Young Junius, page 11
part #4 of Jack Palms Series
Junius glanced at Elf and saw him staring at the others, caressing the Tec. Junius looked back out the window at the empty front driveway of 412.
“Seven and Marlene know you. We need to call them on this?”
“Nah. We won’t fuck this up.”
“It’s cool.”
They made to go up the stairs, watching Junius to see what he would do and stealing glances at Elf, who’d been quiet this whole time, just sitting and rubbing his gun.
“Go ahead,” Junius said. He waved toward the empty stairs.
“Word,” the taller one said. “Word. We check you.” They took off up the stairs.
Junius waited to hear their steps fade before he said, “You trust those two?”
“Shit. I don’t trust nobody.” Elf brought the Tec out from under his leg, waved it between his knees like he was spraying shots all over the stairs—exactly where the two boys had stood.
“Fucking pigeons in here. Sitting pigeons watching this window.” Junius looked outside again, saw no change in front of 412. “Yo, fuck this,” he said.
“What you thinking?”
Junius angled his head up, toward the floors above them. “I’m thinking the roof.”
“Roof?” Elf started to get up. “I like that idea.” He pushed the Tec down the front of his jeans.
30
On his way up to the roof, Roughneck didn’t talk to anybody. He left Milk watching the lobby, dispatched a few young ones to do the selling. After the bullshit with Clarence, he needed some time to himself, alone up top where he could work it out with a few forms.
He took the elevator up to the top and then the stairs to the roof. He threw punches at the air going up the steps, and then knocked the roof door open with his shoulder.
“Yo, fuck!” he yelled into the cold air.
Milk wouldn’t treat him any differently after getting tagged up by Clarence, but he had his own conscience to live down. His blood burned at what had happened and that he didn’t do anything about it. He couldn’t, especially to an older soldier like Clarence. Rough knew a few of the punches had caught him because they were fast—they were good punches, no denying that—but what got him the most was what Rock might do if he actually came back hard on Clarence.
Fucker was just too close to Rock. Of course, that proximity rule extended to him too, and Clarence should have considered that before throwing blows, but clearly Clarence didn’t think.
He didn’t consider his actions, just another reason why Clarence was an inferior soldier. But now he was an inferior soldier that had pounded on him in front of 412. Rough closed his eyes to keep from screaming. He picked up a pebble from the rooftop and threw it hard toward Route 2. He didn’t even look over the edge to see where it went: if someone was real unlucky, it’d hit their fucking car, or worse.
He stepped to that side of the roof and launched into his first form, the punch combination that started off the Monkey sequence. The Monkey was familiar to him but to get to the next level he had to learn the Tiger perfectly so he could test for his purple belt. Purple marked the turning point between know-nothing beginner and respectable midlevel student. He’d been going for close to three months now and was eager to make the jump.
Purple was a dark color, so different from yellow, white, or orange. Just the fact that you had a dark color around your midsection made you look like you were on your way. Dark belts were real.
The Monkey started with a series of punches and then slide steps with blocks that led to kicks. As Rough started into these, he gradually left his thoughts behind. As he went on, he started to punch harder, kick with more force. His body loosened up.
In ten minutes, he had his jacket off and was practicing the opening of Tiger. It felt good to sweat in the cold wind, to move faster than when he started, to go through the Monkey as fast as he could.
Now just the start of Tiger was his challenge: to go through it clean and as fast as he could. It was just seven punches, four blocks, and three kicks, with steps and changes of direction in between, but it made for enough of a challenge. He ran through the sequence in his head: punches, blocks, kicks.
Away toward the highway, he saw just blue sky, a fading pattern of clouds leading off toward the horizon. He turned and threw a kick in the direction of Boston, toward the Hancock Tower and the downtown skyline. The roof’s pebbles crunched under his feet. On one side of Boston, the Hancock and Prudential Buildings marked the highest points, on the other, the Federal Reserve and the skyscrapers of the financial center marked the waterfront.
