Team Seven

by Marcus Burke

  I don’t know why I always seem to go, but I just do. I run, ’cause in moments like this, when my heart beats like a nail clipper puncturing my eardrums, I think of Ruby the most. I wonder if I’ll ever get back to her and pray I do. She never believes in what it is I’m doing while I gig, but I’m trying to make things better the only way I know how—the music.

  I stop running when I see a cabbie on the corner and I hop in winded. My lungs feel dipped in rubbing alcohol and that pill’s got the driver’s head looking like a big tater tot. He keeps talking to me. I’m not sure what he’s saying but I keep nodding yes because my head is starting to feel too heavy for my neck. Now, I’m pretty sure I didn’t say so, but South Station is where the cabbie has brought me. Well, I yacked a little bit on the backseat and he put me out free of charge. I get out of the cab and all the gel-heads in business suits sniff up their noses at me like they’re any fucking better.

  I pull the drawstrings on my hoodie, hop the turnstile, and get on the next Red Line train to Ashmont. I doze off and wake up as the doors ding open, and I can’t tell if I was sweating or drooling but my hands are wet. The conductor’s voice announces that we’ve arrived at Broadway. A familiar hand is stroking my knee. I look and don’t move it because it’s Beatrice, one of our band’s favorite groupies. I’ve had her before, many times. She’s a paper-thin biddy, always had a thing for drummers and the way we swing our sticks. Her teeth may look like broken piano keys but she knows how to use her mouth.

  At the JFK stop a rotund woman gets on our cart wearing all white. She looks like a sea lion wrapped in a snowman suit, only her top hat is white and covered in glittery fake baby’s breath. She waddles in licking her lips, humming “Amazing Grace,” and snugs into her seat clutching her purse and Bible. Beatrice tries to lean in and kiss me as the train takes off, but I feel the scratches and the bite on my chest and push her away.

  “Good to see you too.” She raises an eyebrow and slaps my arm.

  “Rough night. Got a Tylenol? ’Erb? ’Trice, I need something.”

  She bites her lips and then starts rummaging in her purse. She sandwiches a blue pill between what look like two credit cards and crushes them together against her knee with a lighter. She sprinkles a bit between her thumb and pointer finger and raises it to my nose.

  “Here,” she says. I sniff. “That’ll put ya down, sugar.” She strokes my face.

  The train takes off and I begin to feel like a conveyor belt is spinning in my ears and it’s tickling the back of my tongue. My eyes feel like cold orange slices, but the rest of my head is piping hot. I’m sweating and Beatrice is sucking my ear now. I don’t stop her. The big woman’s angry and charging toward us. I can’t move. I want to yell but instead it’s she who’s yelling.

  “It’s the people like you two who are why our children are so lost. You and you. You’re prostitutes. Turning tricks for the devil. No shame for yourselves in public.”

  Beatrice stands up and waves a finger in the lady’s face. “Fuck you, Miss Lady, you ain’t seen me doing nothing. I work for myself.”

  Beatrice jumps at her and the woman swings her purse, and it seems they’ve exploded into a bouquet of doves and roses. And then I wonder if the woman that sat next to me was Beatrice at all, but I know that the big older woman’s not wrong and I wish I could say what happens next but I don’t remember. Many sounds muddle together with the conveyor belt and I begin to nod. I wake up at Ashmont to the butt of the conductor’s flashlight in my chest.

  “End of the line, Daddy-O. Get off the train.”

  I take the trolley to Mattapan and walk over the bridge to Milton. What I remember next is falling down somewhere in the snow and more crying. Stern voices and warmth. Gentle hands carefully undressing me. More warm sensations and delicate arms embracing me and guiding me to my sleep, and the word: “Daddy.”

  Ruby mushes me in the chest. She’s dangling the keys to the station wagon in my face. She’s in her bathrobe, silk scarf wrapped tight.

  “I called Mr. Watson and told him Andre won’t be needing a ride to the tournament today. You will be taking him to his games this morning!” I clear my throat and wipe the sleep out of my eye. “What!” she says. “Act like you got something better to do.”

  “Relax, I’ll take him.” I cough.

