No Justice No Peace (13 page)

For the next several days, I stayed at Al’s place.  He owned some property on the Southside of St. Louis, and once he cleared out one of his houses, he agreed to let me stay there for a little of nothing. I kicked him out a lil something extra, and since I agreed to have the placed fixed up, we called it even. 

            Always wanting to have the finer things in life, I had the place fixed up to my likings.  It was a brick house that started at the living room, worked its way through the kitchen and had two separate bedrooms in the far back. The master bedroom had a bath and there was another bathroom in the hallway right next to the kitchen. Shiny hardwood flooring covered the floors and light beige paint decked out the walls  The house wasn’t nothing to brag about, but for now, it was surely a place I could call home.  Once I had my Italian leather living room furniture delivered, my 72” TV and booming entertainment center, I felt better.  I knew I wouldn’t feel completely at home until I had my bedroom in order, and after my king-sized gray and black marble bedroom set was delivered, I was pretty much satisfied.  Now, the only thing I had to work on was getting Desmon to come live with me.  I’d called him a few times but he wouldn’t talk to me.  As soon as he heard my voice, he told me never to call him again and hung up on me. 

            I couldn’t believe after all of the progress I’d made with him, it turned out to be a waste of time.  I knew he was more than angry with me for putting my hands on Ginger and I could only imagine what her face looked like after I’d punched it—twice.  Thing is, I still didn’t have no regrets.  The only thing I regretted was allowing my son to see me that angry. Ginger, though, she had it coming.  For now, I’d hoped she was trying to figure out a way to get my back to me.  If she didn’t come up with it by Sunday, she’d fasho have to pay again.

            When Saturday rolled around, I knew Desmon’s school was in the playoffs.  The game was at the Edward Jones Dome and I’d already gotten my ticket earlier on in the week.  I didn’t care if he knew if I was there or not.  I was anxious to see him do his thing so I had every intention of being there.  I was also sure Anna would be there, but since I knew she was upset with me for lying to her, I intended not to pursue her.  As far as I was concerned, the pussy was cool while it lasted.  I didn’t have much more time to stress out over females and their bullshit.  Being with them caused too much drama for me, and my number one priority was mending my relationship with Desmon.

            It was chilly outside, so I wore my hooded sweatshirt, jeans and Timberlands.  I looked at my gun on the dresser and hesitated to take it with me.  I hoped nothing bad went down, but just in case, I slid it down inside the front of my pants. 

            On the drive to the game, my phone rang so I turned down the rap music on the radio to answer.  It was Rufus.  There was much static in my phone so I really couldn’t hear.

            “What you’d say, Killer?  I can’t hear you.”

            “Nigga, I said that I’m in the Lou!  Where yo punk ass at?”

            I smiled, as I clearly heard him tell me he was in St. Louis. “I’m on my way to Desmon’s game.  Why don’t you meet me there?”

            “That’s cool.  So, you and the kid still getting along pretty good, huh?”

            “Naw, not really.  But, just meet me in front of the Dome.  I can’t wait to see ya.  You know it’s been…”

            “A long fuckin’ time!” he laughed.  “So long, that I can’t even remember.”

            “Shit, me either.  I should be at the Dome in about fifteen minutes.  I’ll call you back after I find a place to park.”

            “See ya soon, partna.”

            The parking lots were filled to capacity.  I parked damn near a quarter of a mile away from the Dome and still had to pay twenty dollars for parking.  Rushing, I hurried towards the front entrance and called Rufus to let him know I’d made it.  After I gave him directions, he said he was on his way. 

            Teenagers were all over the place.  I waited patiently for Rufus, and when somebody came up from behind and poked me in the back, I knew it was him.

            “This a hold up, nigga.  Give me all of yo money.”

            I turned around and smiled. “What’s up, Killer,” I said, giving him a hug.  We embraced each other and Rufus gave me a few pats on my back.  Shortly after, we let go.

            “Man, I can’t believe it’s you,” he said.  “Look at you, nigga.  How in the fuck did you get so big?”

