Puzzling Pieces

Chapter 18

“You know Sia, when we enter into that garage we got a whole lot of explaining to do.”

“Haden has all the talk but no action. He thinks that employing boys like Simian is going to get him into those prestige circles that you call Y.O.M.”

“Nothing prestige about Y.O.M.” Nate’s was dressed in a baggy all black number from head to toe … even his eyes were concealed by a woolen hat that he purposely placed on like that to remain unseen. We had a word to meet with Haden, and still, at the time, I hadn’t met Vivian. So, this was a year or two before I started to enjoy the old man’s company.

But I was increasingly worried about Nate and his associations. I thought it was deliria coming on with all that talk about Y.O.M., and how him saying no to their recruitment programme down in New York City was a foolish thing to do when it would be paid for. “They keep hollering at me every time I return to my girlfriend's digs. And usually, they be rolling with Simian who seems to be on that path.”

Haden was inside this crummy deserted garage that most of us visited when we wanted to stay away from the 9-to-5. And we wouldn’t have much luck in that department with the way we talked and dressed. It was the easy way out, and I wasn’t proud to say that when I think back on it.

When I would come out here, I always noticed a batch of 20-somethings all heavily entombed in their puffer jackets ranging from dark blue to a darker shade of black. Some wore snapbacks and trainers with holes in the toecap and outsole peeling off, and others roamed with no shame at having zilch for the bus but enough to buy a new pair of pumas and reeboks.

These same cats though would disappear within a few weeks at a time, and when they came back after a trip with Haden’s blessing they would be claiming the same topic of Y.O.M wanting them to come on down to New York. One of those boys come over, his names Trent, and somebody who I believe will do me justice when I piece it all together.

Trent was a Caucasian Rastafarian who ate pork and hated fish. He was one of those boys who spoke as if he’s chewing his tongue and would spit half the time with flem getting caught in his throat. He had the bodily movements of a 50 – year old man when he dragged his feet and took a decade to get from one end of the street to the other. His nickname was co-slo because he seemed to always have a potato salad with some extra cabbage stuffed in.

He has traces of mayonnaise around his mouth when he approaches and spits out some chunks of potato: flipping nasty - and then nods friendly at me but withholds the gesture to Nate. We don’t respond to him. I can’t stand Trent the slow-poke. And Nate’s that close from jumping in front of a bus. But something was very different about him on this day.

“I never figured they would get you out here, Sia.” Monotone and so low that I dig my ear-lobes to let his words find their way in. He spits again, and I squirm in disgust. “I got my ticket to New York and I’ll be riding out in the morning. No more potato, cabbage, and mayonnaise all the damn time. I’ll have some money to even get a crib.”

“They selling you lies man. But you a fool anyway so you’ll likely fit right in.

Trent spits; puh, and then takes out the fork from the pot and threatens Nate with it, “I hear they’ve been persistently asking your ass to come and join? Sooner or later they won’t ask anymore, Nate. They’ll send somebody around to personally get you on the ride.”

“Hopefully they have something a little scarier than a fork?” I snigger at Nate for cracking that joke. It’s a plastic fork which won’t be doing much for Trent as a weapon.

“Keep laughing, man. If they keep asking you like that it’s obvious that they’re trying to make it clear that you ain’t got no choice.” He stuffs his fork back in. “I got the same treatment. I’m here now, hand on head …” Trent places his hand on his head, “thinking that’s it’s best for me to just give in and say yes.” He pulls off his blue bandanna. “They got some reunion happening in a few days, so I’ll see what it’s all about.”

One of Hayden’s female friends comes out with long lashes and sharp nails. Her hairs formed like an afro mountain and her body below only needs a little maintenance with the gut that hangs over her skirt. Apart from that, she’s got nice eyes and a good pair of boots to match them: chocolate brown. A few boys wolf whistle, I know that she only has eyes for me. I kid. I kid.

“Yo Nate, Hayden asks if you have his stuff?”

“I always got him. Tell him to stop doubting me.”

“Well, you out here running around with Sia. Talk is talk.”

A few of the other grubby boy’s glance over like it’s their cue to gang up on me with their lazy eyes and downbeat personas. “Dyke be trying to make it with Nate. He got the connections and all that.” A fool named Leon with his Himalayan hairdo and caramel skin occupies the middle of the garage entrance. I see Hayden dealing with a few guys on one of the workbenches.

Leon was what I liked to call the end result of not erasing a mistake. His mother wanted to abort at birth but decided to keep him, love him, and watch him turn into the bum before me now. A few pounds more and he’d make a good meatball to go with the cabbage lover Trent. “You trying to come to New York, dyke?”

“With you there, they must be desperate as fuuuuuuuck!”

Nate knows I’m prolonging the truth and waves Leon back into that garage. “Nobody wants to speak with you Leon. You are looking like a cracked-up father Christmas with no soap. Nate raises a few cracks of laughter with that one.

“And you be one step away from me getting rid of your ass.” We all turn to see Hayden; Simian behind him, Sidney, and another boy called Arton. Hadens the only one dressed like it’s summer with a tank top revealing no abs zone. Hairy is his strong point as his arms are covered, and his curly-swirly hair adds plenty of bulk to his medium height frame. “All these boys you see out here have that connection. Henry keeps talking about this Vivian guy coming real soon and you ought to be acquainted with him.”

“Can we talk with more privacy, Haden?”

“Nah. We all in this. All from the same street.” I knew he wasn’t addressing me when I catch that shared snare with Sidney. “Why you here?”

“You know my name, Haden. We were pretty much friends the last time we spoke.”

“I was smoking some purple haze with you. Of course, I was. But now I can’t stand you being around here. Y.O.M ain’t looking for your kind.”

“Nate tells me different.”

Sidney joins in the bullying, “Nate won’t be telling you anything anymore. They want him out in NYC. So, remove your unwanted self from here and be gone with your solving mysteries stint that has people claiming you’re whack!” They all laughed at me. Trent was choking the loudest.

Nate was the only one who didn’t catch their sense of humor. “Y.O.M should take a closer look at Sia. Not one of us here as the IQ that she obtained with barely any education. So ya’ll can laugh and poke fun at the dyke, but she’s going places. And you f***s will be here looking at her shine.”

“Shut up!” Sidney singing this so loudly. “Get off her balls and collect your ticket to see my dad. s**t moves real slow with you. And patience is wearing thinner than that bra strap that Leon needs.”

“I ain’t going!”

It was the only time that me and Nate could claim to be outnumbered. And it was the only time that I could say let me fight for my best friend right here. And boy … did we fight.”