Eastside (20 page)

Marcus nodded. “Yeah, he called it the shoot and scoot, or tactical withdrawal, or some bullshit like that.”

Darius said, “Well, that's what we're gonna do. We're outnumbered, so we are gonna have to try some crazy shit.”

Travon, Romeo, and Marcus broke away from the rest of the group, and quickly made their way outside.

“I got another idea, since we are so outnumbered,” Marcus told Travon and Romeo. He gathered them close, placed his arms around their shoulders, and began to explain.

Darius stood just inside of the restroom door, while Lil Fade and Capone rushed into the main restroom area with their weapons drawn.

“Don't be stupid, Dejuan!” Capone said, with his weapon aimed at Dejuan's head.

“Naw, be stupid, Dejuan,” Lil Fade told him. “Please be stupid and give me a reason.”

“You never needed a reason before,” Dejuan told him.

Lil Fade frowned. “Whatever! Just break yourself, Blood!”

Capone peered beneath the doors of all of the stalls. They were empty. He walked to where Dejuan was standing and pat searched him. He found a Smith & Wesson nine-millimeter semiautomatic handgun tucked into Dejuan's waistband. Capone carefully removed the weapon and then slowly stepped away from him.

A thirty-something white male wearing glasses, strolled into the restroom. Darius quickly grabbed him and shoved him against the wall. The man began to panic.

Darius placed his fingers over his lips. “Shhhhh.” He searched the newcomer and found nothing. “I'm sending one in to you!” he shouted. He turned the man around, and stared him in the eyes. “You go in there, and you do exactly what they say, do you hear me?”

The man nodded.

“They will kill you,” Darius continued. “Do you understand me? They will kill you. Don't make any foolish moves, don't say anything stupid, just shut the fuck up and do exactly what they say.”

The man understood. He slowly walked into the main restroom area. Capone and Lil Fade now had red bandannas tied around the lower half of their faces.

“You let me see your faces,” Dejuan told them, as he continued to remove his jewelry.

Lil Fade smiled. “We kill you, the police won't give a shit. But if we kill Bob here, then they'll be all over us.”

“I won't tell,” the newcomer told them. He removed his glasses. “And I'm blind as a bat too.”

“Dejuan, just hurry the fuck up so we can be on our way,” Capone said.

“You want my money?” the white guy asked.

“Naw, just shut the fuck up, peckerwood!” Lil Fade shouted.

“Yes sir!”

Dejuan tossed Lil Fade two extremely large wads of money, along with his bulging wallet. Thinking that they had been following him the entire time that he had been inside of the mall, he gave up money that he did not have to.

“The rest of the money is in the shopping bag,” he told Lil Fade.

Capone and Lil Fade exchanged glances, and then Capone snatched the shopping bags that were resting near Dejuan's feet. He quickly began rummaging through them.

The first bag contained two tennis shoe boxes from Foot Locker; to his surprise, they were both filled with thick wads of money. Capone closed the boxes, and placed them back into the bag. He then concentrated on the second bag. It, along with the remaining bags, was filled with merchandise. He tossed the bags of merchandise at Dejuan.

“Don't nobody want that Texas shit!” Capone shouted. “Burnt orange is a fuckin' sissy color!”

Dejuan stared at both of them and frowned. “You know what this means, don't you?”

“Yeah, it means that you're mad at us now,” Lil Fade answered. “Who gives a fuck, you know the routine. Lay your greasy, curl-wearin' ass on the floor and count to fifty.” He turned to the white guy. “You too, Opie!”

“And another thing, stay your muthafuckin' ass away from my kinfolk!” Capone added. “He don't need your damn help!”

“Is that what this is all about?” Dejuan asked. “Tell Tre that he can keep those five ounces, I don't need 'em. I drop more dope than that just walkin' to the shitter.”

“If I could take your bitch ass outta this mall, by the time I got through jacking you, you would need 'em,” Lil Fade replied.

“We out!” Capone shouted.

