by Paul Griffin
‘I know,’ José said. ‘I read it in a book somewheres. Breaks my heart.’ José sighed.
Ray rolled his eyes.
José grabbed a magazine to fan himself, didn’t realise the mag was Playboy.
Trini noticed. She laughed.
‘Hot day,’ José said.
Don’t you goddam do it, Ray almost said.
‘It’s not that hot,’ Trini said.
‘Phew.’ José took off his shirt.
He goddam did it.
Trini eyed the J-man’s ripped abs, caught herself, looked away, got back to the business of playing with the dogs, but the damage was done. The J-man’s eight-pack: The atomic bomb had been dropped.
Ray moped to his bunk, fussed with the fat dope dog. Fatty didn’t want to play, ditched Ray, hit the couch to sleep in peace. Now Ray couldn’t do anything but watch José show Trini around, show her the gigantic TV that split-screen, cartoons big box, Yankees game little. Ray poured Trini a Coke.
‘Thank you, Raymond.’
‘Raymond?’ José said. ‘Who’s Raymond?’
Ray flipped off José behind Trini’s back.
Trini ran her hand over the bookcases. ‘Y’all are set up good here, huh? Cool clubhouse.’
‘Clubhouse?’ Ray said. ‘This is our house house.’
José shot eyes at Ray.
‘Wait, for real, you guys like live in this place?’ Trini said. ‘You can’t live here. Where’s your folks?’
‘Don’t got ’em,’ Ray said.
‘Don’t want ’em,’ José said. ‘Where you from? You Dominican?’
‘From the island, but I’m born here.’
‘Boricua, huh? I like Boricuas.’
‘Boricuas are my favorite,’ Ray said.
‘Y’all live here on your lonesome,’ she said. ‘Dag.’
Ray watched her take in the messy stationhouse, the crummy makeshift kitchen, the decaying walls, holes in the floor, the tin roof, the street-found furniture, the duct tape that held together what was left of the windows, her eyes ending on them, the boys. ‘Is this legal, livin like this?’
‘Well—’ Ray said.
‘We’re emaciated minors,’ José said. ‘Why you ain’t back in Puerto Rico?’
‘I’m back here for school. Can’t believe y’all have no folks.’
‘You come back here for school?’ José said.
‘I got this thing where they like pay my way at this private downtown.’
Ray ached. He knew she was smart.
‘White folks’ school, huh? That’s chill. They ain’t all bad.’ José licked his lips and rubbed his goddam skinny stomach. ‘You hungry?’
‘I’m okay,’ Trini said.
‘C’mon, we’ll take you out,’ José said.
‘Nah, that’s okay.’
‘Serious,’ José said. ‘You wanna come to Micky D’s wif us? Today be twofers on the dollar menu. Micky makes a mean chimichanga.’
‘Um, I have like fifty cents on me.’
‘We look poor to you?’ José said. ‘We always pay our lady friends’ ways.’
‘We always do too,’ Ray said. ‘That’s a rule of ours.’
‘You’re like sixteen, right?’ José said.
‘Yeah, I’m like sixteen.’
‘I’m like almost sixteen,’ José said. ‘Ray’s gonna be like fifteen in two months.’
‘A month and a half.’
‘Right, right.’ José held the door for Trini. ‘Yeah, so let’s go.’
‘I thought you had to be sixteen to be emancipated,’ Trini said.
‘Fourteen. New law.’ José smiled. ‘Lucky for us, right?’
Ray side-eyed José.
‘I’m worried about y’all,’ Trini said. ‘On your lonesome and all.’
José put his arms over Trini’s and Ray’s shoulders. ‘We ain’t lonesome.’
At McDonald’s José ran into a kid who owed him money. He chased the kid across the Broadway rush. Stuck on the far side of traffic, Ray lost José in the crowd.
‘What happened there?’ Trini said.
‘He was tryin to catch up with a friend.’
‘Uh-huh. He’s interesting, that José of yours. How y’all hook up?’
‘He’s my brother.’
‘For real?’
‘Yup, just not by blood.’
‘Pals, huh?’
‘Friends to the ends, just don’t tell him I said that.’
‘I won’t. That’s nice, though.’ She strung her arm through Ray’s, pals style.
