Push Comes to Shove

by Oasis

  Her words cut through GP. He drew his hand back to slap her with all of his might.

  “So that’s what it is now, GP? You’re gonna hit me, motherfucker? Go ahead, go on, kick my ass real good because you’re only gonna get one chance to do it. I hope you’re real satisfied with the outcome.”

  He looked at his hand, fingers spread wide, and lowered it in guilt.

  “Ten years, GP; ten years. I’ve let you drag me and my kids through every shit hole in this city. I supported you in everything and gave up a career to help you skip down your dead-end, yellow brick road.” A tear rolled off her cheek. “If you ever, I mean ever put your goddamn hands on me, you’ll lose me faster than you’re losing your son.”

  This time when she went out to the fire escape, she shut the window behind her and walked down to the parking lot.

  “Hey, Little Mama, mind if I conversate with you for a few?”

  Kitchie inspected the handsome, rugged hustler from head-to-toe. She hoped GP was watching from the window above. “What are we talking about, stranger?”

  “I’m Desmond.” He offered a hand.

  “I’m—”

  “Kitchie, I already know. I guess that means we’re not strangers anymore.”

  She withdrew her hand and raised a brow. “How’d you know my name?”

  “Everybody knows who you are. The walls in these buildings are paper thin. You and your man…” He jerked his head toward GP in the window. “Y’all broadcast your business to the whole ’hood.”

  “And this is what you wanted to talk to me about?”

  You are so pretty is what he wanted to say but knew it would be inappropriate. “Nah, ma, not at all. I just want you to know I feel your pain. Me and my little sister was shipped from group home to foster home until I said fuck that shit. We came a long way. Now I’m able to send her to college.” He pulled out a knot of money. “I hope this will help you and your man get them kids back.”

  “I can’t take this.”

  “Trust me, ma, it’s nothing. If I didn’t have it to give, I wouldn’t offer it. And as it stands, you don’t have the luxury of turning it down.”

  “Kitchie, what the hell you think you’re doing?” GP howled into the night from the fire escape.

  She rolled her eyes and turned back to Desmond. “Thank you. This is very kind of you.”

  “I just wore them boots before, ma; that’s all. Don’t let your pride get in the way. If y’all need anything, I live in the apartment above Jewels.” He pointed to GP, who was coming across the grass. “I think you better go. It looks like your man is foaming at the mouth.”

  Trouble tapped Dirty and pointed. “There goes that bitch right there.”

  They both watched Jewels back the Escalade into a parking space.

  “If this bitch buck at all, kill her.” Trouble eased out of the car with his weapon, then blended into the night.

  Dirty followed.

  Jewels climbed from behind the steering wheel and stepped into the excitement and energy of the Flats district’s nightlife. From forty yards away, she could hear people enjoying themselves and laughing it up inside the comedy club when the door swung open. She looked at the open sky and pondered on the stars’ beauty.

  Trouble cocked back and crashed the butt of his gun against Jewels’ skull. “You ain’t so tough now, is you, bitch?”

  The words never registered; Jewels was unconscious before she slammed into the asphalt. Her key ring slid a few feet away.

  Dirty retrieved the keys.

  In less than a minute, Dirty had searched the Escalade. “It’s not here.”

  “Kiss my…fuck!” Trouble kicked a dent into a Hyundai, then cast his annoyed gaze on Jewels. He began to search her. “Whatever this bitch is made of, it’s heavy and solid. Help me turn her over.”

  “Like she got a hundred grand on her.”

  “We can tongue-wrestle later; help me turn this hoe over.”

  They turned Jewels onto her back as the BlackBerry in her pocket began to ring.

  Trouble lifted her shirt and saw the money belt strapped around her waist. “Pay day.”

  “Goddamn, now that’s what I call a six-pack.” Dirty pointed to her defined abs. “Her shit look better than them body-builders in the magazines.”

  Trouble removed the money belt. “Muscle can’t help her now. Fuck this bitch.” He kicked her in the ear as hard as he had kicked the Hyundai, then walked away.

  Jewels’s BlackBerry was begging to be answered.