“Remember, count to fifty!” Lil Fade shouted, heading out of the door.

The boys tucked away their weapons, as they hurried through the food court toward the exit. Behind them, they heard a loud commotion. Capone turned to see what it was. Dejuan was out of the restroom pointing toward them. Travon had been right: Quentin, Tech Nine, Dupriest, Alonzo, Stephon, Short Texas, Lil Texas, Lil Anthony, DT, Boss, Lil Burst, Money, and quite a few other WCGs began to pull out their weapons.

“Run!” Capone shouted.

They hit the exit doors and ran to the right, with the WCGs in pursuit. Just as the boys were about to turn the corner, the WCGs opened fire.

Bullets whizzed past the boys, ricocheting off of the corner of the building. They turned the second corner, only to find that Romeo and Marcus were not there.

“Fuck!” Darius shouted, breathing heavily. “They should have been here.”

The boys continued their all-out sprint toward the garage. Soon, they were able to see the front of Travon's car sticking out of the garage. Gunfire erupted again as the WCGs turned the second corner.

“Oh shit!” Darius shouted. “They going to eat us up when we get to the car!”

Suddenly, two AK-47s opened up from the parking lot, and four of their pursuers fell. The remainder of the WCGs scrambled back around the corner of the building to safety.

Marcus and Romeo, hiding behind cars in the parking lot, effectively laid down suppressive fire in a moving ambush and took the fight out of the WCGs. They moved covertly from vehicle to vehicle, firing their weapons, and brought gang warfare into an entirely new era.

Travon pulled out of the parking garage, and Darius, Capone, and Lil Fade leapt inside. Travon then raced into the parking lot and picked up Marcus and Romeo at the prearranged rendezvous point.

“Fuck yeah, Blood!” a jubilant Lil Fade shouted. “We got that muthafucka!”

“Whoooooeeeee!” Capone shouted. “We pulled that shit off!” He emptied the shoe boxes into his lap and began counting money.

Darius turned to Marcus. “What happed to the shoot and scoot?”

“Marcus came up with another plan,” Romeo explained. “We did something else Leo taught us. And we used three-round bursts and everything, just like he said to. That shit worked beautifully!”

“I decided it would be better if we set they ass up like this instead,” Marcus added. “That way they would be too shook up to follow us. I wasn't down for no more car chases, so we came to the car with Tre and got two of the AKs out of the trunk.”

“They are gonna come after our asses like crazy,” Romeo told them.

“How many?” Darius asked.

“Four the first round, and three the second,” Romeo answered.

“Well, don't worry about it,” Lil Fade told them. “They just lost seven homies; they won't be in a hurry to lose any more.”

“They was all still moving,” Marcus told them. “All of our shots hit kinda low.”

Marcus and Romeo exchanged knowing glances. Neither wanted to reveal that Travon would only let them get the AKs out of the trunk, if they promised to aim for the legs.

“Damn, Marcus,” Lil Fade exclaimed. “I know you can shoot better than that.”

Romeo changed the subject. “So, how much did we win for, Blood?”

A wide grin crept across Capone's face. “That muthafucka had four Gs in his wallet, and six in his pockets. He musta just one a deal because he had
sixty
muthafuckin' Gs in the shoe boxes!”

“Whooooeeee!” Lil Fade shouted. “Fuck yeah, Blood! I knew we shoulda got that nigga! Somethin' inside a my head said, ‘Fade, get that muthafucka'!”

Darius smiled and shook his head. “Seventy muthafuckin' Gs for ten minutes' worth of work! I love this shit!”

Travon nodded. “No wonder all of them muthafuckas was there. I knew they traveled deep, but not
that
deep! That dude was either about to meet his connection and score, or he did some business with some niggaz he didn't trust.”

“I'll bet you he was gonna make a shitload of money from whatever he was doing, and wasn't gonna pay them niggaz shit for watching his back,” Darius told them. “That's one stingy-ass muthafucka!”