Ray stared at her arm in his. ‘So, like, you want a Superfry?’ he said to her arm.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘After, you show me the river.’
They sat in the hollow of a wild oak curling out of the riverbank. Ray fed his fries to the squirrels. ‘Normally we don’t let girls in the house, but, you know, since me and your aunt are friends and all.’
‘Sure, sure, can’t be havin girls in the house,’ Trini said.
‘Well, it’s just the place smells bad on account of the dogs, and we don’t want girls thinkin it’s us that smell, because the dogs, they’re sneaky like that. They make a smell by you and then they leave and then the girl thinks you made the smell.’
‘Well, I didn’t think it smelled that bad.’
‘Really? Thank you. I like really appreciate that.’
Trini’s smile waxed, waned. She fed bits of fries to a seagull. ‘Y’all don’t get scared in there at night, that stationhouse?’
‘Nah. Psh.’
‘Isn’t it like illegal, not goin to school?’
Ray looked away. ‘You like school?’
‘I love school. Why they call this place Ten Mile River?’
‘Because it’s ten miles up from the southern tip of the island.’
‘Okay.’
‘That’s what I read, anyway. I don’t mean to sound cocky or anythin, like I’m this reader or somethin. Like I don’t mean to sound like I know what I’m talkin about.’
‘You don’t, don’t worry.’
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘Yeah.’
‘You are a funny boy.’
He had a whole list of cool questions to ask her but forgot them. Those buckteeth killed him. ‘So, can you bend spoons?’
‘Huh?’
‘Forget it. So, you like my homeboy?’
Trini squinted, wrinkled her nose at Ray.
‘He’s real handsome, right?’
‘He’s okay.’
‘You like him, right?’
‘He’s okay.’
‘Okay. I could, like, tell him you like him if you want me to.’
‘Nah, nah, nah, that’s okay,’ she said.
‘Only if you wanted me to, I’m sayin.’
‘Nah.’
‘It’s an open-ended offer.’
‘Okay.’
‘So, you want me to tell him then?’
‘Nah.’
‘Okay, you let me know.’
‘Okay.’
‘Does that mean—’
‘I’ll let you know, Raymond, okay?’ She munched a fry. ‘I do think it’s nice that he looks out for you, though. He seems sweet. He’d have to be to be one of your boys.’ She looked at Ray, smirked. ‘He a ladies’ man though, right? Your boy a player?’
Ray smiled.
She studied Ray, his eyes. ‘Seriously, you’re mad smart, right? All those books. You’re different.’
‘Nah, nah, I’m just your regular old fat giant type of ugly dope kid.’
She slapped his leg. ‘I happen to think you’re very cute.’
His heart hummed as it broke. She was into José, no doubt.
Trini squinted, worked her lips into a corkscrew smile. ‘Raymond, you ever meet somebody, you feel like you know them a long time? You feel like you can say anything to that person?’
‘Yeah?’
‘You’re like the big kid brother I always wanted.’
An asteroid the size of a cannonball
dropped from high orbit and zipped through Ray’s chest at sixty thousand miles an hour. ‘Your big kid brother,’ he said. ‘Cool.’
7
José kicked open the stationhouse door, collapsed onto the couch. ‘Water. I’m-a die. I ain’t run like that since juvie. Totally rehydrated.’
‘Well, we can’t have y’all bein totally rehydrated. Lemme step-’n’-fetch you some water, Master.’
‘Please, son. I’m like to the burnin bush. Can’t move. You don’t know the hell I been through last two hours.’
‘Hell happened?’ Ray said.
‘Gimme a bottle a Polish Spring, I tell you all about it.’
Ray brought the water.
José swigged, burped. ‘A hour and a half I’m huntin down that Richie kid. I got half our money back. Kid gonna bring me the other three dollars next week, he says, but I don’t know. He got them liar eyes, the kind that…You listenin to me?’
‘Yeah, but I can’t believe what I’m hearin. You run him an hour and a half for three bucks?’
‘It’s the principle of the thing.’
‘And what’s that, that we can steal but he can’t?’
‘Not from us.’ José winked. ‘So then I’m comin home, that punk we owe money to?’
‘That Paulie cat?’ Ray said.
‘Mean-ass wannabe sees me countin the dough I just got off Richie, Paulie starts to chasin me. I had to run into them piles of garbage bags behind the hotel there.’