  Dirty froze in his tracks. “Where you going? The ride is this way.” He pointed.

  Trouble never broke his stride. “We came to get paid, right?”

  “We got it, let’s roll out.”

  “Nah, you got it fucked up. It’s still some money waiting for us on the inside. You ain’t pussy, is you, chump?”

  “Watch your mouth.”

  “Let’s go get it, then.” Trouble turned in the direction of the comedy club.

  GP grabbed Kitchie. “What did he give you?”

  “You’re hurting my arm.” Her attempt to break free was useless.

  “I asked you a question.”

  “A few dollars; that’s all.”

  “What he giving you money for? Huh?” He shook her one good time.

  “He was just looking out.” Kitchie saw the devil in GP’s eyes.

  “You’re giving it back. Give it to me.”

  “I’m not. We need this money. I said you’re hurting me. Now let me go, GP!” She snatched away from him and went inside the building.

  GP turned toward Desmond. “Uh, let me holler at you, main man.”

  Desmond leaned against a Dumpster under a street lamp as GP approached.

  “You know my wife from somewhere?” He connected a solid fist to Desmond’s jaw. “Stay the hell away from her.”

  Desmond countered with a two-punch combination, which sent GP to the glass-ridden pavement. “Don’t come down here with that fake gangster shit, you clown-ass chump.” He flexed his lower jaw, working the pain out. “I don’t want your girl; and if you wasn’t putting your business in the street, I wouldn’t be in it.”

  GP threw a hand in front of his eyes to block the glare of the street lamp. He balanced himself on a knee.

  Desmond yanked out a .9mm. “Fool, stay down. I didn’t tell you to get up.” He clicked the safety. “Don’t force my hand. I ain’t that big on violence, but I’ll fuck you up if you push me.”

  The mechanical sound of the safety echoed in GP’s ear. It scared the shit out of him.

  “I respect the fact that you’re trying to do the right thing. Being broke is hard. I admire honest motherfuckers like you. I wish I didn’t have to make my living in these streets.” He spat a mouthful of blood into the Dumpster. “You don’t know nothing about waking up every morning, thinking today is the day I’ll be murdered or thrown in jail, or that maybe I’ll have to kill a stupid motherfucker like you. Maybe I was out of line for giving your woman money toward your hardship. So what! What you gonna do about it? Your broke ass need all the help you can get.”

  A car engine started.

  “My business ain’t—”

  “Shut up. You need to get your seeds. I wore them boots before. If it’s ever a next time, I’ll make it my business to put the money in your hand. And don’t be one of them proud motherfuckers. You need something, ask. I’m always out here.” Desmond stuffed the gun in his waistband and reached out a hand. “Get up. Don’t you think you’ve been down long enough?”

  Hector put his foot on the gas pedal and eased out of the lot.

  A security guard was searching patrons at the Improv’s entrance.

  Dirty could feel the .40 caliber’s heft in his Evisu jeans. “We’ll never get by dude. Fuck them numbers. We came off; let’s roll out.”

  “Stop crying and come on.” Trouble rushed over to the guard. He was breathing hard as if he’d run a marathon.

  “Twenty-five a head with identif
ication,” an awkward-built guard said as he inspected the duo. “If you don’t have IDs, you two look like you can afford seventy-five a pop.”

  “Man, you trying to rob us and you got a dude in the parking lot having a heart attack.” Trouble acted as if he couldn’t catch his breath as he poked a finger toward the lot.

  The guard’s eyes bulged. “You left him there…alone?”

  “You damn right. I got two felonies. I can’t wear a murder rap.”

  The guard stepped from behind the velvet rope. “Where is he?”

  Dirty pointed. “Stretched out on the ground beside a blue Escalade. Hurry up before the dude die.”

  The guard sprinted toward the lot in search of an Escalade.

  Dirty and Trouble went inside the club, armed.

  CHAPTER 12

  Steve Harvey was on stage, showing his ass. He was having himself a good time acting a fool. The crowd responded with gut-busting laughter.