“Yeah, but I'll bet you one thing,” Travon told them. “I'll bet you that he splurges on guns and ammunition to come after our asses.”

Capone finished examining Dejuan's jewelry and sat it inside of one of the shoe boxes. “This is about fifty thousand dollars' worth of jewelry right here. We won big-time, Blood.”

Travon nodded in agreement, then said, “Yeah, but for how long?”

The Funeral

T
ravon and his mother squeezed into a pew in the rear of the chapel.

Although large, the chapel was already filled to capacity, and mourners were beginning to stand along the sides of the room.

Frog was dressed in a black suit and white shirt, with a crimson red tie. A large, freshly clipped red rose was pinned to his lapel. It matched the rest of the bouquets inside the chapel today.

“The funeral home did a good job on him,” Elmira whispered in her son's ear.

Frog's casket was surrounded by thousands of red roses, and appeared as though it were floating on a bed of flowers. The exterior of the casket was a deep sparkling red, with glistening chrome fixtures throughout. The interior was lined with a light rose-colored satin. It was not unlike the material that one would find on the beds inside of an expensive hotel. Yvette approached.

“Auntie Mira,” she whispered to Elmira. “We want you and Tre to come and sit with the family. My mother has saved y'all some space up front.”

Travon and Elmira followed Yvette. When they arrived at the section reserved for the family, Elmira leaned forward and hugged Mrs. Davis.

“Patricia, girl, how are you doing?” Elmira asked, as they embraced.

Patricia Davis shook her head. “I don't know. Elmira, I don't know how you did it, girl.” She pointed toward the casket. “I'm trying to be strong, but that's my baby over there!” She broke down and began crying again.

Elmira sat next to her friend, placed her arm around her shoulder, and began to comfort her. Soon, the reverend approached the podium and began his sermon.

“Can we say, amen?” the reverend asked.

“Amen,” the crowd responded.

“We are here to say farewell to a young man whom God called home early,” the reverend told them. He continued by telling the gathering what a wonderful person Frog was, and recollecting childhood stories about Frog. Once the reverend was finished, and group of young men walked to the front of the church and harmonized Boyz II Men's “It's So Hard To Say Goodbye.”

The young men were followed by the choir from Frog's mother's church, which rose and sang “Soon We'll be Done,” and “Jesus Is Calling.” Tamara, the mother of Frog's child, journeyed to the podium and spoke of the love she had for Frog, and the love that he had for her and their son. She was followed by Yvette, who spoke beautifully of her brother, and consoled the mourners with several selections of poetry.

The minister returned to the podium and spoke, and was once again followed by the choir. Finally, Vera rose and walked to the podium and spoke, and then conducted the ceremony for the viewing of the body. She asked that everyone remain seated, so that the family might view the body first and then leave.

After the family had made its mournful sojourn past the body, Vera called the rest of the congregation up, row by row, and allowed them to pay their last respects as well.

When Big Pimpin arrived at the casket, he placed a red-and-black BSV T-shirt inside. Lil Fade stuck some blunts in Frog's jacket pocket, while Lil Bling placed fifty dollars inside. Capone leaned over and put a small pint of gin in the casket, while Charlie placed a fifty pack of cocaine base inside Frog's jacket pocket.

“Get your hustle on, Blood,” Charlie told him. He made a Blood sign, and filed out through the side door with the rest of the congregation.

Suga leaned over the coffin and placed a twenty-two-caliber semiautomatic inside. “Just in case there are some Crabs in Heaven, which I seriously doubt,” he told Frog. He made a Blood sign and filed out with the others.

When the last of the BSV had gone, Frog had amassed a total of three hundred dollars, a quarter of an ounce of crack cocaine, two handguns, an all-black Dickie suit, six red bandannas, four red T-shirts, two red baseball caps, and twelve photographs of him with various women.

The pallbearers carried the casket outside, where it was set upon another stand, which was also surrounded by numerous roses. Dozens of bandannas that had been sewn together were draped over the casket as if they were a national flag.

