49
Raphael drove where instructed with the barrel of the gun still aimed at his head. Nothing more was said between the two men; only the occasional giving of directions by Victor. The night hid the beauty of day, but Raphael knew there was no beauty, day or night, in and on the streets they now travelled as evidenced by all the brothers hanging out on the street corners, their cigarette clad fingers raised high in the air, giving their take on the hood’s daily news.
“Make a right here,” Victor barked.
It was a small incline, and Raphael pushed down on the accelerator so he could beat the train he could see barreling down in the distance, although the crossing gate had yet to come down. Sailing over the tracks, the car bounced a couple of times, jerking Victor in the back seat.
“What in the hell were you trying to do, fool?” Victor yelled. “Get us killed?”
“I’m driving like you told me to do,” Raphael retorted.
“Don’t get smart or you’ll never see Mimi again. I don’t understand, but I guess I don’t have to. You aren’t even Mimi’s type.”
“And what type is that?”
“Protecting your woman. Hmph. Maybe I had you pegged wrong.”
Raphael kept his eyes on the road, although secretly recording his location.
“Okay, pull over in front of that house,” Victor said, pointing the gun at a run-down wooden-frame house. “I can’t let you drive off; you can pinpoint my location. I’m going to pick up someone and you’re going to be our getaway driver.”
“I’ve got to get to the hospital. If I don’t show up soon, Mimi is going to have the police looking for me.”
“Then maybe I’m going to have to eradicate you from the face of the earth.”
“The police will be looking for my car.”
“Oh, I’ve got another plan. Now get out of the car…slowly. Place both hands in front of you, and put the keys in your right hand and hold them out so I can get them.”
Raphael got out of the car as instructed and quickly surveyed his surroundings. The block ended several houses down. There was a Laundromat on the opposite corner and he couldn’t see much else. He held the keys in his right hand and waited for Victor to take them from him.
With gun in his right hand, Victor walked up to where Raphael stood.
“Drop the keys in my hand,” Victor demanded.
Raphael hesitated but saw the gun pointing at him. He held on a second longer, but Victor moved closer and snatched them out of his hand.
Pow. Raphael saw the moment to change the course of his fate. He knocked the gun out of Victor’s hand, kicked him in the groin, and pushed him to the ground. Raphael took off running, but knew he had to get farther than the Laundromat. Too many people’s lives would be at risk, so he kept running.
Raphael believed he heard footsteps following him and he ran faster still. There was a moment of silence, but still he ran on. He dodged between houses, trying to find a safe haven from the devil. Catching his breath, he peeked from behind the safety of the house and crept to the front to see if the coast was clear.
“Whatcha doing sneaking behind my house?” said the husky voice that belonged to a dark-skinned, heavy set, middle-aged woman who held a piece of plywood in the air. Pink foam hair rollers covered her head, and she wore a pink and orange house-dress that came to her knees that was zipped down far enough to see her ample helping of breasts. And on her feet were a pair of white, off-brand tennis shoes, no socks, with the shoelaces untied. “I’ll take this board and smash your face in.”
Eyes bulging, Raphael jumped and held his hands up. His voice was stuck somewhere in his throat. “Uhh, uhh, Miss…uhh…”
“I said whatcha doing here?”
“Miss…”
“Shirley, my name is Shirley.”
Raphael put his finger to his lips. “Shhhh.”
“Don’t shush me. You’re the one that don’t belong here.”
“Shirley, I’m not here to do you any harm,” Raphael whispered. Then he pointed toward the house. “Can we go in there for a minute?”
“Fool, is you crazy? Don’t you see this board I’m fixin’ to drop across your head?”
“I’m in trouble…not with the law,” Raphael continued whispering. “Please, I need your help.”
Shirley sized him up. “It’s going to cost you. And don’t try nothing.”
Raphael fumbled in his pants for his wallet. He pulled out two twenties and gave them to Shirley.
“I guess so, but I’m going to keep this board aimed at your face.”
Raphael followed Shirley into her small kitchen. Fried chicken, rice and gravy were on the stove. Three small children, two girls and one boy, whose ages ranged from three to ten sat at a small round table in the small kitchen. The children were dressed in dingy white underclothes with pigtails flying at half mast on the two girls, and the boy’s hair was wild about his head as if Shirley had just taken his cornrows down. Rice and gravy were half in their plates and half on the table, as the children nibbled and played in their food.
