Camille reached the gate, gave Coach Banks a look of disdain, and then strode up to me.
“You better be fixing all this, ’cause I’m about to kill someone.”
“Hopefully that won’t be necessary,” I said, but I wasn’t so sure. Heads were shaken from side to side and fingers were pointed and threats were made, but Rami and Sheryl managed to choreograph their fight through the gate and into the gym.
When the noise hit the gym, Keisha stood up from her bleacher seat, while L’nita relaxed and enjoyed the show.
I had never considered a large gymnasium to be a confined space, but then I had never been in a football stadium with a tiger. The screams and threats bounced off the walls and the floor and the ceiling. No wonder a hundred kids cheering their basketball team could sound like a Seattle Seahawks home game. There were no soft surfaces to absorb the noise. I stood back in wonder at the vitriol.
After what felt like ten rounds but might only have been a minute, Camille nudged me.
“You planning on doing something here?”
“I don’t know,” I said, and then I saw her face. “Yeah, I’m gonna do something.” I took a single step and yelled:
“Girls, girls!”
They didn’t stop. They got louder, and closer. And then it got bad.
Rami was emphasizing her point about Sheryl having disputable parentage by waving her finger, when said finger slashed Sheryl across the cheek.
It wasn’t a hard blow, nor was it a deep cut, but it drew blood, and it caused all of us, even the two combatants, to freeze in place.
Then Sheryl let out a guttural scream, and the posturing was over, and she took to Rami. The first blow was a slap that sent Rami stumbling. She was the bigger girl, but that first contact always shocked, even when expected. I knew from playing quarterback in high school that even when you knew a defensive lineman had broken through and was coming for you, and even when it had happened plenty of times before, the first hit would always shake you. Subsequent hits weren’t much fun, either, but the body seemed better prepared.
So Rami came back hard. Her move wasn’t a slap. She balled her fist and drove a haymaker at Sheryl’s face. Fortunately for Sheryl, she was fast, and she leaned away and watched the fist fly past her nose and land on nothing but thin air, which spun Rami off balance and out of control.
Sheryl jumped on Rami’s now exposed back like she was training for the Kentucky Derby. She grabbed Rami around the neck and held on as Rami bucked like a bronco, and for a moment, I thought she might throw Sheryl off, but they spun around and around, until Rami ran out of steam. She wasn’t the fittest kid on the block, so it didn’t take long.
Then Rami played her last card. She simply fell back, like a professional wrestler, and landed with a woody crunch on top of Sheryl, whose back hit the boards hard. Sheryl lay in place, maybe winded or maybe paralyzed, and both women sucked in big gulps of air.
“Okay,” I said, now bravely taking control. “Let’s all calm down.”
“No,” yelled L’nita. “Round two!”
She was enjoying herself far more than I had planned. I moved toward the fallen women but stopped when Rami rolled over and lifted herself to her knees.
“Just be cool,” I said, holding my palms out like she had a gun drawn on me.
Rami pointed her finger at me, and I wasn’t sure if she was telling me to butt out or that I was next. She got slowly to her feet, wobbling like a drunk, and then stumbled toward the side of the gym.
It seemed that she had had enough. Perhaps she was going to throw up. I didn’t know. I just watched her stumble over to the wall. And then my heart sank. Alongside the wall sat plyometric boxes stacked three high. They were like miniature cargo containers, longer than they were high but higher than they were wide. Thick plywood designed for large athletes to box jump up onto, without smashing the thing to pieces.
But Rami wasn’t going to box jump. She wasn’t capable of it, not on a good day and certainly not after a wrestle on the gym floor. But she was strong, and she pulled the topmost box from the nearest pile and hefted it over her head. It was a hell of an effort, and I wondered if she had missed her calling in the sport of weightlifting. I’d used those boxes in college to build strength in my quadriceps, and I knew from experience they were heavy.
