The Dying Ground (13 page)

“Did you see your assailants?”

“No. They were parked across the street, lights off, motor running. I couldn’t see the license plate.”

“Dark car, motor running. Sounds like a hit,” the officer added.

I didn’t bother to confirm the obvious.

“Was there any trouble in the bar tonight?”

I shook my head. “None.”

“What happened after you noticed the car?”

“I rolled under the Cougar and kept rolling till I was under the Dumpster.”

The officer looked surprised that I’d had the sense to keep myself alive. “Then what happened?”

“I couldn’t see anything else but I heard someone talking.”

“That bastard hit me wit’ a gun, kicked my body like I was a dog!” Soup Can straightened up enough to be mad. “Had on a mask.”

“A mask?” The officer moved toward Soup Can, thought better of it, and went to his car and called for another officer.

Alixe approached tentatively with a small bag in her hand.

“You okay, Maceo?” The concern in her voice seemed genuine.

“I’m fine.”

“Let me clean you up.”

“What you doing back here?”

She opened the bag and inched her hands into a pair of
gloves. “I told you I might come back. I dropped Chantal off a couple minutes ago. She talked me into going to another bar.”

I motioned toward Daddy Al. “Alixe, this is my grandfather, Albert Redfield.”

“Hello, young lady. You a doctor?”

She smiled. “Nurse. My sister lives in your apartment complex, by the way. Chantal Hunter.”

“Chantal? Is that right?”

“Yes. She’s told me about your family and how nice you’ve been to her.”

I watched as Alixe charmed Daddy Al into submission with her politeness. While they talked I saw Clarence’s Mercedes slow down at the stoplight. I watched as the car inched past, Holly’s face visible in the backseat. I didn’t expect them to stop, not with the police in attendance, but I knew Holly would be waiting for me at the cottage.

I nodded his way to let him know I understood; then the car sped off.

W
e were held for over an hour as the attending officer and his backup questioned us in detail. Alixe stayed around, sitting quietly in her Jeep, looking at her watch only once. Easter Lilly invited Soup Can to sleep on her couch, sparing me the trouble of driving him home.

I was grateful.

Once we were released, I refused the hospital but accepted a quick once-over from Alixe. The Cougar was unharmed, save for the rearview mirror, as was I, save for a few cuts, but I was nervous, scared, about what the attempt meant. It wasn’t a stretch to realize it was directly related to my confrontation with Smokey. Alixe followed Daddy Al and me back to the Dover Street house.

“This have anything to do with the trouble at Cutty’s?”

“I don’t know. Could have been a robbery attempt.”

Daddy Al looked skeptical. “Guess you figure I don’t know trouble when I see it.”

“I’m not sure what was going on. Could be Smokey. Could be related to Billy.”

“Billy? How?”

“Smokey fingered me and Holly at the shop.”

Daddy Al raised an eyebrow. “You and Holly? How he figure that?”

“Well, Holly because he and Billy were in the same business.”

“And you?”

“Because of …”

“Felicia.” He shook his head. “Maybe you need to go out to Louisiana till all this blows over.”

I turned into the driveway. “You can’t send me to Louisiana like you sending me to my room.”

“I can do what I please. You talking to a grown man.”

“I’m a grown man too.”

“Not if you can’t keep your ass out of trouble.”

“I can handle this.”

“By getting shot?”

“Daddy Al, you can’t fix everything for me. You cannot decide how I live my life.”

“Is that what you think?”

Alixe chose that moment to knock on the window. Her Jeep idled in front of us.

“Can we talk about this in the morning?” I jumped out of the car before he could respond. He waited a moment, then walked into the house without another word to me.

“He upset?” Alixe asked.

“Just a little bit.”

“I don’t blame him. Nice place, this Oakland.”

“It’s not Holland, but it has good and bad just like everyplace else.”

“Good?” She looked doubtful.

“Yeah, good. I just got shot at and I can still see it.”

“Those are what’s called rose-colored glasses.”

“Daddy Al thinks it’s stupidity.”

“Well …”

“Don’t say it.”

She laughed. “Really, Maceo. Don’t you want to see the world? See something different?”

“Don’t you want to drop it?”

“What about the violence?”

“There’s violence everywhere.”

“True, but Oakland’s trying to set new records.”

My fatigue and exasperation finally got the best of me. “Alixe, look, you already made up your mind. What’s the point of this conversation?”

“I’m sorry. I know you’re tired. You want company? Want me to sit with you?”

I looked pointedly at my watch. It was almost four
A.M.
“Don’t you work tomorrow?”

“Actually I do. I just don’t want you to be alone.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll be ’sleep in about five minutes.”

“Then I’ll get some rest too.”

She leaned forward and kissed my forehead. She let her hand linger on my cheek. I wanted her to come inside. I wanted nothing more, but I knew Holly was there.

“I’m listed, you know. If you want to give me a call.”

“I’ll do that.”

“Be safe.”

“Always.”

I waited until she was inside the Jeep before I started to talk. “Lake Merritt. The Oakland A’s. The Warriors. En Vogue. Paramount Theatre. Tony Toni Toné. Joaquin Miller Park. Jack London Square. The weather.”

She laughed. “What are you rambling about?”

“Oakland. Those are the things I like about it.”

“I got something too.”

“What?”

“You.” She blew me a kiss and drove off into the night.

Holly was there just as I expected, pacing the front porch of the cottage. I could see Daddy Al watching us both from his bedroom window.

