and a dark pool in the sink. As we passed, the guys saw it and burst into laughter. Outside, I noticed two long, skinny legs sticking out of the bushes that lined the cinderblock wall. The black combat boots attached to them crumpled inward on each other. I walked over, stooped down, and peered into the narrow crevasse.
âWhat,â Rich shouted toward the bushes. âCanât hold your liquor?â He set the amp he carried down on the stones and opened the truckâs back hatch.
It took a second for my eyes to adjustâit was the black dude with the spiked mohawk. He sat and clutched his stomach. A smear of dark red blood covered the white Dago T. His eyes stared blankly into the bushes.
âYou alright?â I asked. I reached out and touched his ankle.
Sy walked up next to me, still chuckling at what Rich had said.
âHeâs hurt,â I said, glancing up at Sy.
Sy bent down and looked.
âOh shit! Call a fuckinâ ambulance!â Sy yelled as the other guys scrambled back inside.
âShit, man! You OK?â Sy crouched down. The guy looked at Sy and started to say something, then his head just slumped to the side, and he passed out. His thin torso began to slide down the wall. Sy pushed the bushes back and reached in, grabbing him and holding him up.
âWhat?â Rich asked as he sauntered over.
âHeâs fucking hurt, Rich!â Sy shouted. âCall an ambulance!â
âOh shit,â Rich laughed. âThem skins got him.â
âWake up, man,â Sy said and slapped him lightly on the cheek. The guy seized. A line of yellow ooze slid out of his lips, touched the stones, and then slurped back before just dangling from the corner of his mouth. He started to shake violently, and his legs jerked and kicked up the stones.
âMan, leave that nigger where he lays,â Rich said, laughing.
âWhat the fuck, Rich?â Sy yelled. âAre they calling or what?â
âCome on, Joey,â Rich said as he put his arm around my shoulder and led me to the truck. The fat bouncers rushed out of the club.
We left after the ambulance got there. I was in back, scrunched next to Sy.
âThink heâs gonna die?â Rich said as he turned slowly onto Peterson. The red and blue ambulance and police strobes spun and spilt onto the crowded street.
âShit, I donât know,â Sy answered. âHe looked bad, didnât he?â
âHe came to the wrong fucking place,â Rich said.
âThat guy wasnât doing nothing to nobody, man,â Sy said as he slammed his fist into the pleather headrest in front of him. âHe was just slamming like the rest of âem.â
âHad the wrong skin tone is all,â Rich drawled as one of the others chortled.
âRichard, would you quit that shit already?â Sy sighed. âWhat the hell they ever do to you?â
âAhh, they hate me just as much as I hate them,â Rich laughed. I thought about JanânâRose and wondered if they really did hate each other. It sure seemed like it sometimes. My mind drifted as we drove home along Peterson, and I thought of the black punker and hoped heâd be OK. Why do people hurt each other so bad? I felt the bumps along my forehead. Why canât we get along? I closed my eyes and tried to think of nothing as the wind howled in my window. The Assyrian floated in a black haze. His eyes were closed, and his arms were folded over his chest in some ancient burial pose. Whyâd you haveâta die? His mouth opened, and he whispered, âI ainât dead,â then he smiled and vanished.
We pulled up in front of the house, and Rich double-parked. He got out and walked me toward the house.
âNow you know you canât tell Ma or Dad or anybody what happened tonight, right?â Rich said, rubbing my shoulders. âOr else you wonât be able to go with again, OK?â
âOK,â I said, and
Tammy Cohen
Tom Bielawski
Ceri A. Lowe
James Swallow
Anna Martin
Wilbur Smith
Steven R. Schirripa
Janice Maynard
Eileen Dreyer
Nancy Holder