Disappearing Acts (34 page)

“Yeah, but you couldn’t help me when I needed it for a car.”

“Franklin, the girl was getting evicted. Haven’t you ever been in this kind of position?”

“Yeah. As a matter of fact, I’m in this position right now. Jimmy’s in jail and needs to borrow two fifty and I was gon’ ask if I could borrow it from you—but I guess that’s dead.”

“What’s he in jail for?”

“What difference do it make? Why didn’t Marie pay her rent?”

“I can still lend it to you, Franklin.”

“Where you getting all this money? This ain’t your studio money, I hope.”

“Sort of.”

“Look,
I
can pay your money back, but what about Marie?”

“It’s a chance I’m taking.”

“Yeah, right. When Reginald is ready, and you ain’t got the cash, what you gon’ do then?”

“I’ll have it, don’t worry.”

“I just wanna make sure you get this demo tape, baby. You been working on this thing for a long time, and I don’t wanna see everything go down the drain over some bullshit.”

“It won’t, but sometimes things take longer than you think. You should know that better than anybody, Franklin. And besides, that’s what’s wrong with the world now. We need to exercise more faith in folks, you know?”

“Well, with this new job, together our shit could really kick off. I was thinking, we should try to get outta here by spring—get a bigger place, you know?”

“Why don’t we wait and see how long this one lasts?”

“I hear where you coming from, baby. And you right. I ain’t even gon’ tell you none of the details. I’ma let the paycheck and my union book tell the whole story.”

“Franklin, do me a favor. Understand that it’s not you I don’t have the faith in. It’s them. I’ve seen you get your hopes up so many times, and then the big letdown.”

“I hear you. Oh, by the way, speaking of letdowns, would you mind if my sister spent a few days with us? She’s sorta been under the weather.”

“No, I don’t mind. What’s wrong with her?”

“I don’t know. She’s just been real depressed and
shit, and I figured we could cheer her up. Will you help me, baby?”

“I’ll try.”

“Thanks,” he said, and reached out to hug me. “I’m so glad you came home last night, ’cause I was beginning to wonder who you cared about more—me or your girlfriends.”

“Franklin?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“Tell me again.”

“I love you!”

“Tell me that you’ll never leave me.”

“I’ll never leave you.”

“Even if our shit looks like it’s going down the drain?”

“Even if our shit looks like it’s going down the drain.”

He threw me on the bed and squeezed me. “I love you too,” he whispered. “Yes, I do, I do, I do.”

Kendricks wasn’t bullshitting. I got put on as a concrete worker, which means I’ma spend all damn day building forms, then holding ’em in place, then stripping concrete when it’s finished. But it’s okay. Hell, I’ma be making $13.96 an hour, and I’ll be eligible to join Local 168 after working seven days, if the Italians don’t have no objections. My foreman’s name is Bill. After he saw how good I was—at least how hard I worked—right before quitting, he pulled me aside, away from the other brothers, and said, “Look, Frankie. You mind if I call you Frankie?”

“Naw. Everybody calls me Frankie.”

“Well, if what you showed me today is any indication of how good a worker you are, you can look forward to staying on.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning we’ve got five or six more jobs lined up after this one here, and if you don’t fuck up, have your ass in here on time, do what’s expected of you, and don’t slack off none, you can go places. Be part of the crew—understand what I’m saying?”

“Yeah, I understand.”

“And this is between me and you, not the world—got that?”

“I got it.”

All he meant was I was probably the only black he was even thinking about keeping. These motherfuckers really know how to put you on the spot. But fuck it. I wanna know what it feels like to bring home a paycheck for a few months without no breaks.

As I walked over to the shanty to get out of these dirty clothes, I started wondering if there was any other way to determine your worth as a man besides how much money you make.

*   *   *

One thing I love about Zora is that she keeps her word. The two fifty was laying on the counter, just like she said it would be. That meant she had to get her clothes on, run to the cash machine, then back home, and then back to the subway to get to work. To tell the truth, I don’t know if I’d go through these kinds of changes for any of her friends.

I got the creeps again, being in that jailhouse. No shit. It brought back memories like a motherfucker. I paid Jimmy’s bail and was sitting there waiting for him. Paperwork is a bitch, but it don’t take ’em but a minute to lock your ass up.

