Tyrell (21 page)

In the morning, me and Jasmine just lay in bed as long as we can. I ain't trying to get up early ‘cause I know that party gonna go on all night, and Jasmine don't gotta meet Emiliano for lunch ‘til 11:30. Jasmine take out that book again, and she read while I try to go back to sleep. But she don't let me. She keep rubbing her feet against mines, trying to get me to laugh.

“Stop, girl,” I tell her. “A brotha need his rest.”

“I'm not doing nothing,” she say, but when I look at her, she got a smile on her face. “
Nada.
” She start laughing.

“Yeah, well, you keep doing
nada,
and I'ma jump on top of you and tickle you for a half hour straight.”

“If you tickle me, I'm gonna pee on the bed. I always do that.”

“A'ight. You win. I ain't gonna tickle you. Not in a bed I'ma be sleeping in.”

She laugh again. I fall back to sleep and don't wake up ‘til I hear the shower running. The girl taking the longest shower I ever seen. When she come out, all she got wrapped ‘round her is
a towel. And ‘cause she think I'm sleeping, she take that towel off and I can't believe I'm finally seeing her naked. And it's better than I thought it was gonna be. Way better. Course, I don't move or nothing on the bed. I just watch her get dressed, looking at herself in the mirror the whole time. And I'm enjoying the show she putting on.

By the time Jasmine leave for her lunch with Emiliano, part of my body is awake, even if I ain't. So I decide to get up and go back to my room to check up on Troy. In the hall, I see Rafael walking with his moms. They carrying Burger King bags and shit. “Tyrell, what time you need me for?” he ask.

“Meet me in the lobby at four,” I say. “And tell Wayne too. And make sure y'all ain't late.”

He salute me like we in the goddamn Army. “Yes, sir.”

Then his moms, who look a little drunk, salute me too. I ain't lying.

I shake my head and keep going down the hall. In my room, after me and Troy scarf down the rest of them peanut butter crackers, I take him outside for a little while. We don't really got nothing to do, but tonight is the party and I know after I leave, Troy and my moms is gonna stay stuck in that nasty room all night. So I just wanna air him out a little.

We walk ‘round for a while, watch some Puerto Rican dudes play basketball, then stop by the store for some sandwiches, chips, and soda for Troy and my moms to eat tonight. Then, when we get back, I get on my cell and call Dante, who try to tell me all ‘bout the party he threw last night. “Ty, it was wild, man. The music was—”

“Dante, I got like eight minutes left on my cell. I just wanna know if the equipment is a'ight and tell you where you gotta
bring it.” He tell me everything working, and I give him the address. “Can you leave me the van so I can bring the equipment back to the storage place?” I ask him.

“No way, Tyrell. I rented that van, and you don't got no license.”

Asshole. All of a sudden a nigga like him got rules? “Bring the equipment by between five thirty and six,” I say, and hang up before he can say anything else. Then I'm sitting there, like, fuck. What I'm s'posed to do with the equipment after the party? Carry it back on the train?

I call Patrick quick and tell him the problem.
“My uncle got a van,” he say. “He probably let me borrow it for, like, fifty. Let me call him, and I'll call you back.”

Five minutes later, my cell ring. “He work ‘til five. So he gonna come by here after he get off. Then I'm gonna have to drop him back home.”

“Where he live at?”

“Queens.”

“Shit.”

“I'll take the bridge. It ain't gonna take long.”

“How much he want?”

“A hundred.”

Damn. What happened to fifty? But I don't got no choice. “Tell him a'ight.” I flip the cell closed. Man, I got so many hands in my pocket right ‘bout now, it ain't even funny no more. I owe everybody, and I ain't made a dime yet.

Before I leave outta there, I ask my moms what her and Troy gonna do the rest of the afternoon and night. If I had money, I would give her some so they could go to the movies or something, but I don't got nothing. Not yet.

“What you care what we do?” My moms got a attitude again. “You gonna be gone all night.”

