Tyrell (11 page)

“That why you was with Mr. Mendoza? I mean, I know it ain't none of my business, but, c'mon. Ain't he kinda old?”

I hear her start crying, and it's a real long time before she talk again. “Reyna came back here this afternoon and she took me to some guy's apartment. And guess what? She's moving in with him, just another guy she met in some club. Well, I'm not doing that no more. He was looking at me…funny. He gave me the creeps. Reyna said if I don't move with her she's not coming back here, and she doesn't care if ACS finds out I'm all alone and puts me in a group home. But I left anyway and took the bus back here.” She stop talking again, but she still crying. “Then I got hungry, but I only had a dollar left. So I went downstairs to the machine for some chips or something, but the machine wouldn't take my dollar bill. I went up to Mr. Mendoza and I asked him if he could change my dollar, and he said if I'm hungry he would split his sandwich with me. So I said okay.”

“You know a guy like that ain't gonna give you something for nothing,” I tell her. “You ever look at yourself?”

“I know what I look like, Ty. Guys been trying to get with me since I was twelve. I know how to handle men.”

She try to sound like she all confident and shit, but I ain't buying it. Just ‘cause she hooked up with a lot of guys don't mean she wasn't being used by them. “And you was gonna handle Mr. Mendoza?”

“I was gonna eat for free!” she say. Then she tell me that he took her in his office and they ate his sandwich together. That's
when he started in on her, asking her if she needed money. And when she told him yeah, he told her he would pay her for sex. “I told him hell no, but that didn't stop him. He was, like, trying to see what I would do for how much, treating me like I'm one of those Hunts Point hookers out there.”

My body tense up and my breathing get heavy. I don't like what the fuck I'm hearing.

“I told him that I'm only fifteen and I wasn't gonna let him touch me,” Jasmine say. “But I really needed some money, Ty. My sister abandoned me with nothing.”

“He gave you the twenty, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What he do to you?”

“He didn't do nothing to me.” But then them tears start again, and we so close now, the side of my face is getting wet from them. “I, um, I just stripped for him and…and I gave him, like, a lap dance, and…he touched himself.”

“A'ight, that's it.” I move away from her and get out the bed. “I'ma go back down there and finish kicking his ass.” I turn the light on and look for my sneakers. Then I remember I ain't had them.

“Ty, no. It was me. I wanted the money.” Jasmine get off the bed and pull on my arm to try and stop me. “I don't want you to go down there. All you gonna do is get arrested. Come. Come back to bed. Stay with me.”

But I can't hardly hear what she saying. I'm heated. How I'ma let that dude get away with what he did? Any man that's gonna see a girl like Jasmine and take advantage of her just ‘cause she homeless and hot need to get his face broke, you ask me.

Jasmine stand in front of the door, blocking it. “Stay with
me,” she say again. “I don't wanna be here alone.” She scared. I can tell by the look on her face. Only thing is, she ain't scared of being alone. She probably scared of what she gonna end up doing just to get somebody to be with her.

Damn. How I'ma leave when she looking at me like she need me or something? I try to cool myself down and breathe regular again. “A'ight. A'ight,” I say. “I ain't going nowhere. I'ma stay.”

She sigh. “Thanks, Ty.” Next thing I know, her arms is wrapped ‘round me, and we standing at the door hugging for a long time. Her body feel real good next to mines and I start relaxing. After a while I ain't even thinking ‘bout Mr. Mendoza no more.

Then, when I'm all calm and shit, she whisper something in my ear in Spanish. I don't know what she saying, but it get me excited.

“What that mean?”

“It means, ‘Too bad you have a girlfriend!' ” She laugh a little and let go of me. “Come back to bed. You keeping me nice and warm.” Then she climb back on the bed, and I see them red panties again.

I shake my head and turn the light off, but ain't no way I'ma get to sleep tonight, not next to her I'm not. I know I'ma be thinking ‘bout them panties and that ass all night, and my head is gonna be spinning. I don't know why I'ma torture myself like this all night when I'm just trying to look out for this girl. But this situation ain't natural, and I'ma hafta be real strong to get through it.

When I wake up, Jasmine is already up and dressed. And finally, she ain't wearing them same jeans no more. Now she wearing nice black jeans with a red sweater. She got her hair out, and she standing in front of the mirror putting on eye makeup.

“Where you going?” I ask her.

“To school,” she say. “Remember,
I
go to school.”

“What time is it?”

“Six forty.” She lean closer to the mirror. “I hate my skin so much.”