I was reading my horoscope in the
Daily News
, when Jimmy thumped me on the head.

“Thanks, brother. I owe you.”

“What you drinking? I wanna know the truth about what went down, man.” I folded my newspaper under my arm, and we left. We stopped in the first bar we came to on Atlantic Avenue.

“Remember Sheila, man?” Jimmy asked.

“I heard you mention her, but I wouldn’t recognize her if I saw her.”

“Anyway, she’s Puerto Rican. I shoulda never wasted my time and money being around her, I swear. Hindsight is a bitch, ain’t it, man?”

“Get to the fuckin’ point, Jimmy.”

“Wait a minute. Why ain’t you drinking?”

“’Cause I just started a new job today, and I don’t need my head to be all fucked up, that’s why.”

“Well, anyway, we got a little set going at Sheila’s pad, and there’s this loud-ass knock on the door, man. Everybody run and shit, start flushing shit down the toilet and what have you, but turns out it ain’t the man, it’s some dude Sheila owe all this money to, and as usual, she ain’t got it. He told Sheila she was dead, and this other dude, Jesús, was sitting in the kitchen, another PR, and he was so fucked up, all he heard was the word ‘kill,’ and he came out through the kitchen like Clint Eastwood and shit and shot the motherfucker.”

“So I don’t get it. Where do you come in?”

“It was my gun, motherfucker.”

“What was he doing with your gun?”

“What difference do it make? The bottom line is, the cops show up out of no-fuckin’-where man—I mean, the motherfucker wasn’t even cold yet—and Jesús split out the kitchen window and leaves the gun and naturally they trace the shit to me. And here I stand.”

“When’s your court date?”

“Sometime the end of next month. You know any good lawyers, man?”

“Me? Be serious. But Zora might. As a matter of fact, one of her girlfriends is a lawyer. I’ll ask her tonight. You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, motherfucker?”

“I swear, Frankie, I ain’t shot no-goddamn-body. I swear. I may do some illegal shit, but I ain’t one for killing motherfuckers. I keep my piece to stop these son-of-a-bitches from misusing me, that’s all. It’s more like insurance.”

“So where you going from here?”

“I don’t know, man, I don’t know.”

“I suppose you broke?”

“Do a Chinese have slanted eyes?”

I took a twenty outta my pocket and gave it to him.

“Thanks, Frankie. I think you about the longest friend I ever had, and considering what I’m into and you all straight and shit, I don’t get it, man.”

“That’s what’s wrong with the world now, dude. We need to have more faith in people, ’specially our friends.”

“Well, I appreciate it. And I ain’t gon’ disappoint you, man. I’ma pay you back.”

“Look, you ain’t gon’ be in the streets and shit tonight, are you, man?”

“Naw, naw, naw. I got lots of places I can go. I just ain’t thought about it yet.”

“Well, you got my number, and call me in a few days, and I’ll find out what Zora can tell me, okay?”

“Bet.”

We both got up and shook hands. I went left. Jimmy went right—only he was still standing at the curb by the time I turned the corner.

*   *   *

“Room 304, please.”

“I’m sorry, sir, there’s no one in that room.”

“Check your records. There should be a Darlene Swift in that room. She ain’t supposed to be released until tomorrow.”

“She was released this morning, sir. Is there something else I can do for you?”

“No,” I said, and hung up. Now, why the fuck she tell me that lie? I picked up the phone and dialed her number but didn’t get no answer. That’s when I decided to call out to my Moms and Pops’ house. If she wasn’t out there, I didn’t know what I was gon’ do. The girl is a schizoid, I swear to God.

“Nnhello.”

Just for the hell of it, I figured I’d be nice and see what happened. “How you doing, Moms?”

“Franklin?”

“You got another son I don’t know about?” I pretended like I was laughing, but she didn’t think it was funny. Once a bitch, always a bitch.

“No, one is quite enough. You wanna talk to your Daddy? He’s right here, hold on.”

“Hello, son. How’ve you been?”

“Fine, Pops. You seen Darlene?”

“Yes, she’s right upstairs. She just got out of the hospital, did you know that?”

“Yeah, I knew it.” She’s such a fucking traitor, I swear to God. Didn’t want me to call ’em, but yet and still she picks up the goddamn phone and not only calls but goes out there.

