All right, another story. It's a bit longer than the one I posted in my last entry (10 pages instead of 6). This one I just submitted to a contest with a 3,000 word limit (it's exactly 3,000 words, too). There's another contest I want to submit it that has a 7,000 word limit, so, with that in mind, I have a couple questions at the end of the story. I'm a little nervous about this one, mainly because it touches on some racial issues that I'm not sure I'm qualified to write about. Tell me what you think. I don't have a title yet for this one.
I grew up over on North Broadway, one of only two white boys in the neighborhood. Kevvy Rowland was the other, but I never hung with him; he was a couple years ahead of me, and he was crazy. This one time when I was 10, he actually cared enough to set a trap for a stray cat and then took his time peeling its skin off with his switchblade before lighting it on fire. I watched the whole thing from my bedroom window; the cats screams would follow me like a soundtrack to my life for years to come. I wanted to go down there and stop Kevvy, but I was too scared he could have skin me just like he had the cat. I didnt look away, though; if I wouldnt stop Kevvy, then I didnt deserve to spare myself from the consequences of my inaction.
I hated Kevvy more than my dad at that point, who had left me and my mother in our little rowhouse to pursue his dream of shooting up in vacants along Biddle Street. I didnt care about people killing people hey, shit happened, especially on Broadway but torment a small animal, then you and me got problems. Thing is, a cop rolled up just as Kevvy was finishing his murder and quickly figured out what had just gone down. Kevvy didnt want to be subdued; he charged the cop straight up, like Achilles bearing down on Hector in his rage. The uniformed cop took one step to the side and grabbed Kevvys wrist, then pulled him off the ground and dangled him in the air like he was doing his morning dumbbell lifts. Before that moment the cops were just people my friends and I eye-fucked (thats what everyone else did) and who occasionally arrested someone we knew or one of the other kids parents; afterward, they were what I wanted to be.
* * *
I had shared a car with Tob Geary for about four months (the department had recently unofficially begun teaming white cops with black ones, hoping to ward off complaints of racism and undue brutality), two years in the Western District under my belt, by the day we rolled up on JaDee Marquan. After a quick jump-out, JaDee was face-first on the vial-covered sidewalk, half-heartedly protesting our unjust ways with a resigned tone that was a vocal roll of the eyes. Clearly not a jump-out virgin.
I saw the bag in your hands, Tob said in his dont-fuck-with-me voice. Out at the Iguana after shifts, when wed crack jokes or curse the Steelers (the guy was from Pittsburgh and hated the Steelers I always thought that was cool), hed be in a jovial mood, and his voice was almost high, like an excited kid. But out here, when he demanded, So whered you stash it? it was all business, letting his victim and all the corner crews in earshot know that he wasnt in any mood.
You mean that bag? JaDee said, pointing to the paper bag that covered a half-empty bottle of liquor, which he had carefully set down on the sidewalk as though it were a pet before we got to him. It sat next to a small green book JaDee had also dropped with gold lettering imprinted on the leather cover that read Sign and Cosign.
Dont give me that, Tob ordered, lightly slapping the back of JaDees head. You know what I mean. Wheres the dope?
Oh, come on, JaDee protested. Dont they give you vision tests at cop school?
Who you talkin to? Tob said, an intoned warning for JaDee to start showing a little respect.
I hadnt seen whatever Tob saw when we drove up; I had been deeply involved in a mutual eye-fuck with this low-level street dealer who called himself No-Man (real name: Norman Clattershuck). I had busted him for possession twice before; Narcotics was keeping a special eye on him for some operation or another, so I settled for a prolonged stare-down that continued after I was out of the car and across the street from him. I never took the spiteful glares personally hell, I had given more than a few myself, back in the day; in all honesty, I kind of enjoyed them. There just wasnt anything better than standing tall in a Baltimore Police Department uniform, chest out and badge displayed proudly to soak up all the seething anger directed at it. I usually had to hold back a smile during these bouts of will; occasionally Id let it show, but only because I knew it would really piss off whoever had caught my eye.
You better tell him, I advised JaDee in a bored voice. Hes had a bad day; his wife just left him and took the kids because he couldnt stop hitting em, and he really needs someone to take his anger out on. That was a bald-faced lie like me, Tob wasnt even married but it usually made whoever was giving us lip think twice: maybe, just maybe, I was telling the truth.
