Push Comes To Shove Part 15

"For your sake, and the children in your care, I hope so. Secret and Junior just went through a very emotional experience. Make sure they're comfortable."

Mr. Reynolds smiled. "That's my job. They'll be taken care of well."

She turned toward the exit. "I left a copy of their file at the front desk."

Mr. Reynolds listened to the click of Nancy's Payless high-heels until they left the building. He wobbled into his office with a scowl on his fat face. "To run away is to break the rules."

Friday morning had taken forever to arrive, and time was still moving too slowly for GP. He paced the marble floor in the crowded hall of the juvenile court building. "What's taking so long?"

Kitchie opted not to answer. Instead, she glanced at him from a bench seat, then shifted her eyes back to the floor.

Jewels came down the hall, soaking wet. "I had to park two blocks over." She stood there, dripping puddles.

A lady seated beside Kitchie watched the water acc.u.mulate around Jewels's alligator boots. "It's raining out there?"

"Nah, I'm standing here p.i.s.sing on myself."

The courtroom's oversized mahogany door swung open. A peanut-shaped-head bailiff with a wrinkled uniform rubbed his stubble beard. "Mr. and Mrs. Greg Patterson."

GP signaled Peanut-head with a wave; Kitchie started toward him.

"The judge would like to see you in his chambers. Follow me, please." He held up a hand to Jewels. "Where are you going, sir?"

"She's family." Kitchie pushed past him.

Peanut-head examined Jewels closer. "I apologize."

Inside the judge's chambers, the air conditioner's cold hiss gave Kitchie goose b.u.mps; perhaps she was a little nervous, too.

Judge Brooks sat hunched over in a leather chair as if his back were causing him a great deal of pain. "Have a seat." He motioned toward several empty chairs around the table.

"Good morning." Nancy tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as Judge Brooks suffered a short coughing attack.

"Pardon me," he said. "Why don't we get this over with? My caseload is already behind schedule today without the extracurricular work, Ms. Pittman."

"My apologies, Your Honor." She handed him a manila folder. "The Pattersons were released from jail, as you will notice there, and I would like to get their children back in the home ASAP. They're runners."

He took the folder. "I didn't give you a choice in the matter. Have a seat." He stared at Jewels.

Jewels followed the order-this time. Old motherf.u.c.ker, swear he tough. Punk! I'd like to catch his b.i.t.c.h a.s.s in the street; bet he'd change his tone Old motherf.u.c.ker, swear he tough. Punk! I'd like to catch his b.i.t.c.h a.s.s in the street; bet he'd change his tone.

He coughed the entire time he studied the contents of the folder. "Mr. and Mrs. Patterson." He never looked away from the folder. "I'll relinquish custody from the state back to you in this matter, providing that your residence pa.s.ses a home evaluation and inspection."

"But, Your Honor, we recently lost our house to foreclosure." Kitchie eyed him with the hope of a worried mom. "We're staying with the children's aunt." She gestured toward Jewels. "It's a temporary arrangement until we get back on our feet and save enough money to get our own place."

After what sounded like a painful cough, Judge Brooks cleared his throat. "This isn't the same residence the children were found in yesterday, is it?"

GP didn't like the negative connotation in the judge's question. "Yes. There's enough room for us and we're welcomed."

"I'm enjoying their company; gives me the chance to spend more time with my niece and nephew." Jewels settled on the back of the chair. "If-"

Judge Brooks threw up a vein-ridden hand. "Ms. Pittman has concerns about the area the children were found in, and I'm well aware of the things that go on around your apartment, Ms.... I never caught your name."

Jewels sighed. Here comes the bulls.h.i.t Here comes the bulls.h.i.t. "Jewels Madison."

"Ms. Madison, I can't understand how you endure, unless some-how you're involved in the drug activity there. The environment you stay in is unhealthy for the children. h.e.l.l, Cliffview Gardens is unhealthy for adults."

"I'm being stereotyped because of where I live. What goes on outside of my building doesn't have anything to do with us or the kids. They're in good hands and have more than enough supervision between the three of us."

