Chulito (21 page)

Chulito looked around as if the Grand Concourse would yield an answer. He didn’t know what was next. His thoughts were back in the cottage. He wanted to be there.

Carlos interrupted his thoughts. “Wanna go back to the Vil?”

The “Now whats?” approved, shouted mock hallelujahs and glamorously disappeared into the night.

Carlos shook him. “Well?”

Chulito sat on the bench where they’d first met up. “I can’t. I gotta meet up with Kaz.” He flipped open his cell to check the time and realized that it was later than he thought. “C’mon.” Chulito stepped off the curb to hail a cab.

“Where are we going?”

“Fuck, I gotta get back.” Chulito wished that instead of cabbing it to Hunts Point that he could escape with Carlos. He spoke to the cab driver through the bullet proof partition, “We going to Hunts Point, Garrison Avenue. Swing around and go down to the end of the Concourse and then loop back up along Bruckner Boulevard.”

“That’s the long way, brother. I’m gonna have to charge you more.”

“Whatever.” Chulito wanted to stretch out this time as much as possible. “I ain’t in no hurry. You in a hurry, Carlos?” Carlos shook his head and smiled.

It was a struggle for Chulito to keep his cool. He could still taste Carlos.

The cab sped down the Grand Concourse. On the radio the DJs talked Spanish at a rate that was faster than the local speed limit. Chulito didn’t want to go back to the ’hood because he knew that whatever had just happened between him and Carlos was not going to continue in Hunts Point. But he didn’t know where else to go.

Carlos had one leg up on the seat between them and his head rested on one arm. He looked peaceful in the pinkish streeetlight shining through the back window. The bold multicolored lit signs from the beauty salons, health clinics, and block after block of bodegas that lined the Grand Concourse streaked through the window as the cab whizzed by.

“Wassup?” Chulito managed to squeeze out of his throat.

“Do you have to go meet up with Kamikaze? I want to stay with you.” Carlos offered his hand. Chulito looked at it like something he had never seen before. He checked out the cab driver first, and then slowly reached out and their fingers interlocked, low, out of view from anyone, should the car stop at a red light. And their hands remained that way as the cab passed East Tremont, passed Bronx Lebanon Hospital, passed the Bronx Museum, passed the Bronx County Courthouse, passed the General Post Office and Hostos Community College down to the end of the Grand Concourse and up the ramp toward Bruckner Boulevard.

Chulito wanted to stay with Carlos, too, but as the cab approached Hunts Point, he put on his armor, piece by piece. First he unlocked his fingers from Carlos. Then he moved to the further side of the cab. He sat up in his seat, adjusted the baseball cap he was wearing, sharpened his glare and soon had the “don’t fuck with me or I will fuck you up” look he used to ward off anyone who might think of starting shit with him.

When the cab reached Garrison and Longwood Avenues, Chulito told the cab driver to pull over.

“Wassup, Chulito?”

“Look, nothing personal, but it ain’t gonna look cool if you and I pull up to the building and get out of a cab together.”

“This sucks.”

Chulito was surprised to see how Carlos’ face had changed. His eyes had narrowed to defiant slits and he turned away. Chulito tapped on the bullet proof partition to get the cab driver’s attention. “Stop here, bro.” He wanted to assure Carlos that he too wanted drive far away to a place where he could hold him and tell him that their kiss had ignited feelings which were exploding like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

He didn’t touch Carlos. “Sorry, pa, I’ll check you later, ah-ight?”

Carlos sat frozen.

Chulito slipped him a $20 bill and got out the cab. He stood in the middle of the street and watched the back of Carlos’ head through the rear windshield. Carlos turned to look back at him as the cab continued down Garrison.

Looney Tunes was walking along Longwood coming from the Bruckner. “Yo, Chulito, what chu doin’ standin’ in the street? You high or somethin’?”

“Nah, nigga. I’m headed to The Wedge to meet up with Kaz.”

“So why you gettin’ out the cab here?”

He wondered what else he’d seen.

“I guess I am feeling pretty nice and I just wanted to walk to straighten up a bit, before meeting Kaz. You know, we’s got business.”