I dont have any drugs on me, JaDee insisted.
Not on you, but you got some back at home, is that how it goes? Tob goaded.
Man, fuck you, JaDee muttered.
What was that? I said, crouching down and placing my ear close to JaDees mouth. Could you say that a bit louder, I couldnt quite hear. JaDee grumbled something inaudible, then kept his mouth shut. Come on, I could have sworn I heard a dirty word. But that couldnt be the case, because itd be really fucking stupid to curse around my about-to-be-unhinged partner right now, you dig?
Really fucking stupid, Tob echoed.
Look, I dont have anything on me now, I didnt have anything on me this morning, and I wont have anything on me tomorrow, JaDee said, curbing his frustration and sounding almost like a lawyer. Despite what you see, I dont touch that stuff. JaDee was probably in his late 20s, wearing denim shorts two sizes too large that nearly ran down to his ankles and a plain wife-beater covered by a dark plaid shirt buttoned up halfway, displaying his flat, muscle-free chest.
Boy, I hope youre lying, Tob said. He patted JaDee down, pulling out a wallet and a set of keys, then pulled him up by his belt, spun him around to his back, and pushed him back to the ground. Then he ordered, Come on, drop the pants.
JaDee unfastened his belt without protest and slowly pulled the jeans down below his knees. If you think Im digging around your junk under those drawers, youre dumber than I thought, Tob said. With a resigned sigh, JaDee pulled down his red boxers as well. I crossed my arms and threw another glance out at the street, judging the disapproving looks from the passerby. Tob must have met this guy before and didnt appreciate the experience; he usually played the bad cop to my good cop, but he only humiliated people like this if he knew for a fact that they were hiding something or if they had gotten on his bad side.
He stood over JaDee for a few seconds like his eyes were a magnifying glass and JaDee was an ant, just waiting for him to burn. JaDee stared quietly up at the sky, cupping his dick and balls in his hands to preserve the smallest shred of modesty. Maybe its not here, I said softly, a gentle out for Tob that suggested he may have been wrong without him having to lose too much face.
Fuck it, weve got this dumb nigger on possession of another kind, Tob said, picking up the bottle-in-a-bag. Public consumption.
I couldnt hold back my confused glance. Public consumption? I repeated. In just about every city in America it was widely accepted that cops had better things to do than bust a drunk if hes showing the proper deference to the law by hiding his drink in a brown paper bag hell, The Wire even had a monologue on it. In West Baltimore, if you felt the need to put the cuffs on someone for bagged liquor, then you were either lazy or you just werent paying enough attention to the world around you.
Thats right, Tob said, his eyes meeting mine. He held them for a second or two before I shrugged.
All right then, come on pal, up the pants and up on your feet, I told JaDee.
Youre busting me for a drink? JaDee exclaimed, half-smiling. He was trying not laugh; seeing that made me want to crack a grin as well.
Thats right, I said. Come on, Im sure you know the drill. He hitched up his boxers and jeans and turned his back to us, hands clasped behind his waist.
He shook his head as I clicked the cuffs around him. Man in West Baltimore getting pulled in for drinking, he said with thick amusement. Mm-mm-mm. I woke up in Bizzaro Land. I didnt say the comeback I was thinking of well, truth be told, I didnt really have much of a comeback. This was bullshit, of course, but Tob wanted it, and you back your partner up no matter what when the whole street is watching.
Tob held the bottle between his thumb and forefinger and headed back to the car. My book, JaDee said, nodding at the tiny green tome still lying on the ground. Dont leave it here, someonell tear out the pages and use em for a roll.
I picked it up and casually flipped through the pages, the borders of which were coated with gold, like a Bible. What, you studying math out here while having a drink? I asked after rereading the title.
Yeah, JaDee said with a short laugh. Math, right.
Tob opened the back passenger door and I gently lowered JaDee inside. Some of the locals shouted at us, swearing we wouldnt be doing this if JaDee had been white. So much for the BPDs plan to lighten racial tensions. I forwent the customary final eye-fuck and sat down in the passenger seat without another glance at anyone.
