Always Upbeat / All That (14 page)

So I rushed up to him and yelled, “What?”

He said, “What? Why you all up in my face?”

I pushed him, and then he came and pushed me, and it was on. “I saw you eyeing me down. What? You want some of this?”

“You better step back with yo' drunk behind,” the grainy-looking dude said.

“Are you going to put your hands on a woman? Come on, it's a real man right here. Why don't you put your hands on me? Huh? Huh? I'm standing right here. What you gonna do?” I challenged.

He pulled out a gun. I was stunned. I heard something click behind me.

Leo said, “Blake, don't move.”

“Wassup, Le—? Man, you gonna pull a gun out on me like that?” the dude asked.

“Shameek,” Leo said, telling me the guy's name. “Put up your gun, man.”

That's right. The crazy dude's name was Shameek. I could not believe I was staring down the barrel of a .357 Magnum. I was frozen, stiffer than something that had been in the freezer for months. What the heck had I got myself into? I actually did not want the guy to hit me, and I certainly did not want him to kill me.

Shameek looked at Leo and shouted, “I ain't got no beef with you, Leo. Come on, man. This is between me and pretty boy right here. When I finish with him, his mama won't even recognize him. You need to go on and let me handle this. Don't make this a war. He can't be worth that to you.”

Leo laughed, letting Shameek know I was worth the risk, and said, “I think everybody needs to calm down.”

“What he needs to do is take that gun out my face,” I finally said after getting the courage inside to be real.

Or maybe it was the doggone alcohol talking. Maybe it was just because I was frustrated with my life. At that stupid moment, getting shot didn't scare me.

“Shut up, B,” Leo said.

When Leo stepped closer to me, I was shocked to see Leo had a gun pointed right back at Shameek. Leo did not need to do anything crazy. I wasn't worried about losing my life, but I was super concerned about Leo throwing his away.

“What the heck, Leo?” I said to my friend, not knowing he was packing.

Leo said, “I invited you over my way, and I got your back. You need to go on and get in your car and take off.”

“Nah, he ain't going nowhere,” Shameek said, as he stepped so close that I could almost feel the steel on my temple.

“I'ma go with him, Leo. Come on, Blake. Let's go,” Landon said, grabbing my shirt. He was the only one with sense out there.

“Hey, man. I ain't going to let you stand here with no gun and take him out for me. It ain't happening like that, partna, no,” I said to Leo.

“Boy, will you take your butt out of here,” Leo said. “Landon, y'all go.”

“How you going to get home, Le?” Landon yelled, after he pulled me out to the street.

“I
am
home, fool,” Leo said, as he cocked his gun to let Shameek know nothing needed to be tried.

Shameek's gun was no joke. Leo packing was a surprise too. Watts Road was where men died weekly. I could never live with myself if Leo was next to go.

However, when I got to my car, I could see Shameek and Leo were talking like boys. Thankfully, all guns were put away. Landon handed me the bottle, and I took another gulp—this time able to handle the tough potion. I just chugged. I needed to go to the bathroom. Shucks, I just had a gun pointed in my face. I was sixteen, and that had never been my life.

“You are too drunk to drive,” Landon said, trying to get my keys.

“I ain't drunk. I got this.”

“All right, I'm getting my ride. Let's go before that crazy thug comes back at you.”

I knew I owed Leo one. All I was trying to do was defend Jackie's honor. Turned out, I needed someone to defend me. I knew I was going to have to watch my back from now on.

When Landon turned off to go to his house, I swerved, forgetting that wasn't the way I lived. I let down the window because I needed air to blow on my face. I still was tripping over all I had just endured. While I would not want to live without my mom, with all she was going through, it would break her heart if I was gone. Not realizing the alcohol had taken over some of my faculties, my foot kept pushing harder and harder on the gas pedal. I was on the wrong side of the yellow line in the middle of the road a couple of times because I couldn't really tell where it was.

This was a problem because before I could get myself completely together, red and blue sirens were going off. I was being pulled over. I knew I was in trouble.