The casket was oriented toward the street. As cars began to drive down past, they performed their best maneuvers with their hydraulic suspension systems. The cars were all juiced up today, polished to an unbelievable level of finish. Sparkling and looking their best, they gave Frog his last car show.

The cars continued to perform as they trailed the hearse to the cemetery, where Frog's remains would be cremated. At the cemetery, a brief service was held and then the crowd dispersed, the majority heading back to Frog's mother's house to eat.

Patricia Davis' House

While everyone was busy talking, eating, and reminiscing about Frog, Mrs. Davis summoned Travon.

“Tre, come with me and let's talk for a minute,” she told him.

Travon rose from the couch and followed her out of the living room, through the kitchen, and into the back yard. She seated herself on some old white wrought-iron lawn furniture, and Travon took the seat just across from her.

“I'm so sorry that I behaved like that toward you the other day,” she said softly.

“It's okay.” Travon nodded. “You had every right to be angry. Plus, I know you were upset about Frog and everything.”

“Well, actually, I was really upset about the shooting in the East Terrace,” she told him. “I meant what I said about that, I just should not have taken it out on you.”

Mrs. Davis leaned back in her seat and exhaled forcibly. “Yvette told me that you weren't involved and she gave me the money that you raised for Freddy's funeral. It was such a beautiful service, and it was all because of you. Thank you, Tre.”

“You're welcome, Mrs. D,” Travon replied. “You know I would do anything for Frog.”

Mrs. Davis nodded her head. “I know that, baby, but Freddy's gone now.” She patted Travon's hand. “So, what I want to talk to you about is doing something for Tre.”

Patricia Davis leaned back in her chair, squinted her tired, wrinkled eyes, and peered off into space. “I need for you to make it, Tre. Frog is gone. Davon is gone. You are all Elmira has left, and all I have left, as far as a son goes. Somebody has to make it, Tre. I need for you to live and be successful. I need to know that Freddy could have done that. I know it's an unfair burden to put on you, but, Tre, you're it now. Baby, you're the last of a dying breed. You're a young African American male who is not dead or in prison.”

She jabbed her finger at Travon. “You have to carry the torch. I have to know and Elmira has to know, that there is nothing wrong with us. That we are not failures. Our babies are killing each other, Tre. You're dying in the streets like…like animals. We need to know it it's us that's lost our way, or whether it's society.”

Solemnly, Mrs. Davis lifted her arm and pointed out toward the streets. “Something out there is eating up our children, some unseen monster. But you,” she said, shaking her wrinkled finger at him. “You, he will not get. I have a brother who is a professor at Grambling, and I also have a sister who is an admissions counselor at Prairie View. I can get you into either one, but first I need for you to get your GED or high school diploma. Once you do that, I'll make some phone calls and you're in.”

She leaned forward and clasped Travon's hand. “Don't worry about tuition or anything; I have a few churches lined up for that. You just do your part and go to school and study. I don't know if Freddy told you, but he was going to go back to school. He wanted to be able to get a good job and take care of Tamara and the baby.”

Travon shifted his gaze toward the lawn. “I been thinking about finishing up school in Houston with my Aunt Irma Lee, or up in Dallas with my Aunt Martha Ray.”

Mrs. Davis enthusiastically slapped Travon across the top of his hand. “That's good! What does Elmira say?”

“I ain't told her yet. She's kinda hard to talk to, and she's busy with school and work.” Travon shifted his gaze toward her. “I'm trying to work things out for myself.”

“Oh, bullshit! You can't tell me that Elmira is too hard to talk to, and don't give me any of that macho crap either. Everybody needs somebody, Tre. You're seventeen years old, baby. You don't have all of the answers, although you may think that you do. Every once in a while we all need help to sort through our problems. I needed help, and you helped me. Besides, if you really feel like Elmira is hard to talk to, you've got me, Vera, Regina, and Chicken.”