* * *
It was a quiet Tuesday afternoon; the police radio gave us little more than status updates and had been relegated to white noise as we made our way through the relatively calm streets. Tob was stone silent behind the wheel, which he gripped so tightly I half-expected his knuckles to burst out of his skin. In the back, JaDee stared at both of us with a smirk; he knew he was just being picked on, and that assurance gave him a certain power. Man, yall just some regular Larry Kings here, arent you? he said after a few minutes of quiet.
Were contemplative men, I said with a touch of cockiness. Throwing around big words with a hostile passenger was usually a good way to calm them down; JaDee wasnt nearly as hostile as he probably had a half-right to be, but I still didnt feel like talking with him.
Yeah, contemplating how to explain to a judge that I was endangering society by jaywalking too, right? he retorted. Well, apparently he actually could read and wasnt just carrying that book around to throw off the narcos. He shook his head again, then said, In my world, Poseidon incurs the wrath of Athena and kills Odysseus just for defeating Him; in my world, Perseus sacrifices Pegasus just to stick it to the Man.
I turned back to face him, not sure whether I should smile or scowl and making a face somewhere in between. Youre pretty eloquent for a math guy, I said, waving his book before him.
JaDee laughed. No, man, its not math; its poetry.
Poetry? I flipped open the book again and this time actually looked at what was written in it. Indeed, right there on the page: short, metered lines, some even indented three or four times. No shit? I said. I figured with a title like Sign/Cosign itd be about geometry, or whatever.
Nah, man, thats S-I-N-E, and C-O-S-I-N-E, JaDee said. Functions. That books by Yamin, from down in D.C. The line I just quoted was from his poem Right and Good.
I like the mythology stuff he talks about, I said, surprised to find myself enjoying this conversation. English and Literature was always my favorite class in school. I remember reading Virgils Aeneid, especially the part about Aeneas and Dido, and I thought it might be cool to be a poet if I hadnt have already made up my mind to be a cop.
Yeah, Yamin likes to drop a God or Goddess into his work, JaDee said. That one I just said, Right and Good, its about how these days people want to be right more than they want to be good. He paused, and I could hear him say sound familiar? in the silence even if he never vocalized the words. I glanced back at Tob, whose eyes had narrowed as they stared, unblinking, at the road ahead.
Does this Yamin guy give readings or anything in D.C.? I asked to change the subject.
Not really, JaDee said. Least, not that I know about. I dont get down there very often.
Neither do I, anymore, I said. Occasionally I try to head down there to catch a show or something. Dont ask me why, but theres something about that Go-Go music I like.
You like Go-Go music? JaDee said with an arched eyebrow. He nodded curtly toward the back of Tobs head and added, What about you, big guy?
Shut the fuck up, Tob replied through clenched teeth, eyes unmoved from the road.
Man, you really got something against me, dont you? JaDee said. Bringin me in on a bagged liquor charge. This citys changed, man.
I braced my right arm against the passenger door as Tob threw the car into a sharp turn, eliciting a pained screech from the tires. He accelerated into an empty alley and slammed on the breaks, then was out of the car quicker than ever before. Perplexed, I unfastened my seatbelt and got out just as Tob was dragging JaDee out of the back. Hey, watch the necklace, JaDee protested, legs flailing to keep their footing as Tob pulled him along the sidewalk.
Tob had done this a couple times before with especially unruly guys; if he couldnt scare the shit out of them, hed knock them around a couple times just to get them to shut up. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didnt; either way, I was always reliable for a doctored written report, noting that the perpetrator had initially resisted arrest and that the violence was necessary to restrain him.
I took up a position behind Tobs right shoulder as he threw JaDee up against the scarred brick wall of a building, an ulcer of unease eating through my stomach wall. I put on a stern face, backing up my partner as best I could, but that front was more for my sake than for JaDees.
One thick arm pressing JaDee against the building, Tob turned around and snatched the poetry book from my hands, then waved it violently before JaDees narrowed eyes. You think this makes you any different? Tob snapped, voice unnaturally deep. Carry around all the books you want, make like youre part of some art scene, it doesnt matter; youre still just a nigger from the corner.
