Chapter Twelve
It was three days later when the dominoes of what Jonas and his friends had done would begin to fall. He was awakened early that morning by the sounds of shouting. He was pissed because he had been having trouble sleeping since the events at the motel, and the night before was the first time he had been able to get a good rest. He had been suffering from very violent dreams. They were usually the same, him clubbing someone’s head in with the bat. Sometimes, it was Black, but there were others. Always people who had wronged him: Slick, the dude who had tossed his football onto the ice in the park. His mother had even been the victim of his violent outburst in one dream. That was the one that had disturbed him the most. He sometimes disliked his mother, but he didn’t hate her enough to hurt her.
Since the motel, rage had become one of his closest companions. It followed him everywhere like a shadow. Little things that he would have normally overlooked now drove him to fits of anger. He had even beaten up a crackhead the previous night when he was hanging out in the park with Ace and Mula. The crackhead had asked Ace to let him borrow a few dollars because he was short of the ten he needed to buy his drugs. When Ace told him to fuck off, the crackhead said something slick. It was a harmless remark, but enough to set Jonas off. He stomped the crackhead out and hit him over the head with a trash can for good measure. Ace was pissed because the fight made the spot hot, and he had to shut down his weed operation for a few dollars. Mula just laughed. He said he liked the new Raf, and Jonas was inclined to agree with him. He was changing, and everyone around him picked up on it, even Sweets. She had asked him about it once, but Jonas downplayed it as him just having a lot on his mind. How could he tell his kindhearted sister that he was now a killer?
Jonas thought about Black often. He wondered what it must’ve felt like to die in such a violent way. Did he suffer? Or did he pass instantly into the afterlife upon impact? Fuck him! As far as Jonas was concerned, he got what he deserved. It came down to a choice between Black’s life and Jewel’s, and Black was the odd man out. If Jonas had it to do all over again, the only thing he would’ve done differently would be to bring the gun into the room so he could’ve shot him instead. The thought made Jonas giggle.
His thoughts then turned to Jewels. Over the last couple of days, she and Jonas had been hanging out more than usual. When she chose to attend, Jewels went to one of those last-chance schools where you only had to attend classes in the morning, so she was the perfect companion for Jonas to pass the days while Ace and Mula were out grinding, and his sisters weren’t at home. Sometimes, late at night when Jewels was having trouble sleeping, or her mother was on one, Jonas would sneak her into his room. At that point, they hadn’t done anything more than kiss, though they had come close. Mostly, they would lie in each other’s arms like an old married couple, talking and daydreaming about lives outside the ones they were living. Jewels never came out and said it, but what had happened at the motel had done something to her. She had changed. Not like Jonas, but in a way that she couldn’t figure out how to put into words. Jonas didn’t press her to try. She would speak about it when she was ready or not at all. He was fine either way. The two of them found comfort in each other that they couldn’t find with their own families. They were good for each other.
In the other room, the shouting continued. Going back to sleep wasn’t an option at that point. He slipped out of bed and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie and went to investigate.
He was serving the last day of the suspension from school, so he was the only one of the kids at home that day. This left only two other people who could’ve been the source of the noise. Sure enough, he found his mother and Slick in the living room engaged in a shouting match. They seemed to be arguing more than usual lately. His mother was still in her housecoat, head wrapped in a scarf, and smoking a cigarette. Slick was dressed in a pair of green pants that looked like that looked like they could stand a good washing and a dingy yellow shirt. His eyes were wide and angry.
“Damn it, Janette. You act like I’m asking you for a lot, and its only ten funky dollars. I need to fix up.” Slick was ranting.
“Tough shit. You should’ve gotten what you needed with the twenty dollars you stole out of my purse last night!” Janette shot back. “I been busting my ass trying to pay off your debt, and you ain’t exactly been helpful.”
“You act like I ain’t been out hustling too!”
“You call boosting shit from the Ninety-Nine-Cent store hustling?” she capped.
“I’m trying to do my part to bring some coins into this damn house!”
“Coins which you smoke, snort, or shoot no sooner than you get your hands on them,” Janette accused. “I’m getting a little tired of having to carry both our habits, Slick. Something is gonna have to give.”
