Tracy was wearing the black leather shoes and the Chanel perfume that she had gotten from Bruce as gifts. Bruce came religiously to sit around in her house and in her company, incensing her neighbor Raheema. Tracy was practically through with him after receiving more than four hundred dollars worth of accessories. But Bruce continued to buy her things, hoping that she would stay with him.
“Do you go with Bruce, Tracy?” Patti asked at breakfast.
Tracy drank down a cup of orange juice. “No, mom. We’re just friends.”
“Well, he’s been buying you a lot of stuff lately.”
Tracy grinned and said, “I know.”
“You two don’t like each other in a relationship way?”
“No, mom. God!”
Patti looked at Tracy with a smirk. “You know, using people is not the way to be.”
“Ain’t nobody using him.”
“Okay, but what goes around comes around. Take it from your mother, girl. I know this to be a fact.” Patti warned, walking out of the kitchen.
Tracy thought about her mother’s relationship with her father while heading to school. I’m still young, she told herself. I’m just having fun right now. I’m not gon’ to be dependent on guys all my life, but while I’m young, why not enjoy it?
Tracy entered school that morning with a new project on her mind. Bruce had been conquered.
“Ay Joy, does Timmy still go with that light-skinned girl?”
“No, they broke up weeks ago,” Joy said, frowning at Tracy’s lack of knowledge on the recent gossip.
“You walk my way to class, right, Joy?”
“Yeah,” Joy answered, standing a full head shorter than Tracy.
“Well, let’s walk and talk then.”
“So why you worried about Timmy all of a sudden? You thinkin’ ’bout gettin’ with him or somethin’?”
Tracy answered with a smile, “I don’t know.”
They dodged the other students as they walked through the hallway.
“Well, I wouldn’t get involved with him if I was you, ’cause he’s always in trouble for stealing and stuff.”
“For real?”
Joy nodded. “Yup, girl. Guys be after him all the time. But I like that boy’s eyes though. He got some pretty-ass eyes.”
Wham! Timmy walked out from the boys’ bathroom.
Joy’s eyes popped, surprised to see him. “Speak of the devil,” she said.
Timmy grinned with sparkling green eyes, strolling tall and slim with rusty brown hair. “What, you was talkin’ ’bout me?”
“Yeah, I was just tellin’ Tracy how much trouble you be gettin’ into.”
“Ay, don’t believe her, Tracy, ’cause I wanted to make you my girl.”
Tracy was shocked. Timmy was reading her mind. Things were happening too fast.
“Don’t listen to him. He don’t respect women,” Joy warned, leaving Tracy alone with him.
“So where’s your next class at?” Timmy asked Tracy.
Tracy smiled and said, “Around the hall.”
“Can I talk to you now, Tracy? I’m free.”
“If you want to,” she answered, glancing at his greens.
Tracy had turned down Timmy’s offerings before, but like he said, he was “free,” and she was more than ready to move on from Bruce.
“So what’s your number?” he asked, taking out a pen to write it on a scrap of paper. Timmy was confident she would oblige. And Tracy gave it to him with no hassles. She then asked him for his number before they parted ways to head to their classes.
Timmy, a sophomore, walked down the hall in the opposite direction. He stopped and looked to see if anyone was spying him. An accomplice had told him the combination to the locker in front of him. Timmy got it open and searched through it. He watched up and down the hallway as he took the Polo baseball cap along with a Sony Walkman radio, planning on selling them. Timmy had a second locker to hide his stolen merchandise in until the heat cooled down.
“Ay Tim, what’s up, man?” asked a golden-brown-toned friend, sitting at the long cafeteria tables inside the lunch room.
“You know me, cuz’, I’m just hangin’ in there, makin’ money and things,” Timmy said, taking a seat to join him.
“See that girl right there?” Golden-brown asked, directing with his eyes.
“Yeah,” Timmy said, following them.
“I’d love to be her boyfriend. Forever, cuz’!”
Timmy smiled slyly. “I been hit that, man. She a nice little somethin’.”
“For real? You had her?”
Golden-brown shook his head, grinning with admiration. “Damn, cuz’! How you be gettin’ ’em, Tim? Oh, that’s right, you got them green eyes and shit.”
Timmy laughed. “Everybody think I be gettin’ bitches because of my eyes. All my cousins have light eyes, and they don’t get half the ass that I get.”
“So you’re tryin’ t’ tell me that they don’t notice?”
Timmy shook his rusty-brown-colored head. “Naw, I ain’t sayin’ that. You know the girls gon’ notice. But just because I got green eyes, don’t make me get the ass no quicker than the next nigga.”
Golden-brown contested, “Yes the fuck it do. Let me get some hazel-ass eyes. I’d have many and plenny bitches.”
They laughed as the bell rang for the next period.
“DAMN!” Mark Bates shouted after opening his locker.
“What’s wrong, Mark?” the girl with him asked.
“Somebody got my shit!”
His curvy, light-brown companion wanted to laugh, but she held it in. She had slipped the combination to Timmy before first period.
“Well, what did they take?” she asked, faking concern.
“My hat and my Walkman.” Mark thought for a moment. “You know what? That boah’ Timmy is good for stuff like this.”
His curvy-light-brown companion had to cover up. “That green-eyed pussy. Naw, I doubt if it was him.”
Mark thought about it and went with his intuitions. “Yeah, he may be a pussy, but he do be stealin’ shit. That ma-fucka think he slick, but I’ma whip his ass. Watch me.”
Mark walked off and began looking up and down the school halls, stairways and bathrooms, searching for Timmy. He then stormed into one of Timmy’s classes. He cared nothing about interrupting it. Timmy had his shit!
Mark stepped right up to the desk and asked the teacher if he could speak to Timmy out in the hallway.
Timmy looked up from his desk, knowing that it was time to Hollywood, or in other words, to play a perfect role of innocence.
“Well, what about?” the short brown teacher asked. She looked toward Timmy. Timmy frowned at her, expecting conviction.
“I had some things stolen from my locker, and I think he has somethin’ to do with it.”
“What?” Timmy shouted toward them both.
“Dude, I know you ain’t gettin’ loud wit’ me,” Mark said to him.
“Man, people better stop puttin’ my name in shit,” Timmy responded.
“Watch the language, Timothy,” the short brown teacher said.
“Well, can I speak to him outside, in the hallway?” Mark Bates asked again.
“Be my guest,” she agreed. She had never liked Timmy anyway.
“Man, I’on even know what he talkin’ about,” Timmy said, not budging. Shid’, I ain’t slow, he thought to himself.
“What’s the problem in here?” the disciplinarian came in to ask. He just happened to be in the vicinity and heard the confusion.
“Well, this student feels that one of mine has something to do with stealing from his locker,” the teacher answered. She was embarrassed that the disciplinarian had walked in.
He stood solid, light brown, and wearing a suit and tie. His voice boomed with authority. “Which one?”