I put on my jacket and try with everything I got not to get in no fight with her. But I can't do it. I can't let her act like I'm doing something wrong when I'm doing all this shit for her. “Why you gotta start?” I ask her. “You know the whole reason I'm doing this party is for us, our family. You the one that told me I'm s'posed to take care of everybody, remember? Well, that's what I'm doing. And you don't gotta do jack. All you gotta do is sit there and wait for me to come back with the money. That too hard for you to do?”

She don't say nothing and, truth is, I'm kinda glad she don't. ‘Cause no matter what, anything that come out of her mouth gonna piss me off. And I don't need that right ‘bout now. Not when I'm ‘bout to throw a party and try to get people to have fun.

I meet up with Wayne and Rafael in the lobby at 4:00 and they look like they ready to get to work. Or least they ready to get paid. It don't really matter.

We take the train uptown, then, ‘cause the bus depot is out in the middle of nowhere, we gotta catch a bus from the train. The bus let us out by the shopping center, and that's as close as it's gonna get. From there we gotta hike ‘bout three blocks north. I don't know why I ain't think ‘bout this location before. How them kids gonna find this place all the way out here? Are they gonna wanna come this far just to party?

The only good thing is it ain't all that cold out. It's kinda windy though. We walk by the fence they got all the way ‘round the depot, following signs that say
EMPLOYEE ENTRANCE
. And inside the fence, there's more than a hundred buses and, like,
twenty-something of them trailers they use at overcrowded schools for extra classrooms. Lights is shining on the buses from extra-tall poles, but by the time we get to the back, where they got the employee parking lot, it's dark. And there ain't no cars back there.

Only one there is Leon. He outside by the back fence, right where he said he was gonna be at. He standing there smoking a cigarette and just chillin'. Still looking as shady as he gonna get.

“We all set,” he tell us as we walk up to the back door. “The whole place is empty and the security system is off. And you don't gotta worry about nobody coming back, not ‘til around eight o'clock in the morning.”

“How you know that?” I ask him. There's something real strange ‘bout this dude. Straight up.

“You think I'm gonna set y'all up in a place that got good security?” That's all he say. Wayne look at me and I just shake my head a little. I still don't know nothing ‘bout Leon, and something tell me I ain't never gonna know what he really up to.

We all go inside and I get a look ‘round the place. The first thing I think is, man, it's a school bus depot. For real. I mean, what the fuck was I thinking when I thought we could turn this place into a club for one night? There ain't nothing but rows of buses inside there. Yeah, there's a lot of floor space, but the buses is taking up half of it.

“There any way we could move them buses?” I ask Leon.

“We can't put them outside ‘cause I don't got no keys to open the garage doors, but I do got keys for the buses. Some of them is broke down, that's why they inside, but the others, we could push them tight together and free up some room that way.”

“That sound good,” I say. “Wayne and Rafael could help you. I gotta go back outside and wait for Dante.”

“I don't know how to drive no bus,” Wayne say. “I don't even got my permit or nothing.”

“Two hundred dollars,” I remind him. “You getting paid to work, not stand ‘round doing nothing.”

I go outside and, ‘cause I'm kinda nervous, light up a cigarette. I wanna smoke only half, but I end up smoking the whole thing. My mind is full of shit that could go wrong tonight. I don't know how my pops do this. It's too much pressure.

A couple minutes later, a white U-Haul van pull up to the gate. It's just like the kind my pops rent for his parties. Dante right on time.

I stand by the fence while Dante get out the van, slow, like he ain't gonna rush for no one, ‘specially me. I don't say nothing to him ‘cause I ain't got nothing to say, so I just wait for him to open the back door of the van. I ain't seen the man since before my pops got locked up, but he still the same. He still a slick-looking, cheap-suit-and-leather-coat-wearing asshole that think he some kinda old G from back in the day or something. He ain't never gonna change.

Out there in the cold, me and Dante get to work without really talking, ‘cept when it got something to do with the equipment. “Grab one of them dollies first,” he tell me. I climb in the van and hand him a dolly, then me and him unload one of the speakers. Shit weigh a ton too.