The steeple of Sanders Theatre at Harvard rose above the rest of what he could see of Cambridge. Fresh Pond Reservoir stretched out to his right. He should jog around it, complete the two-mile loop for endurance, but so far he had yet to do it.
He punched, threw his kick combinations, stepped, and blocked until he heard a loud bang from the roof of 411 that jarred him out of his quiet world and back to the immediate world of the towers.
He dropped into a prone position, a push-up that felt like the right purple-belt thing to do, but he was all the way on the other side of the roof from 411. He couldn’t see anyone, but he doubted if anyone from 411 would be able to see him.
31
Junius and Elf ran up the stairs until they got too tired, and then stole into the hallway on twelve to use the elevator. This hall was identical to all the others: empty, piss stains on the carpet, dim light coming in through the opaque windows at either end, fluorescent bulbs twittering on and off. As they waited for the elevator, Junius handled the grip of his Tec. He knew there wouldn’t be anyone to fear in the car, but he did it anyway. Even if he was acting paranoid, he decided to go with it: better safe than dead was an easy way to look at it.
When the doors opened on an empty car, Junius relaxed a little. His nerves were up now and perhaps this was part of how things should be. He considered the fighters from kung fu movies and how they walked on their toes, always holding their hands ready and looking around. It kept them alive, that was what mattered most. Junius bent his elbows and held his arms out from his chest. He positioned his hands in front of him, ready to move.
They rode the car all the way up to twenty-two and, just as the doors were opening, Junius remembered that this was Marlene’s floor—where she lived. He ducked his head out and saw two soldiers standing with their arms crossed. One was Meldrak, the other Jason. They both tilted their heads, eyeing him like a cat stares down its prey.
“What you want?”
“We just—” Junius held out a hand to keep Elf in the car. He thought about going back down a few floors and picking up the stairs there, but it was too late. He stepped into the hall, holding his hands at his shoulders. Elf followed.
Junius nodded toward the stairs. “Marlene cool with us. Seven hook us up to watch Rock. Big Pickup too.”
The guy closer to Junius pushed out his lips as he started to nod. Junius had seen him around: a Latino brother named Jason. He was Temple’s age and they played baseball together one year. His skin was lighter than Junius’s and his hair puffed out in wide curls.
“What up?” Junius said to him.
Jason smiled and the gesture broke the mask, almost like he just took it off. “They cool, Drak,” he said. He put a hand on Drak’s—a hand Junius saw didn’t contain a gun. “This Junius. He Temple’s younger brother.”
Drak smiled too. Temple had warned Junius about him a long time ago, said he was just an angry motherfucker. Elf had said the same only a few hours ago.
“Temple’s brother who kill Lamar?” Drak asked, his arms still crossed.
Junius didn’t like the way Meldrak looked at him. “No, I—”
That was when Drak pulled his hands out from under his armpits to reveal twin guns. He pointed them at Junius and made a sound with his mouth like he was cocking the weapons. “Chhh-chhkkk.”
“Motherfuck!” Junius ducked back against the side of the hallway, and Elf dove into the elevator.
“You shot my boy Lamar?”
“Yo, chill man!” Jason said. “Lounge!”
Meldrak shook his head, still holding the guns up. Junius saw twin muzzles, the black pupils, and he didn’t like it. He wanted to reach for the Tec-9, but with his hands by his shoulders, he knew he didn’t have time to make a move. He’d trusted Drak for being one of Marlene’s soldiers, and now there was nothing he could do.
He thought about saying how Lamar tried to point a gun on him, and that’s why he was dead, but bravado only came off in the movies. In this life he didn’t want to piss off a man with two guns on him.
“Nah,” Meldrak said, lowering his arms. “I’m just playing with you.” He laughed. “Should’ve seen your face, though. You were thinking like a motherfucker.”
Elf slowly came out of the elevator and tried to force a smile. “You a funny dude,” he said. “Real funny. Yo, this is me laughing.” His face was cold, no expression.