‘The whorehouse one on Broadway, all that stanky trash in back?’
‘I’m practically rollin through it to ditch Paulie.’ José sniffed his armpit. ‘I stink like whorehouse trash now. Gimme a bar a soap, I’m goin to the river.’
‘Hold up a sec. I gotta talk to you about somethin.’
‘Hell’s wrong with you? Look like you gonna cry.’
‘I ain’t gonna cry. Show you how much of a crier—’
‘A’right, a’right, c’mon, talk quick. The waters are callin.’
‘You take her, the girl. Trini.’
‘Trini? That girl?’ José smoothed his cornrows, caught himself, stopped. ‘Nah, son, you saw her first. You take her.’
‘I can’t take her. She don’t want me to took her.’
‘Nah, Ray, man, she likes you, man. I seen it.’
‘Not like she likes you. She likes you.’
‘Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up a damn minute here. Whoa.’ José plunked onto the bunk next to Ray. ‘She said she likes you?’
‘Phew, sit downwind, will ya? No, she said she likes you.’
‘That’s what I meant. But she said it?’
‘What, that she likes you?’ Ray said.
‘What are we talkin about here? Yeah, that she likes me.’
‘She almost said it,’ Ray said.
‘Hell?’
‘I go, “You like José?” And she’s like, “He’s okay.”’
‘Holy. Shit. Serious? She said he’s okay? Dag, son.’
‘Told ya,’ Ray said.
‘Dag, this is serious.’ José flopped back on the bed. ‘What I’m opposed to do now?’
Ray spit out the window. ‘I want you and her to, you know.’
José nudged Ray. ‘You gonna be sad?’
‘Psh, course not.’ Ray smoothed what was left of his hair.
‘You’re sure about this.’
‘Psh, course.’
José looked at the Fatty dog. ‘She likes me, you fat dope.’
The dog looked at José out the sides of its eyes.
‘He’s too lazy to turn his head,’ José said. ‘Damn dog creeps me out, man.’
‘Leave ’im alone,’ Ray said. ‘You take the niece and I’ll keep tryin to work my way in with the old lady.’
‘Son, you’re the best man at my weddin.’
‘Shut up, man. You cook tonight.’
José chucked his arm over Ray’s shoulder. ‘Ray-Ray, I’m-a steal us a nice home-cooked meal.’
They were at Yolie’s door before the joint opened. Trini re-rowed José’s do while Yolie just stared at Ray’s near baldy. ‘I dunno what you want me to cut, amor.’
‘Shave it.’
Yolie sucked her teeth and draped her breasts over Ray as she shaved his head. Ray was as happy as a miserable man can be. He looked kind of mean bald. He liked the look. Superslick assassin. Mond, Ray Mond.
Without the chick.
That night at the new Spider-Man movie Trini sucked a necklace of welts onto José. The slurping sound drove Ray nuts. He said he had to go to the bathroom, never came back, hopped the train downtown to the all-night Home Depot. He liked hanging out there. They gave free classes about plumbing, wiring and how to pick rugs and drapes that created harmonic ambience.
On the train ride home he read this book that said God is dead.
Ray shut the book. ‘Bummer.’
He came in late. José was doing Grand Theft on the big screen. Scarface cheered him on from the small. Ray plopped onto the couch next to the J-man. José looked at him. ‘You’re mad, right?’
‘You’re a hickey with limbs.’
‘Yup, he’s mad,’ José said.
‘I’m only gonna ask you one thing. Do not ever talk smack about that chick with me.’
‘Hell you talkin about?’
‘Like, “Smell my fingers,” stupid shit like that.’
‘Number one, she ain’t like that, you should know. And third of all, I ain’t like that.’
‘You talk smack about chicks all the time!’
‘S’pose you’re right. But not about her. She’s so cool, Ray.’
‘I don’ wanna know.’
‘C’mon, man, you’re m’ boy. I can’t tell you, who’m I gonna tell?’
‘You love her, I know.’
‘How’d you know?’
‘I’m goin a bed.’
José rummaged through the Home Depot shopping bag. ‘Anythin to eat in here?’
