by Omar Tyree
“And what about Tone? Do you know him?”
Ant was stuck for a second by loyalty. His slight pause was enough to give him away. So he told the truth. Painfully! But if it had been a white detective, he would have lied faster than Pinocchio. But a brother? Maybe he could understand. Maybe he had a friend at one time who went astray.
Ant opened his mouth and said, “You keep trying to … be close to somebody. And they just keep doing stuff that make you ask yourself, ‘Why?!’ And sometimes you grow up with these people.”
He looked into the brother’s eyes to make sure he understood him, detective or not.
“So, how much of this story you told me was true?” the brown detective asked him.
Ant thought about that question. Hard! He looked straight ahead with determination and answered, “All of it.” He thought, I love Tone. He’s my boy and all. But I’m not going to jail with his ass!
The detective did understand. Perfectly. He stood up and told Ant, “I’ll see what I can do,” before he walked out to rejoin the other officers.
“So, what do you think, Scott?” he was asked.
He said, “Let’s book them all, but keep the driver separated. We already know that he was not at the scene of the burglary. In the meantime, let’s see if we can come up with this gun.”
In the meantime, the black detective hoped that Ant would learn a valuable lesson concerning his choice of friends. The bail was set at one thousand dollars, and Ant would spend his first night behind bars. He could call his lawyer or a loved one to gather his bail money in the morning.
Ant couldn’t believe it!
“You’re holding me?” he asked, surprised, as they led him away.
“What did you think, that we would let you go?” an officer teased him.
Ant looked around for the detective, thinking of betrayal. That motherfucker! he thought. “I’m innocent, man,” he said out loud.
The detective reappeared from an office and pulled him aside.
“Here’s the deal,” he said. “I’ll check out all of the facts, and if everything is what you say it is, then you’ll have nothing to worry about. So make sure you have a phone number for whoever you need to call in the morning to make bail.”
“A thousand dollars?” Ant repeated incredulously.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get it all back. Have your family call a bondsman if you don’t have it.”
He had it all right. But how would he get it out of the bank? He definitely wasn’t calling his mother. His brothers, father, uncles, and cousins were not too fond of precincts and jail cells either. And what about his car?
“What about my car?” he asked.
“It’s being impounded. You’ll have to pick it up when you get out.”
“They won’t mess with it, will they? That’s my car, man.”
The detective smiled. “I would be more worried about my choice of friends than my car. You think about that tonight.”
The four brown suspects were shipped by three separate cars to a nearby holding facility, and booked for the night inside tiny, lifeless, gray brick cells. Ant was put into a room alone, where he was nearly in tears from fear, anger, hurt, betrayal, and confusion about everything he thought he knew. He also knew that he wouldn’t call his mother in the morning when they allowed him his phone call. He couldn’t call her. Because he had no faith in her to understand his situation. Her faith had been lost somewhere, like his faith had been lost on his friend Tone.
The time seemed to stand still and fade away, becoming meaningless, as Ant tried to imagine what sleep would feel like in jail. Because instead of sleeping, he paced the hard, cement floor.
“Hey, Ant?” Tone called from the cell beside his. “My bad, man. I’m sorry.”
Bryant sucked his teeth from inside the cell with Tone. “You sound like a bitch.”
His comedian sidekick laughed at it, as though a jail cell was just another experience in growing up.
Tone ignored them and begged his partner for forgiveness.
“This shit won’t stick, man. I promise you,” he said.
Ant had no words for him. He continued to pace his cell like a caged tiger.
Fuck that motherfucker! FUCK HIM! he snapped.
Bryant laughed out loud. “Ant ain’t forgivin’ you. You gotta be crazy. He goin’ to jail now. I’ma make sure of it.
“I told y’all that running shit wasn’t gon’ work,” he reminded them. “What you thought, we was gon’ get a taxi home?”
The comedian continued to laugh, as the other inmates began to complain.
“Some people are trying to sleep over here!” a deep voice commented from across the hall.
“You should have thought about that shit before your ass got locked up,” Bryant responded to him.
“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow then, motherfucker,” the inmate promised.
“Yeah, see me then.” Bryant wasn’t all that big, but he sure talked a tough game.
Tone ignored them all and said, “Ant, when you get out of here, man, and you go back to your girl, you stay wit’ her, dawg. And make a family or something … I mean … I wish … I had somebody to love.”
His words were the last spoken before a long silence. Not one inmate there had anything negative to say about it. They all wanted somebody to love. And somebody to love them back. For life!
That was the trick for Ant. He began to think of Sharron, wondering if he would lose her if he called and asked to borrow a thousand dollars to bail him out of jail. He wondered if she would understand. Or would he be another disappointment in her life of many disappointments. Another tragedy, in her life of many tragedies.
Damn! he thought to himself. Would she still like me if I called her tomorrow and told her that I was in jail? … Would she still love me? And would she put up a thousand dollars to get me the hell out of here? I mean, it’s not like I’m guilty of anything. I’m no damn criminal! She should know that by now! Or should she?
