Efrain's Secret (30 page)

It’s almost one in the morning, and I’ve been out here since seven. With the SAT next weekend, I tried to study for those four hours after school in the library, but my head wasn’t in it. Even when the money flows, my heart isn’t into this hustle these days either. Every time a car rolls up, I relive the sweep and fall back. But the charges over our heads slow no one’s roll but mine, so occasionally I get aggressive with the foot traffic just to keep suspicions at bay.

Hunts Point becomes my escape from the midnight showing of the melodrama du jour at Nestor’s apartment. Now Claudia is accusing Robby of messing around with Marlene. Last night I had to listen to Nestor fantasize aloud about actually catching them in the act so he can call the cops on Robby or kill him, depending on how he feels in the heat of that moment. Let me be on the street when that happens. In fact, sometimes I don’t mind being out here, and it isn’t because of the money. I chop it up with Nestor, LeRon, and the other guys, allowing me to forget that I might have shot the lights out on my future. On the streets, we talk light and laugh hard, never looking any further than when the next blockbuster will hit theaters or Nike will release the latest Jordans.

But now it’s time to call it a night. “I’m out,” I say. “I’m too through with this cold.”

Nestor tightens the strings of his hood. “I’ll walk you to the
train.” We walk to the corner of Bruckner and wait for the light. “So, E., when do you take that test?”

The question throws me. We never discuss college unless I bring it up. “This Saturday.” I fake a laugh. “Too soon.”

“No matter how you score, you’re still going to college, you feel me? Don’t forget our pact.”

“No doubt.” I rub my hands and blow on them. The light changes, and we start across the expressway.

“If you don’t get into Harvard, go to Hunter,” says Nestor. “Just the other day, I was reading in the
Post
that it’s one of the best public colleges in the country.”

“Word?” And for some reason, the news actually gives my heavy heart the tiniest lift.

“If you’re gonna be the first Hispanic mayor, you have to go to college, man,” says Nestor. “No ifs, ands, or buts about it, bro.”

He’s so adamant, I have to laugh. “If I’m going to be the first Hispanic mayor, I need to quit slinging, kid.”

But Nestor is mad serious about this. “No worries, E. I keep telling you, that little arrest ain’t going to hurt you none. You’re only seventeen. Chances are they’ll… What do they call that when they throw out your criminal record?”

“Expunge.”

“Yeah, they’re going to expunge that shit, so forget about it.”

“But how do I know that when I’m on the campaign trail, someone like LeRon won’t try to blow up my spot?” The dream of becoming the mayor of New York City is so out of reach, I can afford to clown the possibility. “Yeah, he’s going to wait until I run to get some payback and put a brother on blast to the New York
Daily News
for calling him Frazzle.”

Nestor laughs. “Nah, man, LeRon likes that Frazzle mess. You’d be lucky if he came to you with his hand out. Pay him off
and call it a day. It’d be worse if the dude actually wanted you to give him, like, a job!”

I run with that. “I’d hook up LeRon, no doubt. Maybe I give him a job with Children’s Services, you know, entertaining the kids in group homes or something.” Nestor busts out laughing. “You didn’t think I was going to make him the commissioner of something, did you?”

Nestor laughs so hard, he has to lean on me. That gets me started. We stumble a few paces, holding each other up like two drunks. He finally says, “But you’d look out for me, though, right, E.?”

“Yeah, kid, I got you.”

“I’m not saying make me a commissioner or anything. But you could hook me up with a little somethin’, right? They ain’t gonna expunge my record, but you could still grant me a mayoral pardon or whatever.”

“Don’t count that out, Nestor,” I say as I remember something I learned in my criminal law elective last year. “Under certain conditions, you might be able to file a petition in court to have your criminal record expunged even if you’re no longer a minor.”

Nestor’s eyes glow in the beam of the street lamp. “Word?”

“Yeah, but you gotta, like, become a model citizen and whatnot.”

“I can do that.”

“Yo!”

We stop in our tracks and turn toward the bark. Julian, Lefty, and three more of his boys cross the boulevard on a diagonal. “Go ahead, E.,” says Nestor. “I got this.”

As much as I want to jet, I can’t leave Nestor alone in this situation. “He wants me,” I say, the truth burning sour in my dry mouth. “Dude’s been trying to get at me for a minute.”

“Well, tonight’s not his night, so go home.”

But a mixture of fear and loyalty freezes me in place. Julian and his boys touch down on our curb and slow their swagger. They stop a few yards from us, and as if moving on instinct, Nestor steps in front of me. “What’s up, Julian?”

“Fall back, nigga,” he says. “This ain’t with you.”

“Any beef you’ve got with Scout you got with me,” says Nestor.

I come out from behind Nestor to stand beside him. “Why you got beef with anybody is beyond me,” I say. My heart pounds as if it wants to leap out of my mouth and scurry for safety. “Ain’t nobody knocking your hustle.”

Julian steps closer to me, his finger pointing above my head. “Your very presence knocks my hustle, son.” Lefty sneers at me, and I just know he’s the reason behind the static on street. No matter what Nestor wants to believe, I think he’s the police informant, and my arrival on the block made it easy to point everyone’s suspicions in my direction. Lefty has it in for Snipes, and I bet anything he isn’t even that loyal to Hinckley. I have no idea what game he’s running. All I know is that I’m not playing anymore.

I find the courage to say, “Look, bro, I don’t know what y’all heard about me, but I think you should question the credibility of your sources.” Lefty sucks his teeth, but Julian’s eyes flicker. He’s actually considering what I’m telling him. “Why do you keep checking for me when I’m not the one jumping back and forth across the street?”

“Real talk,” says Nestor.

