Eastside

by Caleb Alexander

  The boys lifted their hands high into the air and watched as the shadows from beyond the spotlights approached.

  “We can’t lie down on our stomachs,” Tate shouted. “I’m shot in the ass, one of us is shot in the stomach, one of us is shot in the leg, and as you can see, my buddy here is shot in the arm!”

  “Very well, officers will approach you from the rear and side,” the officer replied. “If any of you move your hands, you will be shot!”

  “Is anyone inside the residence?” another voice asked over a loudspeaker.

  Tate shook his head. “No!”

  “You with the arm wound. Keep your hands above your head and walk toward my voice,” the first officer ordered.

  Red stood. He walked into the bright lights and disappeared from the view of the others. Suddenly, Travon felt one of his wrists being cuffed. It was quickly pulled down behind his back, where it was cuffed to his other wrist. He turned and stared at Charlie and Tate, whose hands were cuffed to the front. An officer kneeled next to Charlie and examined his wound. After checking the wound for several moments, the officer turned to the others and shook his head. Travon felt himself being pat searched.

  “Where did you get hit at?” the officer asked.

  “In the leg,” Travon told him.

  “Just hang loose,” the officer told him. “Are the cuffs okay?”

  Travon nodded. “Yeah.”

  Paramedics began to approach in numbers. Two hustled over to Tate, while four of them began working on Charlie. A seventh paramedic began to treat Red; another approached Travon.

  “Say, boss, can we remove these cuffs?” the paramedic asked.

  The officer nodded. “Yeah, we can do that.” He removed Travon’s handcuffs. Other officers began removing handcuffs from the rest of the boys.

  A small crowd of neighbors began to gather, and several of the officers began to herd them back.

  “Look at this shit!” one of the officers declared. “There’s gotta be a thousand fuckin’ rounds here!”

  “Just like fuckin’ Beirut,” another one of the officers declared, shaking his head.

  The officers marveled at the number of spent shell casings.

  “Who else was with you guys?” an officer asked.

  “Nobody,” Travon answered. “It was just us.”

  “So, you four were shooting from here, there, over there, behind the house, on the other side of the house, and from behind these two cars as well, huh?”

  Tate shook his head. “Naw, they was shootin’ at us from all those places.”

  “Who were they?” the officer asked, pulling out his notepad.

  “I don’t know, I was too busy running for my life to ask for ID,” Tate told him.

  A sergeant who was standing nearby monitoring the conversation stepped forward. “Okay, smart-ass. We just want to know who shot you. If you wanna tell us, fine. If not, then I really don’t give a shit. As far as I’m concerned, they can come back and finish the job. I got paperwork to fill out, that’s why I’m asking.”

  “Shots fired!” the radio blared. “Shots fired in the East Terrace. Reports of fully automatic weapons, with possible gang members involved. Suspects are armed and extremely dangerous. All units in the area are to respond.”

  The officers exchanged glances, and several shook their heads.

  “It’s gonna be a long night,” one of the officers declared.

  “I told Ginger that I would be home by ten-thirty,” said another.

  “You can forget that,” one of the sergeants told him.

  “At least we get overtime,” another officer replied.

  “Well, kid,” the first sergeant told Tate. “At least we know who shot ya. And now I know where all of your buddies are at.”

  Tate shook his head. “Maybe the same guys who shot us is shootin’ at them? Have you been through the Wheatley Courts tonight?”

  “Several fatalities in the East Terrace, all units roll.” The radio crackled again. “Possible uniform down. Repeat, possible uniform down. All cars roll.”

  All of the police officers with the exception of four who stayed with the paramedics, raced to their patrol cars and screeched off into the night with their emergency lights blazing and their sirens wailing.

  Tate turned toward Travon and they shared a knowing smile. Frog had just been avenged.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Next Day

  Aunt Vera’s House

  Travon woke late. He had spent all of the previous night at the hospital and all of the morning being questioned by the police. The death toll at the East Terrace last night had been horrendous.