Talking to myself I said, “All right, Blake, be cool. You got this. You all right. You made it through your mom's operation earlier today and a gun assault just now; certainly, you can take a few words with the officer. This is no problem.”

I had my hands on the steering wheel like my dad told me. My window was rolled down already so I was prepared to answer any questions. I was also ready to be polite. I had my driver's license and insurance card ready to hand to him.

The stern-faced, black officer said, “Young man, did you know you were all over the road?”

“Sorry about that, officer, sir.”

“Any reason?”

“My error, officer. I do apologize.”

“License and registration, please,” he asked, not letting up.

I had pulled out my insurance card and forgot my registration. When I leaned over to get it out of the glove compartment, the officer pointed his flashlight into the car.

Abruptly he said, “Step out of the car, right away! Hands on the hood! Get out right now!”

I didn't know what he was talking about. Why was he tripping? I was being polite. I had not lost it. I was cool. I complied.

Then he asked, “Why do you have an open bottle of alcohol in your car? You know that's against the law? You been drinking tonight, son?”

I hung my head at that point. I was caught. I was trying to figure out how I could talk my way out of it. Football was king in our area of town, and our team was projected to do well in the state, so I prayed that the officer liked the sport. Our whole football team knew many of the cops liked working our games.

“Sir, can I be honest?” I said, trying to think of the only thing I could say. “There's a lot of pressure on me right now with this upcoming season—I play for the Lockwood Lions—and I know I'm not twenty-one. You have my license right there, and you can clearly see I'm not. But as the starting quarterback for the team, I am very responsible. I didn't realize it was in the car. It's not mine. It's a buddy's and—”

“You're making excuses now, son?” the officer grilled, like I was a piece of meat being cooked over the coals.

A little timid, I said, “No, sir. No, sir.”

I did not ever want to be a criminal. I felt humiliated with both of my legs stretched apart, being patted from behind. Having my hands put in handcuffs like a thief was no picnic either.

“Officer, I said I'm sorry. Come on, man. Can't you give me a break?”

“I'ma give you a break, but I'm not going to let you get back in that car and drive.”

I could not believe I was locked in a jail cell forty minutes later. Thankfully, no one was in there with me, but I was creeped out. I heard moans and groans from other tough men. Though they could not see me or touch me, I felt that this had to be a nightmare. I wanted to call my dad. My curfew had passed, but after sitting there for two hours calling the guard, and no one coming back to get me, an officer finally came back there. He unlocked my cell and then led me to a room where the officer who booked me was waiting.

I was both happy and sad when I saw my dad waiting too. “So should I just leave you here locked up? Officer Butts's son was a senior when you were in the ninth grade, so you might not remember him. He's doing me a favor by not pressing charges. But we wanted to scare you and show you what kind of trouble you could really get yourself into … show you what the results would be if you keep on going down the path you're on. Alcohol, son?”

“I'm sorry, Dad,” I said.

I wanted to tell him, “If you wanted to teach me a lesson, well, applaud yourself, because you succeeded.” I thought the hospital was sterile and cold; this place smelled and was eerie too. Though I didn't ask for it, my dad wasn't the only one who gave me a lecture.

Officer Butts said, “Young man, you've got your whole future ahead of you. A lot of young brothers get into trouble because they have no positive activities. They have no parents or role models. They have nothing really going on in their heads because they haven't applied themselves in school. That's not you. People get hooked on alcohol and drugs just trying it one time. People with so much promise throw their lives away. Talk to somebody if you need to vent—
not
your teammates. They don't know any more than you do. Talk to an adult, a therapist.”

“Butts, please,” my dad yelled, “that boy better get a dog and talk to that. A therapist? Please … I should …”

My dad was clearly getting upset, and he started to charge at me. Officer Butts pulled him to the side, and the two of them talked until my dad settled down. I knew when I got in the car that my dad's anger was just going to flare up again.

“Can I go?” I said to the two of them.

Officer Butts nodded. “I don't want to see you back in here again.”

“Yes, sir. You won't. Thanks,” I said with a respectful tone, knowing that was expected of me.

I was not really feeling like the cop looked out for me. He could have followed me back home if he had my back and knew my dad. He didn't have to bring me down to jail to make a point. Shoot.