  Sticky Fingers and an associate sat in private loft seats taking advantage of the bird’s-eye-view. Sticky Fingers appeared to be in his mid-forties with thinning hair and sunken cheeks, compliments of his strict vegetarian diet. He wore a designer shirt with two buttons unfastened at the collar, which showed off his gray chest hairs and the darkness of his rough skin. He shut the cell phone’s power off. “She’s not answering. Give her a few more minutes. Jewels will be here. She’s thirsty.”

  A soot-colored man with wire-rimmed glasses and a bald head sat beside him at the table. “I’ve given you more time than I was willing. You’re washed up, Sticky. You don’t have that…that winning drive anymore. It’s like you’ve lowered your player standards. You’ll deal with anybody to turn a buck. I can no longer vouch for you.”

  “Fats, relax and enjoy the show. My friend is stand up; she’ll be here.”

  “That was the same Parker Brothers you threw at me last month.” Fats stood to leave. “My business doesn’t thrive on practice runs. This is the second time I find myself rehearsing with you. Lose my number, immediately.”

  The door to the loft was opened.

  “Pump your brakes and park your ass back in that chair.” Dirty steadied his gun on Fats. “Stay and enjoy the party, old-timer.”

  Sticky Fingers shifted his sight between the two strangers.

  “The Legendary Sticky Fingers.” Trouble seated himself directly behind the stunned men. “Jewels told me that I would find you here. She also said that one of you two players would have some numbers that I would be interested in.” He looked at Sticky, then pointed at Fats. “I think that would be you.”

  Dirty waited with his weight against the door, preventing anyone else from entering.

  “Listen here, youngster, you’re stepping on the wrong set of toes.” Sticky wondered why Jewels had foolishly crossed him. “You don’t have any idea of how this is going to escalate beyond a simple robbery. Do you know—”

  “I don’t give a fuck who either one of you bitches is.” Trouble had a hard look on his face. “Punk ass, suck my dick. You the middle man. Open your mouth again, and I’ll shove a barrel in it. Jewels told me that you’d throw around a few subtle threats.”

  Fats looked at Sticky. “Out of all people to set up, you pick me. You’re right, these guys here don’t know, but you…you know there’s going to be repercussions.” He switched his attention on Trouble. “Your partner over there is carrying a forty-caliber. That thing will sound like a nuke going off in here. The only way you’ll leave this building is with a police escort, and I’ll have you murdered before they set your bond. You have to shoot me, which you’re not.” He finished his rum and Coke. “I’m not giving you a motherfucking thing, young jitterbug.”

  Trouble laughed. “You have a valid point about busting a gun in this small room, but you’re gonna give me what I came for regardless of security.” With swiftness, he produced a butterfly knife and drove it through Fat’s left shoulder.

  “Please, Mr. Reynolds, please let him out. He’s afraid of the dark.” Secret kicked and scratched as Mr. Reynolds dragged her toward a coffin next to the one Junior was locked in. “Why do you hate us so much?” She could hear Junior’s pounding. “Why, Mr. Reynolds? What have we done?”

  He lifted the struggling young girl with ease and forced her into the coffin. “I hate all of you little bastards. If it wasn’t for your good-for-nothing father, I wouldn’t still be selling these damn things.” He banged his meaty fist against the coffin. “If he hadn’t stolen my money, I wouldn’t still be babysitting a bunch of worthless kids, either. Damn you all to hell.”

  The knife entered his shoulder with ease. Fats screamed out in pain as the enormous crowd roared in laughter.

  “Shh!” Trouble held a finger to his lips, then stuffed a wad of napkins in Fats’s pie hole. “No screaming, gangster.”

  “Bite down on that,” Dirty said. “While you give them numbers up.”

  Nothing.

  Sticky Fingers was still thinking about his next encounter with Jewels.

  Trouble whispered in Fats’s ear. “Are you really gonna make me stick you again?”

  Fats spat out the napkins and leaned slightly to the left, favoring the injured shoulder. “My inside pocket…the right one.” Sweat dripped from his temple.

  Trouble examined the combination of the ten sets of numbers before putting the slip of paper in his pocket. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you ancient cats.” He stood and snatched the knife out of Fats’ shoulder.