He sat up for half the night in jail, pondering his many questions until the sun rose, a sun that he could not even see while locked away inside the pale, dark emptiness of a jail cell.
Would Sharron come to her man’s rescue in the morning? Good question. Would you? … Well, Celena wouldn’t. She’d let him rot and smell his own stench until it drove him insane. Because if he was unfortunate enough to go to jail, then he was also unfortunate enough to lose her good graces, and stand punishment for the same crime twice. The crime of imperfection. And when it rained, it poured. So with hard-edged women like Celena Myers and Mrs. Poole, an imperfect man had better buy himself an oversize umbrella, or face being left out and soaking wet in the rain.
But Sharron, as we now know, was a different kind of woman. She had the heart of the old school, to love a man to her death. And the steel of the new school to ask him everything about their future together without flinching, to do away with the destructiveness of assumptions. Nevertheless, was four months of knowledge on a man enough to go on?
When Anthony’s phone call arrived at Sharron’s apartment that Friday morning, Celena, on a day off from work, answered his call.
The operator announced, “You have a collect call from—Anthony—from the St. Louis Holding Facility. Will you accept the charges?”
Celena cringed and hesitated. St. Louis Holding Facility? she thought. Like in jail? “Yes, I accept the charges,” she agreed. Then she called Sharron from the bathroom. “Sharron, you have an important phone call this morning.”
“From my father?” Sharron guessed, half dressed and still combing her hair.
Celena handed her roommate the phone and waited for her to find out on her own.
“Hello.”
“Good morning,” Anthony answered, clearing the lump from his throat.
“Hey,” Sharron chirped, smiling. She was happy to hear from him. “What, you’re calling to drive me to work today?” she teased. Unless he was calling for that.
“Ahh
, naw,” he answered her. “I’m calling with some bad news.”
“You crashed your car this morning?” she asked in a panic, knowing how much his ’79 Chevy meant to him.
Celena began to smile, expecting a knockout punch. Sharron was only making the situation worse with her guessing.
“It’s worse than that,” Anthony told her.
“You ran somebody over?”
Celena laughed out loud. This is gonna be good! she thought to herself. She doesn’t even have a clue! She just swore that her man was so damned perfect! But now she’ll know. And boy am I glad I didn’t have to work today!
Sharron turned and faced Celena, wondering what the hell was so funny.
Anthony finally told her, “Sharron, I’m in jail. But I’m out of here as soon as somebody can bail me out with a thousand dollars. I got it in the bank, so if you use yours, I can give it back to you today. But if not, I may need you to call a bondsman, and tell him I got the money in the bank.”
Sharron faced Celena again and was absolutely pissed at her! She knew where he was calling from! This was all a damn game to her! All she wants to do is prove that no man is right!
She took the phone into the bathroom and closed the door before speaking another word.
“What did you do?” she asked, heart racing. She could even feel a minor headache coming on. Or was that from the hair comb? She was due for a perm that week before she started school again. And she did have a thousand dollars to bail Anthony out with. She had saved money so she could finish her training without having to work desperate hours to pay her bills. Her father had offered to help out as well.
Anthony said, “I’ll tell you about it when we’re face to face. But I’m innocent. I was just at the wrong place at the wrong damn time.”
“Last night?”
“Yeah. After I left your apartment.”
“Well, where did you go?”
“I was going home. But I’ll tell you about it,” he repeated, trying to keep his conversation to a minimum. He noticed her hesitation and said, “I had nobody else to call, Sharron.”
“What about your brothers?” she asked him. She didn’t mean to distance herself from him. The question just slipped out of her mouth.
“Or my father, or my cousins?” he asked her sarcastically. “Or even my mother, right? She’d understand,” he added.
Sharron poised herself and questioned, Why me?
Anthony felt guilty about it, because he knew she had the money to do it with. And at that particular time in his life, she happened to be the closest to him. It was natural to call her. But as he continued to think about it, he could not help predicting her feelings of being used. He found himself at a woman’s mercy when it counted the most: for his freedom. How strong was his game now? And how strong was Sharron’s dedication to their future? If they still had one.
“You know …” Sharron uttered. She couldn’t finish her sentence or even think straight.
He said, “I understand how you feel.” Since he knew that he was innocent, he took a chance with their lives and called her to the plate. “If you don’t feel that you want to deal with this, then call my mother and tell her I’m at the St. Louis Holding Facility, and I need a thousand dollars to make bail.”
Sharron heard him but remained speechless, thinking a thousand thoughts. I’ve only known him for four months. And why do I feel like he’s a con man now? He even spent the night in my father’s house for God’s sake!
She shook her head against the phone and mumbled, “I just can’t believe this.”
But she had to. Anthony couldn’t tell her much over the phone. He tried to make her understand anyway, through selective words.
“I can’t believe this either,” he said. “But I’m alive. I could have been shot in the head last night. I told them all of the details already. That’s probably why my bail is only a thousand dollars. They know I’m innocent. This is just a technicality.”
“Then how can they keep you then?” Sharron wanted to know.
