Becoming A Son

by David Labrava

  “GOOD LUCK.” They started yelling from their stoop and waving at me and giving me the thumbs up sig. I gave then a thumbs up.

  “Wow. You clean up good.”

  “Shut up. I feel like hell.” The van did a slow unsteady take off from the curb.

  “We gonna make it? I can’t be late.”

  “Relax. I’m your lucky charm. Remember the trouble you got in with Jimmy years ago? The B and E’s. You guys got off cause you brought me to court.”

  “We got off cause they didn’t have anything.”

  “And cause you brought me. Relax. You’ll see.”

  “There’s nothing to see today. This is just the discovery. Can’t this thing go any faster?”

  “It takes a minute.” We rolled down the highway to the courthouse in silence. Not a lot to say on the way to court. Just a foreboding feeling of what might happen.

  “Try to think good thoughts.” Red said.

  “Shut up.” Red was always positive. I was having trouble keeping a positive attitude. I had just completed probation less than three years ago. To the court that is like last week.

  The court room was full of defendants. Most of them were crack heads or career criminals dressed like they were going to a tailgate party. My attorney and me were the only people in suits. As soon as he saw me he started walking to the hallway and waved to me to come meet him. The hallway was full of attorneys and clients all discussing their cases with great enthusiasm. Red found a seat in the court room and started watching cases. The cases were going by really quick. About a minute a case. Some crackhead defendant would stand in front of the judge in a football jersey.

  “Ya Honor….I promise it was a personal crack rock.” The defendant would say. Then his court appointed attorney would dump him off. Or they would get a fine. A lot of people that day would get fined three hundred sixty three dollars. It didn’t matter what the charges were, that was the fine. It was like it was 363 dollar day. One defendant after the next would get the same fine.

  My attorney and me found a corner to talk.

  “How do you know Bill again?”

  “He knows me my whole life. He went to Beach High with my dad.”

  “I just started with the firm. I’m on a probationary period to see my performance. It can last a year. This is an unwinnable case. It’s your word against the cops word. But Bill told me if I don’t get you off of this I will not have shown my worth to this firm.”

  “So I guess you have to win.”

  “I just disclosed to the prosecutor that my private investigator has eye witness accounts form your neighbors across the street stating they baited you out of your house then locked you out for over three minutes. I don’t think she will proceed. These things cost money. They pick the cases they know they can win. With these eye witness accounts, they know there is more than a chance they will lose. They don’t like losing.”

  He turned around and walked in the court room.

  “Don’t say a word.” He said to me as we went in.

  All the attorney’s knew each other. You could see that my attorney was from the rich part of town. They called my name within a few a minutes. The big attorney’s don’t have to wait.

  The case got dropped with me getting a fine for simple possession of four hundred eighty one dollars. The attorney was extremely happy and he ran out of the court to another case. Me and Red walked out of the court room feeling like Kings. I was totally relaxed. Like the weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders.

  “See I told you. I’m your lucky charm.”

  “Thanks for the ride.”

  You know that’s a sign.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Every one all day long is getting fined three hundred sixty three dollars. Then you get fined four hundred eighty one dollars. The only one.”

  “The only one?”

  “The only one. It’s a sign I’m telling you. I hate to say it, cause I don’t want you to leave, cause it’s fun hanging out, but it’s time for you to go.”

  Red was right.

  73

  Winning the case was a big deal. That put me back on track.

  It was a few days until Christmas so I decided to wait for the holidays to pass until I got back on the road towards California. I didn’t want to fight the holiday traffic. I wanted to take it easy, make my way across the country in a relaxed mode. No rushing, even though I felt like I was late. I had come to realize that is a general feeling I carry, that I’m always late. It makes you move faster. I still had to learn to slow and steady pace wins the race.

  The bikes were dialed, I was getting the last few details on the motorhome with the hitch I had to install to tow the bikes, but everything was on track.

  I went to the bar the night of the win t to celebrate with a few friends. My SBU crew showed up. It was a big deal. Everybody thought I was going back to jail for sure, so the fact that I wasn’t was good news.

  It was quiet, not too many people in the bar. We went outside to smoke a joint and when we came back in there was some guy siting in my seat. He was just a normal guy, same size as me dressed to go out for a night on the town in Miami Beach. I didn’t know him, so he must not have known I was sitting there.

  “You’re in my seat.”

  He looked at me, then back at his drink. He had a pitcher of beer in between him and his friend.

  “I said you are in my seat.”

  The guy stood up real quick. He towered over me. He was bigger than I thought.

  “So do something about it.” He said with more attitude than was necessary.

  I smashed him with a straight upper cut. I saw where this was going, no time to waste. When in doubt knock ‘em out is how I was taught. He didn’t go down but he was dazed. Three of my friends got all around him quick. My buddy Al got right in his face. The guy realized he was out numbered pretty quickly.

  “Oh yeah. Is that how it is? O.K.” He said as he walked out of the bar real fast. Al looked at his friend.

  “I’m just sitting enjoying my beer.” The guys friend said. He didn’t want any trouble.