Jason hit his partner on the shoulder as he lowered the guns. “Yo, that shit is fucked-up!”
“We’re looking for the roof,” Junius said.
“You come up in here, we got to fuck with you, right?” Meldrak looked around: at Jason and then back at Junius. He raised his shoulders like he was waiting for them to agree.
“You don’t think it’s funny, don’t see the joke? Then fuck you.” He leaned toward Junius, said the last words with a light spray from his lips. Temple had said the only way to handle guys like this was to avoid them.
“Nah,” Junius said. “You had us. No doubt.” He nodded. “Want to check my pants? I think I got a little pebble in my drawers. I’m a thank you for that.”
Meldrak smiled. “I can smell it, too.” He winked, then moved back against the wall. “Stairs up there,” he said, pointing down the hall with one of his guns. Jason turned away when Junius looked at him. He was shaking his head, probably more than sick of Meldrak’s humor.
“Word. Thanks.” Elf walked ahead of Junius, down the hall and away from Meldrak.
Junius heard Jason say he was sorry about what happened to Temple. He thought maybe Jason had been at the funeral, but couldn’t remember. The whole day before was a blur.
32
At the top of the stairs, they did not have to break the lock on the door to get out to the roof. By the battered look of the door and the marks on the wall next to the lock, this happened a lot.
Outside, it was cold, but they were in the sun, and Junius took a deep breath when he saw the size of the world around him. In the blue sky, he saw thin, white horizontal clouds receding toward the horizon like so many waves. He thought about the time his mother took him and Temple up to Salisbury Beach one summer and about playing video games on the boardwalk. They played in the water too, he and Temple, trying to throw sand in each other’s eyes. His mother taught them to bodysurf on the small waves, and once he learned how to do it, Junius spent the rest of the day jumping onto the little rides. He remembered lying in his bed that night, Temple snoring on the other side of their room, and feeling the sensation of his body still floating in the water, getting carried up and down.
They were so much higher here than they got on the roof of Elf’s house. Junius could see so much more.
“Damn, yo!” Elf said. “This like the time we went to John Hancock with school, all the way up that observation deck.” He pointed toward Boston, and Junius was surprised to see the whole skyline: the Hancock Tower, the Prudential, the other tall buildings he didn’t know. You could see it all from up here—all of Boston. It didn’t look far.
“That’s Boston. Big as shit. What we doing over here?”
“Huh?” Elf laughed. “Because this be where we live, motherfucker, and we got problems enough here.” He pointed his chin toward the edge of the roof. “You hear that?”
Junius listened and heard the music from below, Public Enemy, someone blasting the song about Chuck D’s Uzi weighing a ton that everyone had been rocking since the summer. It sounded like someone was playing it from a car.
“Come on.” Elf ran across the roof, the pale rocks crunching under his feet. It wasn’t far to the edge. They sat down when they were close, arms resting on the short wall that ran around the perimeter.
Junius could see the white Lincoln far below, driving into the lot in front of 412, its windows down, the music pouring out. Elf pulled out his Tec and pointed it at the car. “You think?” he said, bringing his face down to the gun’s sight, holding the weapon with both hands.
“No,” Junius said. “There’s no way you make that shot. Not with that gun. You need a serious sniper rifle to make that shot.” Junius put his hand on the gun to move it away from Elf’s face. “Like this you just piss somebody off, let them know where we is.”
Elf sucked his teeth in disappointment.
They watched the Lincoln pull up in front of 412, and Black Jesus got out. He went around to the back door and opened it.
“The fuck we supposed to do?” Elf asked.
Bonnie the Doberman came out of the car first, then Rock looked out after her. He checked around him in all directions before he came out of the car completely—all directions but straight up. Even if he had, he couldn’t have seen Junius and Elf from this high above, their faces small against the edge of the building.