  Travon lifted the envelope filled with the donations for Frog’s funeral and placed it on top of his bed. Along with the forty-five-hundred-plus they had already collected, he added the total that the boys had earned prior to the shooting. It came out to more than six thousand dollars.

  Slowly, Travon rose from his bed and hobbled into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. When finished, he grabbed his crutch, limped down the stairs, and hobbled out of the front door to his car. The trip to the Davis’ home was a quick one.

  Travon pulled up to the house, parked, and hobbled to the front door. Yvette answered the doorbell.

  “Why, Tre?” she nearly shouted. “Why did y’all have to do it?”

  Travon recoiled. He hadn’t been prepared for such questions, nor for such hostility. It took him a few seconds to collect himself.

  “I was at the hospital last night and the police station all morning,” he told her. “I didn’t do anything. Those dudes from the Terrace shot me last night, while I was chilling in the Heights.”

  Travon reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He removed his discharge papers and handed them to her.

  Yvette snatched the papers and quickly read through them. A smile slowly stretched across her face the more she read. She returned her gaze toward Travon, and he lifted his hand, displaying the hospital band still wrapped around his wrist. Yvette became ecstatic.

  “Oh thank you, Tre!” She hugged him, bouncing up and down slightly. “Thank you! Momma will feel so much better to know that you wasn’t involved. C’mon in!”

  Yvette stepped to the side and allowed Travon to enter. He followed her into the kitchen where Mrs. Davis was seated at the table, drinking a cup of steaming hot coffee.

  “You just couldn’t do like I asked you to!” Mrs. Davis shouted, once she looked up and saw Travon standing before her. “You couldn’t leave well enough alone!”

  “Mrs. D,” Travon began. “I didn’t do noth…”

  She flew from her seat and slapped him. “You God damned killer! You get the hell outta my house!”

  “Momma, he didn’t do nothing!” Yvette screamed. “He was at the hospital!”

  Travon turned and stormed out of the kitchen.

  “Why, Tre?” Mrs. Davis shouted. “Why?”

  Travon barreled through the living room and out of the front door. Yvette chased him down.

  “Tre! Tre! Tre, wait!”

  Travon stopped and turned to face her.

  “Tre, I’ll let her know what’s up,” Yvette told him. “I’ll let her know that you didn’t have anything to do with this.” She held up the front page of the local newspaper. Travon snatched it from her hands.

  “Six dead, nine wounded in gangland shootout,” he mumbled. Travon lowered his head and handed the paper back to her.

  “Tre, this is why she’s upset,” Yvette said softly. “Don’t stop coming around and being a part of this family. She needs you. You and Freddy were so close.”

  Travon pulled the envelope containing the donations from his pocket and handed it to her. “Here, give her this. Not right now. Wait until after she calms down, and when you have explained to her that we weren’t involved, then you give it to her. It’s over six thousand dollars in there for Frog’s funeral.”

  Yvette’s eyes widened. “Tre, it’s not going to co
st that much!”

  “Whatever’s left, tell your mom it’s hers, and ask her to buy a few things for the baby from all of us. I’ll do whatever I can as far as diapers, milk, and clothes go. You got my Aunt V’s number. Whenever the baby needs something, let me, Darius, or Marcus know. And give the number to Tamara too.”

  Tears fell from Yvette’s eyes, and she leaned forward and kissed Travon on his cheek. “Tre, you are a real friend to my brother. Thank you.”

  Yvette turned and walked back into the house. Travon limped to his car, climbed inside, and pulled away.

  He pulled up to his Aunt Vera’s house, parked, and hobbled to the porch. Marcus, Darius, Romeo, Capone, and Lil Fade were all gathered there.

  “C’mon, T, we all gonna smash to the mall and buy some T-shirts,” Marcus told him. “We gonna have Frog’s picture put on the front of them, with Gone But Not Forgotten airbrushed around it.”

  “On the back of the shirt we are gonna have BSV in black, old English letters,” Romeo continued. “We are gonna wear those red T-shirts over some black Dickie suits. That shit is gonna look sweet.”

  “A lot of the homies already went and got they shit done,” Darius added. “We just need to get ours.”

  Travon nodded. “All right. I guess y’all want me to drive?”