He tossed the book in JaDees face. Hands helplessly cuffed behind him, JaDee didnt even flinch. He coughed slightly, but kept his eyes fixed on Tobs. There was a confidence in them, like he had something on Tob. His mouth twisted into a mirthless smile. Yeah, thats how it is, huh? he said. He jutted his chin toward me, and the smile morphed into a smirk. You know it. Im a black man; youre the nigger.
A broad hand came down across JaDees cranium with a dull thump; he swayed to one side, but Tob propped him upright and hit him again, this time under the chin. Tob! I hollered, taking a half step forward. But he heard nothing; he had given up his humanity and embraced an animalistic fervor, slapping and pounding JaDee with both hands. His eyes flashed pure, unbridled rage. JaDee coughed up blood and keeled over onto his knees; Tob kicked him viciously in the stomach. JaDee did a remarkable job of holding in his screams; he winced in pain with each impact, but only grunted once or twice.
All the while, I just stood there. My legs wanted to move forward, to step up to Tobs side so I could pull him off JaDee, but I couldnt control my muscles. I didnt even say anything; I just watched and didnt let myself look away as Tob exhausted himself, then stumbled backward and collapsed to one knee as JaDee curled into a fetal position on the pavement, hacking. Twin rivers of blood flowed from his nostrils, his face lying cheek-down in a small puddle, right eye half-closed.
Tob got to his feet and pressed both hands against the squad cars passenger door, chest heaving. He glared at his reflection in the window, baring his teeth and scowling. He shuddered, then looked to the ground. I knew I should say something, but there werent any words in my vocabulary that seemed appropriate. I regained the power in my legs and knelt beside JaDee, my uniform suddenly feeling tight against my skin, like it was two sizes too small. My badge felt heavier, too. JaDee recoiled from my touch and wouldnt look at me. He needed an ambulance.
Tob slowly got back in the car and held the radio receiver up to his mouth, but said nothing.
All I could think of was that Id make him write the report for this.
My questions:
1.) I'm not sure about the ending; on one hand, I think it might work like this just fine, but on the other, with a larger word limit, do you think there should be anything more?
2.) A minor thing, but, in this sentence: "I regained the power in my legs and knelt beside JaDee, my uniform suddenly feeling tight against my skin, like it was two sizes too small. My badge felt heavier, too." does the last sentence need to be there? I mean, does it add something, or is it redundant after the sentence that preceded it?
That's all.
I grew up over on North Broadway, one of only two white boys in the neighborhood. Kevvy Rowland was the other, but I never hung with him; he was a couple years ahead of me, and he was crazy. This one time when I was 10, he actually cared enough to set a trap for a stray cat and then took his time peeling its skin off with his switchblade before lighting it on fire. I watched the whole thing from my bedroom window; the cats screams would follow me like a soundtrack to my life for years to come. I wanted to go down there and stop Kevvy, but I was too scared he could have skin me just like he had the cat. I didnt look away, though; if I wouldnt stop Kevvy, then I didnt deserve to spare myself from the consequences of my inaction.
I hated Kevvy more than my dad at that point, who had left me and my mother in our little rowhouse to pursue his dream of shooting up in vacants along Biddle Street. I didnt care about people killing people hey, shit happened, especially on Broadway but torment a small animal, then you and me got problems. Thing is, a cop rolled up just as Kevvy was finishing his murder and quickly figured out what had just gone down. Kevvy didnt want to be subdued; he charged the cop straight up, like Achilles bearing down on Hector in his rage. The uniformed cop took one step to the side and grabbed Kevvys wrist, then pulled him off the ground and dangled him in the air like he was doing his morning dumbbell lifts. Before that moment the cops were just people my friends and I eye-fucked (thats what everyone else did) and who occasionally arrested someone we knew or one of the other kids parents; afterward, they were what I wanted to be.
* * *
I had shared a car with Tob Geary for about four months (the department had recently unofficially begun teaming white cops with black ones, hoping to ward off complaints of racism and undue brutality), two years in the Western District under my belt, by the day we rolled up on JaDee Marquan. After a quick jump-out, JaDee was face-first on the vial-covered sidewalk, half-heartedly protesting our unjust ways with a resigned tone that was a vocal roll of the eyes. Clearly not a jump-out virgin.
