” Jimmy said unfazed. His tires were slashed but he could still drive. It was useless to put on his spare.

“I can help. I think I know who you're looking for, baby.” She gave him a snaggletoothed grin.

Jimmy's black tinted window rolled the rest of the way down. He was angry as hell but smiled back at Shirley. He cracked open and lit a brand-new cigar.

“If you'da asked, I'da told you to not fool with that girl. Trudy thinks she's all that and a big bag of chips, but that girl ain't never been shit!”

Jimmy stared at Shirley. He wanted her to talk. “Where is she?” he asked her point-blank.

Shirley smiled and popped her gum for a minute. She wanted her last comment to sink in. The car parked behind started blowing its horn. Shirley waved the car to go around. Shirley rubbed her thumb and fingers together, gesturing she wanted money.

Jimmy stretched out his arm and handed her three new bills. Shirley rolled them and stuck the tube in her stuffed push-up bra.

“Thanks, sugar,” Shirley said, chewing her gum fast. “If she's not home, then most likely she's down at Vernita's. It's a beauty shop off 10th, right on Mont Clair. I betchu that freak's over there.”

Jimmy leaned halfway out of his large SUV. “How much you want for your car?”

Shirley popped her gum like a twelve-year-old girl. “I'll let it go for eleven hundred.”

Jimmy peeled off more bills. “Here's five,” he said hard. “Now get out before I take it for the three in your chest.”

Shirley snatched the extra cash and handed him the keys. “Pleasure doing business,” she said, popping her gum again.

Jimmy got in her Cougar and put it in Reverse. It clunked when he put it in Drive. But the Cougar was fast and it had a huge engine. Shirley screamed as he flew down the street. “Don't blink or you'll miss it,” she continued to yell. “Lemme know if you need anything else!” She smiled as Jimmy's taillights faded down the dark block. Her cruel grin turned into a nastier scowl. She filed a few rough nails before walking down the street. “Serves that ol' skanky bitch right!”

T
ony flicked the dead ash from his half-smoked Winston. His large walrus gut dug in the steering wheel he held. “Nigga shit,” he said to himself. Tossing the cigarette butt out the window, he turned on Ray Charles and hummed. He kept glancing and checking and rechecking his mirrors as he drove the side streets back home. He pulled his Caddy up the narrow concrete strips of his driveway. In between the concrete strips was a long row of unmowed grass.

Tony carried his briefcase out toward the back porch whistling “Midnight Train to Georgia.” He stopped and sniffed hard. Somebody was barbecuing something. He looked up and noticed the soft trail of smoke floating up into the black. Nobody could see inside Tony's backyard. It was completely covered with vines. The vines and trees grew in one dark, overgrown mass that twitched and screeched loud from the crickets and rats. Tony pried open the back step and lifted the plank up. With Ray Ray and Charles's money and the rest of the club's take he had more than eighteen grand in his hand. A grin inched its way from his thick bottom lip. “It's a crime to make this much scratch in one night.” Tony laughed, flicking his Winston from his hand.

Before nailing the plank shut, he heard the Great Dane next door. It growled and barked through the hedge. Tony looked across the yard. It was totally dark. He could barely see past his own arm.

“Must be one of them opossums,” Tony said to himself. “Always climbing across the damn clothesline and rooting through your yard.” He hammered the one plank back down. If Tony had gotten up and examined it himself, he would have seen that the clothesline had been taken down.

When Tony stood up, someone hooped his fat neck. The cord choked him so hard, he couldn't get air. He struggled so furiously to get himself free that he kicked over a glass Sparkletts bottle. The Great Dane went crazy at the shattering of glass. It pounced against the thick chain-link fence and barked wildly. Tony's eyes bulged. His tongue was slung like a dog, a dog that's been run way too long. He wildly clawed against the tight fists that held him but the more and more he moved, the tighter the cord yanked until Tony's husky body went limp. His lungs fluttered once. His heartbeat slowed down. And his brain faintly played “Midnight Train” to him again before drowning in a galaxy of black.

Ray Ray unwrapped the clothesline from around Tony's neck. He took Tony's gun from his sack-of-rice stomach and dragged him to the fallen-down garage in the back. He put Tony inside an old trunk and locked it. He threw a thick rug over the top. People thought the smell was a hound that had climbed back there and died. It was months before anyone found him.

T
rudy hurried to Charles's car and jumped in. She studied the envelope with the money. She held the keys to Charles's house in her hand. She couldn't show up in Charles's car. Flo would recognize it in a minute. In fact, it wasn't safe for her to go over there at all. Flo probably meant to shoot her. Trudy ran to the phone by the hospital doors.

She dialed Vernita and listened to the phone ring and ring. “Vernita, pick up!” Trudy held the receiver to her mouth. “Come on, Vernita, be home!”

Suddenly the phone clicked. Someone picked up the line. “Vernita?” Trudy asked. “Girl, is that you?”