“Timothy Adams,” the teacher answered nervously. Timmy could accuse her of inappropriate activities. She had agreed to setting him up for a fight.
Suit-and-tie looked at Timmy sternly. “We can get this straightened out in my office.”
Timmy gathered his things, expecting to Hollywood again in the main office. The teenagers walked behind the disciplinarian as he led them to his small office and closed the door. It was a usual event for Timmy. He felt at ease.
“Now what is the problem here?”
“Some things were stolen from my locker, and I think it was him,” slim-brown Mark Bates started.
“Do you have any proof?” Suit-and-tie asked him.
“Naw, but I was gon’ ask him about it to see what he had to say.”
“And you really think he would have told you if he did it?”
“Naw, but he would have said somethin’.”
Mark had no proof and no witnesses, so Timmy started to giggle, feeling that the accusations were ridiculous.
Suit-and-tie asked, “Is something funny, Mr. Adams?”
“Naw. But I mean, he gon’ come out of the blue and say that I took somethin’ from his locker.”
“Oh, cuz’, you ’bout to get punched in your mug,” Mark retorted. He could see that Timmy was pulling a fast one on him. Most thieves are good liars, he told himself.
“Yeah, aw’ight,” Timmy snapped back at him.
Suit-and-tie butted in. “Well, let’s check his locker. And if it’s not in there, then there’s nothin’ left I can do.”
“Aw’ight,” Mark said, getting up from the chair.
Time to Hollywood, Timmy thought. “Hold up, we gon’ check my locker when I ain’t did nothin’. That ain’t even right. What if I just walked up in here and said somebody stole something from me? Are we gonna go check their locker, too?”
Suit-and-tie stood from his big brown desk. “Probably not, but you have a history of accusations, so we’re definitely going to check your locker,” he said, getting in the last word.
The bell rang as they arrived at Timmy’s locker. “G-Town” students, including Tracy, watched out of curiosity.
“Well, it’s not here,” Suit-and-tie announced to Mark.
Mark wasn’t satisfied. “Aw’ight then, but if I find out that he knows somethin’, I’ma break ’im up after school. If he thinks Peppy beat ’em up, watch what I’ll do to him,” he said. Mark was putting on a show for the students who watched.
“Go on back to your classes, Mark. He doesn’t have your things,” Suit-and-tie said.
Tracy walked home, wanting to hold off from calling Timmy on the first night. She wrote his number in her phone book just as her doorbell rang.
“Who is it!” she hollered from her living-room couch.
“It’s me!”
“Hold on,” she responded, recognizing the voice.
“What’s up, pretty?” Bruce asked from her top step, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses.
“Hi, Bruce,” Tracy said nonchalantly.
“Can I come in?”
“How many times do I have to tell you? NO!”
“Come on now, Tracy, after all we been through, you still won’t bend the roles for me?”
Tracy had stopped letting Bruce in her house when no one was home. She shook her head and walked down her patio steps to the pavement. “Nope.”
Bruce sat, watched and grinned. “You know, I feel good as hell when I’m with you,” he told her, despite her apparent mistreatment of him.
“Why you come here every day?” she asked, giving Bruce a hint. Tracy didn’t want him around anymore. Dag, he must have needed some bad, because he won’t stop bothering me, she told herself.
“I just told you why: you make me feel like nothing else exists in the world.”
Tracy roared with laughter. “You need to go get yourself checked out or something.”
Bruce frowned. “Why I gotta get checked out for feeling that way about you?”
“You don’t have any other girls?” she asked him, glancing at Raheema’s house.
Bruce shook his head. “Naw, ’cause I don’t want any other girls . . . I just want you.”
“You crazy!” Tracy exclaimed.
Bruce got up to walk near her. Tracy ran around him on her lawn and back up her steps.
“Now why you gon’ act stupid like that, Tracy?”
She eyed him crossly from her door. “Look, I gotta go pick up my brother,” she said.
Bruce left her feeling disappointed with himself. He was being played again.
Tracy was bored after picking her brother up from day-care. She stared at her blue phone book while doing her algebra, thinking, Timmy probably has a lot to talk about since he gets into so much. She was still hesitant to call him on the first night, but she decided, What the hell? He gave me his number to call him, so what’s the difference?
“Hello. Can I speak to Timmy?”
“Yo, it’s me.”
“Hi. It’s Tracy.”
“Oh, what’s up, girl? You musta’ been bored, hunh?”
“No, why you say that?” Tracy asked, embarrassed.
“ ’Cause, why did ’ju call me already?”
Tracy snapped, “Well, I won’t call you. if you don’t want me to. What ’chew give me your number for?”
“Oh, well, fuck you then, ’cause I ain’t the one for sweatin’ bitches anyway,” he blurted out, hanging up in her ear. Joy had warned her from jump-street that Timmy had no respect.
“Ay, I’m sorry about cussing you out. I was in a hyped mood,” Timmy apologized at Tracy’s locker the next day at school.
“Yeah, aw’ight,” Tracy responded, unfazed.
Timmy caressed her gently from behind. Tracy felt his body pressed on her backside. His hands held her waistline perfectly. But she didn’t want him to know that she liked it.
Tracy pushed him away silently.
Timmy chuckled and said, “Oh, not in school, hunh?”
Tracy tried her damndest not to smile. I don’t believe he’s just gonna walk up and be all nice now, she mused.
“Well, you gon’ call me tonight, ain’t you, Tracy?” he asked her.
Tracy faced him, noticing his freshly cut, rusty-brown hair. “So you can tell me off again?” she asked.
“Naw, so I can tell you what time I’m gon’ pick you up for the movies this weekend.”
Tracy cracked a smile. Timmy had caught her off guard. He had nerve, but he was definitely exciting and unpredictable. He was a major change from Bruce.
“So, we goin’ to the movies, hunh?” she asked.
“Yeah, on Friday night.”
“What we gon’ go see?”
“Nightmare on Elm Street: Part Three, or four or five; one of them ma-fuckas. I forgot which one they up to now.”
Tracy laughed. She could not help it. Timmy was funny, too. “Well, what time you plan on goin’?” she asked, losing her apprehension for him.
“Like seven o’clock, but I’ll let you know though.”
“So you gon’ pay my way?” she asked with a child’s grin.
Timmy grinned back. “Yeah, but don’t get excited about it, ’cause I ain’t no rich nigga. I work hard for my shit.”
“I heard,” Tracy mumbled under her breath as Timmy walked off.
Friday night came quickly. Tracy wore a navy blue silk outfit, draped with her gold. She met Timmy out on Chelten Avenue to catch the bus. Timmy was impressed by her knock-out style. He was proud enough to make her his girl.
They walked through the Cheltenham Mall, and many jealous teenaged boys were staring. Green-eyed Timmy had another young star on his arm.
Timmy ordered and paid for everything. Tracy felt like a woman.
They took a seat in the theater, and Timmy promptly wrapped his arm around her. He grabbed her tightly when the scary parts came and gently during the love scenes. He made Tracy feel secure. He never left her side to get popcorn or anything. And she enjoyed his company.
