Rude Boy USA (25 page)

Ben decided to take a chance and venture back into Manhattan. It was still cold out, so he used that excuse to keep his face and head covered and avoid recognition. A friend of his reached out to him at his old address, and the message made it back to Ben when he sent someone to pick up his mail. The letter said that he wanted to meet up with Ben. The person was his closest friend from Vietnam. Ben contacted him over the phone and talked to him for hours to catch up on some things. His friend told him that the other guys were meeting up and that they could all catch up at the bar with a few drinks. A couple of soldiers from Fire Support Base Aries, who had served with him in Vietnam, made it back safely. Other fellow soldiers he served with did not make it back home, or they were severely injured when they returned.

Ben sat in front of the television with his friends, watched MASH, and had beers. It was his favorite show because it reminded him of his time in battle. A special report appeared announcing that President Nixon would address the nation shortly. Nixon announced that Kissinger and the Democratic Republic of Vietnam had reached an internationally supervised ceasefire agreement to end the war. This would begin the restoration of peace in Vietnam, and the agreement would be finalized within the week. Troops would withdraw within sixty days, all prisoners of war would be released, and January 27 would mark the official end of the draft.

All the men sat there quietly. They could not believe that it was really the end. One of the men turned to Ben and asked, “If they are not done, why are we leaving now? Why did we even go there in the first place?” Ben did not say anything. He did not know if he had to answer this or if it was a rhetorical question. He only responded with a shrug. All of them had struggled with the deployment, and most of them had left with a lingering drug problem hanging over their heads. Some of them hid it better than others, and Ben thought he was one of those men. He was for a while, until he let the drugs be his anchor.

Everyone in the group was unemployed. Many of the soldiers who returned from the war could not find jobs, and that contributed to the high unemployment numbers. Most of them were either on welfare or living with the help of their family members because they were injured or mentally impaired. Out of that group of friends, only Ben was dealing narcotics as a source of income. He had cash on him but nothing else, just like John and Jerome. Ben proposed a toast to all of their brethren who fought, won, and lost the war. Each one of them picked up a beer or shot glass and gave a celebratory toast.

Chapter 12

J
erome decided to visit the South Bronx to pick up some things from Mariana’s grandmother. He had never visited this neighborhood before. He did not want to have the Jet Mafia doing security detail for him. He felt that they would scare her grandmother, because they were big, buff, black, and intimidating. Mariana’s grandmother lived in the middle of gang territory, and the men of Jet Mafia looked like they belonged to an outside group. This made them bait for the gangs in the area. Such a situation could escalate quickly. Jerome also did not want to make residents suspicious of his identity. He sent the two Jet guards off for the afternoon. He would take a car service back to Yonkers. Jerome left the bodyguards at East 170th Street, right at Mariana’s grandmother’s building. When Jerome arrived, he picked up a box of hand-me-down baby clothes. Jerome had plenty of means,
but Mariana considered it important to take her family’s offerings, as some of the items were family heirlooms passed on from generation to generation. He did not want Mariana traveling with the baby in this area. He felt that it was not safe.

Ben went out for the day on the corner of East 172nd Street and Hoe Avenue. This location was the most lucrative for him. Others included sections in Mott Haven, Morris Heights, and Hunts Point, as one of the clerks in the corner grocery store brought customers in for Ben in return for a recruiting fee. Before he arrived, he needed a pick-me-up. In preparation for marathon drug pushes, Ben would sometimes smoke crack or get a shot of heroin in his left foot. His foot had so many needle pricks that he had to switch feet. He felt that the drugs gave him an advantage, the ability to leave his conscious at home. A bag would give him about four hours of obliviousness. Ben would stand there, make a sale, and hit on the women who passed him throughout the day.

Jerome took the box of baby clothes and began to walk down the street so he could catch a cab home. While walking, he thought he saw Ben but did not know for sure if it was him. Ben’s looks had changed dramatically, and Jerome could not get over his shock. Ben’s once model looks had all but disappeared, and his disposition was shambolic. Ben had turned into one of the dealers on the street corner. Jerome walked over to get a closer look. Ben noticed Jerome immediately. He wanted to walk away but could not. On the one
hand, he was embarrassed about his current state; on the contrary, he was relieved to see a familiar face.