  Fats gritted his teeth in pain.

  Trouble wiped the blade clean on Sticky’s silk shirt. “Jewels told me to tell you thanks for the hook-up. Oh, yeah, and that cut you was trying to get now belongs to me.”

  Secret looked up at Mr. Reynolds from the confines of her padded box. “Take it out on me. Please, Mr. Reynolds, just let my brother out. He’s afraid of the dark.”

  “He’ll get used to it. Your father did.” He slammed the coffin’s lid shut and locked it.

  “My mother will be here in the morning. She’ll—”

  “She’ll be lucky if I let her visit. Now shut your mouth and go to sleep.”

  Darkness.

  Secret heard the dock’s door close. “Junior, calm down and listen.”

  Nothing but crying and more pounding.

  “Junior, you little punk. I know you hear me.”

  Silence.

  “Answer me, Junior.”

  “Huh?” He turned on his side in the complete darkness.

  “Stop working yourself up and chill. Remember when we used to play hide-and-seek?”

  “Yeah.” He sniffled as his chest rose and fell.

  “You used to hide from me and Carinne in the clothes hamper for—”

  Mr. Reynolds banged on both coffins. “Shut the hell up and go to sleep. Don’t make me say it again.”

  Junior lost his cool again.

  Jewels was adjusting the medical bed when her first visitor entered her hospital room. “Who the hell swole your eye? Kitchie must have finally got tired of your ass.”

  GP touched the tender knot under his eye. “Don’t worry about it. What happened?”

  “Don’t even trip.” She pulled him close and whispered, “Sticky Fingers is a dead man walking. He had me set up.”

  “They get it all?” He perched himself on her bed.

  “Yeah, but don’t trip.”

  “Listen at what you’re saying, Jewels. I’m worse off than when I started. How am I supposed to pay Squeeze?”

  “What about Squeeze?” Kitchie entered the room with Ndia.

  “Are you okay?” Ndia leaned over the bed’s railing to kiss Jewels.

  “My head is split pretty good, but I was bred for this shit. Comes with the territory.”

  Ndia saw the back of Jewels’s head. “They shaved you bald.”

  “Fucked up my brush waves and replaced them with forty-seven stitches.” She swung her feet to the floor. “I have to take a leak.”

  “You nee
d some help.” GP reached out for her arm. He wanted to get her alone so they could continue their conversation.

  “Nah, I’m cool. I’ve been pissing for twenty-six years all by myself. I’m a big girl.”

  “I meant, did you need help to the bathroom.”

  “You wanna take a guess at how long I’ve been walking?” She headed for the restroom.

  Kitchie folded her arms. “GP, what’s going on, and what does Squeeze have to do with it?”

  Jewels staggered on her way to the bathroom.

  GP and Ndia rushed to her.

  GP caught her before she hit the floor. “Slick mouth, you can’t be the same person who just told me you’ve been walking for years.”

  A young doctor was entering the room. “Ms. Madison, you’re not supposed to be out of bed. Your equilibrium isn’t functioning properly.”

  “Goddamn, I needed to take a piss.”

  “I’ll have the nurse bring you a bedpan.”

  “Don’t worry about it, baby,” Ndia said. “I’ll take care of you when we get home.”

  The doctor wrote some notes on a chart. “I’m afraid that won’t be for a few days. She took a nasty blow.”

  “GP, can I see you in the hall?” Kitchie walked out the door.

  He followed, knowing he would have to come clean. “Let’s discuss this later. I’ll tell you everything when we get back to the apartment.”

  “Everything?”

  “I don’t want to hear your mouth, though.”

  “I’m not promising.” She waited for an elderly woman to walk by. “GP.”

  “Huh?”

  “I apologize. That was nothing between me and that Desmond guy. He didn’t try to hit on me or anything. He was just really being nice.” She gave him the money. “Now let’s finish up with Jewels because I want to hear this.”

  Jewels watched GP and Kitchie hold hands as they came back into the room. “Because I ain’t coming home tonight don’t mean for y’all to be fucking in my bed.”