“You ain't gonna have acne forever,” I tell her, but I'm half ‘sleep and don't really know what the fuck I'm saying.

“I have a dermatologist appointment on Monday, but Emiliano's probably not gonna keep paying for me now. Oh, yeah, I almost forgot, I have an orthodontist appointment in two weeks. Man, I'm too expensive.”

I make a sound so she think I'm paying attention, but it's hard to follow what she saying. I ain't hardly get no sleep laying
in bed with that girl. It took a couple hours just to get my mind off her body and what I could be doing to it. Females don't know how hard it is sleeping with them when you ain't doing nothing. Shit ain't right. My whole body was hurting to get with her. “What time you gotta be at school?”

“Eight, but I wanna go early and talk to my teachers and explain why I missed so much school last week. I know they were wondering where I was.”

“My teachers ain't even know my name,” I say.

“I go to an alternative school. It's real small.”

“Damn. Alternative schools is for bad kids. How bad was you?”

She turn ‘round to face me. “I wasn't
bad,
” she say. “I was
at risk
!”

We both gotta laugh at that shit. Starting in first grade, them teachers took one look at me and started putting me in programs for at-risk kids, then at-risk boys, then at-risk teenagers. Personally, I ain't never knew what the fuck I was s'posed to be at risk of, except growing up Black, but ain't no program I know of gonna change that.

Jasmine come over and pull the blanket off me. “Get up!”

“A'ight. I'm up. I'm up. I gotta go wake Troy up anyway. If he get to school by seven forty-five, he could get free breakfast.”

I stand up and look at myself in the mirror. My face is jacked up. My braids is still alright, but living at Bennett got me looking all tired and shit. In the mirror, I check out Jasmine as she stick her books in her backpack then sit on the bed to put on her boots and, I gotta admit, she look real nice.

“Why are you staring at me?”

“I ain't staring,” I say.

“I know what you're thinking!” She start laughing.

“What I'm thinking? Tell me.”

She don't say nothing. She just keep smiling all sexy and shit.

“What?” I ask again.

She put her jacket on and throw her backpack over her shoulder. “I gotta go now.” She open the door. “C'mon.”

“A'ight,” I say. “Be like that.” I go out into the hall and she lock the door behind us. “You the one pro'ly thinking nasty stuff ‘bout me,” I tell her. “You pro'ly can't keep your hands off a fine brotha like me. Tell the truth.”

She lean over and give me a kiss on my cheek. Then she whisper some Spanish shit in my ear again.

“What that mean?”

“It means,‘If I wanted you, I would of had you by now!'” She laugh again, and I'm like, damn. Even with all that metal in her mouth, she look so good today, man, it's hard to let her go. But I gotta. I tell Jasmine I'ma see her later, and she walk to the stairs and I go to my room.

Getting Troy up ain't hard, but I can't say the same thing ‘bout my moms. Still, I ain't ‘bout to let her sleep all day, not when I'ma be out there working to make money for her.

I finally remember to show her the letter from Troy teacher. She read it and get all nervous and shit. “I hope she ain't trying to get ACS on us, ‘cause I'm a good mother.”

“She just wanna see you,” I say, ‘cause it's too early to hear
her talk ‘bout what a good mother she is. She staring at the note and I can tell she don't know what to do. “Write on the bottom of the letter that you can see her today after school,” I tell her.

She nod and start writing. Troy sitting on the other bed, getting dressed in his uniform. “I'm hungry,” he say.

My moms point to the dresser. “Eat some of them crackers Dante got for you.”

“It ain't there,” I say before Troy even move. “I had to throw it out ‘cause of the roaches.”

“All that food?” my moms ask.

“You wanna eat roaches?”

That just get Troy started then. “Ty, Mommy wants to eat a roach sandwich!” He start laughing, cracking hisself up. “With roach ham and roach cheese and roach bread…” He don't stop neither, but ‘long as he getting dressed I don't say nothing. I just find some clean clothes in my garbage bag and get myself in that shower.

When we both dressed and ready to go, I tell my moms to get to the school early so the teacher don't gotta wait for her. “And act nice and don't argue with her no matter what she say. If she talk ‘bout ACS, tell her that things is hard now ‘cause we homeless, but when we get a apartment, Troy gonna do all his homework and he ain't gonna miss no more school. And tell her you trying to get him a new coat and some boots.”

She nod. “Okay.”