I saw the bag in your hands, Tob said in his dont-fuck-with-me voice. Out at the Iguana after shifts, when wed crack jokes or curse the Steelers (the guy was from Pittsburgh and hated the Steelers I always thought that was cool), hed be in a jovial mood, and his voice was almost high, like an excited kid. But out here, when he demanded, So whered you stash it? it was all business, letting his victim and all the corner crews in earshot know that he wasnt in any mood.
You mean that bag? JaDee said, pointing to the paper bag that covered a half-empty bottle of liquor, which he had carefully set down on the sidewalk as though it were a pet before we got to him. It sat next to a small green book JaDee had also dropped with gold lettering imprinted on the leather cover that read Sign and Cosign.
Dont give me that, Tob ordered, lightly slapping the back of JaDees head. You know what I mean. Wheres the dope?
Oh, come on, JaDee protested. Dont they give you vision tests at cop school?
Who you talkin to? Tob said, an intoned warning for JaDee to start showing a little respect.
I hadnt seen whatever Tob saw when we drove up; I had been deeply involved in a mutual eye-fuck with this low-level street dealer who called himself No-Man (real name: Norman Clattershuck). I had busted him for possession twice before; Narcotics was keeping a special eye on him for some operation or another, so I settled for a prolonged stare-down that continued after I was out of the car and across the street from him. I never took the spiteful glares personally hell, I had given more than a few myself, back in the day; in all honesty, I kind of enjoyed them. There just wasnt anything better than standing tall in a Baltimore Police Department uniform, chest out and badge displayed proudly to soak up all the seething anger directed at it. I usually had to hold back a smile during these bouts of will; occasionally Id let it show, but only because I knew it would really piss off whoever had caught my eye.
You better tell him, I advised JaDee in a bored voice. Hes had a bad day; his wife just left him and took the kids because he couldnt stop hitting em, and he really needs someone to take his anger out on. That was a bald-faced lie like me, Tob wasnt even married but it usually made whoever was giving us lip think twice: maybe, just maybe, I was telling the truth.
I dont have any drugs on me, JaDee insisted.
Not on you, but you got some back at home, is that how it goes? Tob goaded.
Man, fuck you, JaDee muttered.
What was that? I said, crouching down and placing my ear close to JaDees mouth. Could you say that a bit louder, I couldnt quite hear. JaDee grumbled something inaudible, then kept his mouth shut. Come on, I could have sworn I heard a dirty word. But that couldnt be the case, because itd be really fucking stupid to curse around my about-to-be-unhinged partner right now, you dig?
Really fucking stupid, Tob echoed.
Look, I dont have anything on me now, I didnt have anything on me this morning, and I wont have anything on me tomorrow, JaDee said, curbing his frustration and sounding almost like a lawyer. Despite what you see, I dont touch that stuff. JaDee was probably in his late 20s, wearing denim shorts two sizes too large that nearly ran down to his ankles and a plain wife-beater covered by a dark plaid shirt buttoned up halfway, displaying his flat, muscle-free chest.
Boy, I hope youre lying, Tob said. He patted JaDee down, pulling out a wallet and a set of keys, then pulled him up by his belt, spun him around to his back, and pushed him back to the ground. Then he ordered, Come on, drop the pants.
JaDee unfastened his belt without protest and slowly pulled the jeans down below his knees. If you think Im digging around your junk under those drawers, youre dumber than I thought, Tob said. With a resigned sigh, JaDee pulled down his red boxers as well. I crossed my arms and threw another glance out at the street, judging the disapproving looks from the passerby. Tob must have met this guy before and didnt appreciate the experience; he usually played the bad cop to my good cop, but he only humiliated people like this if he knew for a fact that they were hiding something or if they had gotten on his bad side.
He stood over JaDee for a few seconds like his eyes were a magnifying glass and JaDee was an ant, just waiting for him to burn. JaDee stared quietly up at the sky, cupping his dick and balls in his hands to preserve the smallest shred of modesty. Maybe its not here, I said softly, a gentle out for Tob that suggested he may have been wrong without him having to lose too much face.
Fuck it, weve got this dumb nigger on possession of another kind, Tob said, picking up the bottle-in-a-bag. Public consumption.