The person didn't say a word. There was only hard breathing.

“Vernita?” Trudy said in the receiver again.

“Hello,” a voice said low. It was almost a whisper.

“Vernita, is that you? Why are you talking so low? I can barely hear what you're saying.”

“Your boy's over here,” Vernita faintly said.

“Who?”

“Who do you think? He's knocked out in my chair. I tied his hands with an extension cord. You better get over here quick.”

Trudy drove to the shop. A black Bug was parked across the street. She searched Charles's car for some kind of weapon. She wanted something in her hand just in case. The only thing Charles had was a steering wheel lock. Trudy twisted the lock until the metal bar slid out. She lifted her dress and hooked the lock to her panties, letting the thick bar hang down next to her thighs. She couldn't see inside. The blinds were all drawn. Trudy gently knocked on the shop door.

“Vernita?” Trudy mildly called to her friend.

“Shhhh,” Vernita said, unlocking the door. She held one finger up to her lips. “He's out but who the hell knows for how long.”

Trudy looked by the rinse bowl and saw Lil Steve. He was snoring inside the salon chair.

Vernita noticed Trudy's stained and torn dress.

“Look, I don't even want to know what bullshit just happened. You're still breathing, so I guess you're all right. Just give me my share. I'm through with this mess. I'm not made for this kind of stress.”

Trudy glanced away from her friend's pale eyes. “Uh-uh, not yet. I don't have it on me.” Trudy studied the floor. She felt Vernita's piercing gaze. “We have to go get it from Charles's place.”

“We? No, not me! I told you I'm done.” Vernita pointed a manicured finger at Lil Steve's head. “That boy came here and held a damn gun to my head. I already helped you enough.”

“But, Vernita, I can't go. Charles left the money inside his garage. Flo showed up at the club gunning for me and Charles. I just dropped him off at the hospital to get checked.”

“See? That's what I'm talking about. I knew this would happen. This shit is foul. Look at you, you're a mess. You're covered in blood and Charles is at the damn doctor!”

Trudy broke down. She felt bad about Charles. Hot tears raced out of both of her eyes. Her frustration and the day's events finally took their toll.

Vernita handed Trudy a towel for her face.

“I knew it. I knew doing this wild shit was whack! Didn't I say this shit was crazy?”

Trudy struggled hard to pull herself together. “Vernita, I'm fine. Charles is okay too. The bullet went right through his shoulder, that's all. But I need your help. I just need a quick ride. I swear, I'll do all the rest.”

Vernita frowned and didn't say anything at first, but her disgust made her yell at her friend. “That's all? Girl you must be sick! This is dangerous, okay? Your dumb ass could die! Have you been smoking chronic all night? This is idiotic shit. Look, I don't even care about the money. Y'all been shot at. Y'all coulda got done. Some of them gun fragments must have lodged in your head if you think I'ma still get in this fuckin' mess.”

Trudy ignored her friend's sarcasm. She didn't have much time. “Charles told me the money is hidden inside a paint can. He hid the can in his garage. Look, I don't know why Charles put it in there but Ray Ray was with him. Charles probably had to hide it from him.” Trudy held her friend's arm. She narrowed her eyes. “I got to get that paint can from Charles's backyard. All of our money is just sitting back there waiting. Vernita, we got to go before someone else gets there first.”

“We? Haven't you heard what I said? Do I look like I got ‘fool' written on my forehead?” Vernita's arched eyebrows rose high above her eyes.

“Come on, Vernita, please!” Trudy begged her friend.

But Vernita just stood firm. She didn't make a sound. Both hands were hitched to her hips.

“Come on, say something,” Trudy demanded.

“I'm still thinking about that .22 glued to my jaw. I'm thinking about Flo tripping, getting a gun and shooting at folks. Why the hell would I want to go over there?”

“'Cause the money is there! Haven't you been listening at all? We got to go over there and get the shit back!”

“Naw, girl, I'm sorry. I'm not doing anything else. Guns, police, robbing banks, folks getting shot. And now I got this fool tied in my shop. This shit's way too deep for me.”

Trudy stared at Vernita. Her deep frown was set. Trudy didn't know what happened between her and Lil Steve but Vernita was obviously scared. Trudy didn't dare say what Jimmy had just done to her. Vernita would never help if she knew the truth.

“Well, can't you just drive me over there, huh? I can't drive myself. I'm in Charles's car. Just drive me there. That's all I want.”

Vernita sighed deeply. She wiped her hands on a towel. She grabbed some hair out of a brush and threw it in the trash. She placed a clean pile of combs in a large plastic jar. She filled the jar with green disinfectant. Her eyes shifted back up to the huge broken mirror. “I'm sorry. I just don't think it's smart.” She grabbed a broom and started sweeping up shards. “You gonna have to be dumb by yourself.”