“Hey. I saw you coming,” Ben said as Jerome walked closer to him. Jerome used to shake Ben’s hand when they greeted, but some of Ben’s nails were so long and filthy that he did not want to touch them. He held onto the box instead.

“What happened to you? Why do you look like that?” Jerome asked him.

Ben took a hard sniffle. “I’m good. I live here now. This is my home. This is my job,” he answered.

“What is that on your face? Is it dirt?” Jerome asked.

“It’s a tattoo, something different,” Ben said. He looked down to see what Jerome had in the box. He noticed the wedding band. “I see your ring. Newlywed? Congratulations.” Ben pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and began smoking.

“Thanks. I was just here picking up baby clothes from family,” Jerome told him.

“So I’m going to be an uncle,” Ben said.

Jerome winced. “The baby is already here…” he said and quickly changed the subject. “We were looking for you, like really looking for you. I just did not expect to see you like this.”

“I think I look fine,” Ben answered.

“Look, we are in trouble. All of us are in trouble,” Jerome said.

“I know; I read. Shame what happened to her,” Ben answered.

Jerome stared at Ben for a second. “Where’s Celia?” he asked sternly.

Ben shrugged. “I don’t know where she is. Isn’t she laid up under John or something?”

Jerome shook his head. “No, she isn’t. We can’t find her either. We were hoping that you knew.” Jerome paused.

“Well, if she were smart, she would have gotten the fuck out of here by now,” Ben answered.

Jerome began to pace a bit. “They trashed everything and burned us down. We’re still a team, though. I’ve heard some things about you, and we need to talk, now,” Jerome told him.

“Yeah, we do,” Ben said. He had Jerome follow him to the basement apartment that he shared with his roommate, Jose.

When Jerome arrived at Ben’s apartment, he saw a couch, a loveseat, two mattresses, and a table full of drug paraphernalia and cups. Jerome had not suspected such a scene, and nothing resembled the lifestyle that Ben once led. Trash and piles of clothes lay in the corners. There was a pair of women’s panties balled up between the sofa cushions. Large rocks from outside sat on top of newspapers and magazines. None of the articles of clothing strewn about resembled the style and polish that Ben once wore proudly. The apartment had a strong smell of marijuana. The couch was dirty, and Jerome chose to sit on the arm instead so as not to ruin his suit. He put his box to the side.

“Brother, we can’t keep saving you. You got to keep it together,” Jerome told him sternly.

“I don’t need fucking saving. I am just fine here. I’m not John. I am with people who get me, who appreciate my work. I’m a Ghetto Brother now,” Ben told him.

Jerome laughed. “There’s nothing ghetto about you. You are a wannabe. You are one of us. Once a rude boy, always a rude boy.”

“That’s over. I am getting a real chance now to show my skills, and if that stupid bitch didn’t fuck up, everyone could have seen what I was capable of doing,” Ben said.

“Wait, wait. You knew what was going on? You were in on this, you and Edina?” Jerome asked him.

“I knew she was selling. She told me she was selling the group to Ambrosino. Oh, well,” Ben said.

“Shit, Ben! And you did nothing to stop her? Did you tell no one? None of us? You disappeared like you always do. You mean to tell me that something about that plan did not click on your head, that perhaps just maybe this wasn’t right? You owed us that!” Jerome yelled at Ben.

“For your information, I did. Yep, I did. Then I got the fuck over it. It wasn’t Bernie’s company anymore. I had no power,” Ben said as he threw his hands up. “For all I know, she and John probably put this together. I never trusted him. It don’t matter anyway. Bernie gave it to John, his prodigal fucking son, his favorite, and I’m gonna tell you, I was not taking orders from him. John is not my boss. You, he, or she was not going to be my bosses. I owed you nothing. She cut you a nice check,” Ben told him.

“Bernie gave you many chances. You kept fucking up! Don’t blame that on us. Bullshit, man! Fuck that!” Jerome
said, and then he paused. “Did you take the money from Edina?” Jerome asked him.

“I don’t have to answer that,” Ben responded.

