Push Comes To Shove Part 3

"I tried to ignore her like you said, Daddy. But she pushed the back of my head like this." She reenacted by pus.h.i.+ng the back of her own head.

Kitchie brushed the hair away from her face. "Now this child is suspended off the school bus for a week."

"I'm glad the lights are fixed." Junior came in the kitchen carrying a sneaker with a hole in its sole and waving a piece of cardboard. "Ma, would you fix my shoe now?"

CHAPTER 3.

Squeeze looked inside the deep trunk of a Mercedes at a frightened youngster dressed in army fatigues. "All of this is your brother's fault. It's a shame that you're caught in the crossfire, but some people have to learn the hard way." He closed the trunk and faced Hector Gonzales. "Take him to the country and lay low. If Miles don't cash in by tomorrow night, have fun with the kid and clean up your mess."

Hector chomped on a wad of chewing gum. "You should let me kill Miles and get it over with."

"Then who's gonna pay me?"

When j.a.p felt the car begin to move, he hit the Mark Home Mark Home b.u.t.ton on his watch. b.u.t.ton on his watch.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Patterson." Tracy Morgan stepped from behind her desk to shake GP's hand. She had no idea that GP was so handsome-braids hanging below his shoulders, a perfectly groomed goatee just the way she liked them. To have him in her department from time to time would suit her fine. She took in his tan suit with detail. It hung on to his muscular frame with style. She gazed at his scuffed work boots and the melody in her head came to an abrupt stop. She pulled her hand away from his. "Please have a seat."

"Thanks for considering me for this column." GP eased onto a cozy chair facing her desk.

"Your artwork is captivating. May I have a look at your portfolio?"

GP handed her a soft leather folder that was resting on his lap. "You'll find the first series of an underground comic book in there that I put out last year." He watched her facial expressions as she flipped through the drawings.

"This is great stuff. I'm in love with this Street Prophet character."

"I've been developing him since I was a kid. He's like an urban version of the Tales of the Crypt Tales of the Crypt character, but he's more upbeat. A character that identifies with the Hip-Hop culture." He wiped the sweat off his palms onto his slacks. "The Street Prophet tells stories through the eyes of an all-wise black man of morals and integrity. Stories that the reader can draw a positive experience from." character, but he's more upbeat. A character that identifies with the Hip-Hop culture." He wiped the sweat off his palms onto his slacks. "The Street Prophet tells stories through the eyes of an all-wise black man of morals and integrity. Stories that the reader can draw a positive experience from."

"I like the concept." She closed the portfolio. "I-"

"Ms. Morgan, I apologize for interrupting, but if you give me this column I'll be an a.s.set to the Plain Dealer Plain Dealer. I have at least three years of material ready to go. I'm a fast learner and I don't have an editing complex."

"The comic page could use a new black face. It's a two-year contract that pays close to fifty thousand in six equal payments over the term of the contract."

GP smiled.

"Your strip will be syndicated. When we run the Street Prophet, he'll receive national exposure. But there are some minor changes that will need to be made."

"Cool. What kind of changes are we talking?"

She leaned forward and rested her forearms on the polished desktop. "Morals and integrity doesn't sell newspapers. The public wants the dirt, violence, and political corruption. I need you to portray the Street Prophet as challenging, outrageous, politically opinionated, offensive to the point of being censored. I need him to play the race card. I want most of the truth in this paper..." She pointed to a newspaper that was encased in gla.s.s and mounted on the wall. "...to come from the Street Prophet's comic strip. He needs to be the voice that screams at the injustices designed by the government." She took a deep breath and smiled. "You pull this off and I promise you that this type of controversy will draw you more media attention than Aaron McGruder's Boondocks Boondocks." She produced a contract from her desk drawer and pushed it toward GP. "All rights to the Street Prophet must be signed over to the Plain Dealer Plain Dealer. You'll retain the artistic rights."

"I can create you a character to fit your requirements, Ms. Morgan. I'm sorry, but the Street Prophet is not your man."