While he go inside with the speaker, I start unloading the crates of records and stacking them on the street. Dante come back, and me and him work together ‘til the whole van is empty.
And I'm watching him too. I wanna see how he treat my pops equipment when he don't think I'm looking. ‘Cause my pops don't be letting just anybody handle his shit. I gotta admit, Dante is careful, but that's probably just ‘cause he trying to get all my pops equipment for his own self.

By the time I get back inside, Wayne and Rafael is now bus drivers. They moving them buses back and forth and pushing them close together in the back of the room. Wayne lean out one of the windows and yell, “Yo, Tyrell. Check me out.”

“Least you know what you gonna be when you grow up,” I tell him.

“Fuck you. I'm grown now.”

Rafael start beeping his horn nonstop, trying to make a beat.

I start laughing. “Hurry up, assholes. Y'all got more work to do.” No matter how loud I yell, I don't think they hear me though. I can't believe I picked them two niggas, outta all the people I know, to help me with this party. I musta been out my mind.

Me and Dante open up the three folding tables and set them up the way my pops do, in a U shape with the opening in the back. One table is just for the equipment, and one is for the crates of records. The other one is where my pops put drinks and shit, anything he don't want near the equipment ‘cause, like I said, my pops don't be playing when it come to his shit.

My cell ring. It's Patrick. “I'm outside. Come help me.”

Patrick driving the van he borrowed from his uncle. It's old, brown, and got
IEB PLUMBING
on the side of it. Patrick is outside unloading crates of CDs and DVDs that he gonna try to sell and all the digital equipment and music I'ma use for the party. We carry everything inside.

Then for the next hour all me and Patrick do is set up my DJ
tables. Dante help out too. He put the speakers where we want them, and he use duct tape to keep the speaker wires taped down to the floor. He even tape the speaker wire to the back of the amp just in case someone bump the table and shit get knocked out. Just like my pops do.

“Alright, Ty,” he say, when he done helping out. “You got it from here, right?”

“Yeah,” I say. I know he want me to thank him, but what I'ma thank him for? He wasn't s'posed to have my pops equipment in the first place. I ain't thanking him for giving back shit that ain't even his.

He stand there for a couple seconds then just walk out. Me and Patrick look at each other. “What's his problem?” Patrick ask.

“He one of my pops friends from back in the day,” I tell him. “But he the kinda friend I'ma hafta watch ‘round my moms, know what I'm saying?”

“Do your mom like him?”

“Nah, but he helping her and shit, giving her money to get her hair did and, like, buying my little brother new boots. Got her thinking he a good man.”

“Your father would kill that guy if he found out what he was trying.”

“Word.” I kneel down and duct tape all the power cords to the floor. I don't want nothing to go wrong that's gonna make all the music stop and kill the whole party. I seen that happen a couple times at my pops parties, and I ain't taking no chances.

While Patrick set up the digital equipment, I can't help but hook up the two turntables next to the CD deck. My pops use the Technics 1200s, and he always tell me that he bought his 1200s
the same year I was born and, no matter what they been through, they still work as good as when they was new. Then he usually go on and on ‘bout how all the new shit the DJs use now, all that digital shit, ain't nothing but garbage that's made to break after a couple years.

Now, I don't know why I'm really setting up the turntables when everything the kids is gonna wanna hear is on CD, but the DJ table ain't gonna look right without them. That's just me.

While me and Patrick is plugging in cables and making sure everything is working right, I'm calling out orders for Wayne and Rafael. First I got them sweeping ‘cause there's all kinds of little screws and other metal shit on the floor, ‘specially over by the work area where the broke-down buses was getting fixed. Then I got them helping to set up the lights over the DJ table.

When all the equipment is hooked up, I put on a Tupac CD and the shit sound real nice with my pops speakers. I mean, I'm really feeling the music.

Patrick feeling it too. He start setting up his little selling area on the third table with a smile on his face. Nigga came prepared too. He got empty cases of all the new CDs and DVDs, and he go to work displaying them so kids can see what he got. Then he put the crates on the other side of the U, near the wall so nobody can't take nothing.

“How much you selling them for?” I ask him.