It look like she don't mind me giving her orders, so I keep going. “And you need to call the caseworker from the EAU. We was s'posed to have a meeting with her yesterday, remember? Tell her you need a new appointment.”

“Yeah, okay.”

I think ‘bout telling her to wash all the dirty clothes too, but if I give her too much to do, she ain't gonna do nothing. She just gonna get on one of them prison buses like she do every time I tell her to go look for a job.

Me and Troy leave the room and he take off down the hallway like he got nothing but energy. “Hurry up!” he yell.

I'm too tired to go running after him today, so I just take my time.

“C'mon, Ty,” he say again, turning the corner.

“Just wait for me downstairs,” I tell him.

I got a lot I need to do and I gotta save the little bit of energy I got. First thing I gotta do is find a place for this party so I can get out there and start promoting. I'ma hafta call this guy Leon, ‘cause I ain't got time to waste looking for someplace on my own. I don't know shit ‘bout him, but if my pops and Regg trust him, he probably alright.

And it ain't like I got no other choice.

After I take Troy to school, I spend a hour swiping MetroCards at the 149
^th
Street, Third Avenue station. It's rush hour, and them working people be looking for kids like me so they could get to work cheap. In a little over a hour, I make $21, which I need ‘cause I don't wanna dip into none of the money Cal and them gave me. Plus, I don't know how much Leon gonna charge to find me a place for the party.

I call him and when I tell him I'm Tyrone son, he tell me to meet him at the McDonald's on Fordham and Soundview at 10:30. When I get there, this skinny dude with a doo-rag on his head call me over to the booth he sitting at. He look like he damn near forty, but he wearing baggy jeans, Tims, and all the name-brand clothes kids my age be wearing. I go over to him, but I don't know how he know me. I ain't never seen him before in my life.

I sit down ‘cross from him and for a while he don't say nothing to me. He just sit there scarfing down his pancakes and
sausage like I ain't even there. Finally he look up at me and say, “You look just like your old man.” Then he reach in his pocket and pull out a roll of bills. He flip through all the hundreds, fifties, and twenties, and hand me a ten. “Order breakfast ‘fore they switch to the lunch menu.”

I still don't say nothing. I just get up and get in line. I don't know this guy, but I ain't too proud to take his money. ‘Specially when I ain't eat nothing yet.

When I get my food, I sit down again and for the next half hour, me and him eat breakfast, just conversating ‘bout all kinds of shit like the snowstorm, crime in the city, the new video games. Meanwhile I wolf down two Egg McMuffins in like five minutes, then start in on the hash browns.

After a while we start talking ‘bout my pops. He say, “I got much respect for your old man, Tyrell. He a good man, and everything he did, right or wrong, was for y'all.”

“I know,” I say, but, truth is, I do got my doubts ‘bout that. I know my pops worked mad hard to make us happy, ‘specially my moms, but I still don't get how he could keep doing shit that he knew was gonna take him away from his family. He just kept taking chances and not thinking ‘bout what was gonna happen to us.

And now, ‘cause of him, I gotta be the one thinking ‘bout how to take care of my moms and Troy. My pops is sitting on his ass in jail and I'm meeting with this shady dude, trying to make some money and not end up in jail my damn self. I mean, I ain't even sixteen yet. Why I gotta be dealing with all of this?

When we done eating, Leon lean back and ask me, “How many kids you expectin' at this party?”

“I'ma try to get like two fifty, three hundred if I can.”

“How important is heat to you?”

“Heat?”

“Yeah, you need a place with heat?”

It feel like two degrees outside today, and I don't think it's gonna get no hotter by Saturday. “Yeah. I need heat,” I tell him. “And electricity.”

He nod. “I got a couple places. You wanna stay in Hunts Point or go uptown?”

“I don't care. Long as people can find the place.”

“C'mon.”

We get up and go outside. My jacket ain't no kinda match for this cold air. We cross the parking lot and I'm thinking we going to the corner to take the bus or something, but he go straight to this brand-new silver Escalade and unlock the doors with the remote key chain. The truck is the shit. I climb in and I'm like, damn. That's how he rolling?

It take us a while to get out the parking lot ‘cause they bulldozed all the snow into big piles that be taking up most of the spaces. The parking lot look more like a maze or something. When we finally on the street, Leon crank the radio and we drive off in style.

After a couple hours with Leon, I gotta say one thing ‘bout the brotha: He mad creative. The first place he show me is a elementary school a couple blocks from Bennett. We get out the car and stand in front just looking up at the three-story building. “This is a good spot,” he say. “The train is right here, and there ain't nothing else on this block. No neighbors to call the police and complain about the noise or nothing.”