  “Yeah, you will. You’re lucky your daughter is the one who found your sorry behind slumped against that basement door last night.” She sucks her teeth and walks over to the dresser. I smell the grease burning off the curling iron heating up next to her makeup tray and it’s turning my stomach. Her dress is hanging from the door. She drops her robe and she’s developed a little back fat, but, damn, she still looks good.

  It’s always this way between us. We deserve each other. She’ll never leave me and I’ll never let her ass go. We ain’t right, but she’s my bottom bitch and we’re something and that’s all anyone ever needs—something.

  A car outside beeps its horn twice and Ruby turns electric, patting over her face in the mirror, putting on her panty hose. She’s wearing a black lace bra and panty set and she’s got one of her gold necklaces on too.

  “Where you going?” I ask her.

  “Out.”

  “Where out?”

  She sucks her teeth and shrugs her shoulders.

  “Eddy, don’t ask me no damn questions. It’s a women’s group at church. Roland’s taking me. The real question is where the hell you been the last four months—that’s the real question.”

  “Out,” I answer her.

  “Eddy, you’re insulting. You know that? I hope you run them streets smoking that stuff until your head pops off or someone pops you.”

  She got her shit together and turned super Christian all of a sudden a couple years back. Roland’s supposedly one of her Christian brothers. He’s a fucking whitewashed Uncle-Tom-ass nigga if you ask me. He lives next door with his soon-to-be wife and stepdaughter. He likes to slick-eye me from afar and look down his camel nose at me. One of them dark, pretty, slim-waist niggas that makes white folks feel comfortable. Graduated college, uses SAT words, got big teeth.

  I don’t like him meddling in my garden when I’m away, but Ruby allows it. Andre thinks the motherfucker’s cool. And I don’t like the way he likes to hug up and grin in Nina’s face neither. I been away a bit, but I know what I know. Andre’s standing in the doorway with his gym bag.

  “Andre, where’s the game?”

  “East Boston High School.”

  He doesn’t even make eye contact with me and walks out. He’s always been her kid. First fucking word was “Mama.” Ruby trained it into him just to spite me. What the hell was I supposed to do with a kid that calls his daddy “Mama” everywhere we go? Wherever the time goes, it’s gone, ’cause he’s about my height, it seems, and the kid’s got a chest that looks like two couch cushions. And his neck’s about the size of my thigh. I may not have been here in months but I can’t recall the last time I’ve seen him. Even when I do come around he’s always gone away playing for some team somewhere.

  I kick on my boots and head out the door to warm up the car. I stop in the hallway to loop my belt and look up into the kitchen. Nina’s box braids are dangling around a bowl of cereal. I walk in there. She looks up and cuts her eyes at me. I put my hand on her shoulder and she flinches away and stands up.

  “Leave me alone.” She turns her back to me. She’s crying.

  “What’s wrong, baby?”

  She turns back around and pushes me in the chest and I grab her arms and pull her close to me. She rests her head on my chest, I wince and look down at her.

  “Look at you, Daddy—why you always doing this to yourself?”

  “I’m sorry, baby,” I whisper in her ear. “Thanks for getting me last night, okay?” I rock her side to side. “You’re the only one I got in my corner, you know.” I stop rocking her because I’m getting dizzy and falling down wouldn’t help anything. I really hate it when she does this shit, but she’s g
ot plenty to be upset with me about. I know. I pull back and brush two of her box braids behind her ear.

  “I gotta take Andre to his game.”

  She sniffles and looks down.

  “Yo, we gon’ be late, Pop.” Andre’s voice tumbles into the kitchen all gritty, like I’m one of his homeboys on the corner, and my hands begin to tingle. I don’t turn around. I kiss Nina on the forehead.

  “Get your stuff, baby. I’ll take you to lunch.” I stroke her cheek.

  It just came out and Nina takes off down the hallway and I got not a penny to my name. I turn around and want to sock Andre’s jaw. I chuckle at him and walk over to the hallway closet and put on one of his jackets and an old knit hat. I zip the coat and turn to him. He smells fresh out of a ganja field and I step back and he steps back and looks at the floor. He’s higher than bat pussy and what am I supposed to say to him? I just brush by him and walk outside before I do something to him. Kid’s got a lot of stripes to chalk in the streets before he thinks he can get one over on an old dog like me.

