Eastside (15 page)

Romeo jabbed his finger at Travon's face. “Don't you ever again put your fuckin' lips together and call
my
brother a murderer!”

He turned and stormed into the house, leaving a shocked Travon to digest what he had just been told. Travon turned to Marcus, searching for answers. Marcus just walked away.

The fact that Marcus could not face him told him enough. He too walked into the house. He ran up the stairs and into his bedroom, where he closed the door.

Travon seated himself on the edge of his bed, and then opened his nightstand drawer. He removed his massive Desert Eagle fifty magnum handgun, placed the weapon to his temple, and slowly squeezed the trigger.
Click
.

Travon squeezed the trigger once again, and again nothing happened. Angrily, he threw the weapon against his bedroom wall, and then buried his face into his pillow, where he cried himself to sleep.

The Next Day
Aunt Vera's House

“C'mon, Tre,” Marcus shouted through the bedroom door. “We gonna go up to Caesar's on New Braunsfels and peep out that nine-eight.”

“Come in,” Travon told him.

Marcus opened the door and stood just inside of the doorway. Travon was sitting on his bed. He still wore the previous day's clothing.

“Shit, we ain't got no wheels,” Travon told him. “How are we gonna get there?”

“Robert Jr. got his car,” Marcus told him. “Him, Ace, and Frog are downstairs right now.”

Travon bolted from his bed. “Frog! What the fuck?” He quickly gathered his tennis shoes from the floor. “All right, here I come!”

Marcus smiled, and closed the door behind him. Travon retrieved his handgun from off of the floor. He was glad that Marcus had not noticed it, because he would have hated the questions that would have followed. He had no answers for them. Besides, yesterday was a day that he desperately wanted to forget.

Travon took several extra clips from his nightstand drawer, and stuffed them in his pockets. Then he reached beneath his mattress and grabbed four of the thousand dollar wads that he kept hidden there. He placed the money rolls into his already bulging pockets and then bounded down the stairs and out of the door.

“What's up, Jr.?” Travon greeted his cousin. “What's up, Ace?”

Robert Jr. turned to see who had spoken to him. “What's up, kinfolk?” he asked, after seeing that it was Travon.

Ace nodded. “What's up, Tre?” He greeted his friend with a broad smile.

“Shit, nothing,” Travon replied. “Where's Frog?”

“He's in the car,” Robert Jr. told him.

Marcus bounded out of the front door. “Y'all ready to bail?”

Robert Jr. nodded. “Yeah, let's go.”

The boys walked down the front porch steps to Robert Jr.'s small gray Hyundai and climbed inside. Travon slid into the backseat.

“What's up, my nigga?” Travon shouted to Frog, who was seated in the front passenger seat, fiddling with the radio.

“Shit, nothing, Blood!” Frog replied, turning and raising up in his seat.

Travon leaned forward and the two boys embraced.

“What have you been up to?” Travon asked.

Frog shrugged his thin, knobby shoulders. “Shit, nothing but chilling. Trying to get my shit straight.”

Robert Jr. started his car, and the boys headed for Caesar's auto lot.

“Man, I ain't seen you since you left the Courts and went to Cali,” Travon told Frog. “Man, how was it?”

Frog shook his head and smiled. “Shit, same as here. I liked it. Fine-ass bitches, and hardheaded-ass niggaz killing each other. You know how it is, the world is a ghetto, baby! Ain't nothing changing but the location and the name.”

Travon nodded. “I hear you, fool. Trust me, I hear you.” He turned and peered out of the window. “So, how long have you been back?”

“For about a month now,” Frog told him. “I got me a little shorty now. He and his momma came back with me.”

Travon sat up in his seat. “Bullshit! You ain't got no muthafuckin' kid, nigga!” He slapped Frog across his shoulder. “I doubt if yo ugly ass even got some pussy yet!”

The boys laughed.

“Yeah, man, I seen his little shorty.” Ace nodded. “He looks just like this nigga.”

Travon shook his head. “Damn, that's fucked up. Why you do that kid like that?”

“Nigga, fuck you!” Frog told Travon. “I'ma handsome muthafucka!”