“You forgot Clarissa,” Travon told her.

Patricia Davis shook her head. “No I didn't. Clarissa's got her ass on her shoulders. She's been like that since we was little girls. Hell, I can't even talk to Clarissa, so I know you can't!”

Together they shared a long laugh.

“Baby, finish school, get your GED, and if you need anything, come and talk to me. I'm here for you, Tre.”

Travon stood and embraced Mrs. Davis tightly.

“Now, let's go inside and eat!” she told him. Together they walked to the door. “Your Aunt Clarissa brought over one of her red devil cakes, and a cold oven cake. She might be a Miss Goody Two-shoes, but she sure in the hell can bake!”

They shared another laugh, and they ventured into the crowded house.

Later That Evening

Aunt Vera's House

The entire family was gathered at Vera's house, including Martha Ray and Irma Lee and their children, who'd come for the funeral. Travon, Marcus, Winky, Lil Daddy, Frank, Robert Jr., Cibon, Omar, Caesar, and Buddy were all seated around the front porch. The conversation was about girls.

It was another beautiful South Texas evening. The sun's golden rays were retreating slowly to the West, and the sound of nature's orchestra permeated the temperate evening air. For the first time in a long time, Travon was truly happy. He was surrounded by family.

Chicken stood in the front yard surrounded by several of his female cousins, while Martha Ray, the oldest of the sisters, was venturing back inside of the house. Martha Ray was forty-two, but acted as if she were sixty-two, and so the fun had taken a brief hiatus during her presence. The rest of the cousins and aunts were scattered throughout the house, and if it had not been for the funeral, Travon would have counted this day amongst the most perfect days of his life.

Tonight he was going to ask Martha Ray if he could go back to Dallas with her. The hints he had thrown to her earlier had been received positively. She had thrown out to him how much room she had and how nice the schools were in her area. She had also mentioned how many nice young ladies lived in her neighborhood. Tonight, it would be all systems go, he was certain of it.

“Say, let's go to the backyard and blow some of this Bubonic,” Antwon told the others.

His twin, Cibon, turned to him. “How much do we have left?”

“Shit, enough to roll ten fat blunts and a couple a joints,” Antwon answered. “Let's bail then,” Omar said, as he rose and headed off to the backyard. He was followed by Caesar, Cibon, Antwon, Marcus, J-Bird, Frank, Robert Jr., Buddy, and Winky. Travon, Lil Daddy, and Romeo stayed.

The stereo inside the house came alive, and Denise LaSalle's
Down Home Blues
CD blared from the speakers.

“They are getting drunk tonight,” Lil Daddy said.

“Getting?” Romeo asked. “Hell, they already
are
drunk.”

Urisa, Jamitra, Niesha, RaLisa, LaTonya, Tracey, and Jeanette left the front yard and headed up the street. Chicken walked to the porch where the boys were seated.

“Where they going?” Travon asked her.

Chicken turned and watched the girls walk up the street. “They going to the store.” She cringed and turned toward the boys. “Ooooh, listen to the old fogey music they listening to. Tre, go get your radio, we gonna get our party on out here. I like listening to Ice Water.”

“Chicken, that's Ice Cube,” Lil Daddy told her.

“Momma, you know his name!” Romeo told her.

“I know, boy, I'm just teasing,” she said, slapping Romeo across his arm. “Where are your CDs at?”

“I left them at home,” Romeo told her.

A white diamond late-model Cadillac pulled up in front of the house. Travon, Lil Daddy, and Romeo rested their hands on their hidden weapons without Chicken noticing. She was too busy watching the car.

The passenger door flew open, and Tamika leapt and raced to the porch.

“Tre, I got something I need to tell you,” she said, grabbing his hand and leading him down the porch steps away from the others.

“What's up, Tamika?” he asked, placing his arms around her waist and pulling her close. He leaned forward and kissed her.

A large, well-dressed African American woman climbed out of the driver's seat. She appeared to be in her forties.