“It's a school,” I say. The windows got paper snowflakes taped on the inside, and I can even see the little kids sitting at they desks inside.

“You need to open your mind, Tyrell. Schools ain't open on Saturday nights, right?”

“No.”

“Then what's your problem?”

Damn.

We get back in the car and get on the Bruckner Expressway heading north. After ‘bout a half hour, Leon pull up in front of a school bus depot not too far from Bronxwood. We don't get out the car this time. He just circle ‘round the place one time, then park in front. ‘Bout a hundred yellow buses is parked in front, and while we sitting there, buses come and go. “They got some buses inside, too,” Leon say. “But there's gonna be enough floor space in there for your party.”

The depot is a huge, flat building that take up most of the block. The parking lot take up the rest. And there ain't nothing else ‘round here neither. No buildings or stores or nothing. “How you get in a place like this?” I finally ask him.

“You don't gotta worry about that. I'm gonna have all that took care of.”

I wanna ask him how. Like, do he just break in, or do he pay someone off that work there? But something tell me I don't wanna know the answer. All I know is, if he pulled off that factory party with my pops, he can probably do anything he want.

“Another good thing about this place,” he say with a smile on his face, “is the buses. Kids can use them to, ya know, get some privacy. Know what I'm sayin'?”

I smile. Now Leon making sense.

Leon drive me ‘round to a couple more places, some factories and warehouses, but I ain't feeling none of them. Matter of fact, I ain't really feeling this whole breaking-in thing, but I don't got no choice really. My pops probably felt he ain't had no choice neither when he did business with Leon, but he did and shit worked out alright. That time.

Leon stop the car in the parking lot of the McDonald's, the same one from before. “Let's talk business while we eat,” he say.

Now he gonna make me hand over the little bit of money I got from Cal and them. And since that ain't shit, he probably gonna want some of what I make on Saturday, too. I ain't even made a dime yet, and his hand gonna be in my pocket already.

“You don't eat nowhere else?” I ask him.

“Yeah, but this is my office.”

“What kinda business you in, other than parties?”

“I do a little of this, a little of that,” he say, and open his door to get out.

What kinda answer is that? Why he ain't just tell me to mind my fuckin' business?

Leon ain't lying when he say that McDonald's is his office. He go straight to the same booth, and he give me another ten-dollar bill to get lunch. “You want something?” I ask him.

“I'm good,” he say. Then he take out his cell.

While I'm on line, every time I look over at him he either talking on the phone or dialing someone else. He even got a pad out to write shit down. When I come back to the table with my tray, I hear him tell someone, “You know what I need, and
if you ain't gonna set that shit up, I'm gonna find someone who will.”

I sit down, but I ain't sure if he want me to hear what he saying. So I just unwrap my Quarter Pounder and act like I ain't listening. I do get a quick look at the pad and all I see is numbers and little symbols and shit, like he writing in code or something.

“Alright, good. I'm gonna expect that by tomorrow.” He flip his cell closed.

“You had enough money?” he ask me.

“Yeah, thanks,” I say. “You ain't had to pay for me.”

“I know.”

I'm ‘bout to ask him if he sure he don't want no food when one of the cashiers come over to the table with a tray full of food for him. She a cute Black girl that look like she ‘round nineteen or twenty.

“Thanks, Sherry.” Leon slip her a fifty. “How that little boy of yours doing?”

“He's fine,” she say, smiling. “He's trying to walk already.”

“I told you he gonna be an athlete, you watch.”

Sherry leave the table and come back with his change. But Leon don't take it. “Buy that little boy some sneakers,” he tell her.

Sherry look over like she making sure none of the other workers is watching and slip the money in her pocket. “Thanks, Leon,” she say.

Leon check her out as she walk away. “She look good,” he say. “She don't need to be working here.”

I wanna ask him where she should be working, but I don't. I just wanna get this whole thing over with. My cell ring, and I reach in my pocket for it. It's Cal. I flip it open. “What up?”

“Chillin'. You got a spot yet? I'm trying to talk this shit up ‘round here, but niggas need to know where it's gonna be at.”

“I'm doing that now. Let me holla at you later.”

“A'ight.”

I close the cell. “That's my boy,” I tell Leon. “He helping me with the party.”

Leon lean forward in his seat and look me straight in the eyes. “Let's talk business then.”