            “The exercise yard while in prison.  Look at yo ass, though.  You than tightened up too.  And, what’s up with that fro?”

            Rufus patted his Afro that was at least eight to nine inches high. “Do you like?  If you don’t, my girlees do.”  He smiled and his front grill was solid gold.  He was the oldest of the bunch, and almost thirty-nine, you’d never know it by the way he looked and dressed. 

            “So,” he said looking around. “How do I get a ticket?” 

            “Shit, I don’t know.  I think you had to get them before the game, but let me see what’s up.” 

            I walked over to the ticket booth and the lady behind it said that no tickets were for sale.  Wanting Rufus to watch the game me with me, I stopped this young dude outside and asked to purchase his ticket.  At first he said no, but when I offered to give him two hundred dollars for it, he took the money and jetted.  Rufus and me laughed.

            “You might have changed and so have I,” he said. “But the power of money for damn sure hasn’t.”

            “You got that shit right,” I said as we headed up the escalators to find our seats. 

            Rufus’ Afro was so huge that it was hard for us to go unnoticed. Everywhere we walked, people’s eyes roamed and many stared.  Rufus liked the attention, and when we took a seat, this white man behind us joked about not being able to see the game.  He offered Rufus his hat to put on and Rufus found no humor in his joke. 

            “Muthafucka you don’t know me,” he yelled. “Fuck naw, I don’t want yo damn hat!  If you can’t see, take yo ass somewhere else to sit.”

            “Hey, look,” the man said. “I was only kidding.  Can’t you take a joke?”

            “Find somebody else to play with, fool.  I’m not the one.”

The white man and two other fellas who he was with got up and walked away. Rufus stared them down like they’d straight up offended him.

            “Ole, silly fool,” he continued, underneath his breath.

            “Bro, you gon be au-ight?” I asked.  “You seem like you got a chip on your shoulder or something.”

            “Nigga, you know I ain’t too fond of white people.  Ain’t no need to be all fake with me and shit.  That was his way of telling me he didn’t like my damn hair.  And since he didn’t, then it was only best that his ass not be around me.”

            I laughed, and before the game got started, I hipped Rufus to what had been going down.  More than anything, he was angry with me for letting Ginger get away with stealing my money.

            “Trust me, the only reason she hasn’t died is because she’s Desmon’s mother.  If she wasn’t, her ass would be history.”

            “But, man, she’s been doing that shit for years. The bitch is money hungry, and when you’re that hungry, that’s when shit starts to happen.” 

            I nodded, and was happy to see the game get on the way.

            By the end of the first quarter, Desmon had showed his ass!  He had three quarterback sacks and the whole defensive line was hyped up.  His team led fourteen to zero and the game seemed to be going every bit of Desmon’s way.  As the second quarter started, I noticed Anna sitting to the far left of the stadium with I’d guess some of her family.  Shannon, who Desmon took to homecoming, wore his jersey, and his ex-girlfriend, the cheerleader, obviously had an attitude about it.  When Desmon made good plays, she pursed her lips and turned her head.

            During the second quarter, Rufus had gotten a phone call and stepped away to take it.  He was only in town for a few days, and during that time, I offered to let him chill with me. He’d even offered to drop me some of the cash Ginger had taken away from me. Since I’d spent so much on the luxuries I’d bought for the crib that was cool with me. 

            As Desmon continued to handle his business on the field, I sat there proud as hell of him.  I knew he’d someday make it to the pros and I had that much faith in him. Living in East St. Louis was not going to be the end of his story. No way, no how and I would make sure of that.  When Rufus came back, he said that he had to go make a quick run.  Knowing what he was up to, I gave him directions to my crib and told him to meet me there later.  We slammed our fist together and he jetted.

            During halftime, I walked to the concession stand to get some nachos and a soda.  As I stood in the long line, Anna and a lady who resembled her walked up and stood in line too.  She didn’t say anything to me, and I didn’t say anything to her.  I kept completely quiet until the chick that gave me her number a few months ago walked up to me.

