Push Comes to Shove

by Oasis

  Kitchie smirked. “I’m not making any promises. He loves to hear me yell Papi at the top of my lungs.”

  GP grinned like a Cheshire cat.

  “You’re making excuses ’cause you’re scared.”

  “I’m not arguing with you; call it what you want.”

  “You coming or not?”

  The rest of the girls listened to Nise and her comrade exchange comments from their cots.

  “Well?” Nise tied the laces of her sneakers.

  “What you care about her for? She kicked your butt and now you wanna help her. What’s up with that? If Mr. Reynolds catches you snooping…That off-limit sign is up there for a reason.”

  “I’ll go with you.” Samone peeled the covers back and stepped into her shoes. “I’ll help you.”

  “Samone, don’t get into that,” another girl said. “You’re looking for trouble.”

  “So be it.”

  Nise stuck her head in the hall and looked both ways. Once she was satisfied that the coast was clear, she flagged Samone with the wave of a hand. The two started their journey into the building’s sinister darkness.

  Samone stopped Nise at a flight of stairs. “We should go down the emergency exit and cut through the cafeteria.”

  “But this way is closer.”

  “The shortcut isn’t always best. Trust me; the long way is better. Mr. Reynolds brings his fat ass up these steps all the time when he makes his rounds.”

  “Lead the way.”

  “What makes you think they’re in there?” Samone pushed open a door with a red exit sign glowing above it.

  “Think about it. They’re not in the sleeping quarters with everybody else. Where else could they be? Besides, I got caught playing hide-and-go-get-it with this boy named Tim. Mr. Reynolds locked both of us in them scary caskets two nights straight.”

  “He caught y’all doing it?”

  “Not actually. We were trying, but Tim couldn’t get it in.”

  They made it to the bottom of the stairs.

  “Nise, can I ask you something without you wanting to fight?” She held the cafeteria door open as Nise passed through it.

  “Ain’t nobody gonna mess with you.”

  “You’re mean and hateful to everybody. Why, all of a sudden, would you risk breaking the rules to be nice to someone you don’t even like?”

  “Secret isn’t a punk like everybody else. She’s the only person who stood up to me since I came here. I like that. She even had the heart to run away. I won’t even do that. I don’t have nowhere to run to anyway.”

  “Who’s there?” Mr. Reynolds turned toward the direction of the voice, leaving the walk-in refrigerator wide open. “Who’s there, I said?” He stuffed the remainder of a slice of cheesecake in his mouth.

  Nise and Samone ducked into a cabinet under a long stainless-steel countertop that stretched the length of the kitchen.

  He used the light of the refrigerator to navigate through the room. “I know you’re here; you stink.”

  Kitchie hung her purse on the weight bench. “You did what? I can’t believe you would consider doing something like that. That’s crazy on you and Jewels’s part. More so yours because you borrowed it.”

  “It was the only solution I had. I would’ve tried anything if the results meant getting the kids back.”

  “While you were concentrating on the results, did you work on a backup plan if something happened to the money?”

  GP hadn’t thought that far. He’d be damned if he would tell her that he hadn’t.

  Mr. Reynolds knelt to scan the length of the kitchen from beneath a table while licking cream cheese from his pudgy fingers.

  Nothing.

  Nise cupped a hand over Samone’s mouth.

  “It’s going to be hell on earth if you make me find you.” He snatched open a broom closet.

  Samone’s guess was that Mr. Reynolds was still on the far side of the kitchen. She peeled Nise’s hand from her mouth and reached for the cabinet door.

  Nise latched onto her shirt. “Chill before you get us busted. I knew I should’ve left you upstairs.”

  Mr. Reynolds yanked open a pantry door. “Aha!”

  Still nothing.

  “There’s no sense in both of us getting caught,” Samone spoke in hushed tones. “You help Secret and her little brother, and I’ll handle Mr. Reynolds.”

  Nise flicked her cigarette lighter to see Samone’s face. “You sure?”