Bonnie pulled Rock out of the car, toward the tower, and Black Jesus held the door open for a woman who got out next. Even from this high up, Junius could tell she was a knockout: she wore a tight white ski jacket on her upper half, and was all dark cocoa legs down below it. She might have on a minidress, or something, or she could have on nothing at all. She had a little white hat pulled down over her straightened black hair.
“Damn,” Elf said, as she followed Rock into the building. Black Jesus shut the door to the Lincoln and followed her in. Roughneck wasn’t anywhere Junius could see.
With the door closed, the Lincoln drove back to the street-side part of the lot and pulled into an empty space. Junius watched to see who got out, but the driver had a hat on, the kind of hat you’d see an actual chauffeur wearing on TV. No suit, just jeans and a goose down, and that fucked-up hat.
It made Junius remember the first time he saw a limo on Diff’rent Strokes in the opening credits—that and the weird episode where they showed Mr. Drummond driving it himself. He never understood why you’d own a limo and drive it. Nobody would drive their own limo.
He pointed out the hat to Elf, who was already watching the driver, still holding his gun. “Yeah,” Elf said. “That hat fucked-up.”
Rough got up but stayed low, moving slowly toward 411. As he got close to the edge, he noticed two kids on the other roof. They moved fast to the side closest to him and then ducked. One of them brought out a gun and pointed it toward the front of 412. The other one looked familiar, but it took Roughneck a second to realize that he was Junius, the one who shot Lamar.
Rock wanted him dead, had put Clarence on the job. That was what Clarence was supposed to be doing today. Not sitting in his car smoking weed.
From the sound of things below, someone blasting Public Enemy loud enough to hear on the roof, Rough knew Rock was back from getting Berry, his new hot piece of ass from Boston.
Rough felt in his lower back for the small Beretta he kept there, and then remembered he’d taken it out, put it down with his jacket on the other side of the roof.
He swore under his breath, watched them put their gun away. It was a Tec-9 and there was no way they’d make a shot with it from the roof. Still, Rough felt a relief knowing they wouldn’t try.
If these two were in Marlene’s tower, then Clarence was going to have a hell of a time doing anything to them. Marlene’s buildings were a definite no-fly zone. Rock sometimes pushed to test this, sold in her parking lots, even close to her lobbies, but going all the way to the roof was a stretch, a near impossibility.
So Rough watched them watching the street. The sweat on his back cooled and cold air whipped along his skin. On the street below, Public Enemy got louder and then softer again as Mike Only drove to the other side of the lot.
Then their heads were gone.
Rough considered what might happen if Clarence caught these two, or if he brought them in to Rock himself. Maybe there was a way to help himself come out on top with these two.
Rough scratched his forehead, wiped sweat on his jeans. These kids didn’t look like they needed to die. Maybe preserving their lives would be the best way for him to get back at Clarence.
He stood up.
“Yo!” he called over to the other roof.
They looked at him, their faces the only parts of their bodies above the wall. They were confused, their brows knitted above their eyes.
“Yo, what you doing here?”
Junius said something to Elf, then they both were quiet. They kept staring across the gap.
“Fuck you doing in the towers?”
Neither of them moved.
“You know these boys out to get you, right?”
They nodded.
“Listen up and I’m a tell you something.”
33
Roughneck winked.
Junius wasn’t sure he saw it right—they weren’t that close—but if he didn’t expect different, he’d be sure Roughneck had winked.
“I won’t tell no one where you boys at. But you shouldn’t be up here.” He raised his hands. “Do what you feel, but you should get on out the towers.”
Then Roughneck walked away from the edge, back toward the other side of his roof. He put his Triple Fat Goose on over his sweatshirt. For a moment, Junius saw a gun, and then it was gone.
Junius gripped his Tec. It was hot now and slippery from his sweat. He couldn’t shoot Roughneck at this distance, and he hoped that meant Rough couldn’t shoot him either.
Rough raised two fingers as if in salute and then went back to the rooftop stairs and was gone.
“The fuck you think of that shit?” Junius asked.
“I don’t fucking know. Maybe that niggah crazier than you.”