"Excuse me, Your Honor." Nancy tapped her ink pen against the table top. "Things are not only going on outside of her building but on the inside also."

I can't believe this shifty b.i.t.c.h. Kitchie burned a hole through Nancy with a narrow gaze.

More ink pen tapping. "When an officer escort and I went to Ms. Madison's apartment, there was an addict smoking crack in her hall, who incidentally almost hurt me trying to flee. There was even drug paraphernalia littering the hall floors."

Judge Brooks pa.s.sed a hand over his ash beard. "Relatives get first priority. I'd much rather place the children with family than to leave them in the custody of the state at the taxpayers' expense. Is there someone else?"

GP focused on the judge. "Here in Cleveland, all the family we have is right here in this room."

Nancy crossed her skinny legs. "The children have grandparents in the state of New York, who maintain on a fixed income and are not capable of taking care of the children for any period of time."

Judge Brooks sighed. "It's final. The children remain in the custody of the state until Mr. and Mrs. Patterson can provide appropriate living arrangements in a proper environment."

"Your Honor." GP shot to his feet.

"It's final."

Kitchie's eyes began to leak.

"Dammit! You can't leave my kids in that home." GP s.n.a.t.c.hed his shirt off. "You see this? This happened to me there." He turned his back to Nancy and Judge Brooks.

Nancy gasped and threw a shaky hand over her mouth. His back was reminiscent of a picture she had seen of a slave who had been repeatedly lashed with a whip. "My G.o.d, that's terrible."

Judge Brooks thought he had seen it all. He avoided the sight of GP's keloid-riddled back. "Put your shirt on, son. If that happened to you while you were in custody of the state, it should've been addressed then. I a.s.sure you, that type of abuse isn't happening today. If you want your children out of the Eastside Group Home, I'd suggest you provide them with a decent home to come home to."

Jewels's apartment was sweltering from summer's oppressive heat. There was less than an hour of daylight left, and for some reason, it seemed that as night approached it became even hotter.

"Don't touch me." Kitchie moved to the opposite end of the couch. "You never listen; not one f.u.c.king time."

"Kitchie-"

"Kitchie my a.s.s." She scorched GP with a penetrating look. "If you would've taken us into consideration, the kids would be here with us now."

"Uh-uh, if you wasn't so hotheaded and knew how to keep your hands to yourself, the kids would be here."

Kitchie buried her head in her hands and cried. "I'm sick and tired of crying for you...because of you, GP. I'm just about cried out."

"Mami Chula, I apologize. We're not going to get anywhere blaming each other." He scooted next to her. "We need to-"

"I meant what I said; don't don't touch me." Anger seeped from her presence as a profound silence fell on the room. She turned to GP. "So now what, Mr. Street Prophet? What brilliant, get-by tactic do you have to get us through this s.h.i.t?" touch me." Anger seeped from her presence as a profound silence fell on the room. She turned to GP. "So now what, Mr. Street Prophet? What brilliant, get-by tactic do you have to get us through this s.h.i.t?"

More silence.

"Just like I thought." She took a container of pepper spray from her purse and started for the door. "You don't have a clue." She paused at the door. "You know what your main problem is? You need to stop trying to get by and figure out a reliable way for us to make it."

GP watched the heavy door close behind Kitchie. He went and knocked on his friend's bedroom door. "Jewels, let's talk."

"Come in." She lay across a set of satin sheets with the phone up to her ear. "What's up?"

"Hang up and put something on."

"Punk, don't come in here running off a list of orders. This is how I relax-in my drawers. It's hot as f.u.c.k. If you don't like it, close my door in your face, and take your stressed-out a.s.s back in the living room."

"I'm dead-a.s.s, Jewels."

She spoke into the phone. "Ndia, baby, hold that thought...and that position. I'll call you back in a minute." She returned the phone to its cradle, then slipped a pair of boxers over her men's briefs.

GP flopped down beside her. "Promise me won't n.o.body get hurt."

"Motherf.u.c.kers get hurt every day, and I ain't a stranger to hurting a motherf.u.c.ker. Now that we have that clear, what are you talking about?"

