Team Mom, page 9
Coach said, “That’s nice, Tall. I bet it was appreciated.”
He thought for a moment. “Yeah, it was. It was. But not enough, not enough to where they would come back a few times or even once a year after the kids had grown and gone to college just to say, ‘Thank you’ and ‘I’m thinking about you.’”
“People not people anymore,” Coach mused.
“You’re right. They’re not like people should be.” Mr. Tall paused, then added, “I’m saying all this because I would thank Lois all the time.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah. Thank her for what she did, ’cause I could see it from afar. Thank her for being the type of woman who I never, ever seen have a bunch of mess around her—what you youngins call drama—all around her home. She didn’t want any of that.” Mr. Tall managed a brief smile. “I’d thank her for dealing with those kids every day and treating every last one like they were her own. I would even stop her car when she was on her way home if I’d see her while checking my mail, and I’d just thank her for always smiling when she saw me—every time, Coach. Every time.”
“Yeah, that’s real people right there,” Coach said.
Mr. Tall looked into her room. “She was so real that I was going to ask her to marry me.”
“Marry?”
“Sure was. During that barbecue we were about to have. I don’t have much to lose at this stage in the game. Think it could have worked too. You know why, Coach?”
Coach shook his head no. “Uh-uh. Tell me.”
“’Cause we like each other. We genuinely like each other, and when you do that, there are endless opportunities, way beyond the imagination, that can join people together.”
Mr. Tall was not hesitant when he informed Coach that he planned on finding out if Lois wanted to marry him. Mr. Tall said he felt bad that he didn’t go down to the house with her to get the food out the freezer. He said he felt even worse that while she took that beating, there was nothing he could do for her. He said that he realized he could be there for her now and that he was going to stay next to her side as long as it took. Mr. Tall gave Coach the key to his home and asked if he could go to his house and turn on his porch lights.
It took Coach only a few minutes to go inside Mr. Tall’s home to turn on the lights for him. On the way out he noticed a police cruiser sitting in Lois’s driveway. He drove down there and found a cop leaning back on the hood of his car.
“Craft,” Coach called out when he recognized the officer.
“What’s up, Coach?” the officer shot back. “I heard this was your case.”
“Yeah, all mine, bruh. Quiet around here or what?”
Craft looked around. “No doubt. I had a few lookyloos come by before darkness because they heard about what happened. But other than that, nobody better bring they ass over here tonight, because I’m not asking any questions, only talking with this sidearm,” he replied.
“Yeah . . .” Coach agreed.
“Some things you just don’t do, man,” Craft said. “This right here is why I am police. I’m telling you, I hope I don’t run into who did this, and I’m not alone. Everyone in this sector is pissed. Let me put it like this. Whoever did it better be living in a fuckin’ cave, man.”
Coach looked toward the house. “Look, I’m going to go in. See if I missed anything earlier.”
“Take your time. I’m here all night,” Craft told him.
The door was unlocked. Coach walked in. He paused for a brief second when he first heard the fragments of broken glass and other items cracking and popping under his shoes. What a mess. So many broken items lay on the floor in the house. Shit had been thrown everywhere. Coach estimated that Lois had lain just a half inch from where the huge 100 percent oak cabinet that stood along the length of her wall had been thrown to the floor. Those bastards really did try to kill her. He could see blood from one end of the room to the spot where she was found. They had dragged her there, hoping the cabinet would fall on top of her.
Coach had to take a deep breath to prevent himself from getting too emotional while he tried to piece together in his mind what had taken place here. He had a seat in the same chair that one of the punks had sat in when Lois encountered them. He wondered if they had sat there. Coach looked around and remembered he had had the entire kitchen table checked for fingerprints. He took out his phone and called the lab and learned that so far, no prints had come back that identified who the bastards were. This wasn’t going to be easy.
Coach sat still for almost an hour, scanning every bit of the room, looking for something, anything, until his eyes focused on a picture that had fallen to the floor. The picture was in a broken glass frame. It was so close to the chair that all he had to do was reach down and pick it up. The picture was titled “Third Grade Class.” All the children in the photo were standing and had bright smiles on their faces. They had no idea of their future, but they looked happy, as though recess was next on the agenda for them all. A little girl with pigtails stood out to him. It was her smile. She was holding Lois’s hand. In a million years Coach would never forget this smile. It had followed her throughout her life. He searched for her name in the list below the photo to make sure. It was her. The smiling child happened to be his wife as a little girl.
33
Coach didn’t have the courage to even attempt to be alone that night. It had been an up-and-down day, one that had started on a good note with getting suits with Jarques but had devolved into finding out Lois had been beaten, visiting her in the hospital, witnessing Mr. Tall’s pain, and seeing his dead wife as a little girl with the same smile she would show him every day that he knew her.
Shonda picked up her cell phone on the first ring, and she told Coach that she had been sitting there waiting for his call.
“I can’t be alone tonight,” Coach told her.
