Push Comes To Shove Part 7

"GP...Que te pasa, Papi?"

"That group home is what's wrong." GP made eye contact with Kitchie for the first time. A tear of anger formed as he sat the chair upright.

"Attorney Green." Droopy was relieved that GP had put his rage on standby. It saved him the task of filling out an incident report.

"We'll be fine." Attorney Green waved him off.

They all remained quiet until the door shut behind the officer.

GP sat at the edge of his chair. "Mrs. Green-"

"Call me Vivian. Mrs. Green makes me feel old." Which she was not.

"Vivian, you have to get my kids out of that place. They abuse children there."

Kitchie raised her head and arched a brow.

"I know you're concerned about your children's welfare, Mr. Patterson. If the situation at hand were reversed, I'd be just as concerned. But-"

"Look, G.o.dd.a.m.n...Vivian, I grew up in that place from an infant until my eighteenth birthday. I know what goes on under Mr. Reynolds's roof."

The Reynolds name sent a shock wave of fear through Kitchie that only a mother could feel. She remembered in great detail all the horrific stories GP had shared with her about his experiences under the supervision of Mr. Reynolds. She had been rubbing him down for years with cocoa b.u.t.ter and love in an effort to mend his wounds and emotional scars. Tears leaked from her eyes as she constantly shook her head. "Don't say that. Please move them somewhere else until we get out of here."

"There's other places they can go." GP lowered his head in defeat, matching Kitchie's voice.

"The Reynolds home no longer accommodates children over the age of twelve. The other facilities are either overcrowded or your son and daughter don't fit the age requirements." Vivian shuffled through papers in her briefcase. "I have a friend who works for DSS; I'll see what I can do. In the meantime, let's work on getting you both out of jail so you can take your children home yourselves."

Silence.

Vivian opened a manila folder. "We'll be in court for arraignment after lunch. You both have several charges. A criminal complaint was filed against you by the light company Sat.u.r.day morning, so you're also being accused of destroying city property and theft. I've been advised that they're going to prosecute to the fullest extent of the law."

"I did that alone." GP interlocked his fingers. "My wife didn't have anything to do with it. She tried to stop me."

"If either of you expect professional and competent help, I need for you to be honest with me. I don't care what roles either of you played in the commission of these alleged crimes. I need the truth in order to best represent you on these allegations."

"That was was the truth." Kitchie fiddled with her handcuffs. "We don't need to lie to you. Who the h.e.l.l are you?" the truth." Kitchie fiddled with her handcuffs. "We don't need to lie to you. Who the h.e.l.l are you?"

"Fine, have it your way." Vivian opened the folder. "The light company has an eyewitness who will testify on their behalf. He claimed that he watched you both in the commission of the crime from his-"

"Mr. Irvington." Kitchie buried her face in her hands.

"Our neighbor?"

"No, our cat cat. I told you, you shouldn't have done that."

"Not right now, Kitchie."

"Whatever the case." Vivian pushed an ink pen behind her ear. "You're both being charged. Also, on the same day the warrants were issued on this charge, you were both arrested for aggravated a.s.sault, strong arm robbery, child endangerment, creating a public disturbance, and, Mrs. Patterson, you managed to add resisting arrest to your list."

"I'm responsible for those charges, too." GP couldn't stop tapping his foot.

Vivian wrote herself a note. "That is honorable of you, Mr. Patterson, to claim responsibility, but there is no way I can get these charges-" She eyed Kitchie. "-against you dropped, Mrs. Patterson. You were caught red-handed with the victim's wallet in your possession."

"It wasn't like that; he stole from us." Kitchie wiped her tears with the back of a hand. "Can you get us out of here or not?"

"Mr. Patterson, you have a history of theft. With these charges, the judge will probably set bail at...about eighty thousand. Mrs. Patterson, your ballpark figure should be somewhere around fifty thousand. Before we go into this courtroom, how about letting me in on what's going on?" She leaned back and crossed her arms.

Trouble swerved in and out of lanes, laughing at the "Star & Buc Wild" radio show. It wasn't all that funny to Dirty, though.

The cell phone rang.

"h.e.l.lo." Trouble turned down the radio.

"Put Jewels on. Tell her it's Sticky Fingers."