After the movie, Timmy walked her to get ice cream while holding her hand, and Tracy wanted him to finish the job. He had proved himself worthy of her. He had class, and he made her feel good, so she wanted to repay him for it with good lovemaking. Yet Timmy had other thoughts in mind. He didn’t have anywhere to take her at the time anyway.
They rode the buses back to Tracy’s house, and he was anxious to leave her.
“You not even gon’ kiss me good night?” she complained, standing at her door.
“No, but I do have something to say to you though.”
“What?”
“From now on, you’re my girl. Aw’ight?”
“Oh, you just gon’ tell me, hunh?”
Timmy raised his brow. “What, you don’t wanna be?”
Tracy responded quickly, “I ain’t say that.” She didn’t want Timmy to blow up and tell her off again. He seemed to have a serious temper problem. And his temper was not childishly entertaining like Bruce’s. Timmy’s tantrums were of a more violent nature.
Timmy was devious, proud and bold, spending money like a windmill blows wind. Tracy was weak for adventure, a fiend for fashion and a money hawk.
He took her downtown to the Market Street Gallery and to Chestnut Street that Saturday afternoon, where he bought her huge, triangle-shaped gold earrings with Tracy etched in gold across the middle. He bought her leather pants with matching pocketbooks. He then charmed Patti into liking him with his greens when they had arrived back at Tracy’s house. Tracy lied to her mother about where Timmy’s finances came from, and together they were a match of teenagers headed for no good.
• • •
“Dag, girl, Timmy sure is spending a whole lot of money on you,” Carmen said, sitting out on Tracy’s front steps. She could not seem to take her eyes off of Tracy’s new earrings.
“I know, but I’m scared to tell him to stop,” Tracy commented.
Carmen frowned at her, confused. “Why would you tell him to stop?” she asked. I wish he was my man, she thought to herself. I could use a bunch of new gear in my empty-ass closets!
“He’s buying too much stuff for me,” Tracy told her, “like he owns me or something. That shit scares me.”
“Where does he get the money from?”
Tracy grinned. “Stealin’.”
Carmen had already heard; she just wanted to see if Tracy knew. “Yeah, that’s what people told me,” she said, smiling back at Tracy. “And if he’s stealin’ stuff, then that means that people are gonna be after him.”
Tracy nodded. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I make sure that everything he gives me is new.”
“You better make sure,” Carmen warned her.
They both watched as Tracy’s neighbor, Raheema, approached her house, walking home late from school.
“Y’all still don’t talk to each other?” Carmen asked.
Tracy shook her head, standing up to greet Raheema. Their displeasure with one another had gone far enough, and Bruce was no longer in the picture as far as Tracy was concerned.
“I’m about to make up with her, because we were only fighting over Bruce, and I don’t talk to him no more,” she answered.
Raheema did not appear to look in Tracy’s direction as she headed up the walkway.
“Raheema, can I talk to you for a second?”
Raheema stopped and waited for Tracy without a word.
“Are you still mad at me about Bruce?”
“Why should I be?” Raheema knew that Tracy had been using Bruce for free clothing and things. But that was Bruce’s dumb fault, she figured.
“Well, because he had liked you.”
Raheema was mute again. She did miss Bruce’s company for a while. Nevertheless, life goes on.
“I was mad at first, Tracy, because you just had to have him, when there’s a whole lot of other guys that you could have talked to. But I can’t say that it’s all your fault, because he did try to talk to you.”
“Yeah, because I didn’t tell you about the time when he asked to come in my house,” Tracy alluded.
“Yup,” Carmen added. “Y’all should never fight over a boy, because most boys will do it to anything that moves.”
Raheema looked at Carmen and smirked. You too, she felt like saying. “Well, I’m no longer mad at you, Tracy,” she said to her next-door neighbor instead.
Tracy opened her arms to hug her and Raheema obliged.
“Awww, now ain’t that sweet,” Carmen perked.
The girls shared a smile before Raheema excused herself and walked into the house.
“I’m goin’ over Timmy’s house tonight,” Tracy suddenly announced. She felt joyful after making up with her neighbor.
“Oh, so y’all gon’ do ‘the nasty,’ tonight. Hunh?” Carmen assumed.
Tracy smiled bashfully. “I’on know. He don’t even touch me.”
“Yeah, well, he gon’ touch you tonight.”
They giggled together before it was time for Tracy to leave for track practice. Patti began picking Jason up from day-care when Tracy went to practice. She didn’t mind it much, as long as her daughter was doing something constructive.
Timmy waited until eight o’clock to pick Tracy up. They walked to his house, five blocks from hers, down dark and windy row-house streets. Once at his house, they went in and up to a stuffy dark room that Timmy tried, hopelessly, to straighten up. He then got a couple of strawberry coolers and poured them into two tall glasses. Tracy had never drunk before, but she was not planning on telling Timmy “no” at such a romantic point in their relationship. Timmy had been able to make all of his girlfriends feel as if they had known him for years when they barely knew him at all. He gave them all a perfect illusion of comfort.
“Don’t drink it so fast,” he told her, as Tracy rushed to finish her tall glass. She stood up and wobbled, before Timmy grabbed her.
“Look at you, girl. And that was only one cooler.”
“I ain’t never drank one before,” she said, falling back.
Timmy laid her out on his bed and examined her for a moment. “That’s because you drank it too fast,” he told her. “You acted like you was drinkin’ a damn soda.”
Tracy giggled at him. “You know, you haven’t kissed me since we been goin’ together,” she said, out of the blue, with her head stuck to the pillow.
Timmy leaned over and kissed her, weakly.
“Oh, you call ’lat a kiz?” she asked, slurring her speech.
Timmy laughed. “Girl, you drunk as hell.”
“Well, you did ’dis to me, boy.”
Timmy x-rayed her curvaceous body. Tracy was wearing a long yellow skirt with a white silk blouse, laced with gold. But something was missing.
“Where my earrings?” Timmy fumed.
Tracy slurred, with heavy drunk eyes, “In my criiib, Tim-e-e-e. Wh-i-i-i?”
“Why you ain’t wear ’em?”
“Cuzzz, it wuz too loud ta’ wear wit’ ’dis.”
Timmy gripped her tightly by the arm. “When I buy you somethin’, I expect you to wear it.”
“O-kay,” Tracy said, jerking away from him.
Timmy looked at her, from head to toe, trying to decide what he wanted to do with her. “You wanna make love?” he asked.
“I’on have no choice. I know you want some. ’Dat’s why you got me all drunk and shit. I ain’t stupid, boy.”
Timmy giggled. “Yeah, but you fucked up, I know ’dat.”
He sat down beside her and ran his hands over her breasts. Tracy struggled to turn herself over, feeling good.
Timmy asked, “What ’chew doin’?”
“Button down my blouse,” Tracy told him.
He did, along with unfastening her bra.