When I was in the car with my father, he surprised me by not saying a word. That really hurt me because I knew by his silence that he was too pissed for words. I could just hear his voice going, “All that we're going through right now… all that we're dealing with. All the stuff with your mom and you're just going to go and be stupid?” but he said nothing.

Then he finally asked, “Where is your car?”

We drove by the spot, but my car was gone. At that moment I honestly could not take it. Someone had stolen my ride. That was the icing on the cake, and the cake was already too sweet. What was I going to do now? How could he ever forgive me? How could I deal with the mounting pressure?

W
hy are you all so lazy today? It is like I'm coaching a bunch of girls. I can go get the cheerleaders, and they will give a better effort than you guys are. Everyone on the line. Now!” my dad shouted out to the team at practice.

Leo grumbled, “I don't know what's with your dad, but he got the wrong one on the wrong day.”

Before I knew it, my dad was all in Leo's grill. He grabbed him by the collar of his practice jersey. Then my dad pinned him up against the fence.

My dad screamed, “Steele, you got something to say in my practice? Leo, you gonna try to smart mouth me in front of my players? You don't want to do what I say? Let's be clear, son. You got the wrong one on the wrong day. Get off of my field!”

“But, Coach, I was just playing,” Leo pleaded, reaching out for my dad's shirt.

My dad frowned at Leo's gesture and walked away. He did not turn around. He walked over to the majority of us, and everyone knew my dad was on fire.

Our furious and fuming coach yelled, “Didn't I say line up? Are y'all dumb? What kind of grades are you all going to get this year? Because you know if you don't hold down a two-point-five, you are ineligible. And for
my
team you better have a two-point-seven-five. If not, you will be like Leo Steele … off my team.”

Leo jogged over to my father and said, “But, sir … what? You're saying I'm off the team for good? I just …”

Landon and I jogged over to Leo and tugged him away from my dad. He didn't need to press the issue right now. Certainly my father did not mean for good. Being real, Leo was too good of a defensive end for my dad to do without all season. The grade issue was a concern though. Leo had a 2.49 GPA, and Dad was bending his 2.75 policy to let Leo play. At that moment, my boy needed to settle down. However, Leo was making a big fuss pulling away from the two of us. He was really forcing the issue with our irate coach. The brother needed to settle down.

“What's up with your pops?” Leo said loudly, as his hands went up and down in the air.

“You better hush and calm down,” I told him.

Leo shouted back, “Calm …”

I went up to Leo and whispered in his ear, “Man, you know my dumb dad just needs to calm down, come on, man.”

“Uh-uh, he ain't taking football away from me.” Leo desperately did not want to leave the team. “I wasn't the only one talking. I knew he didn't like me,” he accused.

Landon pushed his boy and said, “Man, just chill. Go to the locker room. Dang.”

Leo turned to me and pitifully voiced, “If I don't have football, Blake …”

“You ain't gotta worry about that, man,” I said calmly, as I placed my hand square on his shoulder.

I knew I didn't have a good relationship with my dad, and it was hard for me to talk to him, but for real, there was no way I was going to let my dad's little outburst be definitive. It just was not going to go down like that. Leo was more than my friend, he was my brother. If my dad knew just how much he had my back last night, he'd be kissing his tail not kicking his butt.

However, I did not want to deal with my dad because obviously something was really wrong. It was like he'd lost one of his contact lenses and his vision was blurred. What was he seeing that was so wrong with our practice? Our effort wasn't piss-poor. As the captain, I would not have allowed that. I knew I was not the coach, and he could see all from the tower where he stood. But from my view, we were pumped up. We were pushing each other, and we were executing drills. So what the heck was my pop's problem?

Old Coach Grey—a nice, white gentleman—handled our defense. He came up to Landon and me and said, “You two go on out there and get back with Coach Strong. I've got Leo. Everything's all right. Just calm down.”

“Nah, you just don't know what's going on with me, Coach,” Leo huffed. “He can't take football away.”

