CHAPTER 3
A Bad Situation:
The evening had been a long one. The band jammed and I sang at DJ’s until after midnight. I couldn’t wait to get into my truck, drive to the north end of town, where I lived and chill. I didn’t take any clothes off. I kicked my feet up on the table and let the worries of the day flow away. About an hour into my restfulness I was awakened by the ringing of my phone. I sat up. Like most nights when I didn’t stay over, at my woman, Charlotte’s place, I’d again slumbered off with the television still tuned to ESPN’s recaps. I took a quick look up at the clock on the wall above the television. It showed one-thirty A.M. I knocked over half of my last Pepsi reaching for the phone.
“Hello,” I said with only about half of my wits about me.
“Is this Booker Tee?” The voice asked in a way, I could tell they knew it was indeed me on the phone.
“Who else would it be this time of morning?” I whispered. “Who’s this?”
“I see you’re still a smart ass. This is Brady down at Boise PD.”
Lt. Brady was a former teammate from my old playing days. These days he was trying his best to be a real good policeman. As a football player, he was a white boy, who tried to play running back. He lacked the moves, but he was a guy who never quit. He had heart and that meant a lot to me.
“Damn Brady, couldn’t you pick a better time for a damn re-union?”
“Booker you need to meet me at Camel’s Back Park, now,” he said with no smile in his voice.
“Why in the hell would I want to meet you at any park, at this hour?”
“We’ve got a dead football player and he’s Black.” Brady hung up the phone. In my silence I thought of Pooh again not showing up for work at JD’s. My heart pounded and my mind raced in angry anticipation.
“Please God don’t let it be Pooh.”
“Why would you think some shit like that?”
“Isn’t that how shit works? Every time a nigga’ try to straighten his life out something bad always happens.”
“You need to stop thinkin’ the worst all the time. That’s why you ain’t got any friends.”
“I got Charlotte.”
“Yeah name another person you trust and they trust you.”
“I trust Scott and he trusts me.”
“He’s a White boy.”
“So, what’s the fuck that gotta do wit any thing?”
“White boys will always betray a brotha, just a matter of time. You know that and I know that.”
“It ain’t right to think that way.”
“Then prove my ass wrong. Just name one White boy who ain’t eventually let yo’ ass down.”
I slowly put the phone down, got up and threw some water on my face. I rushed to my truck and drove fast towards Camel’s Back Park.
Camel’s Back was also on the north end of town, not too far from my apartment. As I approached the park I could see the red lights of the law. Police were everywhere. I drove as close as I could, to the scene and got out of my truck. I walked through the maze of people. A young policeman stopped me.
“Sir, this area is off limits to the public.” He said it like a young Officer trying to use his best voice of authority.
“It’s okay Officer,” yelled an authoritative voice closer to the scene. I could see it was Brady. The Officer turned to see who owned the voice. Then he turned back to address me.