“Take off my skirt.”
Timmy did that as well, as Tracy lifted up her legs. He then stood up, shut his door and began taking off his clothes. He pulled the covers back when he was fully undressed and climbed in with her as their naked bodies met under the sheets.
Tracy kissed up and down his chest, and Timmy responded with a long wet kiss on her lips. In no time at all, Tracy was stimulated. She pulled Timmy’s body on top of hers and grabbed his private parts to do the honor herself. Timmy was shocked by her assertiveness, as he held her firmly by the waist.
Tracy squirmed, enjoying it. She ran her hands up and down Timmy’s smooth spine as he breathed heavy in her ear while uttering undistinguishable expressions of bliss. Tracy’s snug fit made the sex more desirable.
“Oh, girl!” Timmy squealed, increasing his speed and losing control of himself. His hands ran through Tracy’s hair and all over the bed as he tried, desperately, to grab ahold of something. Tracy squeezed him even tighter as she felt his body becoming rigid and tense. Timmy’s last attempt to calm himself was unsuccessful. He began to vibrantly kick his legs and beat his hands against the pillow, as he pushed his naked, perspiring body as close as it could get to hers. All the while, Tracy continued to caress him roughly.
Timmy had done it right, as he inhaled and exhaled deeply to regain his energy. His eyes rolled up toward the ceiling, and the cool breeze chilled them, blowing in from his open window.
“That was good as shit,” he told her.
Tracy smiled and leaned over to kiss his pinkish lips.
“Ay Timmy, did you get it yet?” his golden-brown friend asked, sitting at the lunch tables again.
“Get what?”
“Your girl, cuz’.”
“Oh, yeah, I got it Friday night. I thought you was talkin’ about something else.”
“Naw.”
Timmy leaned over the lunch-room table to whisper in his ear. “Yo, man, she had the best ass I ever had in my life.”
Golden-brown smiled. “She did?”
“Cuz’, no bull-shit.”
“She do look like she got some good shit though.”
Timmy snapped, “Ay, man, what the fuck is wrong wit’ ’chew? Don’t talk about my girl like that. And don’t be lookin’ at her that hard either!”
“Damn, cuz’. My fault.”
“Yeah, but don’t let that shit happen again!”
Timmy left the lunch room pissed at everyone for his friend’s slip of tongue. He howled at Tracy at her locker. “Where the fuck was you at last night?”
Tracy was puzzled. “I was at my next-door neighbor’s house,” she answered, surprised by his rashness.
“Doin’ what?”
“Talking to my girlfriend. She lives there.”
Timmy looked her in her eyes, as if he wanted to reprimand her. “If I find out you wasn’t there, I’m gon’ break your neck.”
Tracy was confused and frightened. Unlike Bruce, slie suspected that Timmy would do what he said. What the hell is he pissed off about now? she asked herself. Timmy seemed to be always on the verge of an explosion.
“Ay, what’s up, Ra-Ra?” Bruce asked, on the way to Tracy’s house.
“What are you speaking to me for? I thought you liked Tracy?” Raheema asked him sourly.
Bruce decided not to respond to her while taking a seat on Tracy’s steps.
Raheema stared at his back, standing inside of her doorway. “She got a new boyfriend now anyway,” she added vengefully.
Bruce faced her with his eyes flaring in shock. “How long she been goin’ with him?”
“Ask her. It’s none of my business to tell.”
“Well, you told me that she had one.”
“She would have wanted me to do that.”
Bruce was puzzled. How come she didn’t tell me then? he thought to himself. Then again, maybe Raheema’s lying to get back at me. “I thought y’all was enemies,” he quizzed.
“Not anymore. That was just you in our way!” Raheema shut her door on Bruce’s crushed face, feeling avenged.
Bruce got up to leave, inflamed, with pulsating nerves. He spotted Tracy heading home from school, and he calmed himself as he waited for her on the sidewalk. Tracy wore a dark-blue, velour sweat suit with red trimming running up the sides and accentuating her curves. Bruce wanted desperately to be loved by her, but Tracy tried to ignore him and walk on by.
“Ay, you not gon’ even say ‘hi’?”
“Hi, Bruce,” she answered blandly.
Bruce cheered up with the sound of her voice. “That’s a nice sweat suit,” he commented, following her.
“Thanks. My boyfriend bought it for me.”
Bruce swallowed his rage. “Who is he?” he asked.
“Don’t worry about it,” Tracy flared.
Bruce thought about snatching her arm, but Tracy marched ahead too quickly for him to react.
Tracy continued to her house, thinking about her situation with Timmy. He was too compulsive. She opened her door and tossed herself on the couch. Victor appeared in her daydream. She never stopped wanting him. She felt like going to the playground just to see if he was them, playing ball or hanging out.
Tracy went to pick up her brother from the day-care center and saw Victor anyway. He stood out in the sun in a blue, terry-cloth, Fila sweat suit. A small gold V hung on a link chain around his neck, and his hair was freshly cut, as always. Yet, as usual, he was spending time with another girl.
Tracy met his eyes, still feeling controlled by him. Victor was still her first love, but he had not spoken to her for nearly a year.
Victor was there again, in Tracy’s eyesight view, on her way home with her brother. And his companion had left him. Once he spotted Tracy walking back with Jason, he walked over to their side of the street and sat on the hood of a red Dodge Omni, holding an unlit cigarette. He played with it in his smooth black hands, flipping it over in circles between his fingers, waiting for her as she approached him. He then smiled at her and said, “I heard you go wit’ punk-ass Timmy now.”
“Yeah,” Tracy answered, beaming helplessly.
Victor leaped off of the car and moved toward her. “Come here, Tracy.”
“I can’t,” she responded. She wanted to talk to him, but could not allow her hormones to get her into trouble with Timmy, who was crazy with jealous rage.
“So it’s like that now, hunh?” Victor asked her as she continued on her way.
Tracy turned back to face him. “No, I just can’t.”
“Are you sure?” Victor asked, giving her his winning smile. He simply wanted to see how much Tracy liked her new guy.
Tracy looked him over and shook her head. “I can’t.” She then turned and took a deep breath as she continued home with her brother, happy to have spoken to Victor again.
Victor stared at her back and muttered, “Damn. She’s still loyal to a nigga. I like that. But I could still have her if I really wanted to. I can tell by how she looks at me.”
“So Tracy, are you and Timmy going out this weekend?” Patti asked her daughter. They were watching Dynasty together in the living room.
Jason interjected, “No, ’cause she gotta watch me.”
“Shet up, boy,” Tracy told him. “I don’t know what we gon’ do, mom,” she answered.
“Yeah, well that’s a nice suit he bought you there. And I can never get over those gigantic earrings.”
Tracy laughed as she played with the huge earring in her ear. Patti didn’t seem to mind her having little boyfriends and going out on dates at fourteen. Why should she? She and her sisters had done it when they were young and growing up in North Philly. Patti didn’t mind her daughter wearing expensive clothing and accessories either. After all, she had always wanted her daughter to look her best. She wanted to look fabulous when she was young, too. A lot of young girls wanted to be “flyy.” It was the next best thing to being a movie star.