For a moment, Rami wobbled in place with the hefty wooden box balanced on her head, and then she stepped toward the center of the gym. Toward Sheryl. I could see something very bad happening before my eyes, but I didn’t move. I was paralyzed by the belief that she wouldn’t actually do it.
Rami stumbled to Sheryl who still lay gasping on the floor and stood before her, the box over her head. It must have suddenly dawned on Sheryl what Rami was going to do, because she curled into the fetal position—as if that would lessen the impact of a sixty-pound wooden box slamming on top of her.
The center of the basketball court exploded in white, like a blizzard had spontaneously broken out inside. Rami staggered back under the onslaught of unnatural nature and the box dropped backward off her head and onto the gym floor with a sickening crash. Rami and Sheryl were covered within seconds by the snow.
Coach Banks kept the fire extinguisher aimed at Rami until she fell to the floor. She looked like a snowman in the fetal position.
Then he looked at me. “Were you planning on engaging here?”
I was, but I didn’t. I should have, but I couldn’t. I was struck dumb by what I was seeing.
“You had it under control,” I said, taking a big gulp.
Coach Banks shook his head.
“I’m gonna get something to clean this up. Can you make sure no one kills anyone while I’m gone?”
“Got it.”
Coach walked away, and I stepped closer to the two girls. They were both covered in foam and wiping it from their faces, which revealed expressions that suggested they had turned some of their collective anger on me.
“And you two are supposed to look after Tania?” I asked. “Seriously?”
“They ain’t doing that,” yelled L’nita from the bleachers. “That’s my job!”
I pointed at her. “I’ll get to you in a minute.”
I turned back to the foam-covered cousins.
“You really are great cousins to want to help Tania so much,” I said, with sarcasm and sugar dripping from my lips. “I should be so lucky to have family like you. Willing to kill for me.”
The two women glared at each other, and for a moment I thought they might go at it again, but they appeared to have lost the energy.
“I can’t imagine two of my family members giving up their days and their jobs to come and help me in my time of need, and doing it all without expectation of anything in return.”
Both women said, “What?”
I felt like saying jinx, but decided against it.
“I know. That’s real family, that is. Doing all this for nothing. It warms my heart.”
“I ain’t doing it for nothing,” said Rami, wiping foam from her lips.
“Me, neither,” said Sheryl.
They sat frowning at me as Coach came back into the gym with a mop and a bucket. Then, the outside door opened and the kid from the street wandered in.
“How’d you get in here?” asked Coach Banks.
Emil shrugged. “There are ways.” He handed me something, which I held up for all to see.
Rami glanced down at her belly and slapped it hard, looking for her Dolphins fanny pack. It wasn’t around her waist. It was in my hand.
“Hey, that’s mine!”
She made to get up, but Coach Banks put the mop on her shoulder and shook his head.
“It is yours, isn’t it,” I said. “And what did we find in it, Emil?”
“Fourteen thirty-five in cash.” He handed me a bundle of notes.
“One thousand, four hundred and thirty-five dollars. That’s a lot of cash for a girl out of work, wouldn’t you say?”
“I found it. It’s min
e,” said Rami.
“I know you found some of it. Five hundred of it you found in Camille’s bedroom.”
“Why you—” spat Camille. “You wait until I tell your mother.”
“You can’t prove nothing.”
“Ah, but I can,” I said. I pulled my phone out of my pocket. “See I have a picture of a receipt here with your name and address on it, Rami. It’s from the pawnshop where you traded in the jewels you stole from your aunt.”
“My jewelry?” asked Camille.
I nodded. “Yep, and before you ask, yes, I have the jewels for you.” I stepped over to Camille and counted out five hundred dollars, which I handed to her.
“What happens to the rest?” asked L’nita, watching from the sidelines.
“The rest, eight hundred and thirty five, will go back to the pawnshop who bought the jewels. He’ll have to write off the other sixty-five to a learning experience.” I turned back to Rami. “I’m impressed you only spent sixty-five of it. That shows remarkable restraint on your part. The question is, Camille, do you wish to press charges?”