  “Yup. We’re running out of time.” Samone eased out and crawled away on the tiled floor.

  Mr. Reynolds squatted to look into a set of cabinets on the opposite side of the ones Nise had found refuge in. When he found the cabinets to be empty on that side, he struggled with his weight to get back on his feet. And that’s when he saw Samone standing in the center of the kitchen. “Damn you, child.”

  GP paced in the small area between the coffee table and the couch. “You have every complaint in the book. How about being a part of the solution instead of the problem?”

  “You should’ve confided in me first, GP. I should’ve been a factor in the decision made to borrow that type of money.” She held up her hand to display her wedding ring. “I’m married to you, not Jewels. You and I laid in the back seat of that old Datsun and made Secret, not you and Jewels. Ain’t no tellin’ where Junior was conceived at.”

  “If you wasn’t bitching and complaining all the time, then maybe you could’ve been a part of the conversation. Don’t nobody want to talk to someone when they know they’re only gonna meet force and resistance.”

  Samone started toward the cafeteria tables with a smile on her face.

  Mr. Reynolds sighed and went after her. “Samone Gates, you wake up this instant.” He quickly closed the gap between them, slapped her in the face, then backhanded her. “Wake up!”

  She blinked a few times as if she were gradually coming back from some distant place. “Mr. Reynolds.” She surveyed her surroundings. “What are we doing here?”

  He latched onto her ear and pulled her toward the doors. “This is the last warning. If you don’t take your medicine, I’ll start tying you to the bed again. I’d like to see your ugly self walk in your sleep then.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Reynolds.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” The door closed with a thud.

  Nise hurried to reach the dock, which was where she remembered the coffins to be.

  The door that led to the rear dock squealed as it opened. Nise had no idea where to begin. There were twenty coffins waiting to be picked up. The sight of the pine boxes brought back memories of two long nights that she never wanted to relive. She swallowed. “Secret! Secret…where you at?” She walked the aisles of boxes for the dead. “Secret.”

  Secret had fallen asleep hours ago to the sound of Junior’s phobia.

  “Secret, Tough Guy, somebody. I know you’re here.”

  Secret stirred in her sleep; Junior’s eyes popped open.

  “Secret.”

  She thought she heard Nise’s voice echoing through her tired mind.

  “Secret, I didn’t come down here for my health.”

  She raised her eyelids and listened for Junior.

  “This is bullshit, Secret. Where the hell are you?”

  Couldn’t be. No way. I must be dead. Nise? She heard the soft voice again. “I’m over here.” She kicked the coffin’s lid.

  Nise turned toward the sound of thumps.

  “I’m here.” Secret kicked.

  Nise unfastened the latch and lifted the lid. “What are you doing, trying to get us busted?”

  “Was I that loud?” Secret said, climbing out.

  “No, I only asked because my health depends on it. Of course you were loud. Are you gonna thank me or am I gonna have to lock you back in here?” She helped Secret to the floor.

  “Thank you.”

  “Where is—”

  “Junior!” Secret hurried to open the coffin adjacent to the one she
had been in.

  He lay there with his small body pulled into a ball, shivering. His eyes were as wide as high beams.

  “Come on, Junior. It’s all right now.” Secret reached out to him.

  No response.

  “He’s scared shitless.” Nise came closer. “Help him out and let’s get out of here.”

  Secret used her leverage to pull Junior out with Nise’s assistance. “What’s the catch? Why are you helping us?”

  “If I don’t, who else will?”

  The door hinges squealed.

  Secret and Nise looked in the direction of the door.

  Junior stood there, unresponsive.

  “Granted, you’ve done some dumb stuff, but this…this is the epitome of retarded.” Kitchie gave GP a pillow and a sheet, then pointed at the couch. “You’d been better off keeping that to your-self.” She sang the words, “If you think you’re lonely now, wait until tonight, boy.”

  “Don’t play. You’re the one who wanted to know.” GP leaned on the doorframe of Jewels’s bedroom.