Tracy said, “He was gonna buy me a big nugget ring, too, but I acted like it was ugly, and he changed his mind.”
“Well don’t get too much into letting him buy you things, because you’ll end up in the same boat that I’m in with your father. He thinks that just because he pays the bills here, he can do what he wants to do, but I got news for his ass.”
Here she goes again, Tracy thought. She compares everything tohim now.
“That’s just how they are, honey,” her mother added. “They just wanna do whatever pleases them.”
And what about us? Tracy wanted to ask. I know I want what I want,and you do too, mom. But she decided to keep her thoughts to herself as they continued to watch Dynasty’s Carrington family.
“Mom, guess who was up here today,” she asked.
“Bruce.”
“How you know?”
“I seen him in the supermarket last night with his mother, and he told me to tell you he said ‘hi.’ ”
“Well, how come you didn’t tell me?”
“To tell you the truth, it slipped my mind. But what are you worried about it for anyway? You don’t like the poor boy.”
Tracy laughed. “I know, but I just like to know stuff like that.”
“It’s a shame, how you did that boy,” Patti said, walking to the kitchen. “I should have married myself a nice little boy like him,” she mumbled.
Tracy watched Blake arguing with Alexis. She smiled, thinking about Bruce’s childish temper. That was the only exciting thing about him, except for his money. Yet Timmy bought her more expensive things.
“Yo, man, you know some dude named Timmy?” asked a lemon-skinned boy on Timmy’s block of row-houses. He was eighteen, wearing a plain blue baseball cap.
“Naw, why?” a tall, dark brown neighbor asked.
“I mean, if you don’t know him, what you worried about it for?”
“Yeah, I know him. So what’s the problem?” another resident said from the patio. He walked down to the pavement and stared. He was thick built, and nineteen.
Lemon-skin said, “Well, I heard that this is his block, and I wanna speak to ’im about somethin’.”
“About what?”
More neighbors gathered as Lemon-skin backed up and pulled out a gun. They all wanted to scatter but remained calm, scared of becoming a statistic in the Daily News.
“Y’all tell that pussy that I’m gon’ kill his ass,” the boy responded. He jammed his gun back inside of his jacket and dashed around the corner. A few of the neighbors ran into their houses to get their guns. They all ran around the corner after him, but the quick-footed boy was long gone.
Only two minutes after the incident, Timmy walked around the opposite corner with Tracy. All eyes were glued to them.
“Yo, man, come here for a minute,” the thick-built neighbor said privately. He didn’t want to alarm Tracy.
“What’s up?” Timmy asked him.
“Some dude just came around here and pulled a gun out, looking for you.”
“A light-skinned dude?”
“Yeah, why? You stole some shit from ’im?”
“Aw, man, that was Doug. He a nut. He probably didn’t have bullets in the gun,” Timmy responded with a chuckle.
Tracy waited for him at his door.
“Ay Tim, man, you better watch yourself, boy,” Thick-built warned.
Timmy had just turned sixteen, and he was headed for jail or the morgue.
He entered his house with Tracy.
Tracy asked, “What was that about?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that, girl. Everything is taken care of.” Timmy hugged her and snatched her firmly by the backside. Tracy threw her arms around him. They kissed, and Timmy hastily led her to his room, where they undressed, going at it again.
Tracy walked to the avenue to get some morning cereal for Jason. Wayne Avenue was empty. Tracy looked around, feeling peculiar and decided to walk ahead to the supermarket. Summer had just begun; all the public schools had let out two days earlier. It was hot and sunny, and Tracy figured that there should have been a crowd of people out on the avenue.
Tracy came out from the store and noticed a lanky boy wearing a red hat with a C on it. She paid him no mind. The boy then glanced at her and turned his head quickly away. Tracy thought about it, wanting to take another look. She turned in his direction just as the boy ran past and grabbed the chains from around her neck, pulling a few of them off. It happened too fast for her to even let out a cry for help.
Tracy cursed him, feeling helpless. He had dropped the two smaller chains, but he had gotten away with the larger, more expensive ones, a Gucci link that Timmy had bought for her and the herringbone that she had saved to buy only a year ago.
• • •
“Mom, I just got my chains snatched,” Tracy mumbled, walking into her mother’s room with tears in her eyes.
Patti jumped up from her bed. “Oh no, girl. Look at these scratches on your neck.” She took her daughter to the bathroom and poured some rubbing alcohol into her hands to apply to Tracy’s neck.
“OOOWWW!” Tracy squealed, tensing from the sting.
“Did you see what he looked like?”
Tracy sucked in air to take in the pain. “Yeah, he had on this red Cincinnati baseball hat. He was about my height, and skinny.” Tears streamed down her face.
“Which chains did he get? He didn’t get all of them, did he?”
“No, but he got my herringbone and the Gucci link that Timmy bought for me,” Tracy whined, showing her mother the smaller chains in her hand.
“Hmm,” Patti grunted. “How much did that Gucci thing cost?”
“Like three hundred,” Tracy admitted.
“Three hundred dollars?” Patti responded, expecting as much. “He didn’t have any business buying you no three-hundred-dollar chain anyway,” she commented protectively. She figured that any young man would act like a fool about losing something that he had bought for his girlfriend. But it wasn’t Tracy’s fault. “So you’re gonna tell Timmy about this?” she asked, knowing that he would worry her about it.
“I wish I didn’t have to, ’cause he gon’ get all out of shape about it. Watch. I know he is.”
“Well, maybe you should stay away from him for a while,” Patti suggested.
Only hours later, Tracy ended up on the avenue explaining to Timmy a blow by blow of what happened.
Timmy grimaced. “So where was he standing at?”
“I told you, right here,” Tracy said, pointing to the spot.
Timmy shook his head, frowning. He was nagging the hell out of her. “You gon’ tell me that nobody was out here?”
Tracy sighed. “Jantel said that it was a fight that everybody went to see, down the hill.”
“Get the fuck out of here, girl! What I look like? You tellin’ me that the whole avenue went to see a fight?”
“Yeah, Timmy. DAG!”
He angrily grabbed Tracy by the neck and pushed her toward the corner.
“Won’t you stop, Timmy?” she pleaded.
“What you gon’ do if I don’t?”
Tracy’s voice cracked. “It’s not my fault.”
“Why was you down here wearing your chains in the first place? You probably just wanted to see some nigga.”
Timmy dragged her off of the avenue by her arm.
“GET OFF OF ME!” Tracy screamed, as he pulled her along.
“Shet up, before I punch you in your fuckin’ mouth!”
A silver Mercedes Benz pulled up to the curb. The door swung open, and Victor Hinson jumped out from the passenger side. “YO! What the fuck is your problem, man?” he yelled at Timmy.
Tracy was stunned.