“Baby, I’m telling you this is just a rough patch. I got a friend of mine from back in the day who’s doing good for himself over in Newark. I convinced him to lay a package on me. Once I flip it, we’re right back on our feet,” he promised.
“Or you’re going to fuck it up and have two niggas looking to kill you instead of one.” Janette blew out a cloud of smoke.
“You know it’d be nice to have a woman who supported my dreams,” Slick said sourly.
“It be nicer to have a man who actually pulled his weight! I swear, I gotta look after you more than I do my own kids.”
“Then maybe I should leave? You know there ain’t no shortage of bitches that would be lined up to take your spot.”
“And they would be more than welcome to it! You pimping around this muthafucka like you’re some damn prized catch. Contrary to what your ego tells you, I was doing pretty good before you came into my life. Had a good man who loved me,” Janette said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Yup; loved you up to the point where you pushed him to eat a bullet!” Slick sneered. It was a low blow.
Janette slapped fire out of Slick, and he slapped her back. She went spilling onto the floor. The two of them wrestled around on the ground for a while before Jonas decided to intervene.
“Get off of her.” Jonas pulled at Slick.
“Mind your damn business, boy! This is my woman!” Slick snapped.
“But it’s my mother!” Jonas continued trying to pull him off. Slick whirled on Jonas and slapped him so hard that he skidded across the living room. He sat on the floor, eyes welling with tears. The tears weren’t those of pain but rage.
“What? You gonna cry now?” Slick taunted him. Jonas didn’t answer. He picked himself up off the floor and darted back into his room. “That’s right, li’l bitch! You better run!”
“You ain’t have to do that, Slick!” Janette screamed.
“Fuck that. The li’l nigga act like he’s the damn man of the house. I don’t see him putting no food on the table.” Slick had never cared for Jonas, and it felt good to knock him on his ass finally. “I hope he brings his ass out here so I can give him another dose.” Slick’s prayers were answered. Jonas did come back into the living room, but he was armed with the baseball bat he’d cracked Black’s skull with. “And what you plan on doing with that?” Slick mocked him.
He got his answer when Jonas swung the bat. The only thing that saved Slick’s skull was the fact that he had thrown his arm up at the last minute. He howled in pain when the wood connected with the bone of his forearm and broke it. Jonas followed up with a shot to the ribs, folding Slick. He was now on his knees and begging Jonas to stop, but the boy was past the point of mercy. He raised the bat, intent on sending Slick to the hereafter when his mother threw herself across her boyfriend.
“Jonas, don’t!” she pleaded.
“He ain’t never gonna put his hands on you again. Move, Mama,” Jonas ordered, but Janette continued covering him.
“He’s sorry, baby. He won’t do it no more. Will you, Slick?”
“No,” Slick cried.
“This nigga treats you like shit, and you’re still protecting him?” Jonas was in total disbelief.
“You just don’t understand, baby,” she sobbed.
Jonas’s eyes were sad. “Yeah, I do. I understand more than you know.” He dropped the bat and made hurried steps toward the front door.
* * *
Tears were streaming down Jonas’s cheeks when he came rushing from his building. He was hurt and angry. He couldn’t understand for the life of him how a woman he had always known to be so strong had become so weak and pathetic. Even as an addict, Janette had always been very independent and stood taller than most. She wasn’t the ideal mother, but she always made sure that her kids at least had the basics, including love. This all changed when Slick came into the picture. In the years Slick had been around, Janette seemed to slide further and further down the rabbit hole. Watching it was bad, but the fact that he was powerless to do anything about it is what hurt him the most. It was that day that Jonas made a promise to himself that he would rescue his sisters from the madness that his mother had created, no matter the cost.
Something else that troubled him is what Slick had said about his mother driving his father to “swallow a bullet.” The details surrounding Zeke’s death had always been sketchy, but as far as Jonas or anyone else knew, he had been killed by the husband of one of his lovers. That was the story he had always believed, but now Slick had raised doubts. There were so many things running through Jonas’s mind that he felt like he was walking in a daze. He was unsure about where he was going or what he would do next, but the one thing he was sure of was the ball of rage nestled in his gut. He needed a release.
