Push Comes to Shove

by Oasis

  Mr. Stevens looked up when three police officers rushed into his office, followed by the bank’s manager.

  The slender officer stepped forward. “What type of situation are we faced with?”

  GP paced in front of the pay phone. “What time is it?”

  “Don’t ask me that bullshit again. It hasn’t been two mother-fucking minutes from the last time you asked.” Jewels hopped onto the bare table of GP’s booth. “I would’ve never thought that close to seven-hundred grand would fit into that bag.”

  GP grabbed her wrist to see the watch himself. 5:58 p.m. “Only thing I want out of it is the money to get Kitchie back and buy a cheap house for the kids. You keep the rest.”

  “Hold up, punk. When you rob something, you don’t give it back. That’s against the rules. People rob so they can keep the shit, fool.”

  “I promised the kids that I wouldn’t steal anymore. Keeping my word to them means more to me than the money.” He turned around to find an older man dropping coins into the pay phone. “Hey!”

  The man paused.

  GP put his finger on the connection lever and held it down. “I’m waiting for an important call.”

  “You’re still waiting until I’m done.”

  “Look, old man, I’m not trying to disrespect you, but you’re gonna get off this phone.” He yanked the receiver from him. “I apologize. It’s another phone down the street.”

  He pump-faked at GP. “I know you’re a punk. The eyes never lie. Never lie.” He aimed two fingers at his own eyes.

  Jewels doubled over with laughter.

  “I’m thinking about losing my religion and fucking you up, but this arthritis in my hip saved your ass, youngster.” He pumped at GP again, then went away.

  “You was about to get whipped by a senior citizen, homeboy.” She laughed tears in her eyes. She went into a dead silence when the phone started ringing. GP armed himself with the Lord’s Prayer and picked up. “Hello.”

  Hector scrolled the cable channels, pausing a few moments at a time, viewing anything that caught his attention.

  “You’re hell with a remote. Give me that thing.” Squeeze motioned for him to toss it. Once the remote was in his hands, he positioned the channel on a network broadcasting the local news. He increased the volume.

  “…that brings us to our special segment on children’s rapidly growing issues,” the newscaster said. “Authorities have crippled Ohio’s largest child-pornography and White-Slavery rings. Thirty-six suspects, including two city officials, are in the hands of justice this evening, held on multiple child abuse, molestation, and pornography charges. There are talks that Mayor Brandon Chambers is planning to award the officer, and perhaps the unknown tipster responsible for the arrests in this case, with a medal of honor.” The newscaster folded her hands. “In other child-related news…”

  Footage of Mr. Reynolds leaving the Justice Center appeared in the corner of the screen.

  “Claude Reynolds,” she continued, “of the Reynolds Eastside Group Home has been officially brought up on charges. The children who were once under his care are in the process of being moved to other facilities per a judge’s orders. Mr. Reynolds maintains his innocence. This is new footage of him being released today after posting a hundred-thousand-dollar property bond.”

  Mr. Reynolds looked into the TV camera as he wobbled down the courthouse steps. “I would never do anything to bring harm to a child. I love all children.”

  Hector’s watch alarm went off. Six o’clock p.m.

  Squeeze turned down the TV’s volume a few notches and picked up the phone at the same time Kitchie began to bang on the bedroom door. “Go see what she wants.” He punched in a telephone number.

  “Hello.” GP glanced at Jewels, who was now standing inches away from him.

  “You got my cash?”

  “Yeah. Put Kitchie on.”

  “You’ll talk to her after you cash in. If you slide me some bogus paper this time, I’ll send my friend to the group home to pay your crumb-snatchers a visit.”

  “It’s real.”

  “It better be. If you ever want to see Kitchie alive again, keep the cops out of my business.”

  “The cops don’t know shit. Now let’s do this.”

  “Good, here’s what I want you to do…”

  Squeeze placed the phone on its cradle. He tilted his head toward the bedroom. “What did she want?”

  “Woman products. It’s that time.”