“What?” Timmy responded hesitantly.
Victor approached him as if he was ready to fight. “You got a problem with her, man?” he asked.
Timmy backed away, still holding on to Tracy’s arm. “This ain’t got nothin’ to do with you,” he told him.
Victor clenched his hands together and said, “Cuz’, I’m gon’ tell you one time to let her fuckin’ go. And after that, you gon’ wish you never heard of me.”
Timmy gave Victor an evil eye and let go of Tracy’s arm. He then trotted down the street away from them, ready to kill. He had been embarrassed beyond belief. She gon’ pay for this shit! he told himself. Fuck that nigga, and his brother!
“You want a ride home?” Victor asked Tracy.
She looked toward the car and shook her head as she began to walk away. Victor had only made her situation worse.
“Yo, you need to pick a new friend,” he told her as he climbed back into the car. “That’s the young-girl that I was telling you about, Todd,” he said to his brother.
Todd shifted his Mercedes back into drive and said, “She got a lot of growing up to do.”
Victor nodded. “Yeah, I know. But she gon’ be aw’ight.”
Todd looked at his younger brother and smirked. “Sounds like she got your nose open.”
Victor smiled and shook his head. “Naw, never that. I’m just lookin’ out for her, that’s all.”
Even though Tracy felt much admiration and respect for Victor’s actions, she was still dedicated to Timmy, but he did not speak to her for three days. Each event made her feel strangely closer to him, yet further apart. She was learning him, his pain and his loneliness. She understood that violence and crime were Timmy’s means of letting out his frustrations.
Tracy remained loyal and at his command at the ball games, the parties, the movies and every other place he took her to be showcased. Timmy no longer allowed her to hang out with girlfriends like Carmen, who had a reputation for being loose, nor with Raheema, whom he hated simply for acting snotty and spreading gossip about him. And as far as Victor was concerned, He’s too busy for me anyway, Tracy thought. I’m not gonna be one of his girls, she told herself. She preferred to be with Timmy, despite his attitudes. At least he was consistent.
“Damn, cuz’! Who is that?” Timmy’s tall, dark brown friend asked. Jay watched Raheema walk up to her house.
“Go ahead and find out, Jay,” Timmy told him, knowing better.
“Hi,” Jay said to Raheema. Jay was a basketball addict, morning, afternoon and night.
“Hi,” Raheema responded, opening up her door to go in.
Jay asked, “Can I talk to you real quick?”
“That’s all right.”
Timmy giggled as Raheema went in and closed the door back. “See, man, I told you. That bitch a nut. Nobody gets along with her, cuz’.”
Tracy came out and overheard him talking about her neighbor. “Stop talkin’ about her then,” she interjected.
“So you goin’ to that concert tonight, hunh, Jay?” Timmy asked, changing the subject.
“Yeah, man. You should take her. It’s gon’ be Run DMC, Whodini, LL Cool J, The Fat Boys, them white Beastie Boys. Cuz’, it’s gon’ be live!”
Timmy contested, “Naw, you never take your girl to no shit like that. It’s always some muthafuckas acting crazy, tryin’ to talk to her. And them niggas be a hundred thick from South Philly.”
Tracy said with an attitude, “Oh, it’s gon’ be thousands of other girls there, and they just gon’ pick me, hunh?”
“Ay, you gettin’ a little bold, talkin’ that shit, girl. You better shet the fuck up,” Timmy responded to her.
Tracy went in the house and took a seat on the couch, disappointed. Timmy followed her, leaving his friend outside.
“Now you wasn’t even thinking about that concert until he said somethin’,” he commented.
Tracy crossed her legs, and pouted, “You the one who brought it up. You just wanted to tease me about it.”
Timmy chuckled.
“Now why you laughin’?” Tracy asked, standing back up and in his face.
Timmy sat her back down. “Come on now, stop playin’ wit’ me, before I have to hurt you. Now you know me better than that, girl.”
Tracy looked away. “That’s all you know how to do is hurt me.”
Timmy sat down beside her and kissed her ear. “Well, we gon’ go out to eat tonight or somethin’. Okay?”
“I don’t want to,” Tracy told him with a long face.
“What ’chew wanna do then? ’Cause I’m not goin’ to that concert. I’m tellin’ you that shit right now.”
“Let’s go to the movies,” Tracy suggested.
Timmy nodded his head. “Aw’ight. We can do that.”
Going to the movies with Timmy became less exciting for Tracy. Their relationship was slowly falling apart. They always ended up in bed, no matter what they did. Timmy was “whipped.” Tracy knew it. There was no longer any foreplay to stimulate her, and they were always in danger from someone chasing after Timmy. It was more than Tracy could handle. They could not go out in peace. Timmy was constantly watching his back.
I never felt scared all the time when I was with Victor, Tracy thought to herself. But he never really took me anywhere.
“I’m tired of this,” she complained. She and Timmy ended up naked again, inside of a hotel bedroom that one of Timmy’s older friends had gotten for him.
Timmy asked, while stretched out in the bed, “What are you talkin’ about? Look, we went to the movies, right?”
“I’m talkin’ about how we always do this routine stuff.”
Timmy laughed. “I thought you said that I was full of surprises.”
“Well, I was wrong. And the only surprise that you have is doing things without warning.”
Timmy looked puzzled. “So, that’s still a surprise.”
Tracy yelled, putting on her clothes, “Well, it ain’t shit new!”
Timmy gripped her arm. “Where’re you goin’?”
Tracy snapped, “Oh, wow, I’m not even fifteen yet, and you think I’m your fuckin’ wife.”
Timmy thought about it. Yeah, we are kind of young for this, but that’s what makes it cool. “Well, you act and look old enough,” he told her, pulling her back in bed.
Tracy sighed. “Come on now, Timmy, this is boring. I wanna go home.”
Timmy frowned at her. “So what ’chew sayin’?”
Tracy thought for a moment. “Did you treat your other girls like this?”
“What does it matter?”
“Because, I didn’t think you was this possessive.”
“Well, you’re my girl, right?”
“But I still need room and freedom.”
“What?” Timmy snapped. “Okay, you want freedom. Get the fuck out then!”
Timmy led her to the door and pushed her out.
Tracy pleaded, “See, why you gettin’ mad like this.”
“ ’Cause I feel like it!”
Tracy yelled through the door, “You a pussy anyway!”
Timmy rushed out in a fury, wearing his drawers. He chased Tracy down the hall, caught up to her and punched her in her mouth. He then banged her head on the wall and threw her to the carpeted floor.
“NOW! Call me a pussy again. BITCH!”
Tracy ran to the elevator and rode it down to the lobby level with a busted lip and a headache. She wept and sucked her lip as she walked to catch a bus back home. It was ten o’clock, and Timmy had humiliated her for the last time. She was tired of him.
Tracy got home and snuck into her bedroom, not wanting her mother to see her. She wiped the tears from her eyes and iced her lips.