“She’s not feeling like herself lately and needs to get some rest and relax.”

“And you think she’s gon’ be able to do that out there?”

“Your mother’s doing everything she can to make her comfortable.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

“You want to talk to her, I can call her to the phone.”

“Naw, don’t bother. Just tell her I’m glad she’s okay, and if she needs something, she got my number.”

“I’ll do that son. So tell me—”

“Later, Pops.”

All three of ’em deserve each other, that’s about all I can say.

*   *   *

When Zora walked in the door, I swooped her up in the air.

“What’s going on, Franklin?”

“I’m in like Flynn, that’s what.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“I been thinking.”

“Again?”

“Seriously, baby. Let’s start looking for another place, something where we can both stretch out and do our thang.”

“But you just started working today, Franklin. Don’t you think you’re jumping the gun a little?”

“Naw. I’ma be honest with you, baby. I ain’t never felt like this was
our
place. Your name is the only one on the lease, and if you wanna know the truth, I feel like I’m living with you but it’s still
your
pad.”

“You’ve never said anything like this to me before. Why now?”

I put her down. “Things is changing. Hell, I’ma be going to school, you gon’ be singing and shit. This place is nice, but it’s too small. I feel too damn self-conscious whenever I wanna do some woodworking. I would like to have a room where I can leave the sawdust on the floor without worrying about how the pad looks. Can you understand that?”

“Yeah, I can understand that.”

“So I’ll call up Vinney and tell him we’ll be moving by the end of the month.”

“Franklin, when is Darlene coming over?”

“She ain’t. She changed her mind.”

“Is she okay, or what?”

“Yeah, she’s okay. She’s out to my Moms and Pops’.”

“So where should we look?”

“Park Slope, Cobble Hill, Boerum Hill—anywhere but around here. I’m about fuckin’ sick of these changing neighborhoods. I wanna live on a street where ain’t no damn scaffolds, for a change.”

“We’re going to have to pay for that, you know.”

“So what? There’s a price to pay for everything.”

*   *   *

On payday my check was $569.32. I couldn’t believe that shit, for only a week’s work. But then again, I
been working overtime every single night, and gon’ keep on working it too. I mailed Pam a hundred, paid Zora her two fifty back, and put a hundred in the bank. I kept the rest in my pocket.

For some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to ask Zora about that lawyer friend of hers. As much as I hated to admit it, Jimmy was on his own. I bailed his ass out, and besides, I wanna get away from all this riffraff. Maybe thisa teach his ass a lesson. That it’s time to get away from all them motherfuckers he hang out with and turn his back on dealing dope. Wishful fuckin’ thinking, I know.

*   *   *

During the second week at work, I noticed something funny. Out of the sixteen brothers that got put on, I didn’t see but about four of us on the site now. I wanted to know what the deal was, so I went over to this dude Juney and asked him.

“You talking to the wrong man, brother. All I know is, I’m here, and come Friday, I get paid.”

When I got home from work, I decided to call Kendricks to find out for myself.

“They didn’t work out,” he said.

“What you mean, they didn’t work out?”

“The foreman said they wasn’t doing the work, so he let ’em go.”

“And you believed that shit?”

“Look, Frankie, if the man said they wasn’t doing the work, what am I supposed to do about it?”

“Nothin’,” I said, and hung up.

On payday, Kendricks showed up.

“You trying to get ’em back on, man?” I asked.

“No. I just had some loose ends to tie up.”

They couldn’ta been that loose, ’cause they was tight enough to fit in that brown envelope he left with.

My instincts are telling me that this is going to be a mistake.

Franklin just had to open his big mouth and tell Vinney we’d be out of here by April 1, and Vinney rented the place just like that. So who was the one who had to rush around looking at places because Franklin hasn’t had time? Me. It’s been three and a half weeks now, and not only did he join the union but he’s gone overtime-crazy. I know I shouldn’t complain, because I’ve never seen him so confident and full of energy. But on the other hand, I can’t help but worry about what’s going to happen if he gets laid off. All this time I was under the impression that once he joined the union, all our problems would be over, but I found out that that’s not the case. All the union does is guarantee health benefits and a retirement fund. He can still get laid off.