The boys laughed and talked until finally; they arrived at the car lot. It was a small mom-and-pop car lot, consisting of a trailer, the surrounding parking lot, and about ten to fifteen cars ranging in ages from three to more than ten years old.

“I see that muthafucka now!” Marcus told them, pointing out the Oldsmobile.

“Damn!” Travon said excitedly. “That muthafucka
is
clean!”

“Hell yeah,” Robert Jr. added.

The boys climbed out of the Hyundai and walked to where the Oldsmobile was parked. They surrounded the car and examined the body for any dints or dings.

“He only wants two grand for it?” Ace asked, peering at the sticker. “Shit, Tre, that's a win.”

“Man, it is on hit,” Frog added.

The door to the trailer swung open and a short chubby gentleman with an oily S-Curl strutted out. He was forty-something, with graying strands of hair interspersed within the black. He flashed a quick grin at his potential customers, displaying a rather shiny gold tooth sitting prominently in the front of his mouth.

“You like that one, huh?” Caesar asked.

“I'll give you fifteen hundred dollars for it, right now,” Travon told him.

The salesman shook his head, declining Travon's offer. “I can't go no lower than two thousand for it. The A/C blows cold, has power everything, and it even has a power sunroof.”

Travon nodded. “All right then, I'll give you eighteen hundred for it.”

The salesman folded his arms, lifted his hand to his chin, and thought about the offer for several moments. “I think I can swing eighteen hundred. But you have to pay for the title change and get it done yourself.”

Travon shrugged. “Cool.”

“What's your name, son?” the salesman asked.

“Tre.”

Caesar nodded toward the trailer. “C'mon inside and we'll do some paperwork. Do you wanna take her out for a spin first?”

“No,” Travon shook his head. “My kinfolk says that it's all right.”

“Do you wanna start her up and hear how she sounds?” Caesar asked. “That motor is so quiet, you'll forget that the car is running.”

Again, Travon shook his head. “Naw, it's cool.”

Caesar led Travon into the trailer, leaving the others to look around and examine the other vehicles on the lot. Caesar seated himself behind his cheap faux-wood desk, while Travon took the metal folding chair opposite him.

“You look kind of young. Whose name are you gonna put this car in?”

“My aunt's,” Travon told him. He pulled out his money, counted out eighteen hundred dollars, and handed it to Caesar.

“Okay.” Caesar stood. “That's about all the paperwork we really need to take care of.” He pulled a pair of keys off of a key holder that was mounted on the trailer wall, and tossed them to Travon. “I want you to take this title and the bill of sale that I'm going to give you, and go down to the title office. There, pay the tax on your vehicle, and the fee, and then you're straight. But you'll need to take your aunt down there with you; don't forget that.”

Travon nodded and rose. “All right, cool. Hey, I appreciate your help. I'll holler at you another time.”

“Thank you,” Caesar told him. “It's good doing business with you. If you have any other partners looking for some wheels, shoot 'em my way.”

“I'll do that,” Travon told him, exiting the office.

“Hey, you forgot your bill of sale!” Caesar told him.

Travon turned and hurried back to the trailer door, where Caesar handed him the sales slip.

“You'll need to take that with you, don't forget,” Caesar told him.

“Alright,” Travon replied. He turned, and hurried over to his newly purchased vehicle, beaming with the pride of a new father. “I'm going to put some humps in it right now!”

“Aw shit!” Frog shouted. “Don't do it like that, Tre! Look at my homie Tre balling!”

“I'ma roll with you,” Marcus declared.

“Me too,” Frog told him.

“Say Jr., when you hear me coming through the hood pounding, just pull your shit over and cut the stereo off,” Travon told his cousin with a gigantic smile.

Robert Jr. smiled back, and then shot Travon the finger.

The boys piled into their vehicles, and Travon headed for the stereo shop, just off of Interstate 35. Robert Jr. followed just behind. The boys were caught by a traffic light at the intersection of New Braunsfels and Houston Street. On one corner of this busy thoroughfare sat a liquor store, on another sat a pawn shop. An H.E.B. grocery store occupied one of the corners, while a Jack in the Box fast-food restaurant sat on the other.

“Tre! Tre!” Marcus tapped frantically at his cousin's shoulder.