I couldnt hold back my confused glance. Public consumption? I repeated. In just about every city in America it was widely accepted that cops had better things to do than bust a drunk if hes showing the proper deference to the law by hiding his drink in a brown paper bag hell, The Wire even had a monologue on it. In West Baltimore, if you felt the need to put the cuffs on someone for bagged liquor, then you were either lazy or you just werent paying enough attention to the world around you.
Thats right, Tob said, his eyes meeting mine. He held them for a second or two before I shrugged.
All right then, come on pal, up the pants and up on your feet, I told JaDee.
Youre busting me for a drink? JaDee exclaimed, half-smiling. He was trying not laugh; seeing that made me want to crack a grin as well.
Thats right, I said. Come on, Im sure you know the drill. He hitched up his boxers and jeans and turned his back to us, hands clasped behind his waist.
He shook his head as I clicked the cuffs around him. Man in West Baltimore getting pulled in for drinking, he said with thick amusement. Mm-mm-mm. I woke up in Bizzaro Land. I didnt say the comeback I was thinking of well, truth be told, I didnt really have much of a comeback. This was bullshit, of course, but Tob wanted it, and you back your partner up no matter what when the whole street is watching.
Tob held the bottle between his thumb and forefinger and headed back to the car. My book, JaDee said, nodding at the tiny green tome still lying on the ground. Dont leave it here, someonell tear out the pages and use em for a roll.
I picked it up and casually flipped through the pages, the borders of which were coated with gold, like a Bible. What, you studying math out here while having a drink? I asked after rereading the title.
Yeah, JaDee said with a short laugh. Math, right.
Tob opened the back passenger door and I gently lowered JaDee inside. Some of the locals shouted at us, swearing we wouldnt be doing this if JaDee had been white. So much for the BPDs plan to lighten racial tensions. I forwent the customary final eye-fuck and sat down in the passenger seat without another glance at anyone.
* * *
It was a quiet Tuesday afternoon; the police radio gave us little more than status updates and had been relegated to white noise as we made our way through the relatively calm streets. Tob was stone silent behind the wheel, which he gripped so tightly I half-expected his knuckles to burst out of his skin. In the back, JaDee stared at both of us with a smirk; he knew he was just being picked on, and that assurance gave him a certain power. Man, yall just some regular Larry Kings here, arent you? he said after a few minutes of quiet.
Were contemplative men, I said with a touch of cockiness. Throwing around big words with a hostile passenger was usually a good way to calm them down; JaDee wasnt nearly as hostile as he probably had a half-right to be, but I still didnt feel like talking with him.
Yeah, contemplating how to explain to a judge that I was endangering society by jaywalking too, right? he retorted. Well, apparently he actually could read and wasnt just carrying that book around to throw off the narcos. He shook his head again, then said, In my world, Poseidon incurs the wrath of Athena and kills Odysseus just for defeating Him; in my world, Perseus sacrifices Pegasus just to stick it to the Man.
I turned back to face him, not sure whether I should smile or scowl and making a face somewhere in between. Youre pretty eloquent for a math guy, I said, waving his book before him.
JaDee laughed. No, man, its not math; its poetry.
Poetry? I flipped open the book again and this time actually looked at what was written in it. Indeed, right there on the page: short, metered lines, some even indented three or four times. No shit? I said. I figured with a title like Sign/Cosign itd be about geometry, or whatever.
Nah, man, thats S-I-N-E, and C-O-S-I-N-E, JaDee said. Functions. That books by Yamin, from down in D.C. The line I just quoted was from his poem Right and Good.
I like the mythology stuff he talks about, I said, surprised to find myself enjoying this conversation. English and Literature was always my favorite class in school. I remember reading Virgils Aeneid, especially the part about Aeneas and Dido, and I thought it might be cool to be a poet if I hadnt have already made up my mind to be a cop.
Yeah, Yamin likes to drop a God or Goddess into his work, JaDee said. That one I just said, Right and Good, its about how these days people want to be right more than they want to be good. He paused, and I could hear him say sound familiar? in the silence even if he never vocalized the words. I glanced back at Tob, whose eyes had narrowed as they stared, unblinking, at the road ahead.
Does this Yamin guy give readings or anything in D.C.? I asked to change the subject.
Not really, JaDee said. Least, not that I know about. I dont get down there very often.
Neither do I, anymore, I said. Occasionally I try to head down there to catch a show or something. Dont ask me why, but theres something about that Go-Go music I like.
