Brothers and Keepers

by John Edgar Wideman

  I let them kids down. Many a time I’ve wondered how they are. If things is better for them. They sure do need somebody but I let them down. Like I let everybody else down. No room for no kids. Room for nobody or nothing cause my head was full of the big time. Steady messing up but the lady said she’d give me one more chance on account of the kids liking me and do.

  Got one more chance and blew it. I’m talking with the lady Friday. Monday I don’t come in. It ain’t even my fault. It’s the Monday they jam me up and the cops hold me all day so how I’m spozed to be at work. I call over to the center Tuesday but she don’t want to hear nothing. I’m fired. Got some money coming to me so I go downtown that day to get it. Ain’t much but, you know, all my money tied up in the dope so that little change get me through till we can deal our shit.

  I’m on my way home now. They told me to sign this and that and they’d put what they owe me in the mail. Have it in a week or so they said, and I’m hot. Shit. I done pulled the time. The money’s mine but I got to wait. So my lip’s poked out. I’m mad anyway behind being busted and worried about waiting two weeks to put our dope in the street. You know. One evil nigger waiting to get the bus back to Homewood. I was crossing the street. Lemme see. It must of been Forbes. Yeah, crossing Forbes Street over to the bus stop and who do I see but Michael. What’s Mike doing down here? Mike spozed to be working. I get over to where he’s at and, Hey man, ain’t you working today?

  Funny thing is, Mike’s jaw’s just as tight as mine. I can see he’s hot about something but then he sees me, and I tell him I lost my job and he starts to laughing. Laughing his ass off. Now I don’t see nothing particularly funny. Then he tells me he was driving the truck and his boss was in there with him and his boss said some off-the-wall shit and Mike told him to fuck hisself and quit right there. Turned off the motor and left truck, sausages, and boss sitting there in the middle of traffic. Mike don’t play. He said fuck it and that was it. So it’s Tuesday and we both wind up losing our jobs and waiting at the same stop for the same damned bus back to Homewood. That’s some weird shit, ain’t it?

  Next thing happens is, we find out the dope’s rotten and we need to get us some money. Now we can’t bop down to no bank and get no loan to buy dope. So where’s it at? You know where it’s at. Got to steal us some dough.

  There was this dude named Smokey. He used to hang out on the set. Smokey was a older dude. Been around, you know. He done a bit at Western. Kinda cat mind his own business and stay cool. He was like a teacher. Take a young guy under his wing and show him the ropes. Smokey like you, he could turn you on to some heavy shit. He the one taught me the TV hustle. Did it with Smokey a couple times, then me and Mike and Cecil tried it that summer. Got good at it. Mike’s just like me. He con you out the shirt on your back. Loved to act. Stone Hollywood just like me.

  The con goes like this: Drive up in Mike’s deuce and a quarter. Me and Mike fall out clean as beans. Big-time hustlers. Like we got money to burn. When we talk to a dude we flash our watches. Let him see our gold chains and shit. Mike he checking his watch. See we’re busy. We got appointments. Just jiving up a storm. Got real good at the bullshit. Sometimes I believed it myself. Yeah. We was sure nuff actors and con artists. Laid down that big-time impression and them suckers ate it up.

  Cause they was crooks theyselves. Natural-born crooks. That’s what made it so funny. You could see it in them greedy eyes. They been cheating people and lying and bullshitting so long they think they the king. They think they the only one out there conning people. That’s why we worked the scam on used-car dealers. Them little shabby lots with raggedy-ass cars. They ain’t nothing but crooks theyselves. Always looking to get away with something or beat somebody out of something. So that’s where we’d go. To them greedy motherfuckers don’t care how they make money. Once in a while we’d try one them big gas stations on a busy corner. They be steady ripping off people so they got that greedy thing going too. We’d try them if we couldn’t find no used-car lot.

  First couple times when I went with Smokey he’d do most the work, most the talking, and I’d just watch and listen and learn the ropes. See, what you’d do was tell the dude you had some hot TVs and ask the cat do he want to buy the motherfuckers. It’s like the Godfather, you know. Offer the dude a deal he can’t refuse. Get that greed going. You can see it in their eyes. You say I got these TVs still in the box and Ima let you have them for next to nothing cause TVs ain’t my thing, I deals in other business and these TVs just happen to come my way and I don’t want to mess with em. Don’t want to be bothered, you dig, cause I ain’t into that, dig. I’m dealing in other business, so you got a bargain you take these TVs off my hands. In the crate. Untouched. Brand new.