“Yo, yo, what’s up, li’l Zeke?” Juan called out to him. He was standing out in front of his store, smoking a cigarette and drinking a beer.
“That ain’t my fucking name,” Jonas said through clenched teeth.
“Ain’t no need for all the hostility, shorty. I was just trying to show you some love,” Juan said. He didn’t like how Jonas was talking to him. “So, your mom never came through to pay what she owed.”
“And?”
“And, I’m running a business, not a charity.”
“Look, Juan. You got a beef, take it up with my mother or Slick. I ain’t got a nickel in that dollar.”
“Sounds like trouble at home.” Juan fell in step beside him. “I know how that shit goes. I didn’t get along with my parents either when I was growing up. My mom was a fiend too. No offense. I been out on my own since I was about your age. Went out and got it on my own because I knew nobody wasn’t going to give it to me. Now, I’m my own boss with my own business.”
“Congratulations,” Jonas said in an uninterested tone. He wanted Juan to get the hell away from him so that he could brood in peace.
“Look, man, I can see you ain’t really trying to be bothered. I just want you to know that I’m here for you if you need anything. I always liked you, Raf.” He called him by his nickname. “If things get too crazy for you at home, you could always come crash with me. I got an extra room that I sometimes rent out. I know things are kinda tight for you right now, so I wouldn’t charge you anything. Maybe we could work something out.” He placed his hand on Jonas’s shoulder.
It took Jonas all of two seconds to realize what Juan was insinuating. “Get your fucking hand off me!” he shrugged him off.
“Chill out, kid. I was only trying to—”
“I know just what you were trying to do, you sick bastard!” Jonas spat.
Juan looked around nervously to see if anyone had heard the accusation. What few people knew about him was that so long as the flesh was tender, gender didn’t always matter. “Hey, fuck you! I was talking about you maybe helping out around the store in exchange for me giving you a place to stay, but you can forget it now.”
“I don’t want shit from you, fucking pervert!”
“Pervert? I got bitches throwing pussy at me all day, every day, or haven’t you noticed the way your sister looks at me?” Juan said devilishly.
“If I catch you around my sister again, I’ll kill you,” Jonas threatened.
This made Juan laugh. “You think because you hang around Ace that makes you a tough guy all of a sudden? You ain’t shit but a kid. As far as your sister goes, I haven’t tried to fuck her yet, but maybe I should. Shit, if she gets down anything like your mom, I’ll—”
Juan never got to finish his sentence. Jonas hit him with a two-piece combination to the face, splitting his lip. Juan was a grown man, while Jonas was only a boy, and had it been a fair fight, he probably would’ve gotten the best of him, but Jonas had the element of surprise on his side. He took all his rage, all his pain, and channeled it through his fists which were raining down on Juan. Tearing into Juan was a better high than any drug, and he imagined it must be what his mother and Slick felt when they were out chasing their highs. The feeling was short-lived, however, as a pair of strong hands grabbed Jonas and pulled him off Juan. He turned, ready to lash out at whoever it was, but paused when he saw it was Fat Moe holding him.
“Easy, boy . . . Take it easy.” Fat Moe tried to calm him.
“Get off, Moe. I’m gonna kill him!” Jonas struggled to break free, but Moe was surprisingly strong.
“I can’t believe this little muthafucka swung on me.” Juan clutched his bloody lip. He took a step toward Jonas, but Fat Moe got between them. “Look out, Moe. This ain’t your business.”
“Maybe not, but it might become police business if they get a mind to come around asking what happened. Grown man out here trying to fight a child.” Fat Moe shook his head. “That might be enough to get them to start snooping around what you got going on out of your store.”
“You threatening me?” Juan asked.
“Not at all. Just painting you a picture,” Fat Moe said.
For a minute, Juan contemplated beating the hell out of both of them but decided against it. Fat Moe was right. He didn’t need that type of heat on him. “I’m gonna see you again, li’l Zeke. When I do, I’m gonna bust your little ass, and it ain’t gonna matter who I gotta run through to get to you,” he threatened and then went back inside the store.