It was the first time she had ever been beaten on. She felt that she had experienced everything that makes a woman, as if she was in a bad marriage. I’m too young for this, she told herself. He don’t own me.
“How you get that bruise on your lip?” Raheema asked Tracy on the steps that next day.
Tracy stared out at the street. “Timmy did it.”
“What did you do?”
“I told him I didn’t want to be around him no more.”
“And he just punched you in your lip?”
“He kicked me out and chased me first,” Tracy answered. She didn’t want to tell Raheema that they had been inside of a hotel room.
“So you’re going to quit him now?”
“I don’t know,” Tracy mumbled. She wanted to hear what Timmy had to say first.
“Mmm,” Raheema grunted. “I would quit him if I were you.”
Raheema went inside the house and left Tracy alone with a busted lip and damaged pride in ninety-degree weather, while she watched her brother all day. Tracy figured she had been through enough emotionally to last for the rest of the summer.
Timmy and his friends prepared for a major theft inside of a department store. They drove to a suburban mall and waited inside until it was almost ready to close. With limited cameras and theft detectors, the only thing that concerned them were the aged security guards.
Timmy unfolded a trash bag and started throwing in jeans and shirts as his friends followed his lead. Once it was half full, Timmy dropped the bag and pushed it under a clothing rack. He watched all sides for walkers-by. He then kicked the bag closer to the door. It was an easy nighttime job. Timmy and his friends made it out undiscovered and tossed the stolen merchandise in the trunk.
Timmy grinned. “I told y’all it would be an easy-ass hit.”
Mat, the chubby brown driver, shook his head. “Damn, man, I don’t believe that security.”
Basketball Jay said, “Yup, but we got to keep things low, ’cause we took so much that they might put a word out on the streets for a snitch.”
Mat contested, “They can’t touch us anyway. We’re not in their district.”
Timmy retorted, “Y’all can talk all that shit if y’all want, but I’m gettin’ paid.”
Timmy had an increasing hunger for stealing since Tracy was no longer around him. He started romancing a new girl and had moved out of his mother’s home. No one knew where he was staying.
He continued to steal, deviously, sticking up stores and everyday citizens around the city. His friends feared his destructive path. Timmy was developing into an all-out criminal at the tender age of sixteen.
“Y’all wanna stick up that spot up on Seventeenth Street?” Timmy asked his friends. He was visiting on his mother’s Germantown block. “They be gettin’ paid in that bitch, y’all. I just peeped that shit,” he said.
Thick-built responded, “Naw, man, and you crazy to even be up here.”
“Did the cops come to my house?”
“Fuckin’ right they did. I mean, they huntin’ for your ass, cuz’. You better start wearin’ shades,” Thick-built joked.
Timmy did not look as well groomed as he usually did. He had been drinking and doing drugs, and his rusty-brown hair was growing wild under a blood-red Phillies cap.
“Aw, man, as long as they don’t know where I’m at, fuck the cops.”
Thick-built said, “You crazy as shit, man. I don’t see how you be doin’ that dumb shit.”
Timmy persisted. “Look, cuz’, is you down or what?”
Basketball Jay stepped up. “Fuck it. I’m wit’ it.”
“Dig, cuz’, I’m down,” Chubby Mat agreed.
Timmy directed. “Bet. Let’s go steal a lemon and roll.”
Thick-built shook his head. “Y’all niggas is crazy to be listening to him. That muthafucka out his mind.”
They went with Timmy anyway.
Timmy left it up to Mat, the car specialist, to hot-wire a car. They drove with the lights off until they were out of Dodge. Timmy then showed Mat where the place was. They got there in a hurry, filled with nervous energy. Timmy pulled out two small-caliber guns, giving one to Jay.
“Where you get these from?” Jay asked him apprehensively.
“Look, man, don’t worry about it. Let’s just do this,” Timmy snapped at him.
They stopped the car. Timmy got out and told Mat to keep it running. It was a dark restaurant in West Oak Lane, off of Ogontz Avenue. Timmy knew where they kept the money.
Small crowds frequented the place, especially on Friday and Saturday nights when the bar had entertainment and an open dance floor. Timmy had watched the sexy waitresses taking money alongside the bar for safe storage on a previous visit, when he had asked to use the bathroom.
He and Jay walked in slowly, wearing shades and baseball hats. Timmy told Jay to watch the outside, as he approached the back room.
“Yeah, I was wondering if I could get change for a fifty?” he asked a honey-brown employee, who was heading toward the back. His adrenalin level was stable. Timmy was used to the action.
“Sure,” Honey-brown answered, taking his fifty-dollar bill and walking into the back room.
Timmy ran in behind her and pulled out the gun and a small bag in his left hand. “Aw’ight, just throw all that shit in the bag!”
The manager was shocked. He did what Timmy demanded. Jay eased up against the door, making sure no other employees walked back.
Timmy reached over and smacked the short, fat manager in his curly head with the butt of his gun. He then eyed Honey-brown. “You try some dumb shit, bitch, and I’ll kill your ass!”
Timmy dashed out of the back room with the bag. The other employees were puzzled. What the hell is going on? By the time they had gotten word that they were being robbed, the car was speeding up a side street.
The angry manager ran out with his own gun in hand and decided not to shoot. He ran back in and called his friend from the police force instead. Two cruisers happened to be in the vicinity. Ogontz Avenue was a busy strip.
Timmy was frantic. “Yo, let me out right here!” he yelled, only five blocks from the hit.
Chubby Mat whined, “Aw, man, you gon’ get us stuck wit’ the fuckin’ ride!”
Timmy leaped out of the front seat and ran for the Broad Street subway. He took all of the money with him.
Jay and Mat turned paranoid.
Mat yelled, “See, I knew we shouldna’ tried this shit!”
Jay roared, hopping in the front seat, “Fuck it, man, let’s get the hell out of here!”
They turned a tight corner and crashed into a parked car.
Jay shouted, “SHIT! Get out and break, man!”
They sprinted in opposite directions. Philadelphia police cruisers whipped around at both ends only seconds later. The officers hustled in hot pursuit as Jay dashed up a street perpendicular from Mat and tried to jump over a fence. The fence snagged his leg, slamming Basketball Jay to the hard concrete. The officers caught up and pinned him down.
“MOTHER-FUCKA!” Jay spat, with tears in his eyes.
One officer smiled. “Your father can’t help ya’ now, son.” They smashed Jay to the ground and put the handcuffs on.
BOOMP! BOOMP! BOOMP!
“Open up! It’s the police!”
Patti marched to the door. “What the hell is going on?” she demanded, answering it.
“We would like to talk to your daughter concerning the whereabouts of a Mr. Timothy Adams.”
Tracy walked out of the kitchen with big eyes.
“Do you know Timothy Adams, ma’am?” the officer asked her on sight.
Tracy’s voice cracked. “Yes,” she squealed nervously.
“Would you happen to know where he stays?”
“No,” she responded, looking over his clean stern face and dark uniform.