"We're in no position for you to be turning down jobs, GP." Kitchie stuffed a T-s.h.i.+rt and some Street Prophet stickers in a bag, then thrust it at a customer.

"I apologize for that." GP collected the money from the man.

"I don't believe you would do something so stupid and irresponsible."

"Get the hottest Street Prophet gear right here." Secret walked back and forth in the front of the booth, holding up a T-s.h.i.+rt. "Special on customized airbrus.h.i.+ng until one o'clock. Get your issue while it's hot. Don't be unhip and go home empty-handed." She had heard her parents solicit the crowd a thousand times.

"That child is s'posed to have her tail in school." An older woman lugging a Gap bag nudged a heavyset woman wobbling beside her.

GP stuck his finger through Kitchie's belt loop and pulled her to him. "I'm not gonna argue with you in public. Period. They wanted me to sign over all the rights to the Street Prophet. I'm not about to give my life's work away like that."

"But it's okay for us to be out on the street? And don't forget that forty-seven hundred dollars is a lot of money to come with in the next few days. GP, we don't have but a couple hundred to our name."

He took out a hundred dollars from his breast pocket. "Jewels gave me this to buy some dress shoes."

The pay phone rang.

"Get that, Secret." Kitchie leaned against the table.

"Ninth Street Artwork, home of the Street Prophet. Secret speaking, how can I help you?"

"Secret, baby, what's the deal?"

"Hey, Aunty Jewels. When you coming to get me?"

"We'll go catch a flick or something when I come back from New York."

"Ooh, bring me something back."

"You already know I am. Did your crusty father get the job?"

Secret glanced at her parents and saw Kitchie talking with her hands. "I don't think so. Him and Mommy trying to pretend like they not arguing, while I'm hustling."

"Why you ain't in school?" Jewels tied her wave cap on.

"Had to kick some b.u.t.t. I put that move you taught me on this bigmouth girl named Kesha. I got suspended off the bus, and I didn't have a ride today."

"She knows what time it is now, right?"

"Yeah."

"You don't sound too sure. Let me hear you say you motherf.u.c.king right, she know you motherf.u.c.king right, she know."

Secret put a hand over the mouthpiece. "You motherf.u.c.king right, she knows what time it is."

"Give me that." Kitchie scowled at Secret, then s.n.a.t.c.hed the phone. "Jewels, I asked you not to influence my child to cuss. She's too grown for her own good as it is."

"How you know it was me?"

"I'm on to y'all. This stubborn husband of mine turned down a decent job today. He act like he doesn't understand we're having bread-and-b.u.t.ter nightmares."

"You got to be f.u.c.king joking. I talked to that knucklehead yesterday about taking care of his business. Put him on so I can bite his head off."

Kitchie let the receiver hang. "Jewels wants to talk to you." She rolled her eyes at GP, then walked over to Secret and popped her on the lips. "Watch what the h.e.l.l you let come out your mouth, girl. Cuss again and you're gonna get your a.s.s whipped."

A white man with solid gray hair, wearing a business suit, came to the booth. He studied the various Street Prophet merchandise. He s.h.i.+fted his head as though intrigued by the Prophet's appeal. "Who's the artist behind the character?"

Kitchie pointed at GP. "Can I bag that up for you?"

"Yes, yes. I'll take one of everything."

"What size s.h.i.+rt and pants would you like?"

Secret pa.s.sed Kitchie a bag.

"Any size; it doesn't make a difference. I like this guy. I want some friends of mine to see him-"

"Mr. Lee, we must be going or we'll be late," another man in a suit and tie said.

"Just a moment, Hartford. You can wait for me in the car. I'll be along in a moment." Mr. Lee paid for his purchase.

GP watched the exchange from the pay phone. "Come on, Jewels, you know it ain't even like that. That broad had me confused. I created the Prophet. He's supposed to work for me; not the other way around."

"You even talk like that d.a.m.n drawing is real. Man, you bugging."

"He's real to me."

"I gotta let this conversation go before you p.i.s.s me the f.u.c.k off."