“I don’t know, Sharron. Let’s call a lawyer and ask him,” he said, growing frustrated. Who wouldn’t feel frustrated from a holding facility? “I’ve never been here before. I just want to get out of here. I have a thousand dollars in the bank.”
Do you really? Sharron thought. She knew her thoughts were wrong. She had just told Anthony that she loved him less than a week ago. Now she questioned everything. But he had given her reason to. He was in jail!
“How long do you have to get the money?” she asked him. She pondered the idea of getting him out, getting her money back, and letting him go his own way. Damn, love was painful!
“I think the judge has to have it by five o’clock or something, but I’m not sure.” And he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t as if he was a veteran of the criminal court policies. Anthony hadn’t even been cited for driving violations. He loved his car too much to speed or to miss stop signs and red lights.
“What time is it now?” she asked him.
“It’s nine thirty-seven,” he answered her, looking up at a clock on the wall. Clocks were extremely noticeable in prison. Time meant everything. Everything and nothing at all.
Sharron paused, and decided that she would do it. She couldn’t walk away from what they were building together on a “technicality.”
“Let me finish getting dressed,” she told him. “I’ll have to call in to work, and tell them that I’ll be late.”
“Oh my God!” Anthony responded, relieved. “Thank you, Sharron. And I’ll give it right back to you.”
You better! she thought. I have to use that money for school.
“How long do you think it will take you?” he asked her.
“I don’t know how far this place is. I’ll have to get a taxi. But first I have to go to my bank and get the money, right?” she asked.
“Yeah, you right. That sounds like about … two hours,” he told her. Realistically, he was thinking closer to three hours, but he wanted to force the issue.
Sharron caught on to his urgency and held her tongue. I’ll get there when I get there, she thought.
Their good-bye was an awkward one.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you soon then,” he said.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Sharron grumbled in response.
“Okay then,” Anthony countered, upbeat, to inject some life into her somber mood. He just wanted to see her face and have his freedom. He realized that it was tough on her. However, the bottom line was getting him out. Then he could tell her everything she needed to know. Surely she wouldn’t drop him before hearing an explanation.
They hung up the phone on borrowed time, both wondering how long they had left together. Sharron would overlook this one incident, if Anthony was innocent of what they were holding him for. She was only petrified at having to go through reccurrences of various natures with him. But that was life. Shit happens, and you deal with it.
Anthony honestly couldn’t blame Sharron if she decided to cut him loose. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. Then again, maybe his impossible situation was just what he needed to see how much Sharron believed in him. Not that he would ever plan something like bail money to do the trick. However, that was the situation they were stuck with.
As soon as Sharron stepped out of the bathroom, Celena asked, “You’re not going to go and bail him out are you? Girl, this is the biggest hint in the world for you. And if you can’t see that, then you make Helen Keller look like an eye doctor.”
Sharron gave Celena the meanest look in the world and snapped, “Leave me the hell alone right now! Okay? Because I don’t appreciate your bullshit!”
Calena was ready to jump in and make her point concerning untrustworthy men, but Sharron didn’t give her a chance. She slammed her bedroom door in her roommate’s face and continued with her business.
If that girl bothers me today, I swear to God, I will hurt her! And she will find out that I can fight! Sharron thought as she jammed on the rest of
her clothes, still with half-combed hair.
“She thinks everything is a fuckin’ game!” she mumbled. “Just because she can’t find nobody. That’s her damn problem! She ain’t perfect either!” Sharron continued to snap. It was a good thing Celena was in her room and out of sight when Sharron walked out to the front door, because she just may have started something wild, something she did not have time to finish that morning.
Sharron was so hot that she walked out to catch a bus on Olive Boulevard instead of waiting for a taxi like she had planned. And while she sat there, riding the bus to her bank, she thought about turning right around and going back in to work. To hell with Anthony Poole! To hell with Celena Myers! And to hell with love! So when she arrived at Kingshighway, and was right up the street from her bank, she was confused and walking in circles. Then she stopped and stood there in the middle of the sidewalk and sunshine while St. Louis pedestrians made their way around her.
Should I really go and get him? Is he worth all of this stress? Maybe Celena is right. That’s why I want to beat her ass right now, because the truth hurts. Black men ain’t worth a damn! Maybe I should have stayed with Sean after all. This is just what I get! she mused.
A thousand dollars for a young black man was the issue. Ten big-faced Benjamins, fresh out of the mint. But was he worth it? And in the long run, would he end up as a big waste of her time and effort?
Sharron stood motionless on the sidewalk, contemplating everything. Then she had flashbacks of when she had first met Anthony, right there on Kingshighway Boulevard, cruising up beside her in his old-school ride:
Hey, miss?
She found herself remembering that first look at his confident brown face, and his blue denim work clothes, with his right arm and hand relaxing against the length of the passenger door.
You wanna make a trade with me?
Then he sat there and waited for her to respond, as all kinds of confusing thoughts ran through her mind concerning his sudden proposition.
A trade? Trade for what? she was asking him again in her mind’s eye.
His classic line vibrated its way down from her head to her toes, and slipped into her soul. Not because of the line itself, but because of the young man she had grown to love behind the line.