I knew Leo lived in the projects. I knew he was not around the best environment. I was aware of the fact that he probably had a mark and would be taking a lot of heat because he stood up for me. I was sure word had gotten around, and his neighborhood crew was going to jump him for stepping into my beef. Leo knew that too, and he still stood up. He was that strong.

So something was really going on with him that had him breaking down about needing football so much. He and I were going to have to talk soon. He was looking at me like,
You gotta help
. Landon was tugging on me to get back out there with my father. Coach Grey shooed us away, even though I wanted to stay.

When I got back to the field, my dad was going off even more. He needed to take a laxative or something and get the crap out of his system. He was acting constipated or something. The team looked at me to help.

Finally, when the team started doing suicides, I approached him. “Dad, can we talk? Please?”

My dad did not move, and his body language said,
If you don't get the heck out of my way, I won't have a son
. He always encouraged me to stand my ground and be a leader. So taking his advice, I did not move.

Instead, I took my chances and said, “Look, Dad, I'm the captain of this team. I know you're the coach, but it's my job to protect these guys. You're working us for no reason. I don't want you to lose this team, and we've got great momentum. We work so hard for you, but that's only if you care back. We're human. What's wrong?”

“Come on, son. Come on. To the side of the field house right now,” my dad yelled, as he threw down the clipboard.

He yelled at the other coaches to make sure the players were being pushed. He added thirty more reps to the twelve that we had to go. My team looked like they were about to pass out, but my lunatic father did not care.

When we got to the shade the field house provided, I was ready for him to smack me, hit me, sock me, take me down, something. Actually, what he did struck a chord. My father started breaking down. The toughest man I knew could not pull himself together. I had seen something similar to this one other time, and that was when my mom told me she found a lump, and I thought my dad was emotional then. So it could only be one thing for him to be breaking down this dramatically. My parents hadn't told me the biopsy results. He did not even have to say it because I knew she had cancer.

“No, Dad, no,” I said, as I fell to the ground and started banging my fist in the dirt.

Seeing my pitiful display, my dad knelt down beside me, helped me up, and held me in his arms. He did not tell me I was wrong. He also did not say she was going to be okay.

He merely said, “I'm sorry, son.” He repeated those words over and over again. At that point, we were two men down.

“We're gonna be okay, son. Everything's going to be all right,” my dad said only to appease me after time passed.

“Why don't you go home? I know your mom would love to see you. I'll be there a little later on. I'm gonna finish up football practice, coaches meetings, and check out some film.”

I went in the locker room to get my things to leave. Leo was sitting on the bench rocking back and forth. He stood up when he saw me. I guess I looked more shaken up than he thought I should.

“I don't want to talk right now, Le,” I said to my friend. “And everything's all right with you and the team. Get on out there and show my dad what you are made of.”

Leo had hope in his eyes but was scared to fully believe. “How you know?”

“Just trust me. It wasn't you,” I said, reassuring my boy.

Leo asked, “Then what's wrong with you? Talk to me, Blake. You know I'm here for you, right?”

“Oh, of course, man,” I said, remembering when he stepped up to that thug Shameek who put a gun to my face.

Even though Leo was really concerned, I was too upset to vent. I put my hand in the air, motioning for him to back off. I then went over to my locker and got my stuff to jet out.

“Thanks, man. Thanks for talking to your dad.”

I knew I was supposed to talk to Leo about what was going on in his world, but I was too upset about what was going on in mine. But Leo's blow up, emotional outburst, and all the drama he displayed when he found out my dad was not going to let him play was too big of a deal. I could not let it go in good conscience.

Something more had to be going on, so I asked, “Leo, what's up with you? Man, you were almost crying.”

Leo said, “We are getting kicked out of the apartment again. A lot is going on with my mom. I just need the stability of football, that's all.”

I could dig what he was saying. When your world is upside down, football is a violent game that brings peace—very weird but true. Leo was saying he needed to belong to something. I did not like hearing that Leo was also have family problems. Over the two years I had known him, he had moved six times. Once he was in foster care, and he ran away from the family because he said he was being abused. We never talked about what was done to him, but I knew it was deep. Before that, he had pep in his step. Leo was a happy person. After that, he was grumpy and crass. If football was a bright spot in his life, it needed to stay.