“Hey that’s cool, so lemme walk wit chu to The Wedge. I ain’t got nothin’ else to do. Buy me a drink?”

“Damn, Loon, don’t you ever have any money?”

“Nope.”

“C’mon.”

They walked up Longwood Avenue, past the warehouses, as Looney Tunes talked incessantly about all his imaginary women.

With every step Chulito took he remembered that taste of apple.

Chulito was sitting at The Wedge with Looney Tunes, who was feeling up a stripper, when Kamikaze arrived. “You brought this clown?”

“I couldn’t shake him.” Chulito shoved Looney Tunes.

“Stop playin’, yo.” Looney Tunes cupped the strippers bottom. “Gimme a dollar, Kamikaze.”

Kamikaze gave him the middle finger and sat next to Chulito. “Oh, there was some excitement in front of your building. Damian was kicking the shit out of that stupid little pussy faggot.” Kamikaze laughed.

Chulito thought of Carlos and panicked. “What? Who?”

“Forget it, it’s over. How are things here? Any customers?”

“Yep, but Mikey’s not here. What happened on the block?”

Kamikaze waved him off. “Forget it, I said. It’s not important. Just stupid ghetto shit.”

Chulito flipped open his phone and pressed Carlos’ speed dial number. “I told customers that you’d be here, so they waiting on you.”

“Mikey’s a lazy fuck. Where you going?”

“Be right back.” Chulito darted into the bathroom. Once inside he got him on the line. “You O.K., Carlos?”

“Yeah.”

“I heard some shit went down on the block.”

“Damian and Brick had a fight, but I’m O.K.”

“Fuck. Kamikaze said that—” Chulito’s heart beat slowed. “Well, he didn’t mention Brick’s name just called him a pussy faggot and I panicked. Sorry, but you know how niggas speak and I thought…Well, I’m glad you alright. What happened?”

“I got Brick here.”

“Where?”

“My room.”

“What the fuck is he doing in your room? I don’t trust the nigga.” Chulito recalled Brick’s playfulness with Julio and didn’t want him making moves on Carlos.

Looney Tunes knocked on the bathroom door. “Chulito, you stinkin’ up the bathroom? I gotta whizz.”

Chulito leaned against the door. “I’ll be out in a second.” Chulito heard Carlos speaking to Brick. He was saying you’re welcome, no problem, anytime.

“What do you mean by anytime?”

“Brick just left. He’s fine and all that, but you don’t have anything to worry about. You better chill out Chulito.” Carlos took on a playful tone. “Just because you kissed me doesn’t mean you own me. And kiss aside, which was amazing, you still on probation.”

Chulito’s anger melted away. “Is he gone? Does he know it was me on the phone? You can’t be talking like that in front of people.”

“Why not?”

Chuilto cleared his throat. “’Cause I says so. I’m just playin’.”

“You better be. I wish you were here.”

“Me, too, but I gotta work. I’ll call you the minute I’m done. Someone didn’t show up, so Kamikaze had to bring stuff, but I wanna hear what happened. I’m glad you O.K., though.”

“I saw everything as I got here and Brick just told me the rest. And excuse my language, but this neighborhood is fucked.”

“Listen to you. You kiss a thug and getting’ all gangsta.”

Carlos laughed.

“Seriously, Carlos, I don’t trust Brick. He tries to be on the level, but I feel there ain’t something right about him.” Chulito didn’t worry about the white college boys who buzzed around Carlos, but Brick was a thug like him and Chulito didn’t want competition.

“Well, I didn’t really know him until tonight, but he’s pretty cool.”

“You think he’s pretty?”

“Pretty cool. Now finish up with Kamikaze, so I can tell you all about it.”

“You got it.”

It was almost two-thirty A.M. when Kamikaze dropped Chulito off. Chulito could see that Carlos’ light was still on so he called him on his cell. They talked for almost an hour while Carlos told him all about what had happened.

“Apparently, Brick was passing Puti’s window and she had sung, ‘Oh, he’s a Brick. House. He’s mighty, mighty, just letting it all hang out. Ow!’”

Chulito laughed. “That Puti is somethin’ else.”