  Outside I see Papa Tanks’s little legs sticking out from beneath his gold Volvo.

  “Afternoon, Pop!” I say. He inches out from beneath the Volvo and lifts his goggles to look at me. He takes out his handkerchief, blows his nose, then flips the goggles back on and disappears back under the car. He’s never liked me.

  I look up the walkway and Roland is idling outside the fence. I want to spit on him when he leans his head out the window stretching his arm toward me as I pass by.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure, Eddy Battel? Put it here, brother.”

  I keep walking and don’t respond. I get in the station wagon and fire it up. It backfires twice, then starts and the gas light flashes on. I hop out of the car, jogging to catch Ruby before she comes out of the house. Roland smiles at me as I jog by.

  “Ho! Thought I was going to have to give ya a jump, man.”

  I stop because he’s the right nigga to say the wrong thing.

  “Fuck you, crackerjack.” I smack the roof of his car. “Test me if you want. I fail every time.”

  We make eye contact and he starts winding up his window. This is when the tough guy disappears and the bitch comes out. Roland suddenly becomes winded and develops convenient amnesia. The foolish-chatter stops and his head recoils into his little neck and all of a sudden he’s got the helium voice.

  “Whoa! Eddy, come on! Relax, man, brother. Chill!” he squeaks out through the crack in the window. I keep walking and meet Ruby in the doorway of the house. Her makeup’s fresh, curls tight, and she smells sweet. I put my hand on her hip and she stiff-arms my chest and steps back.

  “Eddy, move!”

  “The car needs gas.” I grin.

  “You are so trifling.” She rolls her eyes and digs a twenty-dollar bill from her purse. “Now move!” I step to the side and she booty-bumps past me, then stops and turns around and hands me another ten. “And make sure the kids eat.” I watch her walk to the car. Roland is eyeballing all of this and he smiles again with them fucking teeth. Ruby gets in the car and unbuttons her jacket and pulls off her scarf and freezes. He’s tattling, he couldn’t wait. He turns back around with his bitch ass and waves again, and now Ruby’s mean-mugging me. He rolls down the window.

  “Good day, pal. Be blessed.”

  They burn rubber and pull away in his red Acura Legend. The sky is still ash gray, and I watch their black silhouettes in the rear window as they pull off. Ruby’s arm raises and she rests her hand up on the side of Roland’s headrest.

  Like I said, we deserve each other.

  Andre power walks by me with his hood on and I watch him bop to the car, clutching his gym bag. He slams the passenger door behind him. My head hurts, I still ain’t got right on the day and I don’t care how bad he thinks he is—I ain’t in the mood for no shit. I hear the front door slam and I look up as Nina’s locking it. She starts walking toward me. She’s wearing makeup too. Her jeans are spandex-tight and her shirt’s about a half inch too short, showing off a chrome belly button ring that I was not aware she had. She too brushes by me and gets in the car and I follow behind her. I put on a cassette tape from one of my shows a few weeks back in Providence, and we pull off.

  As soon as we get over the bridge into Mattapan Square we hit a red light. Andre sucks his teeth like he’s offended. He snatches open his gym bag and takes out his headphones. He rezips the gym bag and stuffs it between his legs. He turns his music all the way up and resettles into the seat. As he rustles around I can smell the weed all over him. Feels like I should say something but I don’t ’cause there’s nothing to say. He pulls the drawstrings on his hood, hiding his face, and slouches deeper in his seat. I look at him.

  “Just leave him alone. He’s always crabby before his games.” I look up at Nina in the rearview mirror.

  “Well, maybe he—” She raises a finger in the air and stops me.

  “Well, maybe you ought to know.” She cuts her eyes at me. “There’s a lot you don’t know about!” I can feel her mounting her daddy-do-wrong soapbox, so I turn up the music.

  “You can’t hide behind that music forever!” She crosses her arms and braces back into the seat, pouting and looking out the window. I don’t answer her and keep looking ahead as I drive. Andre takes off his hood and headphones.

