It was Friday night on Hollywood Boulevard and the atmosphere was electric. The excitement came from two energy sources that made the place famous. One was the rich and famous that raced about town in their high-priced cars and limousines, shopping, eating, or making a scene at restaurants and nightclubs nestled in the hills and valleys around Hollywood. The other energy source was the wannabes. They searched for the significant and beat their deflated chests when they saw someone special or, better yet, got a glance to prove that they existed on the same plane of reality.
Officers Creech and Fuller had just started duty at the Hollywood station and had completed their third hour of patrol. Things were slow for a Saturday night. A domestic disturbance and then a purse snatching led to a chase down Gower South to Sunset. The teenage suspect got lost, so the cops headed back to Hollywood Boulevard.
“Damndest thing…first I had him and then he was gone,” Fuller lamented.
His stocky frame was built for racquetball and not for sprints. Fuller still panted in short, tight breaths and sweat stained his shirt around the shoulders and under his arms.
“You know the legs are the second things to go,” Officer Creech said.
“Yeah…yeah…Cut the shit. Let’s get back to patrol before something else jumps off. That boy ain’t done. We’ll see him again. Remember he’s skinny, dark-skinned, and wearing a dark hoodie,” Fuller said.
Fuller pointed the car toward the Kodak Theater while Creech looked out for any commotion.
Jeremy Talbert and Sidney Dennison were young wannabes. As they hung out on the corner of Hollywood and Ivar, they talked about what they could get into when there was no money for cover charges, drinks, or even cheap-ass souvenirs.
“Dawg. Let’s find a good movie. I think there’s a Bruce Willis joint down the street. Let’s do that. That way I can get home by ten or my mom’s gonna kill me,” Jeremy pleaded.
“Son, you are acting like a White boy since you moved to the West Side. Bruce Willis? Really? You got to man up and show that you’re Black enough to hang with me,” Sidney said with a smile. “Let’s sneak into a titty bar?” He saw Jeremy’s expression and quickly added, “Psych. I got to be home by eleven. I’m with you on this.”
“Dude…I thought you were just being a dick.” Jeremy shook his head. “So what do you want to do next?”
“A movie? That’s whack. Let’s just keep walking and checking out the shorties on the boulevard. I’ll be Wesley Snipes and you can be my White sidekick.”
Jeremy was used to jokes about his skin color and how his sandy-brown hair matched nicely with his hazel eyes and slight physique.
“Dawg. This is like you were in grade school,” Jeremy complained. “I thought junior high would make you more creative than that motherfucker?” He caught the surprised expression blossoming on Sidney’s face and followed up with, “Is that Black enough for your ass?”
Sidney grabbed Jeremy by the neck of his hoodie and pulled it toward him. Jeremy resisted the tug, lost his balance, and gently scooted off the sidewalk. He grabbed Jeremy’s pants leg. In seconds both boys were on the ground, wrestling.
“Let go of me,” Jeremy laughed. “Before I do a slam and jam on you like the WWF!”
“No way. I’m going to ram your fucking head into the cement like you stole something,” Sidney retorted, grinning himself. “You’re going to start crying like a bitch.”
As the two teenagers’ match mushroomed into a joyful frenzy and a few bored spectators stopped to witness the fray, Officer Fuller pulled his car to the curb.
“Hey, is that our guy? Check him out,” he said.
Creech was the first out of the squad car and engaged the boys on the pavement between the stars of Billy Joel and Edward G. Robinson.
“Okay, you two. Separate and there won’t be any trouble,” Creech commanded as the boys kept on tussling good-naturedly. They ignored him, and he dropped down and slipped an arm around the darker boy’s throat in a submission hold.
“Officer, please…we’re just messing around. Give us a break,” Sidney said while resisting the tight pull of Officer Creech’s forearm around his neck.
With the patrol car parked cockeyed against the curb, a crowd began to form. Fuller danced around the front bumper and grabbed Jeremy by the seat of his pants as he tried to get away.
“Slow down, young man. Is this boy trying to hurt you?” he asked.
“No. Just let us go. We’ll be straight. Honest,” Jeremy pleaded as Fuller’s right fist held on to his belt with the determination and control of a prizefighter. With the boys firmly in hand and wiggling in protest, the officers loaded them into the rear of the vehicle.
“So what’s this beef all about?” Officer Fuller asked.
“We were just roughhousin’,” Jeremy complained. “No beef…please, Mr. Officer.”
“No trippin’ on the boulevard. My bad. I started it,” Sidney confessed.
Fuller leaned over to whisper to Creech.
“I think this is our guy,” he murmured.
“You think so?”
In handcuffs, Jeremy and Sidney soon were secured in the cruiser and taken to the station for questioning.