“Did you kill her?” Jerome asked.

“No,” Ben answered, and he walked closer to Jerome. “I’m not the killer in this group. I served in a war where I had the opportunity to shoot children in the face, like the others, and I didn’t. Don’t ever accuse me of being a murderer.” Ben stared into Jerome’s eyes and pointed at him. “You of all people do not have any grounds to judge me,” he said.

“I should never have let you within two feet of Celia,” Jerome said.

“What’s the problem? Celia is a modern lady; she can make her own choices,” Ben said snidely.

“She didn’t know about you,” Jerome snapped.

“Oh, and what were you going to do about it, run and tell John? You were always John’s bitch! Yep, the John, and Jerome show. You two always conspired against me. You two made decisions with Bernie without including me! I put in just as much as anyone else there, more than you! You were never supposed to be that high! Ah, Celia, flower, I miss her. The inside of her felt so good,” Ben said.

“You fucking druggie!” Jerome stood up and punched Ben. He let no one disrespect his family. Ben hit him back, and they began to wrestle on the floor, on the dirty carpet and trash. They continued to fight until Ben became enraged in a heroin-induced schizophrenic episode. A small amount of foam began to form in the corner of his mouth, and his neck started
to bulge with purple veins. He started choking Jerome until Jerome managed to hit him in the face to get Ben off him. While Jerome sat up and attempted to catch his breath, Ben picked up one of the large rocks he had placed on top of the papers and hit Jerome in the head, cracking his skull. Jerome hit the floor backward as blood splattered on the carpet, couch, and walls. He did not move anymore.

Ben stood above him in shock. He saw that Jerome was not moving. Ben knelt down and tried to shake him, getting blood on his hands and pants. The blood reminded Ben of the time he accidentally cut his face when he was young and of all the blood he saw in the war. The bleeding freaked him out.
Maybe he is just unconscious
, Ben thought. He continued to shake Jerome to wake him, but no success. Jerome was not breathing anymore, and Ben got scared. He backed all the way into one of the corners in the room. He slid down onto the pile of clothes and stared at Jerome, lying lifeless and bleeding on the carpet. Ben began to sweat and shake back and forth while continuing to look at Jerome. The room started to spin. It all happened so fast, he thought. In Ben’s drug-induced state, he had a brief moment of clarity. “What the fuck just happened?” he kept repeating until he lay down in the pile of clothes in the fetal position. Ben blacked out.

Hours later, Jose returned to the apartment to find Jerome stiff and lifeless in the middle of the floor, and Ben still crouched in the corner. Jose went to get a cup of water to throw on Ben to wake him up. When Jose poured it on him, Ben sat up.

“Get up, fuckface!” Jose yelled at him. “Why is there a dead guy in the living room?” Ben looked over, saw Jerome, and instantly felt regret and sadness. He faintly remembered the occurrences of hours before, because he was so high. “Get him out of here before he starts to smell, and you clean that shit up,” Jose said, pointing to the blood splatter.

“Help me,” Ben said to Jose.

“Help you with what? Why is he in here? Why is he bleeding on the carpet?” Jose asked.

“I didn’t mean it. I got upset. Just help me pick him up. I have to put him someplace,” Ben answered.

“You know this guy, or is he a client?” Jose asked.

“He’s a friend of ours.”

Jose looked at him in repugnance and shook his head. “Ben, you need to straighten up your act. I will help you, but you can’t be involving me in this kind of a mess. We can’t have cops here. I don’t have a record; you do,” he said.

Ben and Jose picked Jerome up and wrapped him in a bedsheet. Ben took the rock he had used to hit him out of the apartment with them. When the coast was clear, they moved Jerome’s body into Jose’s car. They drove to one of the many abandoned lots in the Bronx and placed him there. They put him in a spot where they knew he would be found quickly. Ben removed Jerome’s wallet, keys, chain, and gold wedding band so it would look like a robbery. They unwrapped him, leaving him exposed to the elements. Before they left, Ben looked at him and said, “I’m so sorry, brother.” When Ben
and Jose left the lot, they drove the rock over to the Hudson River and tossed it. It sank to the bottom.