Shonda said, “Bad day, huh?”
“One like never before.”
“Wish I could come over to keep you company,” she said. “No way I can leave Jarques here alone, though.”
“And I would never ask you to,” he said back. “By the way, I’m in your driveway.”
“Are you serious?”
“I have my things. I need to be with you tonight.”
Within seconds, Shonda flicked on the porch light, opened the front door, and said into the phone while looking directly at Coach, who was still sitting in his car, “Well, c’mon in. You’re always welcome here.”
Coach climbed out of the car and followed Shonda inside the house.
Shonda sat down on the couch with Coach and poured two glasses of wine. “Believe it or not, this is a three-dollar bottle of wine,” she said.
Coach looked at the bottle, then took a sip. “Um, pretty good. Thanks. I really need it.”
“I got you, old man. . . .”
“We’re not that much older than one another. Fourteen years apart.”
“Believe me, fourteen years is a long time.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.” Then she kissed him on the cheek.
He looked around. “J asleep?”
“He should be. Said he was tired. I had him put on those shirts you got him. I think he really likes them.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, he even showed me how to tie his tie.”
Coach smiled. “That’s good. I learned something today too.”
She said, “From Jarques?”
“Yeah. He told me all about the True Religion brand.”
She laughed at the thought.
“Sure did. Told me it’s what he needs to look good.”
“These kids have been brainwashed. I’m glad you didn’t bring any True Religion up in here. What he has is just fine.” Shonda observed Coach for a moment. “First day on the job and you’re already bringing it home with you, aren’t you?”
Coach said, “Can’t help it on this one. Too personal.”
“Remember, we can only control ourselves, so try not to let it get you down, okay?”
“Thank you,” he said. “Always good to hear someone with a level head.”
Shonda smiled at him. “I’m here.”
“Mean that?”
She nodded her head yes.
Coach said, “Well, if that’s the case, we need to make it official.”
“Make what official?”
He pointed at her, then back at himself. This . . . you, me . . . as in one.”
“Are you serious?”
“I mean, only if you want to. I don’t want to have to twist your arm to be with a brother.”
“Twist my arm? You would never have to do that.”
“Okay, cool, then. We’re going to do this. We are officially dating.”
Shonda hit him on the leg. “See? You are an old man, with all this official stuff.”
34
The next morning Coach was well rested. He was more than ready to find the idiot deviants who had beat Lois and to put them behind bars. He offered Jarques a ride to school, and the boy accepted. This time, though, their ride together was odd. Odd because Shonda had revealed to Jarques that she and Coach were now an item. Neither Coach nor Jarques knew how to start the first conversation. This day was a fresh start for their relationship too.
They were maybe a few minutes from the house when Jarques said, “I see you stayed the night.”
Coach was sort of hesitant. “Yeah. Yeah, sure did,” he said.
“Was everything okay?”
Coach turned to him quickly. “Excuse me?”
“With our place, Coach. Did you sleep okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I did. Thanks.”
Jarques said, “You know, my mom must really like you.”
“Oh, really?”
Jarques smiled and waited awhile before he explained. “Yeah, it’s been weeks since the last guy stayed over.”
Coach took his eyes off the road and looked at Jarques.
“Relax, man. Just teasing,” Jarques said.
“What about you?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you have a girlfriend?”
Coach had never noticed Jarques smile so wide before. It was the first time he had even had a really good look at the blue braces in the boy’s mouth. “Yeah, I got a few . . .” He sat up straight.
“A few?”
“Yeah, you know.”
“How they feel about that?”
Jarques laughed. “I don’t know. I mean, what can they do? It’s just like that these days.”
“Oh, it’s like that?”
“Yeah, it’s just like that.” Jarques noticed Coach move his head from side to side. “What?”
“Nothing. It’s cool. It’s cool.”
Jarques leaned forward. “Hey, this is cool right here. That’s my boy right there. I’ll walk in with him.”
Coach stopped the car and watched Jarques climb out and walk toward the school grounds with his friend. Coach easily recalled his days as a young buck without a care in the world as he drove toward the department to get his day started.
Lois’s house was still being watched by rolling patrol cars throughout the day, and earlier in the day Coach made sure he went to Mr. Tall’s and turned off his lights. He had spoken with Mr. Tall about an hour before lunch and had learned that Lois was still in and out of consciousness, but her doctor was impressed because her vitals were getting stronger, which made everyone feel much better. Mr. Tall had insisted that he needed to get a walk in and stretch his legs, or he was going to explode from so much stress, so he asked Calvin to pick him up from the hospital and take a walk with him for an hour or so in order for him to get his blood circulating.
Even though he was on the desk for almost three years, Coach had always kept in touch with his contacts. It seemed as though he’d become closer to them over the three years, because most of the time when he’d reached out to them, it was just to see how they were doing. They would be a big help when he needed information.