Camille shook her head. “Just go home.”
Rami didn’t move, so Camille repeated the command, with a little more oomph. “Go home!”
Rami stood. The foam was drying and leaving a sticky residue behind. She lifted her chin with as much dignity as someone covered in extinguisher foam can muster, and she walked across the court. When she reached Camille, she stopped.
“Can I at least have some money for the bus?”
Camille smiled like all was forgiven.
“Walk,” she said.
Rami walked. She walked to me, snatched her fanny pack from my hand, and then continued walking right out through the heavy gym door, and we watched it slowly close. Then we turned to Sheryl.
She was still covered in foam, but she was smiling.
“You look pretty happy for someone who just got slapped around,” I said.
“I could have taken her. She’s nothing. She’s a thief. I’m the one who’s here.”
“And very generous of you, too.”
“You don’t know nothing. Tania needs me. She’s my girl.”
“She doesn’t have any money.”
“I tole you, you don’t know nothing. She’s in the NBA, man.”
“No, sadly, she’s not. I’m sure she would do quite well there, actually. A fast point guard or something, but no. See, Tania’s in the WNBA. And that means she’ll earn no more than fifty thousand for playing the full season.”
“I can handle that.”
“I’m sure you could, but see, that’s not money she’s paying you. That’s what she gets paid. Deduct from that taxes, and then living expenses, and yada yada, well, you see the problem.”
“No.”
“Fifty grand is a decent income. A lot of people live happily on that much. But I can assure you that none of them have chauffeurs or diary secretaries or posses. They drive their own cars and make their own dates and, hell, do for themselves whatever it is that posses or hangers-on or entourages do, which all seems like a lot of mooching to me. But the short of it is, anything you do will be from the goodness of your heart. And I’m sure it will be very much appreciated.”
Sheryl looked at me and then at Camille and then back at me. Then she stood, brushed some of the foam off herself like it was dust, and strode across the floor much as her cousin had just done.
“Hell with that,” she said, and she stormed out of the gym.
For a moment it was quiet, and then the silence was broken.
“You just saying that to get rid of them, right?” said L’nita.
“Nope.”
“I’m Tania’s girl, She don’t need them. But L’nita don’t work for free.”
“From where I’m standing, L’nita don’t work at all.”
“Tania has money, you full of it.”
“No, what I just said is true. There’s nothing for you here.”
“There’s always something for me. If I don’t get it, I take it.”
“Right, about that.” I stepped over to where I had dropped my bag, and I pulled out a big chunk of concrete.
“This look familiar?”
L’nita snarled. “No.”
“This is the concrete you took from here, at the school. You know, over on the playground where they’re doing the new construction, digging up the sidewalk.”
“You don’t know nothing.”
“It seems like that’s a popular opinion. But I do know some things. I know you took this chunk and you went out to Crescent Lakes. I know you don’t have a car, so you walked in through the pedestrian gate. Only you were seen. See, the guards there are top-notch. They might only check in the vehicles, but they see everything. And they saw you walk in with a chunk of concrete and walk out without it.”
“That’s a lie. It was in a bag.” L’nita’s mouth moved faster than her brain, and she tried to eat the words. It happened to me every now and then, too, and I knew it was impossible to take back the words once they had been converted to sound waves.
“You knew Tania had received threats, so you thought you’d issue one of your own. Only, it was different. It wasn’t a threat asking for money. Yours was just angry, because Tania was becoming a success and no one was paying any attention to poor little lazy L’nita.”
“Shut up.”
“See, sitting around on your backside doing nothing does pay off. Oh, oops, my mistake. No, it doesn’t.”
“To hell with you, man.”
“So once again, the question is Camille’s. It was your windshield. Do you want to press charges?”
Camille glared at L’nita. “You come anywhere near Tania, and I’ll go straight to the cops, you got that?”
L’nita stood and spat on the court, defiant to the last.
“Hey, quit that,” said Coach Banks.