"I want to get my kids back immediately. I...I just don't want n.o.body to get hurt in the process."

"Psst. Fool, you taking a beating. f.u.c.king with you, I'm taking one, too. It cost me fifteen grand to bond y'all out. I flushed four ounces of c.o.ke and a pound of herb. Half the s.h.i.t we knocked off in N.Y. was given to y'all to put some clothes on your back. Your hard times have rubbed off. I'm f.u.c.ked up. I don't have the money to get you an apartment; not now anyway."

"I'm talking about that hundred-thousand-dollar move you was telling me about last week."

"What, you got selective hearing or something?" She feigned a display of sign language. "I said, I'm f.u.c.ked up right now. That move is supposed to go down tomorrow night. I'm lucky if I have five hundred dollars to my name."

"Put me in the know. Tell me what the deal is. I wanna know what's up with it."

She fell back on a large pillow. "I can't believe you jacked off a phone-s.e.x session for this. What's the point? It's only gonna p.i.s.s me off thinking about all the money I coulda had."

"Get p.i.s.sed off, then."

"You about to get on my f.u.c.king nerves." She laced her hands behind her head and stared at the ceiling. "It's a credit card scam. A hundred grand will get me a package deal."

"A deal on what?"

"Ten major corporate account numbers with a history of a spending habit from anywhere, say, between two hundred-fifty grand and a million."

GP lowered his brow as he thought. "What good is having the corporate numbers? You can't access their accounts."

"You can with a credit card. Platinum cards, homeboy. All the equipment to make the cards comes with the package. All I would have to do is let my girls work with the cards."

"How much would you make?" GP scratched his head. "You know, if you had the money to buy the package."

"Well...like I said, each card will be worth at least a quarter of a million, but that doesn't mean I'll get that much."

"Why?"

"'Cause the company can red flag the account at any time. Then, it's dead. Two-fifty times ten is two-and-a-half million. Out of that, I would see about one-point-two million in merchandise. Then, when my girls and I hustle it in these streets, I'll take home six hundred grand-easy."

"One more question."

"You working my nerves, but spit it out so I can get back with Ndia."

"If you had the front money, how long would it take to make it back?"

"Sheeit, I got at least a hundred-fifty grand worth of orders now. All I need to do is come up with the merchandise. I could have the front money back in three weeks tops. Why you interested in all this?"

GP flashed a business card. "We split the profit down the middle, and I'll get you the money."

"Get out my room."

"Fifty-fifty."

For the first time in their eight-year history, Jewels saw desperation in her friend's eyes. "Get it and that's a bet."

GP and Jewels touched fists.

CHAPTER 11.

Squeeze watched the clock as it changed from 8:36 to 8:37 a.m. "I have a deep respect for a man who rises with the sun to take care of his business. It's a display of...character." He stood at a wet bar, adjacent a floor-to-ceiling wall window that overlooked the lake. He fixed himself a stiff drink, then offered GP one.

"No thanks."

"A hundred stacks is a lot of cash to borrow on an artist's salary." Squeeze threw back the alcohol as if it were a gla.s.s of water. "What's your gamble: cocaine, hoes, guns, heroin, blackjack?"

GP was watching the big Spanish guy shifting his weight from one foot to the other, smacking on chewing gum. "Your concerns are out of order. What I do with the money ain't your business. I thought, in your line of work, pay day was your only concern."

Squeeze laughed as he stared through the window, one hundred stories down. "Three weeks. Thirty-five percent interest. Five thousand-dollars-a-day late fee. My suggestion to you, old friend, is to be as punctual in paying me as you were in picking the cash up. You'd hate it if we fell out." He nodded at Hector.

Hector left the room and returned in less than a minute with ten crisp stacks of money.

GP shoveled the money into a drawstring nylon bag. "Thanks, man. I really appreciate this."

"I hope so." He turned away from his endless view to watch GP being ushered out the door. He poured himself another drink.

Hector closed the door behind GP, then looked back at Squeeze.

"Follow him. Find out what he's into and who he's doing it with. Find out where he and that pretty woman of his rest their heads at."