  Well the dude goes for it but he’s a crook hisself so he’s halfway slick and wants to see the TVs before he gives up his money; so you say, sure. Yeah, that’s square business. You say my people got the TVs and tell the dude bring the money and you take him to the people so he can see the stuff before he buys. Carry the dude to the stone ghetto. He be nervous now. Nothing but niggers in sight so he’s getting squirmy but you be bullshitting him the whole time. Take his mind off his worries. Everything gon be all right.

  You be in a truck or a van. Something that will hold all them TVs. You get to a house and go up the steps. Got to be a house with a back door and a front door. You be outside with the dude and knock on the door and somebody say, real nasty like, Who is it? Smokey say, It’s me, Smokey, and the person inside say. What you want, and Smokey say I got a man here for them TVs. See, they be doing all this talking and the door ain’t open yet. The cat inside is a surly-talking motherfucker like he don’t appreciate what’s going down. He gets on Smokey’s case. Man, I told you not to bring no strangers here. And Smokey say, He’s cool, man. This dude’s all right.

  Don’t give a fuck who he is. I told you I ain’t dealing with nobody but you.

  My man’s all right.

  He a brother?

  No, man, but he’s cool.

  Ain’t no honkies coming in here.

  Hey, soul, be cool now. The man’s square business. He got the money and he’s ready to deal. Man just wants to see the TVs first.

  Shit. I want to see the money. I ain’t opening this goddamn door to no stranger till I see green.

  They shouting now. Loud talking back and forth through the door and the dude ain’t so sure now he wants no TVs. He’s in the middle of the ghetto and these niggers arguing and they liable to start cutting one another or shooting through the door and his honky ass smack dab in the middle. So he’s fidgeting and starting to sweat. He’s trying to get Smokey’s attention and tell him forget it. Wants to get the hell out of there before the cops come or somebody busts out the door and slits his throat.

  It’s like you weakening the cat. Softening him up. So he’s grateful when Smokey gets the dude on the other side of the door cooled down. Then Smokey says, Look here. He’ll open up and let me in but he says you have to wait outside. He says he’ll let you in after he sees the money.

  Now the dude ain’t liking this. He’s thinking real hard. Maybe he ought to tip back down the steps and forget it. But Smokey’s a stone con. He’s doing the man a favor. He gon deal with the gorilla on the other side the door. The dude’s thinking real hard but he’s scared too. Seems like at least one these crazy niggers is on his side so he best better go along with the deal.

  My man here will wait with you whiles I check it out.

  Smokey’s smiling at the dude then he looks at me real hard and I’m Fido the watchdog. I gets real serious too and look down the steps and stares all around and shake my head. Yeah, Smoke. Ima keep my eye out. Ima take care your main man here.

  We stone acting and the dude taking everything in. He don’t like it but he goes in his pocket and pulls out the money and hands it to Smokey and Smokey knocks and the door opens half a inch and Smokey says, Okay, Ima show you the green, and the door slides wide enough so Smokey brushes in and
it slams behind him.

  You hear them talking inside again then it gets real quiet. The white dude be smoking but he gets tired of that and throws down the weed and tramps it with his heel. We two stories above the street. On a wooden porch. It’s the back of the building with wood steps up to each floor. The stone ghetto. Garbage and wrecked-up cars and all kinds of mess back there. That’s all you see when you look down. That kinda shit and the backs of other apartment buildings raggedy as the one you’re standing on. The dude’s blue van’s parked in the alley. He’s keeping his eye on it. You think it’ll hold ten TVs? Yeah, man. They in the boxes. Easy to load, man. Smokey had all the answers. Smokey a stone con.

  The dude squashes his cigarette and in a few minutes starts to light another. But his hand’s too shaky.

  I’m cool. Like ain’t nothing unusual even though Smokey been gone ten minutes and it must seem like ten hours to the dude cause his money been gone that long too.

  What do you think’s happening?

  Don’t know.

  Well, why’s it taking so long?

  Don’t know.

  Do you know these people? Have you ever dealt with them before?