  “Fuck her. That ain’t the only hole she’s gonna bleed from.”

  Hector stuck his tongue through the gum and blew a bubble until it popped. “I knew GP wouldn’t come up with the money.”

  “He has it, but this is how we’ll play it.” Squeeze started toward the door with Hector close behind. “We’ll meet GP with the money, show him where to find his wife, then kill them both at their reunion.”

  “You’re gonna have to stop loaning folks money. The results are messy more times than not.”

  As they secured the front door, the newscaster came back from a commercial break. “Local authorities have brought their search for missing ROTC student, Jap Silex, to an end. His body was…”

  A minivan was parked catty-corner to the Lakewood high-rise’s entrance. Crutchfield and Thomas eased into the back and closed the double doors behind them.

  “It’s about damn time.” A brunette sipped coffee from a Styrofoam cup. “We were supposed to be relieved over an hour ago. This is why I hate stakeouts: nobody respects nobody’s time.”

  “Don’t start shooting off your fat speaker box, Darlene. Some of us actually have something to do with our time.” Crutchfield took off his blazer and loosened his tie.

  “Yeah,” Thomas said, “I’m not in the mood to hear your mouth, either.” He shifted his focus to the man behind the steering wheel. “Max, how do you put up with this snapping turtle?”

  “I learned to keep my fingers and opinions out her face.” Max passed Crutchfield a pair of binoculars. “I can’t remember his name.” He pointed toward the high-rise. “The dead guy’s brother.”

  “Jesus, Miles! What’s on his mind?” Crutchfield took the binoculars away from his face and passed them to Thomas.

  Darlene clapped her hands, then held one in front of Max. “Pay up. I told you his name was Miles. We’ve been partners for six years and you still don’t respect my memory? Hell, I remember things for you.”

  Max dug into his pocket. “He rode up on a skateboard a few minutes after one this afternoon and hasn’t left. How long before the media goes public with the discovery of Jap’s body?”

  “We managed to hold them off until the eleven o’clock news.” Crutchfield looked at Max. “They understand that they could give the suspects a heads-up and send them into hiding. I have a good rapport with Tracy Morgan down at the paper and the head honchos at the news stations. They’ll keep quiet.” He tossed Darlene his car keys. “Bring it back with a full tank.”

  She opened her door. “Hope you slackers have a long, miserable shift. I’m going to find something to waste Max’s hard-earned money on.”

  Crutchfield and Thomas climbed into the front seats.

  Thomas watched Darlene and Max drive away in Crutchfield’s Caprice. “Max has to be feeding her the worm. I’d like to bang her one good time. I just need three minutes with her. Anybody with that much attitude…I know it’s a good roll in the sack.”

  “Miles is gonna get himself hurt, trying to tangle with Squeeze.” Crutchfield gazed at Miles through the binoculars.

  “He’s not here to do the Harlem Shake. He’s here with intentions of killing the man.” Thomas shifted in the seat. “Them threats he made that day he was drunk, I suppose you thought he was making a funny.”

  “Radio in and have a black-and-white arrest him. I’m sure we can get him with a concealed weapon’s charge.”

  A large Voices Books truck carrying bundles of trade paperbacks stalled, blocking Crutchfield and Thomas’s view,
steam rising fast from its overheated engine.

  Miles was disheveled. His clothes hadn’t been changed in days, and his unkempt cornrows were in desperate need of grooming. He’d lost the will and the desire to keep himself orderly after he’d watched his mother die. He leaned against a wrought-iron fence just outside of the high-rise’s main entrance, caressing the handle of a .380 inside of his windbreaker. Tupac’s “I Came To Bring The Pain” thumped in his ears from the Walkman. The song had been replayed over and over. As Tupac’s hypnotic voice mesmerized him, Miles convinced himself that he was the administrator of pain. A box truck gusting smoke from its engine stole his attention for a moment. It conked out yards away, but that was of no interest to him once Squeeze’s flashy Chrysler drove through the front entrance. He stepped on his skateboard and pushed off. “I came to bring the pain.”