  “LOOK.” Red said. He was looking out the front window. We all walked over and looked out the window. The guy walked over to his car, opened the door and looked around the back seat. He stuffed a gun in his belt. He covered it up with his shirt and started walking back to the bar. I looked at my crew.

  “You guys strapped?”

  Three of them nodded yes. We all went outside just as the guy was getting back to the bar.

  “You ready?”

  “The question is are you ready?” he asked me with confidence.

  “Oh we’re ready.” Three of my buddy’s lifted up their shirts showing they we had guns also. They smile on the guys face went away.

  “Over a seat? You wanna have gunfight at the OK corral over a seat?”

  The guy thought about it.

  “No.”

  “Go back inside the bar and find another seat. No big deal.” I said. The guy knew it was going to be all bad if he pulled his gun out. He went back inside. Him and his friend found a table to sit at.

  “Order them a pitcher from me.” I told the bartender.

  “You’re such a sweetheart.” She said as she shook her ass with a pitcher over to the guys table.

  “Don’t tell anyone.”

  I sat down at a table with Al. Nether of us drink but it was time for a victory shot.

  “You got lucky today, winning that case.”

  “I know. The power of a private attorney.”

  “Private attorney or not you got lucky. You should be gone already. Months ago.”

  “I know.”

  He was right. He’s usually right. I knew I got lucky today.

  “Tell you what.” I said as I lifted my shot glass. “Before the next incident happens I will be gone.”

  “How you gonna make a toast like that? How do you know when the next incident is going to happen? You don’t. You gotta to
ast to something better than that.”

  “How about after the next incident.”

  “That’s no good either. What if the next incident is the lock up? No that one aint no good either.”

  “Then you think of one.”

  We sat there in silence both trying to think about something good to toast to.

  While we were sitting thinking three guys and a girl walked in. They looked like they had just turned eighteen. They were all dressed in white like they were in the navy. A short Mexican guy and a tall white guy and Fat Chinese guy and a white girl. One of the guys was about six four. They were coming through the entrance and the Mexican guy stopped in front of some customers.

  “Permiso. Permiso.” He said in this very drunken way. He was moving in slow motion like he was wasted or something.

  “He’s not drunk.” I said to Al. We watched the four of them move through the bar like they were kind of casing it. It was getting late and the bar was starting to fill up with people.

  One shot turned into two shots which turned into a few shots by the time later came me and Al were pretty drunk and still trying to think of the perfect thing to toast to. Sometimes things happen so fast that before you know it all decisions get made for you.

  “There’s a fight outside. DL Come on. THERE’S A FIGHT OUTSIDE.” My friend Danny said as he came rushing into the bar. Everyone loves a fight so the whole bar started rushing outside to watch.

  “Why not?” I said to Al as we got up to casually go watch whatever was happening. There was definitely some action outside. One of the locals from the bar was in the middle of the street slugging it out with the Chinese guy. The tall one was in the middle of the street challenging anyone who wanted to step up and fight.

  “YOU’RE ALL GONNA DIE!!!” The girl who was with them started screaming, “YOU”RE GONNA DIE! YOU HEAR ME?” She screamed pretty loud I think everyone heard her.

  I walked over to Red.

  “What happened?” I asked him.

  “I don’t know. All of a sudden they said they were disrespected and they wanted to fight. They are from the Navy.” Red said. Red has never been in a fight in his life.

  The Mexican guy was now bouncing up and down and shadow boxing in front of my friend Frank. Frank is very mellow. He was holding his little dog in his arms. He had this little scraggly Benjy type of dog that he rescued. He took it everywhere with him.

  “Mano y mano. Mano y mano.” The Mexican guy kept saying to Frank while he bounced up and down shadow boxing. He kept swinging near Frank’s face.

  “I got a better idea. How about I just watch you get knocked out.” Frank stepped up off the street on to the sidewalk and Danny started yelling at everyone.

  “Get out of the street. DL is gonna handle it.”

  “What is wrong with you?” I asked Danny.

  “Get ‘em.” Danny said. If you know Danny then you know he is nutso bat shit crazy, but in a good way.

  “What seems to be the problem?” I said to the Mexican guy as I walked into the middle of the street. He kept bouncing up and down and shadow boxing like he was Sugar Ray.

  “Mano y mano. Mano y mano.” Was all he kept saying

  “No problem. Here I am.” I said. I kept advancing toward the guy and he kept backing up.

  “I’m not gonna chase you dude. Let’s hammer it out.” I said. We were standing in the middle of the street with the whole bar outside watching.

  “Mano y mano. Mano y mano.”

  The really tall guy was still standing in the middle of the street waiting for someone to fight with. This is all happening about two blocks from a police sub station and you can bet that not going back to jail was already on my mind. I kept advancing toward the Mexican guy slowly looking for that knockout punch. A car turned up the block and it was my friend Russell and his girl and they were in the middle of an argument. They were always in the middle of an argument which didn’t always leave Russell in the best mood. One thing about Russell, he aint no joke. This is a real deal blue collar working man. He’s a Captain on a fishing boat and he is salty. You can bet being out on the ocean day in and day out will make a man tough. And Russell was already tough. With a knock out punch that can’t be beat.