“Want some dinner…I didn’t get your name?”
“Raf. No.”
“Raf? What kind of name is that?” Shirley asked, putting down the plywood. “Look, mister, I don’t care what your name is, but you need to do what you’ve got to do and be gone before my boyfriend gets home. He’s at work now.”
“I need to make a phone call, Shirley, and I promise I’ll be out of your hair soon after that.”
Tired of the talk, Raphael walked to the front of the house—Shirley following right behind him. The living room was the color of egg yolk after it had been hardboiled and it was smaller than his office at work. There was a brown Kankelon couch with a patchwork quilt thrown over it to hide the springs that pushed from it, and a matching chair sat off to the side. Metal TV trays covered in brown and orange fall leaves on an eggshell-colored background served as coffee and end tables. Children’s toys were littered throughout the room; however, the one luxury Shirley and her man afforded themselves was a thirty-two-inch plasma TV.
Raphael navigated through the toys on the floor to the window and peeked out of the blinds. “What street is this and what city are we in?”
“You are in trouble. Now look, I can’t have no cops coming up in here. I’m doing you a favor, but if it has to do with the cops, you’ve got to G-O, go.”
“Do you have a car?”
“No car, but my boyfriend does. I take public transportation.”
“Okay, okay. Where are we?”
“You’re in Durham, baby.” Shirley turned on the television. “Missy, Sissy, and Baby Boy, ya’ll come on into the living room so me and this gentleman here can talk in the kitchen.”
Gravy and gummy rice stained their undershirts, but the motley group tumbled into the living room and began to play with their toys. “Okay, Raf, let’s go in the kitchen. You’ve got to get going. You’re wasting time.”
Raphael dialed Mimi and thanked God when he heard her frantic voice on the other end of the line.
“Where are you, Raphael?” Mimi shouted into the phone.
“Calm down, baby. You won’t believe the night I’ve had. Victor had me at gunpoint; I just escaped.”
“What? Oh my God! Are you all right? Where are you? Where is Victor now?”
“Oh, my Lord!” Shirley hollered.
“Who was that, Raf?” Mimi wanted to know.
“This kind lady let me find refuge in her house. Victor was behind me, but I think I managed to dodge him. I’ve got to get out of here, baby.”
“You’ve got the car.”
“The car is another story. When I went to Brenda’s house, I left the car unlocked. Victor must have been watching the house and saw me go inside. He was hiding in the backseat of the car when I got in. He pulled a gun on me…your gun…”
“Oh, God!” Mimi said. “Baby, did he hurt you?”
“No, but he made me drive to some neighborhood in Durham. And I had to leave the car after I knocked him down; it was the only way I was able to get away from him. Baby, you’ve got to help me get away from here. I can’t risk walking in this neighborhood because Victor may still be out there looking for me.”
“You can’t stay here all night,” Shirley said in the background.
Raphael fished for his wallet and threw her another twenty.
“I’ll see what we can work out,” Shirley said.
“Baby, I’ll call John,” Mimi said on the other end of the line. “He’ll help us. Give me the address so we can find you.”
“Shirley, what’s your address?”
“Who wants to know?”
“My wife, so she can get me out of here before your boyfriend comes home.”
“Okay, okay. It’s 555…hold on a minute. Missy, Sissy, and Baby Boy, shut that noise up in there. I can’t hear myself think. Okay, let’s try this again. It’s 555 Dunbar Street.”
Raphael repeated Shirley’s address to Mimi. “Hold on, baby. I think I hear sirens.”
In two giant steps, Raphael moved to the window in the living room, waddled through the children’s toys, and pulled back a corner of the blinds. Red and blue lights streaked by, sitting on top of three or four patrol cars whose sirens pierced the night.
“Let me have a look,” Shirley said. “Lawd, here comes a fire truck. Must be bad.”
Raphael drew the cell phone to his mouth. “Something has happened, Mimi. I saw several patrol cars and a fire truck pass by. If I had just stayed my behind at the hospital, I wouldn’t be in this predicament.”
“It’s water under the bridge now. I’ll call you back once I find John.”
“Hurry.” Raphael hung up the phone.
“She better make it fast,” Shirley said. “My boyfriend will be home soon.”
“You ain’t getting any more money, Shirley.”