Lefty yells, “Yo, J., I know you ain’t gonna let this Boy Scout son you, man!”

Julian snaps, “I check for you ’cause I don’t like the cut of your jib.”

Cut of my jib? Dude’s been watching too many pirate movies. Charge it to my nerves, but this picture of Julian as Captain Jack Sparrow flashes into my head, and I start to laugh. The harder I try to stop, the more I laugh, and Nestor gets it because he mumbles
Yaaar!
under his breath.

“You see that?” Lefty says to Julian. “That’s what I’m talking about right there.”

I collect myself barely in time to see Julian reach into the back of his waistband for a chunk of silver metal.

Nestor sees it, too, and before I can yell, he leaps on top of me. A girl’s scream from across the street, the
pop-pop-pop
of Julian’s gun, the fading thud of his posse’s kicks against the pavement—everything that occurs in those seconds lashes into my brain. A burn rips through my side as Nestor’s weight slams against my chest. My hip cracks as our bodies hit the cold pavement.

“Yo, E.?” Nestor sounds as if he’s the one with a hundred twenty-five pounds pinning him to the ground. “E., you all right?”

“I’m straight,” I lie. The pain in my side bustles toward the back of my head, which just bounced off the street. “You?” All I can see is the sooty underpass of the Bruckner Expressway above us.

“I’m good.” He tries to laugh, and that’s how I know he’s lying, too. “But, yo, I think it’s time we found another line of work.”

This time I let Nestor have his way. “Word is bond,” I say.

“Nah, man,” says Nestor, more for himself than to me. “Word is
born.”
I wait for Nestor to laugh again, but if he does, I can’t hear him over the sounds of sirens and screaming. Then I don’t hear anything more.

Compunction
(n.)
distress caused by feeling guilty

I see nothing yet feel everything. When I try to shift my mind off the pain in my side, I realize that my entire back aches. Only pain exists behind the darkness of my eyes, so I make the mistake of opening them.

My mother, her eyes red and swollen, nestled in crow’s feet. She realizes that I’ve come to and sobs out my name and strokes my hair. Rubio appears behind her. That smile—the same one that tells me he knows something I don’t—fades onto his face. Then the images fast-forward to Nestor sitting in his leather slice of heaven with the same smile only to settle into slow motion. Four shadows crossing the boulevard. Julian’s scowl. A flash of silver. The underpass of the Bruckner Expressway. A flattened wad of gum on the concrete. The darkness again. I flutter my eyes to chase it away.

“Nestor?” I ask. “How is he?”

My mother lets out another sob, and Rubio walks away.

I close my eyes again, yearning for the darkness now. With it comes one of Nestor’s urban legends. He and I are on an elevator with Mrs. Colfax. We are men in suits, she an old lady clinging to her purse. I am the mayor of New York, he is my chief of staff, and we laugh at her failure to recognize us. The elevator stops, and Mrs. Colfax flees. We laugh at her some more, Nestor doing his little dance. The elevator stops again, and I step off. I turn around
to say something to Nestor, who is still in the car. Suddenly the doors slam shut and the car plunges, Nestor’s screams fading as it plummets down the shaft. Even though he is already gone, I lunge for him as if I can still save him. Instead, I fall into the shaft, hanging by one hand for my life, my side tearing, my voice echoing Nestor’s name.

I wake up alone in the dark, calling his name and gripping the bloody bandages over my side.

Acquiesce
(
v
.) to agree without protesting

A few days later, they let the kids see me.

First, Awilda comes with Serenity and the baby. As Junior sleeps on the shoulder of my good side, Serenity bombards me with questions about what happened. “Serenity, that’s so damn rude,” Awilda yells. “You’re embarrassing me.”

At first, I dodge the questions, patting Junior’s back and thinking about Nestor. He was so wrong about what makes a man. Nes wasn’t a man because he took care of his family by any means necessary. He was a man because he cared enough about them to come home every night. Being there to soothe Melo’s nightmares and not being too macho to kiss him, that’s what made Nestor a man. He was a man for blocking men like Robby who would take advantage of his sisters. Only a man could recognize, never mind appreciate, GiGi for being as smart as she was pretty. I hope Nestor realizes he was wrong and is doing his laugh dance all the way to heaven.

I finally tell Serenity one of Nestor’s urban legends. She eats it up, at one point yelling, “No! That’s not true. You got that from a movie or something.” She can’t help but giggle, wanting to believe every word I say.

“You’re right. I’m making it up,” I say.
The truth is worse
. “Still, you don’t want to end up like me, so listen to your mother.” I don’t care if she only did it to gain favor with Rubio, and she will
never hold a candle to my mother, but Awilda is here. Not Chingy. Not Candace. Awilda, and she brought Serenity and Junior with her. And as if she can read my mind and wants to prove her sincerity, she says, “We have to go now, Serenity, so give your brother a kiss and tell him that you’ll see him tomorrow.”

Then Mandy comes. She just bursts into my room and leaps on my bed. “Efrain!”

“Ow, kid!”

Moms appears breathless in the doorway. “Amanda!”

“It’s okay, Mami.” The first time my mother let me hold her, I was six, my sister about five months. The family kept telling me
You’re a big brother now, Efrain. It’s your job to look out for your sister
. They put it in my head that I now had some responsibility for Mandy that was different but just as important as my parents, and yet no one would allow me to hold her. I finally complained to my mother, and she called me over and showed me how to hold Mandy, cupping my hand behind her neck to support her soft, tiny head. She felt so heavy in my arms, but the sense of obligation to protect her had been drilled into me. Even though my arm had fallen asleep, my legs were tired, and the small of my back was aching, I refused to put down my sister.