            “Kiley, right?” she said.

            I couldn’t remember her name. “Yeah, um…”

            “Marissa.  My name is Marissa. Had you looked at my number on that piece of paper I gave you, you would have known my name,” she smiled.

            “I’m guilty,” I said, holding my arms in the air. “Guilty of throwing your number in the trashcan because I was seeing someone else at the time.”

            “Thanks for being honest.  Did you come here by yourself, or are you with…”

            “Naw, I’m by myself.  I came to watch my son play.”

            “Who’s your son?”

            I really didn’t want to say because I didn’t want nobody to know my business. Still, I was proud and couldn’t help myself.  “Uh, Abrams.  Desmon Abrams.”

            Her mouth hung open. “You’re Desmon’s father?  But I thought…never mind.”

            I was curious about what she thought. “You thought what?  That I was in jail?”

            “No,” she paused, and ordered her food because the lady behind the counter asked for our order.  I ordered mine, and after I paid for both of ours, we walked away.  I gave Anna another glance, before walking away, but she was busy talking.

            “So, what do you know about me,” I asked, as Marissa followed me back to my seat.  She sat next to me and sipped on her soda. She cleared her throat.

            “Let’s just say that way back whenever, Ginger and I used to be tight.  I thought Desmon was my ex-boyfriend’s, Myles, son.  She told me Desmon was his son, after she slept with him behind my back.  But, I can see the resemblances in you and Desmon too. Don’t get me wrong, again, he looks like you, but he got some of Myles features, too.”

            “Hmm,” I said, sitting back in my seat. No doubt, her words threw me for a loop. “So, where’s Myles at now?”

            “Several years ago, he was murdered. I think Desmon was only one or two at the time.  From what I can remember though, Kiley, Myles did use to go see him.”

            I was quiet for a long time and thought about how I really wasn’t around Desmon that much when he was a baby.  I’d been trying to work shit out with Jada and didn’t want her to know I’d had a son.  The only time I did see Desmon was on the weekends, but Ginger never mentioned anything about not knowing who the father was.  If I had known what I know now about her ass, I would’ve had a blood test.  Now, though, it really didn’t matter.  Something wasn’t adding up because Desmon and me had too much in common.  There was no denying him because he looked too much like Kareem, Papa Abrams, and me. If anything, Ginger lied to Marissa and Myles, especially since Desmon always carried my last name.

            “Kiley,” Marissa said. “I hope I didn’t open up a can of worms.  Your girlfriend, ex-girlfriend, or whoever the hell she is to you, she’s a…

            “I know all about Ginger, Marissa.  There’s not much you can say about her that I don’t already know.  By any chance, do you have a picture of this Myles character?”

            “Not on me.  But, if you’d come by my place later, I’m sure I can dig one up for you.”

            “Give me your number again. I have company in town so I won’t call you tonight, but I promise to call you soon.”

            “Would I be intruding if I ask if it’s male or female?”

            “Yes, you would be.”

            She stood up. “Well, if you’re not too busy Sunday night, I’m having a birthday party at Club Classic.  Why don’t you drop in and wish me a happy birthday?”

            “Club Classic…that’s where Ginger works, right?”

            She winked. “You got it.  The same place I saw you at the last time.”

            “We’ll see.  I’ll try to make it,” I said. 

            Shortly after Marissa walked away, the crowd was on their feet as the players came back onto the field.  Again, they were hyped and the score was now twenty-one to seven.  On the second play of the quarter, Desmon sacked the quarterback and he fumbled.  Desmon recovered the ball and as he picked it up to run for the touchdown, another player on the other team grabbed Desmon’s leg and made him fall.  He fell on the turf, and another player twisted his leg back, then came crashing down on it.  I hopped up and so did everyone else in the crowd.  The referee threw the flag down, but Desmon didn’t get up.  I could see he was in dying pain, so I rushed onto the field to see what was up.  Of course, I didn’t make it too far as security was all over me.