"She went out of town to take care of something." Trouble tapped Dirty. "She said to let you know that it's all good for Sat.u.r.day."

"Cool."

"All right, Player." Trouble hung up and tossed Jewels' cell phone out of the car window.

Dirty knew that Trouble was a little off his rocker, but now he was thoroughly convinced. "You gone. What did you tell him that for? We don't know if Jewels even has that type of money. We don't even know if she's gonna meet Sticky Fingers after she listens to her messages. And we don't have the slightest idea if she'll be back by Sat.u.r.day."

"It don't make a difference." Trouble shrugged. "Somebody is getting robbed. Either Jewels for the loot or Sticky for the corporate numbers. If things go right, we'll have our cake and eat it, too. Feel me?"

"We can't do diddly with a set of f.u.c.king numbers."

"True, but Ms. Hobbs in the projects know all about them. She said if I come through with it, she'll get me top dollar."

Junior and Secret observed a group of children playing kickball in a field from the sleeping quarters' window.

He shoved his ashy hands inside his pockets. "Why haven't they come for us yet? I don't...Maybe they can't find us."

"Good question. I think they're still in jail."

"Do you know the way home from here?"

"Think so. If I could find Euclid Avenue, I know the way from there."

Junior eyed Secret. "Let's find it. I got this." He flashed some money.

"Where did you get all that from?"

"It's only fifty. Daddy gave it to me, showing me why he couldn't buy me a bike, remember?"

"Give it to me." She stuffed the bills in her left sock. "We should find Aunty Jewels."

"If you find Euclid Street, can you take us to her house?"

"Yup." She watched a little boy running bases to reach home plate.

"Time's up." The heavy wooden door closed with a thud behind Nise and her two sidekicks. "You must've thought I was playing about f.u.c.king you up. And when I'm done tapping that a.s.s, you gonna pay me for my smokes." She made sure her hand-me-down sneakers were tied tightly.

Secret pushed Junior aside, stepped in front of him, then balled her small fists and stood in a kickboxer's stance. "Nise, find someone else to beat up on. I don't want to fight you." Her heart was pounding a mile a minute. In the confines of her head, she heard Jewels's rea.s.suring voice. Calm down and relax. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. Let your opponent commit to the attack. Use their force to counteract Calm down and relax. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. Let your opponent commit to the attack. Use their force to counteract.

"I found who I wanna crush." Nise charged.

Secret squatted some, then sprang into action, meeting Nise's momentum with a snap-kick to the solar plexus.

"Oof!" Nise hugged the pit of her stomach.

Secret caught Nise with an openhanded power thrust to the nose, then pushed toward the ceiling. She jumped back into a fighter's stance and stared at the tall girl blocking the door. "My aunt taught me that."

First Nise's eyes watered, then she fell to the hardwood floor unconscious.

"Ooh, I'm telling. You gonna be in a world of hurt." The door blocker rushed out of the room. "Mr. Reynolds!"

The other girl tried to wake Nise from her forced sleep.

Secret held Junior's hand and stepped over Nise.

Junior gave Nise a good, swift kick. "Told you to leave us alone. That's what you get."

They made it to a flight of stairs before being confronted. The unqualified door-blocker and Mr. Reynolds were on the landing right below them.

"Right there, Mr. Reynolds." She pointed. "She did it; she jumped on Denise for no reason."

Mr. Reynolds cracked his knuckles. "I see that I have a habitual rule-breaker on my hands." He turned to the door-blocker. "Go get me an extension cord-a thin one." He started up the remaining steps.

CHAPTER 6.

The detectives were keeping an area under surveillance from a parked car.

"Stop with the bulls.h.i.t. It's not as complex as you make it, Thomas. You're doing too much f.u.c.king thinking as usual." Detective Crutchfield stretched and yawned. "It's simpler than that. I think the boy is dead. h.e.l.l, he's been MIA for, what is it, six days now? He doesn't have a history of being a troubled or wild kid; a little eccentric maybe. If I had to take an educated guess based on the information I have, Squeeze and Hector nabbed the kid and wasted him as a personal message to Miles. The arm job didn't get the d.a.m.n point across."