"You do that, then." GP waved at the owner of the costume shop.

"I'm taking Ndia on a boosting spree in the morning. Use your spare key if you need my ride. We're taking the bus."

"Where are you going?"

"The Big Apple. I called to see if you needed anything before I left. I'll be gone for about a week, but if it's good to me, I'll be longer."

"I'm good. Bring the kids something." GP stared at his battered boots. "I might need you to loan me the balance of whatever I don't come up with on this mortgage."

"How much is it?"

"Forty-seven hundred."

"What you got on it so far?"

"Including the hundred I got from you...about three hundred. And whatever we make today."

"You already owe me your life, but I got your back. Hit me on my cell; I'll wire it if I have to."

"I'm gonna pay you back one day, Jewels, I swear. I'm gonna buy you that diamond, too."

"I know. I'll carve your black a.s.s up if you don't."

Trouble nudged his partner when he saw Jewels sauntering down the avenue with a s.e.xy woman on her arm. "How a butch snag a fine broad like that?"

Dirty took a gulp of beer from a forty-ounce bottle. "I don't know. Jewels did her thing. She got the finest b.i.t.c.h in the hood. If I had her, I'd be out here flossing with her, too." They both watched Jewels and her beautiful companion close the distance.

Jewels slid her arm around Ndia's neck and pulled her closer. "Listen here, baby. I'm gonna let you do what you do when we touch down in New York. I can't afford for the order to get messed up like the last move did." She caressed the small of Ndia's back. "When I get this money together, we'll be batting in the major league. These chump-change licks will be history."

"Jewels, I'm gonna do my thing and give it my all." She looked at Jewels with devotion. Ndia was a tall woman with boney extremities-model extremities. She wouldn't have made it on a catwalk, though, because her b.u.t.tocks and thighs were much too big. Just as Jewels liked them.

Jewels squeezed Ndia's back pocket and kissed her cheek. "That's what I wanted to hear."

"We should have drove. This is going to be a long walk."

"Don't start complaining. I can't stand that s.h.i.+t. I enjoy a good walk every now and then. Besides, you already know I don't drive unless I absolutely have to. So what's the point in bringing it up?"

"I don't know why you even bought a car. Nine-"

"What is a pretty woman like you doing with that Amazon?" Trouble stepped out of the foyer of a building. "Come spend a few hours with me and let me show you what a real man's d.i.c.k feel like. I know you're tired of the rubber she's packing."

Dirty stepped outside, laughing, as Jewels's face hardened.

Jewels turned her apple cap to the back. "I'm not with no disrespectful bulls.h.i.+t. These motherf.u.c.kers about to make me hurt something."

"Forget them clowns...let's go." Ndia pulled on Jewels's wrist but failed to move the solid muscle.

Trouble leaned against the building and put a foot on the wall. "Ugly b.i.t.c.h, you ain't tough. Don't act like it ain't a p.u.s.s.y in them jeans." He touched fists with Dirty.

Jewels s.n.a.t.c.hed away from Ndia. "They got me f.u.c.ked up." She was swift as she closed the gap between her provokers. She staggered Trouble with a head-b.u.t.t across the bridge of his nose.

Dirty had a change of mind when she yanked a nickel-plated .45 from beneath a throwback jersey and pointed it at him.

She spat a razor from her mouth, caught it with her free hand, and held it to Trouble's throat. "What you say to me? I don't think I quite heard you right." She pushed the razor just enough to draw blood. "Go on, tough punk, fix your mouth and say it again."

"Jewels, baby, let's get out of here. They were just talking s.h.i.+t."

Jewels refused to take her eyes off of Trouble. "Check these lames for pistols."

"Jewels, come on."

"Do what the f.u.c.k I said!"

Trouble pressed his head against the brick building as hard as he could in an attempt to ease the blade's pressure on his Adam's Apple.

Ndia found a Sat.u.r.day Night Special on Dirty and a Beretta .22 in Trouble's back pocket.

"Now what I want you lames to do is apologize to my lady for being disrespectful."