“I don’t need this crap,” said L’nita. She stepped off the bleachers. “Come on, Keish.”
L’nita strode across the court. Keisha didn’t move.
“Keisha, let’s go.”
Keisha slowly stood and stepped down from the bleachers. She walked across the floor and stopped in front of me. She wore a frown, but it was more. It was saying something, but I couldn’t read what.
“Keisha, damn girl, move it!” spat L’nita from the door.
Keisha dropped her eyes from mine and walked away.
I looked at Camille until the door slammed shut. Then we turned again as the door opened and L’nita stepped back inside.
“Hey, genius, the gate’s locked and those two maniacs are at it again.”
I turned and looked at Coach Banks, who took off across the floor. I followed him out with Camille in tow. Coach jogged down the path toward the gate. I looked past L’nita sauntering along and saw Rami and Sheryl had indeed started up again. Now, however, their lack of energy had seen their battle descend into the kind of sloppy wrestling more often performed by drunk men outside late-night bars. Their tanks were almost spent, and they rolled around in the grass, barely able to rustle up a slap.
Through the fence, I saw Detective Ronzoni leaning against his Taurus. His arms were crossed and he was watching the wrestling with the disinterest of a prison guard. He saw me and shrugged.
Coach Banks had reached his threshold for fights on his day off. He unlocked the gate and propped it open, and then went over to the brawling girls and grabbed each one by an ear. There was screaming and cursing and threats of violence and lawsuits, but Coach dragged the two girls out through the gate and dumped them on the sidewalk. As he did, a black BMW pulled up beside the school and Mark Kressic stuck his head out, gawking at the panting mess of womanhood that lay before him.
Coach just turned around and strode back through the gate, gave Keisha the eye, and she almost ran off-campus. He turned his steely gaze on L’nita, who tried to act cool, but picked up her lazy gait and got off-campus tout suite.
I looked at Emil and told
him that he knew what to do. He got out of Dodge is what he did. He strode right past Coach Banks, who was headed back toward us, and pushed past Kressic as he came in through the gate.
Unexpectedly, but not surprisingly, Coach turned his ire on me.
“Get off my campus,” he said. “And tell Tania she’s welcome to train anytime, but I’m not letting any of the rest of you back on these school grounds. You got me?”
“Yes, Coach,” I said, decades of muscle memory of being yelled at by coaches kicking in like a Pavlovian response.
We headed out, and Kressic ran up to us.
“I’m here,” he said.
“Awesome,” I replied.
“What happened?”
“Oh, you missed quite a show.”
“Why? Where’s Tania?”
I stopped in my tracks. In all the hubbub, I hadn’t noticed that Tania had not arrived with Camille.
“I thought she was coming with you,” I said to her.
“No. Her father called. Wanted to talk about something. Asked her to come to his restaurant.”
“I thought he was going to have everyone over tonight.”
“He is. But he said this couldn’t wait.”
Kressic stepped in. “Tania’s at Draymond’s restaurant?”
“Yes,” said Camille.
“We gotta go,” said Kressic. “Like, now.”
He dashed for his car. I had left my bag in the gym with a chunk of concrete in it, but I figured that would have to wait for another day.
“You heard the man,” I told Camille. “Let’s go.”
“What’s the hurry all of a damn sudden?” said Camille as she dashed out the gate.
Kressic practically slid across the hood of his car like Bo Duke.
“The contract. I’ve got the contract.”
Kressic was first away. He hit the gas hard and sped away in the general direction of Old Dixie Highway. He didn’t live in Riviera Beach. He didn’t know how clogged it got around Northlake Boulevard.
I ran toward Ronzoni, who was still leaning on his car watching the show.
“The gate was locked,” he said.
“We gotta get to Draymond’s restaurant,” I said. “Partner.”
I winked and jumped into my SUV, and threw the passenger door open for Emil as I drove past. He jumped in, and I sped out in the counterintuitive direction, away from Palm Beach Gardens and onto I-95.
Half Court Press Page 23