“Look, I'm begging you, Vernita. Please help me out.”

Vernita had heard enough. She turned her back on her friend. She scooped the glass bits and dumped them inside the trash. Her lips were drawn tight as she shook her head. “No, Trudy. I'm sorry. I can't help you now. I'm done with all of this mess.”

So Trudy played her trump card. She had no other choice. There was one thing that could stop Vernita dead in her tracks. But she hated to use it. She'd sworn never to mention it again. But Trudy was backed against a cold concrete wall. “Wal-Mart,” Trudy said. She let the word fall.

Vernita stopped sweeping. She clutched the broom in her fist.

“I know you don't want to hear it. I'm sorry to bring it up . . .”

Vernita flashed her green eyes. The white part looked red. She glared like she wanted to slap Trudy's face.

“I stood by you, remember? You
needed me
back then.”

Vernita clamped her back teeth. She dropped the broom to the floor.

Vernita had buried that memory a long time ago.

 

 

See, in their last year in high school, way before Vernita had her own shop, Vernita worked for a beautician off 54th and Vermont. It was a small bootleg shop operating with no license, run by a mean, callous woman with thin lips and a mustache. The callous woman came in demanding Vernita give her a perm. Vernita didn't want to do it. The woman's hair wasn't ready and it was dry and as hard as a broom. And on top of that, the woman had been scratching her head something awful and Vernita didn't want the perm to damage the woman's raw scalp. “Shut up,” the woman said. “Just do your damn job. I'm not paying for your god damn opinion, okay? Just open that Revlon and start smearing it on. If you don't like it, then you can just quit!”

So Vernita got the jar from the shelf in the back. She told the woman to please have a seat in the chair. Vernita tied a smock around the woman's long neck. Vernita was careful not to get the harsh perm on the woman's skin, keeping the chemical just on her roots. But when she rinsed it, big chunks of hair came out in the comb and a whole lot more floated alone in the sink. The left side of the woman's scalp was completely skinned bald. When the woman saw her hair loss, she punched Vernita hard. Vernita got angry and slapped the bald woman back. But the woman went crazy. She tore up the shop. She cussed her; she pulled a razor blade from her purse, threatening to slash Vernita across the cheek. But just then, Vernita's young cousin Moon came in for a trim. Moon sized up the situation, which got immediately out of hand. A sea of tan khakis and white tees filled the room. Blue bandanas hung from their back pockets. “Lock the door, cuz,” Moon said to his friend. A tan-khaki man bolted the door. Moon slammed the woman hard against the wall. The razor fell out of her hand.

“You want to cut someone, bitch?” Moon spat in her face.

The half-bald woman panicked. She tried to run from the shop, but they caught her and dragged her inside their car. “Don't worry, girl, we got it from here.” Moon gunned the car and careened down the street. “We 'bout to go do some shoppin'.”

“Wait!” Vernita screamed. But the Monte Carlo didn't stop. The next day they found the woman's body inside a Dumpster. It was in the parking lot behind the new Wal-Mart.

When the cops questioned Vernita, Trudy covered for her friend. She told them she was with her all day at the mall.

 

 

“All right,” Vernita said, finally leveling her eyes. “I'll do this last thing. But after this shit we're even. Don't ever bring that mess up again.”

Trudy smiled at her friend. “I knew you'd come through.”

“Look, Trudy, I'll take you. But I'm staying down the street. Flo might recognize my hooptie too.”

“What about him?” Trudy looked at Lil Steve.

“If you help me we can lift him and carry him outside,” Vernita said.

Trudy eyed Lil Steve tied up in the chair. She waved her hand across his face to see if he could see. She saw the cocaine in his nose.

“You think he ODed?”

“Naw, he's all right. Just strung out from being too high.”

Sticking her hand inside his right pocket, Trudy pulled out a small ring of keys. They were both engraved with the Volkswagen logo. “Hey, let's use his car. That Bug out there's his. You're right. Your Mustang's too flossy to hide. No one will ever recognize us in a Bug.”

Vernita looked worried but she still grabbed her purse. She took Lil Steve's feet and Trudy held his hands. They dragged him across the floor and outside to the back. Vernita locked up the shop when Trudy walked out the door. They walked around the corner and got into the car. Vernita turned the Bug's engine. She told Trudy to get down. Trudy smiled at her friend as she shifted from first. The Volkswagen roared like a Porsche.

As soon as they left, Jimmy appeared in the alley. He saw Lil Steve outside the beauty shop's back door. Lil Steve looked like a drunk who'd passed out in a stupor. As Jimmy got closer, something glowed in the moon. Jimmy eased the car closer to Lil Steve's body. He recognized the ring immediately. It was his diamond and sapphire pinkie. Jimmy got out and dragged Lil Steve inside the Cougar, spreading him across the backseat. He noticed a baseball bat behind the seat on the floor and decided to drive to the dark corner of a lot.