  “We already have more problems than we’re capable of handling. You should’ve known better than to gamble with somebody else’s money and somebody else’s life. Jewels could’ve been killed, and Squeeze ain’t playing with a full deck.”

  “It was a sure thing.”

  She giggled. “Sure? You’re still screaming that. Well, let’s see about that.” She held up a thumb. “We’re exactly where we started from—broke.” A second finger. “We have another debt that we don’t have a clue as to how it’s going to get paid.” Another finger. “My babies aren’t any closer to home—they’re further. Do you want me to go on? I still have some more fingers to count on.” She started to close the door. “Excuse me, I need to get some sleep. I’m going to visit the kids in a few hours.”

  “Mami.”

  “I’m going to sleep. Good night, GP.” She shut the door.

  “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Mr. Reynolds flicked the light switch on lighting up the rear dock. “Denise, the cemetery is full of people who didn’t know how to mind their business.”

  She shrugged her shoulders and turned to Secret. “Ain’t no turning back now. It’s his fat ass or us.”

  “Without a doubt, it’s fat boy. What you wanna do?”

  “He can’t walk from one end of the hall to the other without losing his breath. He can’t handle both of us. We have to kick his ass.”

  Junior’s body was there, but he was definitely in someplace reserved for the traumatized.

  Nise unscrewed the handles of two push brooms and gave Secret one. “Whatever you do, don’t stop swinging.”

  “I can handle a stick. My aunt taught me.” She twirled the broom handle, causing it to whip through the air, and rested it under her armpit. She assumed a fighting stance.

  “Okay. You got to teach me that.”

  Mr. Reynolds laughed as he wobbled from one end of the dock to the girls. “I’m going to beat both of you bitches raw.”

  “Who you calling a bitch, bitch!” Nise struck him in the center of his forehead.

  Secret followed suit with a vicious blow to the sternum, then a sharp hit to the meaty part of his neck.

  He staggered. “You little Black—”

  Nise struck again. “This is for old and new.”

  She remembered when he had used that line each time he had beat her.

  He latched onto Nise’s broom handle for dear life.

  Secret delivered a blow that broke her handle in two.

  He fell on his face as the air escaped his lungs.

  Nise hit and cried and hit and cried. “Mean old man, die.” And hit and cried.

  Secret grabbed her around the waist and pulled her away. “That’s enough, Nise. Let’s go.” She took Junior’s hand and the three of them left, locking Mr. Reynolds on the dock. “Think he’ll be all right?” She was worried but was really more concerned about Junior.

  “Who gives a fuck?” Nise lit a cigarette.

  CHAPTER 13

  Mr. Reynolds awoke on the concrete floor. His bones ached and he suffered from an enormous headache that had Secret Patterson and Denise Holcut written all over it. He caressed his temples and felt the dried blood that had matted his hair. Secret and that despicable waste of a good nut, Denise, will wish they were never born when I’m finished with them. He staggered to his swollen feet and checked his watch. 6:49 a.m.

  Mrs. Patterson was scheduled to visit in less than an hour.

  He rushed to the door only to find it locked. “Rotten bastards.” The metal door rang out when he kicked it. He turned to the coffins and thought …

  And thought some more.

  He made his way to a phone mounted on the dock’s wall. He poked in a number.

  “What?” Tucker Reynolds put his cordless phone to his ear as his eyes focused on his one-room trailer home.

  “Tucker, I need you.”

  He stretched in the thread-bare La–Z-Boy and wiped last night’s crumbs off of his chest. “What do you want, Claude?”

  “I need you to haul a load ASAP.”

  “Forget it.” He swatted at two flies that were swarming around his lap. Then, he noticed the remainder of a pastrami on rye squished between himself and the chair. “Find somebody else. Brother or no brother, I’m through fooling with you.”

  “I’ll pay you up front.”

  “You still owe me; pay that. Find Daddy’s coin collection you claim was stolen, and pay the family what you owe us.”