  “Yeah, fool,” Capone told him. “What do you think we’re sittin’ here conversing with yo ass for?”

  The boys laughed.

  Travon shook his head and hobbled back to his car. He knew that he should be trying to pull away from them. He knew that he shouldn’t be going anyplace with them anymore. He would just take them to the mall, he told himself. A quick trip to the mall, and then he would slowly try to pull away from them. He would get a job and he would stay at work all of the time, and that way it wouldn’t be so obvious that he was trying to get away from them. He would simply just be too busy. That’s what he would do. He would stay at work, eat at work, and damn near sleep at work, if that’s what it took.

  Travon, Romeo, and Darius climbed into the front seats, while Lil Fade, Marcus, and Capone climbed into the back. Travon cranked the ignition, and the boys headed off to Windsor Park Mall.

  Lil Fade tapped Travon’s shoulder. “Say, Blood, kick the system.”

  Travon leaned forward and turned up the volume on his stereo system. He hoped that the music would keep his occupants content. He did not feel like holding a conversation with them today.

  Frog’s death had taken a lot out of him. The pain medication for his leg wound had him doped up, and the trip to Mrs. Davis’s house had broken his spirits. The quieter this trip was the better for him.

  “Say, what’s up with the concert?” Lil Fade asked. “Y’all smashin’? Tickets go on sale next week.”

  “Who’s all coming?” Romeo asked.

  Travon shrugged. So much for silence.

  “Nine Ball and NJG, MC Seven, AMW, Mayhem and Tragedy, and the RCC plus Cube. It’s gonna be the shit!” Marcus told him.

  “Boy, stop lying!” Darius said.

  “All them Crabs ain’t gonna come down here with that bullshit,” Capone added. “It’s muthafuckin’ DJ Slick who’s coming.”

  “Aw yeah, then we can kick it at the concert and hit they muthafuckin’ ass up!” Romeo said, making a Blood sign.

  “Say, D?” Travon called out. “What happened last night?”

  Darius contorted his lips and gave Travon a strange look. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

  “You know, I been thinking,” Travon started.

  “What I tell you about that?” Romeo asked.

  “About what?” Travon asked.

  “About thinking!” Romeo said loudly. “You know you not properly equipped to do that!”

  The boys laughed.

  Travon, realizing that his conversation could be heard by the passengers in the backseat, leaned forward and increased the volume on his stereo. He did not want Lil Fade to hear the coming conversation.

  “J-Bird and Lil Daddy are going back to Houston in about two months,” Travon told Darius. “You think that Aunt Irma Lee will let me go and stay with them?”

  Darius nodded. “I don’t see why not. Lil Daddy and them is always comin’ up here to stay with somebody. Why you wanna leave the Heights? What’s up, lil kinfolk, talk to me.”

  “It’s cool in the Heights, but I just need a change,” Travon answered. “I need to get away for a while, get my shit together. I need to get my head together, you know?”

  “I hear you, lil kinfolk,” Darius told him. “Do the right things, get your life together, and see if you can talk Marcus into going with you and get his shit together too.”

  Travon focused on his driving, thinking about his life for the rest of the trip to the mall. He knew that he had to get away from them. He could feel it.

  Windsor Park Mall

  The T-shirt Shop

  “Yeah, Blood, that shit is on!” Capone said, while holding his T-shirt in the air and examining it. “That shit came out good.”

  “Mine’s came out good too!” Lil Fade announced.

  Darius leaned against the counter and smiled. “So, when can I call you?” he asked the girl working behind the counter.

  She returned his smile. “Tonight. I’ll be home by ten.”

  Darius held up the paper she had given him with her number on it. “So, how do you pronounce this again?”

  “Chrishanda,” she told him. “If you forget, just ask for Chris.”

  Darius nodded. “All right. And thank you again for doing such a good job on our shirts.”

  “You’re welcome,” she replied. “And I’m really sorry about your friend.”

  Chrishanda was kind of cute, Travon thought. The fake ponytail, green contacts, and press-on nails did a lot to help her, but she still would have been okay without those things. Fuck it, he thought, she had given the number to Darius anyway.