Detective Thomas kept his eyes focused on the rearview mirror. "Could be, but you're a professional speculator. We need more to go on than this." He tossed the mini-ca.s.sette player onto Detective Crutchfield's lap. "You're talking murder without a body to support that claim. No murder weapon, no snitch, no eyewitness. Pure speculation. j.a.p could be laid up in a tender piece of a.s.s somewhere. I've been after Squeeze for as long as you have."

"I'm the fool for even talking to a thick head. They really screwed up when you made detective. There's no standard anymore. j.a.p is dead and Squeeze knows about it." He looked at the ca.s.sette player. "This conversation isn't a coincidence. Squeeze was taunting in his sarcasm. This conversation is so broad, it asks more questions than it answers. If j.a.p isn't dead, what did Squeeze mean by 'uncover your brother's whereabouts?' Why did he place so much emphasis on 'maybe he'll pop up somewhere, you dig dig?' He told us everything we need to know, if you listen with those things mounted on the side of your head. Uncover the body's whereabouts and dig it up."

Detective Thomas started the car. "Our boy is on the move." He watched Hector open a car door for Squeeze. "You think you have all the answers."

"A man who knows he knows something knows that he knows nothing at all." Detective Crutchfield buckled his seatbelt as Thomas pulled into traffic, four cars behind Squeeze and Hector. "We'll get the other answers when we ask the right people the right questions."

"How did it go?" GP's cellmate came in and lay across the bunk.

GP watched rush-hour traffic on Ontario Avenue from the window, ten stories above. "The judge had it out for me 'cause I've been in his courtroom before. Prejudiced b.a.s.t.a.r.d gave me a ninety-thousand-dollar bond. Hit my wife with sixty. He wouldn't even release my wife to her own recognizance so she can see after my kids."

"That's what these crackers do; make s.h.i.t hard for us so we never forget our place. They get a kick out of reinforcing the Willie Lynch Syndrome."

"Can I use your three-way before we eat?"

"Yo, my brother, you're getting real heavy. I don't mind helping, but I can't carry you. The collect calls are stressing my queen, and she's venting on me. This gonna have to be the last time, at least until my queen come off her period. Feel me?"

GP nodded.

"Dinner'll be here in a few. You want to try now?"

GP nodded again.

"Girl, you have to chill with all that crying. You'll get in touch with somebody. At least you know your next court date." A shapely woman sat down beside Kitchie. "Dinner wasn't bad today."

"I don't know many people; I don't socialize like that." Kitchie wiped her tears. "And the few people I do talk to have blocks on their phones. Court ain't until next month; I can't stay here that long."

Trish giggled and scratched her neck. "Well, when you use your key to open the door, take me with you. Until then, you're stuck like the rest of us." She flipped her hand at a large day room packed with women, then rested it on Kitchie's thigh. "Move in my cell with me; I could use a close friend." She rubbed. "I'm sure you can use someone you can open up to."

"Working on another one already, Trish?" A boney woman sat on the bench behind them. "d.a.m.n, your last b.i.t.c.h ain't been gone two days."

Kitchie removed Trish's hand.

"Mind your business, Logan. Don't you have something to do?"

"I'm doing it. Don't be around here putting the press game down on every b.i.t.c.h you want to lick."

Trish sighed. "Logan, I don't get in your s.h.i.t; stay out of mine." She began scratching her arm raw.

"I'm not into none of that, anyway. Thanks for the lookout, Logan." Kitchie went to the opposite side of the day room and stood in line for the phone.

Trish held out a hand. "Come clean."

Logan gave her a pinch of heroin. "That pretty b.i.t.c.h is so green. I'm gonna enjoy it even more because she don't know better."

Trish shook her head. She took a peek at the heroin in her hand. What I did isn't as bad as what Logan is gonna do What I did isn't as bad as what Logan is gonna do.

The first person Kitchie called didn't accept the charges. She held the lever down, breaking the connection.

Thinking.

A woman who looked as distraught as Kitchie, if not more, tapped her. "You done with that?"

"Uh." Kitchie stared at the keypad. "Let me try one more number." I can remember this number by heart I can remember this number by heart. "Prefix all fives," she blurted and dialed the number.

The phone rang. Twice.