  Crutchfield displayed his badge as he fanned the smoke away from his face. “You have to move this thing immediately. You’re obstructing official police business.”

  “I suppose you want all hundred-ten pounds of me to push this two-ton truck.” The driver wiped sweat away from his forehead with a sleeve, then put his Voices Books cap back on.

  “I don’t care what you do or how you do it; just move it.” Crutchfield smacked the truck’s body.

  “I’m already having one hell of a day. I don’t need racial profiling, harassment, or any of that other stuff cops do to hard-working black folks to add to it.” He turned the ignition; the truck fired.

  “Back it up.” Crutchfield waved a hand.

  The truck rolled back just enough for Crutchfield to see that Miles was gone; then its engine gave out again. Crutchfield looked in both directions.

  Nothing.

  Within minutes the wind picked up and the sun tucked itself behind a dark congregation of clouds. Miles discarded his skateboard and scurried under an electronic garage door, right before it lowered itself to the pavement. Inside the private parking structure, situated under the high-rise, Miles crept up to the Chrysler—only to find it empty.

  Ding!

  Across the parking structure, Squeeze and Hector stepped inside an elevator. Miles opted for the stairs.

  “Calm down, GP,” he said to himself as the locking mechanism to Squeeze’s lobby buzzed, giving Jewels and himself access to the building.

  “Hold that elevator.” Jewels pointed at an Asian couple. She and GP hurried across the lobby.

  “Thanks.” GP pressed the button that promised to take them to the penthouse, to his Kitchie.

  “Where else could he have gone?” Crutchfield threw his hands up. “Think. If he would have went this way—” He pointed down the avenue. “—or that way, we would have seen him. There’s no possible way we couldn’t have. He has to be—”

  “If it’ll stop you from crying, let’s go check it out.”

  “I was gonna do that anyway, without your consent.”

  “I’m willing to bet that Miles just got tired of waiting there and found himself somewhere else to post up.”

  Crutchfield started the minivan and shifted it to Drive.

  “Would you stop smacking on that goddamn gum?” Squeeze swallowed his second shot of brandy. “You sound like a pregnant cow.”

  “How do you think GP came up with the money so fast? He couldn’t come up with a hundred stacks one day but has two the next. What’s wrong with that picture?” Hector stood in the entrance of the penthouse, watching the floor-indicator light of the climbing elevator.

  “I don’t care if he robbed a bank. I want paid. Then, I want paid for making me look like a fool. Don’t nobody assassinate my street credibility.”

  The indicator light finally held its position.

  “The moment of truth.” Hector went into the hall to greet GP.

  The elevator doors eased open effortlessly.

  Jewels and Hector locked gazes.

  “You were instructed to come alone.” Hector addressed GP but never took his eyes off Jewels.

  “As far as I’m concerned, this is alone.” GP passed a hand between himself and Jewels. “It won’t make a difference as long as we all get what we want.”

  Hector grunted. He waved them out of the elevator. “Turn around and put your hands on the wall. You know how this works.”

  “Ain’t no need; I’m strapped.” Jewels showed him a .44 tucked in the front waistband of her jeans.

  Hector’s face tightened. The gum chewing stopped. “Hand it over.”

  “Y’all ain’t gonna be the only ones up here with guns.” Jewels moved forward, but Hector blocked her path.

  GP brushed by Hector and pushed the front door open. “Kitchie!” He tossed the bag of money onto the sofa.

  Squeeze turned away from the stunning view offered by the floor-to-ceiling window. “Slow down, Tiger.”

  “There’s your money. Now where’s my wife? Kitchie! Where is she, Squeeze?”

  There was a ruckus outside of the suite, followed by thumps and bumps. Squeeze and GP stared at the front door.

  Jewels entered the penthouse pointing Hector’s gun. “Where’s Kitchie, homeboy?”

  Squeeze took a step but hesitated at the sound of Jewels’s voice.

  “Bitch, I’m dying to see if you can digest lead.”

  “Where is Kitchie, Squeeze?”