  “Easy!” He turns around and looks at Nina. Then turns back around and slaps the dashboard. “Look at the time! Damn, man, we ’bout almost late. Coach hate it when niggas is late!” He lets out a growlish groan. “I should’ve just rode with that man.”

  “Yeah, you’ll have your chances,” I shot back.

  “Well, don’t do me no favors then, nigga.” He looks at me.

  And here he goes again with that corner-boy tough-voice. I jerk the wheel as we swerve across three lanes onto the rumble strips of the breakdown lane and I stomp the brakes.

  “I won’t!” I clap my hands together. “You think you hard? You got something to prove? I’m right here, make a move!” I peer over into his face and we lock eyes. He doesn’t look scared, but being scared ain’t got nothing to do with getting your ass beat.

  Nina’s arm slices through our glares.

  “Come on, y’all, can we please just make it to the game?”

  Andre looks away. I keep my glare locked on him for a few more seconds just to make sure we’re clear. I take my foot off the brake pedal, turn up my music, and we ease off.

  We pull into the parking lot of East Boston High and I already don’t want to be in this part of the city. A fat little white man with rosy red drinking cheeks is pacing out front of the gym smoking a cigarette, his hair gelled up all hedgehog-like. He’s got on a yellow-and-black swishy suit, the same color as Andre’s gym bag. Andre looks at the man, lets out an aggravated sigh, and rolls down his window.

  “Coach, I’m coming, I’m coming—my bad,” he yells to the man and starts grabbing for his gym bag. “Let me out. Let me out, Pop.”

  The man looks down at his watch. “Battel! Fifteen minutes to tip-off and you’re draggin’ ass. Get in there!”

  Andre snatches his sneakers from his gym bag, tosses the bag in the backseat, and runs up the steps to the gym. “I should bench your ass,” Coach Hedgehog says as he blows smoke and Andre runs past him inside.

  I take my foot off the brake and the car rolls a bit as I hear the squeak of Nina’s open door and hit the brake pedal again.

  “Excuse me! Forget I was in the car?” She sucks her teeth.

  “I didn’t mean—” The door slams and she starts walking toward the gym.

  I park the car and a black family in a white minivan parks next to me. The side door opens and a young boy and girl run out to the back bumper and stop. The parents get out and the mother takes her time unclipping the hinges of their other little girl’s car seat. I wait for them all to exit, then start walking up to the gym behind them. The older two run ahead playing as the parents hang back, walking the little girl between them, each pare
nt holding one hand as her arms stretch up and she waddles along. I remember back to when I thought having kids was all it took to keep us all together.

  As I get closer to the gym I see the brightness of the lights and hear a buzzer going off. It ratchets up my headache and I stop to rub my temples. I watch the family walk up the stairs to the gym. Nina’s holding the door for them. She waves for me to hurry up.

  We walk in together and there’s an admissions and concession table set up in the little lobby. It sounds like a million basketballs are bouncing and it’s not helping my headache. I can see Andre and his team in the layup lines. A stout white woman with a floral turtleneck is sitting behind the table.

  “Would you two like to buy a weekend family admission pass for twenty dollars?” she asks.

  I almost laugh in her face and look at Nina, who looks offended. She fixes her eyes on the woman, who is stressing her jaws with a smile.

  “We’re assistant coaches. You sure coaches pay to enter these things?” Nina grabs her back pocket like she’s going for a wallet and the woman hunches into her double chin looking embarrassed and crosses her hands over the bulge of her stomach.

  “Of course, of course.” The woman chuckles and motions her arms toward the door.

  We walk past the table into the gym. Nina winks at me and I smile. The game hasn’t started yet and Nina heads off to grab us seats while I head for the bathroom.

  The dirt under my nails looks metallic as I wash my hands. I see myself in the mirror. My eyes have dark raccoon circles and I have a few little cuts on my chin. The back of my head feels tender from falling down last night. I lift my shirt. Janet got a few scratches off on my stomach too, but the bite didn’t break the skin. I run some cold water and wet my face. My jaw hurts from grinding my teeth. I dry my face and walk back out to the concession table and use a couple of Ruby-dollars to get a coffee. I’ll give myself till halftime before I grab some smoke and a beer so I can start feeling more normal about things.