door.
“Hey, Cove!” Slim yelled out the window. He was driving Fry’s car.
“Where’s Fry?” I asked, pulling the passenger’s side door open and jumping in.
“He had something to do tonight. He said we could borrow his wheels.”
“Sounds good to me. Let’s drive by Andy’s and see if he wants to come.” Plans had been forgotten earlier with the excitement, and I had completely spaced in asking Andy if he wanted to join in.
Sticky sat in the back smoking a cigarette, looking kind of nervous. Something must be up—Sticky was never nervous. He was the kind of guy who shrugged and said “Oh well” about pretty much everything.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, worried.
“I saw Haker and his whole gang earlier,” he told us.
“Where?” I asked, licking my cheese covered fingers. The streets were already hopping and I could feel it was going to be a good night. The lights were bright and people were hanging on every corner waiting for some action.
“Up by the Spoon. Fry was there. I mean, he was leaving when… when I got the car.”
“What do you think they were doing up there?” I asked.
“No idea,” Sticky said, blowing a smoke ring.“What do you think Fry was doing there?”
“Maybe we should go up there and check it out,” I suggested. “Fry was probably just leaving before shit got out of hand.”
“No way, Clay. All of Haker’s guys were up there. Fifteen or so, man. Not without AJ and Blade. Why didn’t Fry mention it when he gave me the car?”
“Fifteen? That’s a lot of guys. They must really be up to something,” I said as I hopped out of the car and headed up the front steps of Andy’s house, letting Sticky wonder about Fry. I knew Haker sold drugs so it didn’t take much to figure out why they hadn’t beaten Fry down.
I knocked on the door and waited. Nobody answered and the door was unlocked so I went in. “Hey, Andy!” I yelled, almost tripping over his old scruffy cat.
“Hey, Clay,” Andy said, coming from the kitchen carrying a basket of laundry.
“You doing anything tonight?”
“Not yet,” he said, sitting the basket on top of the washing machine.
“Well, me, Sticky and Slim are gonna drag. You wanna come?”
“I’m game.” He tossed the laundry on his bed and followed me out the door.
As we got in the car, clouds were starting to move in from the east. It looked like a storm, which wasn’t unusual for this time of year.
“Let’s stop and get some drinks,” Sticky suggested.
Slim pulled into a little all-night convenient store. It was run down, and had been there ever since I could remember.
“I’ll wait in the car,” Andy volunteered.
The guy that was running the store didn’t take his eyes off of us for a second. He was a short, bald guy with tiny glasses on the top of his oversized nose.
“What are we going to do?” I asked, “His eyes are glued to us.” We were the only customers.
“You two go over there and act like you’re getting in a fight or something, and I’ll get the drinks,” Sticky instructed us.
“Sounds like a good plan to me.” Slim and I headed over to the magazine rack.
“What’s your problem?” I said in a raised voice. I gave Slim a little shove backwards.
“You did not put your hands on me!” Slim yelled back.
“You wanna go?” I threatened, taking a step toward him. We started wrestling around.
The guy rushed out from behind the counter. “You two hoodlums better stop fighting right now or I’ll call the cops,” he warned from a safe distance.
“Stop it you two!” Sticky demanded from across the room; it only took him five steps to reach us. He actually threw me backwards. I spun around quick enough to grab the magazine rack I had knocked into as it wobbled back and forth.
“Come on you guys, let’s get out of here,” Sticky said. Slim and I pushed and shoved each other all the way out the door.
Slim howled in laughter once we were in the car. “That was great!”
“Man, you fool. You almost made me knock over that magazine rack,” I complained to Sticky through choking breaths. I couldn’t stop laughing to save my life.
“Sorry, I had to make it look real.”
Sticky pulled a bunch of bottles out of his jacket, and I wondered how in the heck he had smuggled them out in all the commotion.
“You guys hear about that shooting?” Andy asked as we stopped at a light. I took a swig from the bottle Slim had handed me.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Some guys over on the south side shot each other over some chick.”
“Man! Don’t ever let me get tied up with a chick that way,” Sticky said, shaking his head. “Man, no chick is worth dying for or going to jail over.”
“It was two guys from Shawns,” Andy continued.
“Who needs enemies when you have friends like that? Gives us a break if they’re down there killing each other, though.”
“Yeah, better them than us.” I totally agreed with my friends. You don’t fight with your gang, or you’re not a gang; in a gang you watch everybody’s back.
“Hey, ain’t that the chick from the Spoon?” Slim said, looking through my window.
It sure was, and some guy was all over her. She obviously didn’t want him to be, and was struggling to get away.
“Stop!” I yelled.
Slim slammed on the brakes and I jumped out of the car. I closed the space between us quicker than a guy getting chased by the pigs.
I grabbed the back of the guy’s windbreaker and threw him to the ground. I gave him a good kick in the stomach before he realized what had happened.
“Behind you!” Sticky’s voice rang out.
I squatted just as another guy tried to tackle me from behind, and flipped him over my shoulder. The first guy that had been all over the girl pulled a knife. The other guy lay gasping; the fall had knocked the wind out of him.
“Clay, watch it, he’s got a knife!” Sticky instructed.
I gave the guy on the