  They just people. Nothing special.

  You know. Acting like I’m in no hurry. Like it ain’t no big thing Smokey’s been gone fifteen minutes. I’m taking in the scenery. Lady in a brassiere moving round in one them windows cross the way. Cool, you know.

  I think something’s wrong.

  Smokey’s cool, man.

  It’s taking too long.

  I’m checking out the window cross the way. The dude steps up closer to the door. He leans his ear to the door. It’s funny cause he’s scared. He’s remembering that surly motherfucker who did all the bad-mouthing. Honky this and honky that. Don’t allow no honky motherfuckers in here.

  Go ahead and check it out if you in a hurry.

  He’s like a traffic light. Go from red to white to red again. Like he stepped on a hot wire cause he jumps back from the door when I say “Go ahead” and look at me like I put his mama in the dozens.

  Well . . . well . . . maybe you better check.

  That’s what I want to hear but act like I ain’t in no hurry. I saunters over and knocks. Nothing. No answer. No sound. I look back at the dude. He’s whiter than he was before but he’s mad now too. His jaw’s tight. He’d be cussing me if he wasn’t so scared.

  I knocks again. Harder, with my fist. Then I turn the knob and call Smokey.

  Smokey. Hey, man, what’s happening?

  I’m in then and slam the door behind me. I’m calling Smokey again but I know he ain’t there. Smokey’s long gone. My feet tipping out the front door and I eases it shut and I’m gone too.

  That’s one way. The old-time Murphy way. Old-time Murphy pimp con. You know. Gimme some money, you can fuck the fine lady I keeps upstairs. Nothing upstairs but a knob and a door. Dude out to pull some leg and gets his leg pulled. Nothing but a TV Murphy con but Smokey had it down. Taught it to me and we used it that summer. Did it that way and another way. Same con only you bring the TVs to the dude instead of taking him to the TVs. Word gets round. Not everybody fool enough to jump in a car with a pocketful of money and two strange splibs. Got this other way of doing business. For the slick ones. Ones don’t trust nobody.

  Like I said, word gets around. Only so many places you can deal. Like the best kind of place is along a highway, or big road where they got a bunch of car lots and gas stations. A strip. Like out to Monroeville and Ardmore. We worked all them around here and in the tristate area and was running out of territory. Word gets around, so you got to keep moving. Sucker one dude and it ain’t cool to go back to the same area. People suspicious. You got to find new places.

  Some them dudes ain’t dumb as they look. They just greedy. Get so greedy they get careless. One time we drive up in a empty rental truck spozed to be full of TVs. Nothing in it but Cecil with a shotgun waiting for the dude to check out the TVs. We drives up and this baldhead dude say. Come on in the office. He don’t even ask to see what we got so I’m wondering what’s up. You know. Specially since he was one suspicious dude. Never take his eye off you. And talking trash, too. Street talk. Like some them young white guys. But this dude a baldhead, potbelly chump. Talking that lame, Hey, man this and Hey, man that shit. Laying down his feeble rap like he goes for bad and do. I’m figuring he think he sure gon ask to check out the merchandise before he show us a dime. It’s dark. He the only one around and there’s two of us. Figure I got his number but the dude don’t check out the van. He say. Come on in the office, fellows.

  Then he mess up. See, he’s gon get the money out his desk drawer. I’m watching him like a hawk all the time, you dig. He pulls out the top drawer. He thinks he’s cool but he messes up. Opens the top drawer and all I see is silver. Something silver filling the whole damn drawer. He slams it shut real quick but I see something shiny in there and I’m on his ass. I’m holding in the top drawer before he gets the money drawer open.

  What you got in there, my man?

  Nothing’s in there. Just opened the wrong drawer. See, here’s the money. It’s right here.

  Yeah, but what’s in there?

  Got my piece in my hand and Michael backing me with that cowboy gun of his. Magnum look like the Liberty tubes when it’s pointing at you.

  You sure did open the wrong drawer.

  I slides it open and there’s the biggest, shiniest gun I ever seen. Bigger than Mike’s magnum. I’m talking about a wide desk drawer and that piece filled it. I picks it out the drawer. It was a heavy Johnson with a silver barrel and fancy silver hand grip.

  Look here.

  Damn. My man got him a silver cannon. What was you gon do with that cannon, my friend, if we turned our backs on you? Mike’s aiming at the dude’s head.