“You didn’t have to do that, Moe. I can protect myself,” Jonas said once Juan was gone.
“I believe the proper response would be thank you. And for the record, it wasn’t you I was trying to protect,” Fat Moe told him. “What’s wrong with you, out here swinging on grown people like that? I ain’t never known you to disrespect your elders, son.”
“Juan is a piece of shit,” Jonas said flatly.
“I ain’t gonna argue you that, but that still don’t change the fact that you may have just made yourself a dangerous enemy. You beat Juan’s ass in front of the neighborhood, and he ain’t gonna forget it. You watch your back out here, youngster,” Fat Moe warned.
“I will and thank you.”
“One good turn deserves another. That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Jewels told me what happened the other night,” Fat Moe revealed.
“Come again?” Jonas wanted to make sure he’d heard him correctly. Jewels had given her word that she wouldn’t tell a soul what he had done, and he couldn’t believe she’d broken it.
“About the girls who jumped her,” Fat Moe explained. “When I saw the bruises on her neck, the first thing I thought was that one of these knuckleheads she’s always chasing behind put his hands on her, but then she told me about the fight. I want to thank you for looking out for my niece, Jonas.”
“Wasn’t about nothing,” Jonas shrugged. He wasn’t sure how he felt about taking credit for something that never happened.
“Still, I appreciate it. Jewels ain’t had the easiest life. That girl is a tough nut and is not easy to trust people because of some of the things she’s been through. This is why I was glad to see the two of you spending time together. She speaks very highly of you.”
“I like Jewels too. She’s cool as hell.”
“That she is, but she’s also a very fragile young woman. Be mindful of that when dealing with her.”
“Oh, you ain’t gotta worry about that, Moe. I ain’t trying to smash,” Jonas assured him.
The term made Fat Moe laugh. “You kids and your slang. Look, I don’t know what you are or aren’t trying to do. I’m just putting the cards on the table. However you decide to play the hand is on you. One thing I will say is that if you ever do anything to hurt my niece, the next hot dog that goes on my grill will be yours. Do you understand?”
“Sure thing.”
“Good, now, since you don’t seem to have shit else to do, you can help me set up my grill. I got some burgers to put on today.”
This made Jonas’s eyes light up. The only thing that Fat Moe did better than hot dogs were burgers. As they were walking back toward Jonas’s building to fetch Fat Moe’s grill, they noticed two men in off-the-rack suits standing outside. One was black and the other white. You could tell without having to guess that they were cops. For a second, Jonas thought somebody might’ve called them about the fight that he had with Juan, but uniforms would’ve been dispatched for that. These were detectives. As they neared the building, one of them looked down at a piece a paper, then back up at Jonas before saying something to his partner. Jonas’s stomach suddenly started doing flip-flops.
“You Jonas Rafferty?” one of the detectives asked. He was a white man with short-cropped black hair.
“Who’s asking?” Fat Moe answered for him.
“Detectives Rooks and Turner,” the black detective made the introductions and flashed his credentials. “You his dad?”
“No, a friend of the family. What’s this about?”
“We need to ask him a few questions,” Detective Rooks told him.
Jonas silently passed gas out of fear. He wanted to tell himself that the detectives were there for something other than the corpse he had left in the motel room, but in his heart, he knew they were. There was no way they had just randomly shown up less than twenty-four hours after he had committed his first murder. Someone had talked. He wasn’t sure who, but it was the only explanation. For the briefest of instances, Jonas thought about running. The black cop, Rooks, must’ve been reading his mind because he grabbed him by the arm.
“Let’s go.” Rooks shoved him toward an unmarked car parked at the curb.
“Hold on, now! He’s a minor. You can’t question him without a parent present or a lawyer!” Fat Moe waddled after them.
“We tried knocking on the door of his apartment. Nobody answered, but we could smell the cigarette smoke coming through the door,” Turner, the white cop, said smugly. “When they’re finished doing whatever it is they’re trying to hide in there, tell them they can pick their kid up from the Thirty-second Precinct.”
The two detectives tossed Jonas into the car and took off before Fat Moe could protest any further.