  “Stop accusing me of stealing from my own family. I’ll square you away on my debt and give you a thousand dollars for this load.” He glanced at the coffins.

  “You never have cash on hand, so you claim. Why the hell would I believe you have eighteen hundred today?”

  “Tucker, you fuck, I only owe you two hundred.”

  “The other six is for waking me up to talk to your lard ass. It ain’t like you don’t have it. You’ve been spending the family’s fortune for years now. That’s my price, little brother. Take it or leave it.”

  “Be here in twenty minutes and you have a deal.”

  Mr. Reynolds went to the loading platform and pushed a red button. The mechanical garage door was electrically raised, inviting the early morning sunlight to the rear dock.

  Kitchie slammed on the brakes and pressed both palms against the horn. “Diablo!”

  Tucker honked the horn on the big rig as he wheeled the semi out of the group home’s lot with no regards for the stop sign.

  Kitchie hummed along with an Avant and Lil’ Wayne tune as she parked the Escalade near the front entrance. She saw her children and at least fourteen others sitting on the porch.

  As she approached with a smile, she heard someone say, “Uh-oh, the shit is about to hit the fan now.” Her smile went flat when she saw the distraught look on Junior’s face.

  Secret lifted her head, met her mother’s questioning eyes, and burst into tears. “Mr. Reynolds done it, Ma.”

  Junior never acknowledged Kitchie’s presence.

  She set her purse on the pavement and knelt in front of the children. “He did what? What’s wrong, Secret?”

  The front door eased open. “Good morning, Mrs. Patterson. It’s—”

  The children screamed and dispersed.

  Junior never moved.

  Nise and Secret took cover behind Kitchie.

  Nise’s heart pounded hard. “Don’t let him get me, Mrs. P. I was only helping Secret. I don’t want no more black eyes.”

  Kitchie’s heart sank when she looked at the dark rings around Nise’s eyes. “He did that to you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Mr. Reynolds stepped forward. “Don’t pay that lying child any—”

  “Ma, he locked me and Junior in caskets last night because we ran away.”

  “Sick cracker!” Kitchie went into her purse. “I swear I’m gonna kill you.”

  Mr. Reynolds backed into the group home and secured
the door.

  “Vivian, I hope you didn’t have to go too far out of your way coming down here this morning.” GP stacked some Street Prophet shirts on the table of his booth.

  “It’s quite all right,” the lawyer said. “I have a friend in the business, an injury lawyer, who has an office in Terminal Tower and a view of Public Square. I might drop in on her while I’m down here.”

  “So, what is it you wanted to talk to me about? I have a lot of work to do; haven’t made a dime going on two weeks now.”

  “Do you mind?” She rested her briefcase on the table’s bare spot.

  “Not at all.”

  “The light company is willing to drop charges, provided you pay your previous bill in its entirety—including the charges for the damaged meter and the electricity you stole.”

  “Borrowed.”

  “It was stolen, Mr. Patterson.”

  “If I have to pay them back, it must’ve been a loan.”

  “Whatever floats your boat. Just pay them within the next ten working days or no deal. Also, you can’t get electricity in your name for a year.”

  GP held on to his airbrush gun. “How much do they want?” He stared out at the busy street as motorists added to the noise pollution, rushing to begin their day.

  Vivian flipped the briefcase open and handed him an itemized list.

  GP scrolled the sheet until he saw the cuss word Total. “Thirty-nine hundred. Bullshit! Now who’s doing the stealing? I didn’t owe anything near this.”

  She pointed to the paper. “The fine imposed for tampering with the meter is what cost you. But that’s the least of your worries.”

  “You need a drum roll? Don’t stop now.”

  As the traffic congested, pedestrians filled the sidewalks.

  “I can get Mrs. Patterson probation, but I’m afraid, because of your record, you’re going to do a few years in prison.”

  “I’ll be damned. Prison!” He took a deep drink of air. “Then tell me, Vivian, what the hell is my family supposed to do while I’m in the pen? I thought you said you and the DA were buddy-buddy.”