At that moment, I needed a bright spot too. The bottom fell out for me, and I was not going to be no good for nobody else, including my mom, until I got me together. So ignoring the fact that Leo wanted to help fix me, I headed out. Once in my ride, which had made it safely back home after my arrest, I quickly reached over, picked up my cell, and dialed Charli. I felt hearing her voice would stabilize my spinning life.

“Hey, Blake. I miss you, babe,” my girl said in an excited tone, sounding like the Charli I cared about.

“I
need
to see you. Where are you right now?” I asked, exposing my desperation.

Sounding less excited, Charli said, “I'm at cheer practice.”

“Well, can I see you real quick before it starts? I just need to talk to you about something,” I said, needing to hold her and wanting to be with her.

“Don't you have football practice right now?” she asked, seeming to want to give me an excuse.

“No, I'm leaving. Can we meet up? Or I can stay here at the school and go to your practice, and we can talk afterwards,” I said, helping her figure out a way to fit me into her schedule.

“Blake, come on, you know that'll be a distraction. All my friends will be looking at you, and my coach will not allow it. Coach Woods wants us to win the state title just as badly as your dad wants the state football title to be yours.”

She was really starting to upset me. I was going out of my way, trying to figure out a way to connect with her. I told her something heavy was going on, and she did not even ask what. She was into something else, and I know she was all fired up about being the captain of the cheerleading squad. Woo-hoo. Was it selfish of me to want a little attention? She was going on and on about I don't know what, because at that point I wasn't even listening. My mom had cancer, my heart was broken, and I needed someone who cared. Clearly, Charli was not it. No matter how much I wanted her to be my girl, she could not fulfill my needs. Now it was time for a brother to move on.

I drove without thinking. I passed the place where I got stopped by the police. I remembered being in jail again and how awful that felt. I remembered my car not being there when my dad brought me back to get it once he got me out of jail. However, he was messing with me because when I got back home my car was in the driveway. My nutty father had it towed just to mess with me. He succeeded because I was mad.

I drove around wondering what my life was going to be like without my mom. She hadn't passed on or anything. Although I knew almost nothing about cancer, I did know it was nothing to play with. My sister could not cook. My dad could not cook, and I couldn't cook. So how would we eat? My sister could not clean. My dad could not clean, and I couldn't clean. So how would we take care of ourselves? My sister could not wash clothes. My dad could not wash clothes, and I couldn't wash clothes. What would we wear? My sister did not understand me. My dad didn't understand me, and I didn't understand myself. How would I stay sane? The more I kept thinking about life without my mom, the more I was depressed.

Before I knew it, I was in front of Jackie's house, and I called her cell. “Hey.”

“Hey, you,” she uttered with excitement.

“Well, what are you doing?” I said. “I was just driving and wondered if you were busy?”

“I was just relaxing. Nobody's home. I'm chilling,” Jackie said in a sultry voice.

Too excited, I said, “I'm in front of your house.”

“Come in. I'm not dressed. I just got out of the shower, but I would love to see you,” she teased.

It took me all of one minute to get to her door. When she opened the door, my tired eyes opened real wide. A skimpy towel clung to her obviously naked body. When she hugged me and the cloth dropped, I felt her fine body up against mine. I realized I was in trouble. As our lips touched and we made our way to her bedroom, I thought that maybe trouble was not such a bad thing.

I knew it wasn't going to be easy to break up with Charli, and I did feel bad when she caught me at that party with my arms around Jackie. I was not trying to be a player or intentionally hurt her. It just worked out that way. Thanks to my big-mouth cousin who let her find out where I was, it all blew up, and Charli was broken. Even though she caught me with someone else, she was pleading with me to stay her guy. That was not the Charli I knew. Honestly, that was not the Charli I could respect. Bottom line was we'd been struggling for the last couple of weeks to connect, and our relationship was over long before I just told her we were through.

“I would say I'm sorry,” Jackie said, as we walked, intertwined, back into the party together. “But you should be with who you want to be with.”