  The dude about to shit a brick. Starts stuttering about the wrong drawer . . . the wrong drawer.

  Yes, you did open the wrong drawer. You sure did.

  We left that fool up behind Greentree somewhere. Locked his ass in the truck and told him he better not open his mouth cause we was gon be right outside listening. Mike wanted to keep that pretty pistol but we sold it. We cracked up over that wrong-drawer shit.

  Stuff like that happened all the time. You be in the middle of some dangerous shit but you got to laugh. You see a dude’s face when he messes up. He knows he done messed up real bad. His ass in a sling and he’s trying to cop a plea and his eyes is big and some old funny shit comes out. The wrong drawer. You got to laugh cause it’s funny. He mighta blowed you away with that cannon but you don’t think about nothing like that. Ain’t nobody gon get killed. You just into cowboy and Indin shit like in the movies. You the gangsters but you the good guys too. No problem.

  I’m telling you the whole bit now. Ain’t holding nothing back. That’s the way we was. Stone gangsters. Robbing people. Waving guns in people’s face. Serious shit. But it was like playing too. A game. A big game and we was just big kids having fun. Guns wasn’t real. Bullets wasn’t real. Wasn’t planning on hurting nobody. Pow. Pow. You know. Fall over. I got you. No, you didn’t. You missed. Pow. Pow. I got you. You lying. I got you first. Cowboy and Indin shit like the old days on Finance with Gumpy and Sonny and them.

  I ain’t never told nobody all of it cause I didn’t think I could. Fraid it would make you or Mommy or anybody think I was really bad, that I belonged in here with the criminals. Cause I did it all. Your brother was a stone gangster and that’s what he wanted to be. I had things figured out. Needed a stake to start me on the way to the top. Robbing people was the only way, so that’s what we did. Made up my mind to do whatever it took. Never thought I’d really have to hurt nobody. Never thought I’d get hurt. We was cool. We could bullshit our way out anything.

  Well, that’s who I was. I needed to tell you that. I come this far I don’t want to hold nothing back.

  We was desperate after the dope went bad. Everything gone, nothing coming in. I had a litt
le bit of income-tax money due me and them nickels from my job but that wasn’t nothing. See we’d got too close. We was close enough to taste it and we waited once and the dope turned rotten and no way we gon be patient and wait again.

  See, we had to have some money. We was hooked up with Marcus. Had it all together but nothing happening till we got some dough. See, cause it’s about money. Money talks. Marcus in my corner but Marcus ain’t waiting forever. And Marcus ain’t giving out no dope on credit. It’s on us. We got to put up or shut up.

  Took us ten days but we finally found this place over on the West Side after you come out the tunnel on Greys Pond Road. Stavros was the dude’s name owned it. I can’t remember what he looked like. When 1 think about it it’s like I can remember what he said and what he had on but it’s blank where his face supposed to be. He was about my height. Nothing really special about him. Nothing that would stick in your mind you pass him on the street. Kind of a hippy-looking guy. You know. Long scraggly hair. Had on jeans and one them scrufty blue work shirts. Thin guy. Spoke real soft. He wasn’t suspicious or nothing. Just wanted to get it on. Yeah, he figured he had him a good thing. Stepped in shit, you know. Fast, easy money and he liked that, he liked the idea of getting over cause he was a known fence and dealing a little drugs on the side. He wasn’t nobody’s angel. Just an out-there dude trying to make it. Run a little dope, buy stuff off junkies, sell people them jive cars he had backed up on that lot. I can see the jeans and the blue work shirt and I can see lots of other things. Like this other guy. A mechanic. Clean-cut, nice-looking dude. Creases in his blue jeans and his hair cut shorter than Stavros’s. Neat-looking cat sitting off to the side while we’s negotiating. He’s the one we talked to first. Kept acting like he didn’t want nothing to do with two fly niggers. Like nigger might rub off on him or something if he got too close, but he called Stavros and we got it on. Yeah. I can see the other guy’s face. I seen him then and seen him at the trial and if I close my eyes I could see him now but Stavros’s face is empty. I remember the scraggly hair and them hippie-type clothes but ain’t nothing where his face supposed to be. I can hear that soft voice but I can’t see no mouth, no face.