“What happened?”

“Follow me inside. Daddy Al ready to bust heads.” Holly looked toward the window, then shamefully looked down.

Once we cleared the threshold I turned on the air conditioner. It was still hot despite the early morning hour. I was surprised to find Clio sprawled across the couch. I walked into the kitchen and pulled two sodas from the refrigerator. There was a note from Gra’mère pasted on the door:
Macaroni and cheese. Meat loaf. Lemon cake.

“You hungry?” I shoved the cellophaned plate across the counter to him.

“Naw, nigga. What happened? I saw Five-Oh all over the bar.”

“Somebody took a shot at me.”

“When?”

“As I was leaving.”

“Smokey?”

“Don’t know, but that’s my guess.”

“Damn. I shouldn’ta left you there. I’m slippin’. We just left you there wide open.”

“Relax.” The irritation I felt with Daddy Al bubbled to the surface. “I can handle myself.”

“Don’t act hard. You wouldn’t leave
me
uncovered, would you? That’s all I meant. Did you see anybody?”

I relayed the events to him, with a few details I’d kept from the police. To implicate Smokey would eventually send the trail right back to Holly.

“Maceo, man, you gotta lay low on this.”

“I’ll lay low when I find Flea. I owe it to her.” I looked him in the eye. “We owe it to Billy.”

He looked away.

“You in or out?” I asked him.

“I ain’t gonna leave you wide open.”

“That’s not what I asked you.”

He paused for a moment. Holly had long ago stopped feeling connected to Billy, but this went beyond that.

“In or out?” I repeated.

“Fuck me. What about you? The schoolboy route won’t work on this mission,
hear-what-I’m-saying?
Can
you
hang, Maceo?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know at that moment where the question would take me, but I did know I wanted to find Felicia. Teaming with Holly would sometimes mean doing things his way. It would also mean I couldn’t fence-sit and use athletics as an excuse. I wouldn’t be able to classify the journey as an accident, someplace I arrived because the wind sent me there. This road, one way or another, would lead me to myself, good or bad.

Holly let me consider as long as I needed. Then he asked, “Is your girl that important to you?”

“You in or out?” I asked again, and extended my hand.

“In, nigga.” He sighed and gave me a pound to seal it.

That was all I wanted to hear.

W
hen the last Ice Age ended, the great glaciers that covered the earth melted and disappeared so fast that the oceans overflowed. Those oceans flowed into rivers, and the rivers carved a gorge at the Golden Gate and birthed the San Francisco Bay. Thousands of years later that gorge was a playground on one scorcher of a Sunday.

The heat wave continued in full force, clearing the sky to Alcatraz and San Quentin prison and out to Mount Tamalpais in Marin. I cruised along Highway 80 with a clear view of both bridges and the white sails bobbing in the water.

“Jump off here,” Holly directed. “Swing by Flea’s house.”

I took the Ashby Avenue exit and followed the streets up to College Avenue.

As we pulled up in front of the Victorian house we heard the sound of shattering glass. Seconds later, Regina’s scream launched us out of the car.

Holly was ahead of me as we raced up the stairs. Both of us
knew that Charlie was the cause of everything going wrong in the apartment.

“Where the fuck she at?” Charlie’s voice boomed through the open door.

We rushed inside to find the doors of Flea’s black armoire kicked in. The television screen had also been shattered by what looked like a man’s foot.

“Charlie!” Holly bellowed out the name but stayed close to the door.

Charlie, like Billy and Holly, was an outlaw, but I had less of an affinity for him. Charlie was driven purely by emotion, a trait I found hard to admire. If he was mad he lived in that anger; if he was happy he manhandled those around him to feel the same elation. He ran black or white, never gray. Charlie was muscle without an ounce of anything else to offer.

“Wassup, man?” Holly gestured around the apartment and motioned Regina to his side.

“What you mean, wassup? I’m handling business.”

“Whose?”

Charlie turned his full gaze on Holly. “You the police?”

“No.”

“Is this your bitch?”

“No.”

“Then what the fuck you up in here for?”

“Man, you can’t be handling no chick like this. You want to get violated?” Charlie lived on parole. Leave it to Holly to know the only thing that might defuse him.

“Fuck my PO. My boy’s dead, man.” His voice cracked on the last word, and in spite of his wild dumbness I felt sorry for him. There were few people in the East Bay who could call Charlie friend. Matter of fact, Billy may have been the only one.

“We heard. That shit was foul, but you want to be locked up when they put him down? How’s that gonna look? Your only
boy and you don’t show at his funeral?” I could see Charlie wavering while Holly talked, so I motioned Regina toward her bedroom. She slipped off as quietly as possible. Holly looked toward her retreating back. “What broad is worth that?”

“You know that tramp set him up.” “Tramp” was Charlie’s kind reference to Felicia.

“You think so?”

“I know so. Billy wadn’t even fucking wit’ me the same way once she got here. Me and him been tight since way back.”

“You ever see her do anything scandalous?”

“Naw, but that don’t mean shit.”

“Did she have any shady partners coming around?”

He shrugged. “You can’t trust women, man.”

“I hear you.” Holly paused. “But Maceo knows her roommate pretty good. Why don’t you let him talk to her, and we’ll get wit’ you if we hear anything.”

Charlie seemed to deflate as Holly spoke. He slumped onto the couch and put his head in his hands.

I caught Holly’s eye and slipped inside after Regina.