  Jewels cocked the hammer back. “That was the last time either of us is asking. You’ve been warned.”

  “Something smells like shit.” Thomas knelt down beside the abandoned skateboard.

  The wind whipped about. Crutchfield shielded his eyes with a hand as he stared at the 100-story building. He dashed for the lobby when he saw a body falling from the sky.

  CHAPTER 18

  Miles stepped over an unconscious Hector. He pulled the .380 from his pocket. His hand trembled as the point of the gun led him through the door of the penthouse.

  Squeeze’s eyes widened with alarm.

  “Jap didn’t have anything to do with it.” Miles clamped his eyes shut and pulled the trigger in one motion.

  The floor-to-ceiling window shattered. An angry wind swept through the suite. Various pieces of mail were blown from the bar and were tumbled out into the public. Jewels flinched at the sound of the gun blast and turned her weapon on Miles; GP ducked.

  Squeeze took two quick steps but stopped in his tracks as more bullets whizzed by him. He threw his hands up.

  Miles looked at the dark hole at the tip of Jewels’s gun and laughed. Then, he started toward Squeeze. “You dragged my brother and mother into this. Why? What did they do?”

  “Miles, relax, man. I don’t know nothing about your people.” Squeeze took a step backward as Miles came forward.

  Jewels began wiping her fingerprints from her gun as well as Hector’s.

  “Liar!” Miles clamped his eyes closed, then opened them. “Liar. They found Jap’s body and traced it to you.” He poked the gun in Squeeze’s direction and pulled the trigger.

  Squeeze took another step back, bracing himself for a shot that was likely to hit him this time. His footing reached the window’s ledge. He whirled his arms to catch his balance and bring himself forward. The wind proved to make that quite difficult.

  Miles tugged on the trigger again and again, delivering nothing more than a clicking sound. “Bring the pain…I came to bring you pain.”

  Squeeze reached a hand out as he fell backward. “Fuck you!” Death awaited him at the end of his skydive.

  Miles looked into the open sky. “I told you that I’d make it right, Ma. I’m almost done… Then, everything will be right.”

  “This Motherfucker is off the hinges.” Jewels tapped GP. “We got to get the fuck out of here. You check the rooms while I get rid of these burners.”

  When Crutchfield reached the penthouse floor, he checked Hector for a pulse, slapped a pair of cuffs on him, then nodded at Thomas. They put their backs against the hall wall, moving closer to the door with their Glocks in hand.

  “She’s no
t here.” GP returned from checking the bedrooms.

  “We don’t need to be here, either.”

  Miles held his arms out to either side. The breeze caressed his face. “It’s all better now, Ma. I promise.”

  “Yeah, Jewels, let’s bounce. This cat is tripping on something.”

  “Miles!” Crutchfield stuffed his gun in a holster. “Miles, don’t do it. It’s not worth it; talk to me about this.”

  “This isn’t the answer to your problems, Miles,” Thomas said, taking small steps.

  What the fuck have I gotten into? Jewels thought.

  Miles glanced at Crutchfield. “I have to make it right.” He turned back to the sky and jumped.

  “Miles!” Crutchfield went as close to the ledge as safety would allow.

  GP closed his eyes and prayed that Kitchie was safe.

  Night had fallen on the city. Kitchie stared from the barred window at the stars. She was thinking about all the things that she and her family hadn’t done, the things that they would never get to do. Red and blue strobe lights all of a sudden began to bounce off the trees in her immediate view. Her pulse quickened. Then, she heard a two-way radio coming from somewhere inside the house. She banged and kicked the door. “Somebody, help me.” She backed away from the door when the knob spun in both directions. She had no idea of what to expect.

  “Mrs. Kitchie Patterson.”

  She thanked God in her mind. “Yes.”

  “This is the police. Step away from the door. We’re going to break it down. Are you okay in there?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.” She noticed an officer outside the window, beaming a flashlight into the room.

  The door buckled and the doorframe split from the applied pressure. It opened and there GP was standing behind the police.