The officer shook his head. “Now, nothing is going to happen to you. We just want to find out where he is.”
Tracy wouldn’t have told if she did know. But she didn’t. “No, I don’t know where he is. I haven’t talked to him in weeks,” she answered.
Stern-face said, “Well, if you hear from him, could you do us a favor and let us know? ’Cause from what I hear, it would be to his benefit if we caught him first.”
Stern-face walked out while his partner radioed the station from the squad car.
Patti closed the door and watched until the police cleared out. She then turned and stared at her daughter, shaking her head. She went to the kitchen to think. Tracy followed her.
“Well, what’s it about, Tracy?”
Tracy stiffened. “Stealin’,” she admitted.
“Oh, so you knew what he was doin’, hunh?”
Tracy pondered. “I couldn’t stop him . . . I wonder where he’s at though.”
Patti frowned and said, “What? I don’t believe you even said that. You remind me of your aunts, girl, datin’ troublemakers and then wondering why they get all wrapped up in it. You stay away from those types! You hear me? That boy is no longer allowed in this house.”
The word was out that Tracy was the former girlfriend of Timothy Adams. He was in deep trouble with the police and no one knew where he was. And although he had busted Tracy’s lip and assaulted her, she still felt for him.
“How long you plan on staying here, Timmy?” his new girlfriend asked. She was twenty-three and had her own apartment in Southwest Philly.
“I’on know,” he answered, stretched out on her bed, with only jeans and sneakers on.
“You’re crazy as hell. You know that, right?” she asked, grinning at him. “You could have been a cute, green-eyed, light-skinned boy, growing up to go to college. I don’t understand you. I mean, you lived in a nice neighborhood and all. You already had money.”
The twenty-three-year-old figured that Germantown had its “good parts” and “bad parts,” but it was still a nice area compared to where she lived, in a drug-and-crime-infested apartment complex. She took drugs herself. Timmy was giving her money to feed her habit while he stayed there.
“Ay, Gina, just shet the fuck up! Nobody asked you shit!” he fumed at her.
“Just explain to me where you’re comin’ from.”
“Look, life ain’t shit unless you live it.”
“What does that mean?”
“That means I’m gon’ do what the fuck I want! SHIT!”
“And then what?”
Timmy smiled. “I’on know . . . I guess you die.”
Gina retorted, “See, all you criminal-minded niggas think the world is a joke, but you only get one chance to live, and you messed yours up.”
Gina began to get ready to leave for work.
Timmy asked, “Gina, what the fuck are you doin’ with your life? I mean, you strung out on drugs and shit.”
Gina snapped, “I ain’t headed for jail, I got my own place and a good job. Muthafucka!”
Timmy grinned and shook his head. Gina had a temper, too. He sat on the bed, thinking about what she had said after she left. She let him stay with her, thinking that she could help him out, while he gave her money for her habit.
Timmy shook his head and smirked. “Life is fuckin’ crazy,” he mumbled to himself. Like father, like son was his story. His father had died in a shoot-out years ago. Timmy was raised by his mother and stepfather. He had never respected either one. He had to compete for attention. His mother then had a thing for abusive men, after divorcing his stepfather. She never had another child, and Timmy was lonely and miserable. He used females and mischief to fill his void. And before his wild lifestyle would end, he wanted to be with Tracy again.
Timmy dialed her number. “Hello . . . Yeah, it’s me,” he answered.
Tracy got excited and asked, “Where you at?”
“That’s not important. I’m sorry, and I wanna come see you.”
Tracy smiled, willing to oblige. “Where do you want me to meet you?”
“I’m gon’ come up to your house, late at night, like two o’clock in the mornin’.”
“But the cops gon’ be after you.”
Timmy sighed. “I’m goin’ to jail soon anyway. It don’t matter no more.”
Tracy was weak for him. She wanted to see him. “You want me to sneak you in the back door?” she asked.
“Yeah, you do that.”
Tracy paused. “I love you,” she said, hanging up.
Timmy began to think that if he had not been so demanding with her, he would have never followed such a path of destruction and robbery. Tracy kept him out of trouble when they were together, and her words of affection launched Timmy into emotional turmoil.
Timmy snuck out that night while Gina took a shower. He packed his gun and five hundred dollars to give to Tracy. He had gotten away with twelve hundred dollars on his last robbery. He figured Tracy could use the money better than he could. At least no one would be after her. He had about four hundred left for himself after giving Gina her share for letting him stay with her.
Not trusting the buses or the subway, he called a freelance taxi driver, or a “hack,” to ride him up to Tracy’s house. He stopped for snacks at a Korean corner store to stall for time. He paid the hack to wait with him. He then told the driver to let him out three blocks away from Tracy’s house, so that he could watch for cops. He didn’t want the driver to know all of his business either. Timmy wasn’t slow.
He walked up the familiar streets toward Tracy’s house, watching his back from all directions with his gun loaded and ready. He arrived at Tracy’s driveway, feeling secure that no one had seen him, and knocked on her door. Tracy stood glimmering, naked as an angel, ready for them to make love.
Timmy did not say a word as he undressed. They then stared at each other and held hands in the darkness. Their kiss was soft, gentle and calming. Timmy’s hands rubbed her body, and Tracy’s hands rubbed his as they caressed, standing in the middle of her blue-carpeted basement. And they proceeded to lay together for the last time.
Tracy asked, “Where are you going?”
Timmy sighed. “I gotta get outta here.” He jerked up his pants as he dressed in a hurry.
Tracy pleaded, “Stay till the morning, Timmy.”
Timmy frowned at her. “Shit, girl, it’s like four o’clock. It is the fuckin’ morning.”
“Well, where do you stay?”
He shook his head, refusing to tell her. “I told you that’s not important,” he answered, walking toward the door.
“I love you.” Tracy told him again.
Timmy smiled. “Yeah, I know.”
He walked off with a quick pace, slipping around corners and making sure there were no police cars positioned around her block. He ran down another driveway and around another corner, heading for the Broad Street subway station.
Once he had arrived, he waited nervously. A train pulled up after five minutes. Timmy rode the Broad Street line to Center City, feeling like he had escaped. He then transferred to the Market Street line. Fatigue pulled him into sleep while he rode. He awoke to find that he had missed his stop. He got up and crossed to the other side to head back. He was thankful that it was summertime. The sun would not rise until six, and it was already five-thirty.
Timmy wobbled on the streets, trying to stay awake until he could reach Gina’s and fall asleep for the rest of day. He arrived at Gina’s apartment building and pulled out the key that she had given him.
“FREEZE! YOU’RE UNDER ARREST!” a plainclothes detective hollered from behind him, with a raised gun.
Timmy was too tired to notice them ducked inside of a parked car across the street from the apartment complex. He was a wanted man, and the officers had waited for him to arrive, arresting him for the sake of hard-working citizens.
“Now drop the bag and turn around with your hands up high, son, or your life will end right here!”
Timmy dropped the bag and did as he was told.