‘I ain’t even gonna answer that.’ Ray kicked aside José’s mountain of clothes to get to his ratty old juvie duffel, pulled out his Nets pj’s. He was a Knicks fan, but Macy’s only had Nets the day he and José had gone ‘shopping’.
José was wearing Nets jammies too. Even in summer the night breeze off the river threw a damp chill over everything. José dumped the Depot bag, sorted through Ray’s gets. ‘Hell is this for?’
‘Well, it’s a paint scraper, so I reckon it’s for pickin teeth. Idiot.’
‘Raymundo Santiago, defender of New York City’s mailboxes. Ray, you scratch it off, they gonna hit the box again that night. It’s pointless.’
‘It ain’t pointless.’
‘There’s fifty million rotten things written all over Bronx mailboxes, and if I froze the world still to keep new ones from goin up, and then I gave you all the paint scrapers in the world, you’d still never get the job done. Now gimme some cigarette money.’
‘I hid it in the dog chow.’
‘Makin me fish through goddam dog food now.’ José pulled on his jeans, grabbed some money, headed out, held up at the door. ‘Hey, Ray? If you didn’t want me to go out with her, then why’d you set us up, man?’
A few seconds later Ray heard José whistling ‘Love Me Tender’ on his way uphill. He had a great whistle. Ray couldn’t whistle for shit. He looked at the paint scraper. ‘Fuck, man.’ He chucked it into the garbage.
The dogs’ ears went up. Out the window, in the weeds downhill, methamphetamine pipes flared. Ray grabbed his baseball bat. ‘Sing,’ he whispered to the dogs.
The dogs howled. The junkies ran. Ray slept bat in hand.
Next morning Trini brought them breakfast. She was cool in front of Ray. She mussed his scalp as much as she mussed José’s cornrows. ‘My cousin’s coming up from the island, Raymond.’
‘Okay?’ Ray said.
‘I told her about you. You wanna double-date like?’
‘Okay.’
‘She’s stayin a month, comin up in three
weeks.’
‘Okay.’
‘But you’re gonna have to come on up to my t’a’s. I don’t want to bring her down here, no offense.’
The boys were quiet. José shrugged. ‘You don’t like our house?’
Trini sat in the middle of the couch, patted the spaces at her sides. ‘Sit.’
The boys and six or so dogs climbed onto the couch. José started to shove them off but stopped. He made sure Trini saw he was petting them.
Trini looked around the stationhouse. ‘We got to get you boys into a real home.’
‘Anyplace you are, T-mamita, that’s home to us,’ José said. ‘That’s got to be the smoovest dag thing I ever said.’
‘That was pretty smooth,’ Trini said.
Ray wondered if the cousin looked like Trini. Even if she did, she wouldn’t be Trini.
‘Let’s eat,’ Trini said. ‘Gentlemen, would you kindly set the table?’
‘Yes’m,’ Ray said.
‘Yo, Mr. Man, git your lazy bones in gear and help.’
Dag, Ray thought, she’s already calling him her man.
8
Trini hooked Ray up with a summer job at Yolie’s, eight bucks an hour cash to run errands, sweep the shop, take out trash, fix things Yolie could never get her landlord to fix. Plumbing, electric, carpentry, Ray knew it all thanks to Home Depot freebies and juvie shop class. Using his hands for something other than thieving was fun. He liked being busy. A month passed fast.
Yolie was a good businesswoman. She imported hard-to-get beauty supplies from Puerto Rico on the side, hair relaxer, do-it-yourself dye and the like from this company Enrique Hormón. Ray chuckled as he delivered Hormón to the old ladies too sick to come into the shop. I’m bringin Henry The Hormone to the old gals. Anyway, working for Yolie was better than working for Jerry, though the boys still were doing some of that.
Yolie would have made money if she didn’t hand out so many freebies and pay-me-laters. If some kid came by selling candy for his ball team, Yolie gave him a twenty, told him to keep his candy and hit her a home run. She’d eye her stack of past due bills, shrug. ‘Es la vida,’ she’d say, and wink at Ray.
Ray dug being around chicks all day. He noticed they had a habit of smelling clean most of the time. Sometimes Ray would have to stop what he was doing, take it all in, the different perfumes, Bubble Yum grape from all that snap-cracked gum, the women’s voices, a treeful of birds chirping.