  As he pulled up he slowed down a little because there were a bunch of people in the street. I saw his face as he looked at the situation. As soon as he saw me he put his car in park right there in the middle of the street, got out and walked up to the big guy.

  “What’s happening?” and before the guy could answer Russell knocked him out cold. It sounded like a home run hit. The guy was knocked out cold on his feet, he fell down and rolled under a car, this big white a Cadillac that was parked in front. I should have known it was their car. Satisfied, Russell got in his car and parked walked over and watched the rest of the fight with the crowd from the bar. There must have been thirty people watching, the owner and all the bartenders. I thought for sure the cops were going to show up. The Mexican guy was still shadow boxing in front of me.

  “Take a look around.” I said to him.

  “Your one friend is out cold, under the car.” I pointed to the Cadillac where the guy was still laying on the ground. He looed over. The girl was standing next to him but now she wasn’t saying anything. She looked a little spooked.

  “Your other buddy is getting mopped up.” I pointed to his other friend who was now being beaten across the head with a full face helmet that Danny was swinging on him over and over.

  As soon as he looked in that direction I slammed him with a right. He went down like a bag of chips. Out. Cold.

  Russell looked at me from the crowd with one glance that said, ‘That’s enough. Get outta there.’ I got off the street.

  The big guy that Russell knocked out was awake, but dazed. He was now behind the wheel of the Cadillac. The girl was now screaming “WE”VE GOT TO GET OUT OF HERE.” Her tune had changed. The other guy who was fighting Danny woke up the Mexican guy who jumped up and started shadow boxing again.

  “Mano y mano. Mano y Mano.”

  “Lets go. You got knocked out.” They told him as they stuffed him in their car.

  “Who? Me?” he couldn’t believe he got knocked out. I couldn’t believe the cops didn’t show up.

  “Just like old times.” Al said.

  “Just like old times.” I said.

  I sat there and drank with my pals all night and went home wasted. And when I woke up I strapped my bikes in the trailer, packed up everything in my motorhome and took off for California.

  74

  Being someone who has driven across this country and a few others, a drive is a drive is a drive. I had a great stereo system installed in my motorhome and I don’t think I turned it on even twice. I had too much to think about. The race is on. The dream was alive. Again.

  I had a place to land in Oakland and I was going to stop along the way and visit the movie producer guy John in Santa Barbara. We had become good friends by now so it was going to be a welcome stop. I had sent him a script I had written and he was going to tell me what he thought about it. After writing scripts for years I was excited about the possibilities of where one could go. Or at least hearing it straight from someone who really makes movies.

  Everything happens when it is supposed to, if it is supposed to at all. I had learned to take my time and look around. To see what is around me, but on a higher level. I felt it was symbolic that I was passing the ‘Welcome to California’ sign at six a.m. as the sun was just starting to come up. The signs are out there if you can see them. And once in a while you get a gift. I still look at that sunrise that morning as a gift.

  I drove straight through, no stops. That’s the beauty of a motorhome. A quick cat nap at the rest stop and I was back on the road again. I made it to Santa Barbara in three days and three nights which is good time. Especially when you aren’t speeding. That’s just straight driving time.

  I stopped at John’s ranch for a day and rested from the drive. I w
asn’t going to spend a lot of time there. The next day after lunch he took out my script.

  “I had a look at this.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think I can help you.” He then took out his pen and started making big notes on each page.

  “Don’t need this. Nope. Not this either.” He would cross off big sections of the script.

  “What are you doing?” I said. I had never seen anyone do that to my work. It might happen, but I had never seen it.

  “This is how it’s done.” And he continued to cross off what he didn’t like and make notes along the way. He circled a scene.

  “Here you go. Here’s a good scene. This has to be moved closer to the front.”

  “Closer to the front?”

  “Yes. Don’t freak out. This is how it’s done.” I had no idea at the time but he really was helping me. Making movies aint easy. If it was everyone would be doing it. I reached into my bag and pulled out another script.

  “What’s that?’

  “A motorcycle movie I’m writing called ‘The MC’.”

  “Good title.”

  “Wanna see it?”

  “Fix this one first.” I took the scripts and put them away. I was a little discouraged, I thought it would be much easier.

  When it got a little cooler I said goodbye and I got back on the road. I didn’t want to get to Oakland too late.

  Driving up the 101 as the sun set on the ocean felt like the perfect way to start this part of my journey. I had been preparing my mind and heart for what was coming at for my entire life.

  Every time anything happened for the past few years I would ask myself, ‘how does this apply?’ How would this matter later? Well later was now. I got to Oakland and the young brother met me and showed me to my room. I laid on my bed that night, the roof was leaking on me, and in five other spots, and I was happier than I had ever been.

  75

  I moved into a big house that a few Brothers lived in. There were brothers living all around me in the neighborhood that I lived in in East Oakland. After doing so much growing up in the city I felt right at home in the Bay area. I used to always wear Raider gear in Miami growing up.