  The boys collected their shopping bags, and headed out into the mall.

  Windsor Mall was a fairly large and modern shopping center, located on the city’s Northeast side. It catered to a primarily urban clientele, and over time had found itself becoming the primary weekend hangout spot for the city’s youth. It was for this reason that the mall was particularly crowded today. But not so crowded that individuals could not be picked out of a crowd.

  “Oh look!” Lil Fade said. “It’s Dejuan!”

  “That fool is slippin’!” Capone announced. “He’s all by himself. Oh, we gotta get him, Blood!”

  “And he has on a whole lot of that expensive jewelry that he likes to floss,” Lil Fade added. “I agree with you, Blood, we gotta get him.”

  “If somebody tosses a peach in your lap, it’d be rude not to take it,” Capone declared.

  Travon shook his head and shifted his gaze to the floor. Darius noticed Travon’s expression.

  “Say, Tre,” Darius said. “You, Marcus, and Romeo go and start the car. If we get chased, y’all blast at whoever’s chasing us. Y’all still get y’all cut.”

  “Man, Dejuan don’t go nowhere by himself,” Travon warned. “Him, Tech Nine, and Quentin is cool again. I’ll bet you a gang of other WCGs is in this muthafucka.”

  “Fuck Tech Nine!” Lil Fade shouted. “It’s about time me, him, and Quentin bumped heads anyway. SaTown ain’t big enough for all of us.”

  “I’ma help get that fool,” Romeo told them. “I ain’t waitin’ in no muthafuckin’ car.”

  The boys continued to follow Dejuan from a safe distance. After several minutes of trailing and observation, Travon’s apprehensions were validated.

  “Yep, I told you,” Travon said. “There goes Lil Anthony, Pay Day, Dupriest, and Stephon. I told y’all them niggaz travel deep.”

  “Fuck them niggaz!” Lil Fade nearly shouted. “That’s just more jewels for us.”

  Travon turned to Darius. “Say, D. I know Quentin, Tech Nine, and Short Texas is around here somewhere. We don’t need to get caught slippin’, and
we don’t need a war with the Courts. We already fightin’ with East Terrace.”

  “Speaking of which, they just walked in,” Romeo announced.

  Lil Fade turned and began searching. “Where? Which ones?”

  “Ahhh, it looks like, all of them,” Romeo said, pointing in their direction.

  Travon turned. “Shit!”

  There was a massive ocean of royal blue floating toward them.

  “Okay, we got WCG in front and East Terrace behind us,” Darius told them. “I think that we need to detour sideways at either the next left or right, whichever comes first.”

  Lil Fade pointed. “Ooooh, look! Dejuan is going into the restroom. I know they love their mighty king, but they ain’t gonna go in and hold his dick for him.”

  Capone nodded in agreement. “Let’s get him.”

  “Fuck!” Travon exclaimed. He knew that he could not run with his leg in the condition that it was in. Even more important, Dejuan had saved his life, and now he had failed in his effort to return that favor. He did not want Lil Fade to kill Dejuan, but how could he stop it? How? Think, Tre, he told himself. He had to think.

  Darius tapped Travon on his shoulder. “Bring the car around to the food court exit. When we leave the building, we are gonna run to the right, toward the expressway. Make sure that you are coming from that direction.” Then he turned toward his brother. “Marcus, you and Romeo wait around the corner, and bust at whoever’s following us. We are gonna run past y’all and take cover, then we’ll cover y’all while y’all run to the car. Once y’all get to the car, then y’all cover us. Remember how Leo showed us when he came from the Army?”

  Marcus nodded. “Yeah, he called it the shoot and scoot, or tactical withdrawal, or some bullshit like that.”

  Darius said, “Well, that’s what we’re gonna do. We’re outnumbered, so we are gonna have to try some crazy shit.”

  Travon, Romeo, and Marcus broke away from the rest of the group, and quickly made their way outside.

  “I got another idea, since we are so outnumbered,” Marcus told Travon and Romeo. He gathered them close, placed his arms around their shoulders, and began to explain.