Travon peered over his shoulder at Marcus. “What's up?”

Marcus pointed. “Look who just got out of the car at Jack in the Box!”

Travon turned toward the hamburger joint. It was Re-Re, with a female companion.

Travon rolled down his window and waved his hand frenetically, in order to get Robert Jr.'s attention. Robert lifted his hand into the air asking his cousin what he wanted. Travon activated his right turn signal, turned, and then made a quick left up into the parking lot of the restaurant. Robert Jr. followed.

The boys parked, climbed out of their vehicles, and met in the parking lot.

“That's the muthafucka from Pletz Park,” Travon explained. “He's one of the ones that pulled straps on us and made us catch out.”

“If it wasn't for him, Romeo wouldn't have gotten shot, because we wouldn't have had to wreck shit,” Marcus added.

“What do y'all want to do, kill that nigga in broad daylight?” Robert Jr. asked.

“We can make it look like a robbery,” Ace suggested.

Travon shook his hands like an umpire calling an out. “Naw, we still one up on them niggaz. I just want to make him bow down and catch out, like he did us.”

Robert Jr. knew that they were about to play a dangerous game. He lived by the maxim, “
You don't pull out a gun, unless you're going to use it.”
He was the most experienced of the boys present, and he far outranked them. But still, he acquiesced.

“Okay.” Robert shrugged.

“Let's mob,” Marcus said, leading them inside.

Re-Re and his girl were just sitting down with their food, when Travon and the boys approached. Travon took the seat next to the girl, while Marcus seated himself next to Re-Re. Robert Jr. seated himself at the table directly across from them, Ace found a seat next to Travon, and Frog occupied a booth just behind Re-Re. They had him surrounded.

“What's up, Re-Re?” Travon asked. He placed his arm around the shoulder of Re-Re's female companion. “Hey, baby, what's up? What's your name?”

“Nikki,” she replied bashfully.

Re-Re had been stunned into silence. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his mouth hung open. Fear prevented him from speaking.

“Close your mouth,” Frog told him. He too was a former classmate of Re-Re. “You're attracting flies.”

“What's in the bag, Re-Re?” Marcus asked. He lifted the sack from the table and began rummaging through it. “Ooooh, fries! I love Jack in the Crack's fries!” Marcus began to eat the French fries one by one.

“Don't be rude, Marcus,” Travon told him. “Give the lady her food.”

“What's yours?” Marcus asked her.

“The chicken sandwich and some fries,” Nikki answered. She lifted her drink from the table and sipped from it.

Marcus rumbled through the bag and found her food.

“This one must be yours, Re-Re,” Travon said, reaching for the remaining cup on the table. He lifted the cup and swirled the contents around. “Mmmm, milkshake. I'll tell you what. If it's strawberry, I'll let you eat your food before I kill you. But if it's chocolate, we'll eat your food before we kill you.”

Marcus leaned over and spoke directly into Re-Re's ear. “Either way, you're gonna die, ass wipe.” He handed Nikki her food.

Travon lifted a straw from the table and removed the paper wrapping from around it. He inserted the straw into the cup.

“I hope that it's chocolate, Re-Re, because I am kinda hungry.” Travon lifted the cup to his lips and sipped. “Bingo! It's chocolate!”

Marcus took Re-Re's hamburger, tore it in two, and handed Travon half. They immediately began to wolf the burger down.

Robert Jr. rose, walked to where Re-Re was seated and began searching him. Re-Re had no weapons on him, so Robert Jr. reseated himself. Travon and Marcus devoured the burger and then Travon leaned to his side and kissed Nikki on her cheek. He turned and faced Re-Re.

“Who's on top now, muthafucka?” Travon asked. He pulled from his waistband the massive fifty magnum Desert Eagle he carried, and placed the weapon on the table just in front of him.

Robert Jr. pulled out his Taurus nine-millimeter and held it in his hand, just in case Re-Re managed to grab hold of Travon's weapon.

“Can you say BSV is on top?” Travon asked Re-Re. “Come on; let me hear you say BSV.”

Marcus, who was seated next to Re-Re, nudged him in his side. Re-Re jumped and passed gas loudly.