One of his favorite informants was Lester. Lester James was the most talented athlete Coach had ever seen who didn’t have the intangibles to become great and to use his ability to carve a better life for himself. Coach met Lester his senior year of high school as he coached Lester’s little brother, who was attempting to follow in his big brother’s footsteps. Lester had been a beast on the football field from eighth grade all the way up to his senior year, when his friends helped him decide that he would be an even bigger beast on the streets, committing crimes, which meant an end to anything else he wanted to do with his life.
Lester had been Coach’s informant ever since Coach had helped him out after other beat cops found crack in his pockets, which he was trying to sell. For no other reason other than the fact that he was coaching Lester’s little brother, Coach talked the cops into letting him handle the situation, and from that point on Lester had been forthcoming with any information Coach needed.
Lester had also done right by Coach, and deep down he’d always be grateful to him.
When Coach received the call that his wife had been killed in a car accident, he and Lester had been meeting at a park and Lester had been filling Coach in on a low-level drug dealer. Coach was in shock after receiving the call, and Lester put him in his police cruiser and drove him home, then sat outside on his front porch until someone came to take care of him. They had only spoken by phone in the past three years, but Coach knew if he wanted to get some information and quick, Lester could get it, so he called him and they agreed to meet at the Pancake House.
“I remember a time when this place would have a line wrapped around the building,” Lester said.
“That’s when the food was good,” Coach said.
Lester was looking around the establishment almost like he was scared to put his elbows on the table, even though he looked like shit himself. “Yeah, it does look a little dusty up in this bitch. You should arrest them or some shit.” Lester checked out his coffee mug for cleanliness before he took a sip.
“So, how you doin’, man?” Coach asked him.
Lester said, “You know, I’m making it. That alone is something of a good thing these days. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I know. And li’l bro? What’s up with him these days?”
Lester smiled. “College grad. He finished playing at Eastern Oregon, and now he’s an engineer with a wife and a son of his own in Portland.”
Coach smiled too. “See? That’s what the hell I’m talking about. Have to share that with my team after practice today.”
“You still coaching?”
“Of course. I would have too much time on my hands if I didn’t.”
“Plus, you enjoy it. I know you do. Even remember when you would give advice when I was in high school.” Lester looked off into space. “My black ass should have listen too.”
Coach didn’t know what to say, because he knew he’d been right, but he wasn’t going to pile on. Instead, he said, “Look, Lester, I really appreciate what you did the day of the accident.”
“Oh, that? Look, not a problem. I mean, what was I going to do? Leave you there?” Lester has done a lot of shit in his life, but when a man is down, one thing I can say about Lester is that I’ve always helped him up . . . unless I’m the motherfucker that put him down,” he said. His laughter was in remembrance of his dirty deeds. And Coach noticed that he looked around and checked out his back a few times in a protective kind of way.
Coach pushed his plate away after taking one bite of his food. “I can’t eat this, man.”
“Told you not to order that shit, bruh.”
Coach drank some water. “Look, I have an elderly woman who was beaten up a few days ago in her house. You heard about any crews running buck wild about that?”
Lester thought about it for a few moments, then sighed. “Man, these streets have changed since you were in uniform, and that’s what? Damn near three, four years ago?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Coach said. He took a few seconds and reflected on the fact that so much had changed in such a short time.
Lester said, “There are so many different crews now. So many that an old head like me just tries to survive and keep my ass away from these crazy little motherfuckers. These days you got boys who want to do right, and the rest don’t give a damn about anything but taking.”
Coach said, “These guys here, I think these are the same ones behind all the home robberies out there.”
Lester said, “Heard about it. You know Mom and them don’t talk to me that much anymore, but when their shit was broken into, you know I was the first one they thought of,” he said, shaking his head before getting some water. “They still treat me like a crackhead, man, and I ain’t never taken a hit of that shit. I just sold it.”
“Family man, what ya goin’ to do?” Coach said. It reminded him to call and check on his family up east.
“You’re right. You’re right. But I haven’t heard about any crews that have been taking it to the elderly, man. I mean, that right there is a no-no. You see . . . most of these boys try to get a reputation by jumping into shit they have no business being in and roughing people up who don’t want to move out of the way. The only thing I’ve heard of is knuckleheads walking up to people and just knocking them the fuck out for the thrill of it. Some knockout game or something.”
Coach said, “Nah, the punks I’m looking for are on some retaliation with her because she wanted to know why they were always walking her block, looking into houses and whatnot.”
Lester thought for a moment. “The other day in the shop I heard some guys speaking about some thugs who have been waiting outside of a check-cashing joint for people to cash their checks. They make people cash their check and hand over the cash as soon as they walk out or take one in the head,” Lester told him. “They were even talking about how these dudes run up in high school girls’ homes and dare their daddies to say a word about it.” Coach listened intently. “These are not young cats, though who should be in high school or something. These guys are older. Old enough to know better. I don’t have a name or location on them, but if it comes up, I will give you a call.”