Carlos continued, “Then he told her to check herself. Meanwhile, Damian and a couple of the auto glass guys were leaning on a parked car that was in between Puti and the corner where the fellas were assembled. Brick passed Damian and pointed to Puti and said something like ‘She’s a loco loca.’ And Damian said ‘I guess she knows a sure thing when she sees it.’ Then he started ribbing Brick because he works for Julio, the super fag.”

Chulito sucked his teeth. “Damian’s a fuckin’ asshole.”

“Well, Damian didn’t let up saying that the rumor in the ’hood was that he bitch slapped Jennifer because she suspected that something was going on between Brick and Julio.”

Chulito didn’t want to hear the rest of the story. It was confirming all his worries about the what the fellas would think if they started seeing him hanging with Carlos again. It didn’t matter if a dude went that way or not, if you hung out with a gay person then you got implicated.

Carlos didn’t stop. Chulito felt as if he was telling him the story to shake him and make sure that he knew what he was getting himself into. “It didn’t help that the fellas start in with laughing and saying, ‘Oh shit you gonna let him say some shit like that to you?’ Brick said that he tried to wave him off, but then Damian started saying that Jennifer told him herself about her doubts and, hear this, then Damian said right to his face that he thinks he’s a faggot, and then said that he, and this is how Brick relayed it, that Damian fucked Jennifer last night. Boom! Brick slammed his right fist into Damian’s head, which knocked him against the parked car and set off the alarm. I love that detail, I have to admit.”

Chulito sighed. “That is some nasty shit. But Damian is like that.” Chulito began to figure that this was a warning. He was going to have to keep things in check with Carlos while in the ’hood.

“So they started brawling and Damian kept calling him a faggot and the guys on the corner got into it. And then that’s when I must’ve arrived because I saw them rolling on the ground and punching each other. It was scary but you know how the ghetto gets when there’s a fight. There were people looking out the windows and a crowd had formed to watch and cheer. Then they got separated and Brick was kneeling on the sidewalk. Damian was being held back by some auto glass guys but he kept yelling, ‘Get up, faggot! Get the fuck up!’”

Chulito felt nervous and started to regret kissing Carlos. “Listen up, Carlos, you gotta be extra careful!”

Carlos reacted to the change in Chulito’s voice. “Are you worried?”

“Yeah, well I was worried for you. But you safe and shit, right?”

“Yes, but it was so wild because I felt that in a way Brick was fighting for us. Damian was acting like it was correct to call Brick out as gay and Brick was defending himself. I know it’s just me projecting, but Brick never said he wasn’t. He just fought back.”

Chulito felt confused. “Hold up. You sayin’ Brick is gay?”

“No, just that it felt good to not hear him denying it like it was wrong. Well, then the police sirens made the crowd break up and something strange happened. As everyone was scurrying away, Brick got up and straightened himself out. He had scrapes on both his elbows, a cut near his ear and his left eye was beginning to swell, but he got himself together. I expected him to run, too, but he looked at me and then turned and went calmly into our building. I saw Damian get into a car with two auto glass guys and he was pretty messed up too—bloody nose, swollen lips and scrapes all on the side of his face.

I walked behind Brick. I wondered where he was going since he didn’t live in our building. Puti held her door open and urged him to come inside but he just shook his head and started walking up the stairs. I kept some distance but I had to go up the stairs, too. When I reached my apartment, I saw that he stopped midway between the second and third floor. He sat on the steps, covered his face with his hands and began to sob.”

Chulito shook his head. “I’m tellin’ you, I don’t trust that nigga. He used you to hide out. He knew the cops wouldn’t find him there. Fucker.”

“Chulito, you better chill with the macho ownership shit. I can take care of myself. Well, when I heard the cop cars screeching in front of the building I invited him in. My moms was asleep, so I took him to the bathroom, gave him some paper towels and showed him the medicine cabinet. I didn’t really know him, but I told him that a friend of La Julio is a friend of mine. Then he said that he appreciated me letting him in because his baby moms has an order of protection out on him and he would have gone to jail if he’d been caught in Hunts Point.”