You like Go-Go music? JaDee said with an arched eyebrow. He nodded curtly toward the back of Tobs head and added, What about you, big guy?
Shut the fuck up, Tob replied through clenched teeth, eyes unmoved from the road.
Man, you really got something against me, dont you? JaDee said. Bringin me in on a bagged liquor charge. This citys changed, man.
I braced my right arm against the passenger door as Tob threw the car into a sharp turn, eliciting a pained screech from the tires. He accelerated into an empty alley and slammed on the breaks, then was out of the car quicker than ever before. Perplexed, I unfastened my seatbelt and got out just as Tob was dragging JaDee out of the back. Hey, watch the necklace, JaDee protested, legs flailing to keep their footing as Tob pulled him along the sidewalk.
Tob had done this a couple times before with especially unruly guys; if he couldnt scare the shit out of them, hed knock them around a couple times just to get them to shut up. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didnt; either way, I was always reliable for a doctored written report, noting that the perpetrator had initially resisted arrest and that the violence was necessary to restrain him.
I took up a position behind Tobs right shoulder as he threw JaDee up against the scarred brick wall of a building, an ulcer of unease eating through my stomach wall. I put on a stern face, backing up my partner as best I could, but that front was more for my sake than for JaDees.
One thick arm pressing JaDee against the building, Tob turned around and snatched the poetry book from my hands, then waved it violently before JaDees narrowed eyes. You think this makes you any different? Tob snapped, voice unnaturally deep. Carry around all the books you want, make like youre part of some art scene, it doesnt matter; youre still just a nigger from the corner.
He tossed the book in JaDees face. Hands helplessly cuffed behind him, JaDee didnt even flinch. He coughed slightly, but kept his eyes fixed on Tobs. There was a confidence in them, like he had something on Tob. His mouth twisted into a mirthless smile. Yeah, thats how it is, huh? he said. He jutted his chin toward me, and the smile morphed into a smirk. You know it. Im a black man; youre the nigger.
A broad hand came down across JaDees cranium with a dull thump; he swayed to one side, but Tob propped him upright and hit him again, this time under the chin. Tob! I hollered, taking a half step forward. But he heard nothing; he had given up his humanity and embraced an animalistic fervor, slapping and pounding JaDee with both hands. His eyes flashed pure, unbridled rage. JaDee coughed up blood and keeled over onto his knees; Tob kicked him viciously in the stomach. JaDee did a remarkable job of holding in his screams; he winced in pain with each impact, but only grunted once or twice.
All the while, I just stood there. My legs wanted to move forward, to step up to Tobs side so I could pull him off JaDee, but I couldnt control my muscles. I didnt even say anything; I just watched and didnt let myself look away as Tob exhausted himself, then stumbled backward and collapsed to one knee as JaDee curled into a fetal position on the pavement, hacking. Twin rivers of blood flowed from his nostrils, his face lying cheek-down in a small puddle, right eye half-closed.
Tob got to his feet and pressed both hands against the squad cars passenger door, chest heaving. He glared at his reflection in the window, baring his teeth and scowling. He shuddered, then looked to the ground. I knew I should say something, but there werent any words in my vocabulary that seemed appropriate. I regained the power in my legs and knelt beside JaDee, my uniform suddenly feeling tight against my skin, like it was two sizes too small. My badge felt heavier, too. JaDee recoiled from my touch and wouldnt look at me. He needed an ambulance.
Tob slowly got back in the car and held the radio receiver up to his mouth, but said nothing.
All I could think of was that Id make him write the report for this.
My questions:
1.) I'm not sure about the ending; on one hand, I think it might work like this just fine, but on the other, with a larger word limit, do you think there should be anything more?
2.) A minor thing, but, in this sentence: "I regained the power in my legs and knelt beside JaDee, my uniform suddenly feeling tight against my skin, like it was two sizes too small. My badge felt heavier, too." does the last sentence need to be there? I mean, does it add something, or is it redundant after the sentence that preceded it?
That's all.
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You're right. Having a job is a precious thing these days. I'm sure many people don't like what they're doing but don't dare leave for fear of not being able to find another one.
I don't know what to make of mattacme's absence. I hope he's okay.