Free Dead End Fix by T. E. Woods Page B

the day’s last rays of sunlight.
    “It’s a Schwinn.” Kashawn got off his new bike and walked it up the stairs. “Just picked it up.” He pulled a large bag off the back.
    “Where you get that at?” The brother Kashawn knew as Six Pack ran his beefy hand across the chrome handlebar. “Toys ‘R’ Us?”
    “What kind of jelly you gonna grab with that?” Slow Time asked. “Boy, you ain’t seein’ no action ridin’ round on that thing.”
    “I tole you I take you drivin’ first thing.” J-Fox shook his head. “You be ready for your license test in a week. Why you go get yourself a pedal pusher?”
    Kashawn’s pride dropped away, replaced by shame. He painted over it with anger.
    “I got a job.” He nodded toward D’Loco. “Been assigned my own work. I’ma take my ass to the DMV soon’s I can. Get my license and I’ma get my car. Till then I ain’t gonna be countin’ on any of you gooks get my ass to work.” He took a deep breath and puffed out his chest. “Anybody got a problem with that, come see me.”
    The group answered with a chorus of catcalls and chuckles. Kashawn threw his shoulders back. He glared at his brothers, hoping more than anything no one would detect his humiliation.
    D’Loco stepped toward him, pulling the bicycle away from Kashawn. “I ’member jonesin’ for one of these back in the ago. Wanted a red one, too. Like this one here.” Kashawn wanted to grab it back. He’d paid six hundred dollars for it. That was more than Kashawn had ever dreamed of paying for anything in his life. But it was D’Loco’s money he’d handed over to that bike shop owner. D’Loco owned everything the 97s had.
    He stepped aside and watched his leader walk the bike back down the stairs and climb onto the seat. D’Loco wobbled with his first pump, but by the time he completed his first wide circle around the weed-choked front lawn, D’Loco was pedaling smooth as caramel candy.
    “How’s this?” he called out to his men. “Hot damn. This shit is some fun right here.”
    The 97s watched D’Loco ride away from the house. A few of them jogged out and stood in the middle of the street, calling out encouragement as their boss disappeared down the block. Kashawn stayed on the porch, wondering if D’Loco would let him keep the bike after he kicked him out of the club.
That was one dumb move,
he thought.
I shoulda knowed better than bring a kiddie toy back to the crib.
    D’Loco was back a few minutes later, laughing as he jumped the curb and braked to a stop at the bottom of the clubhouse stairs. He hopped off the bike and waved Kashawn to him.
    “She ride good.” D’Loco handed the bike back to Kashawn, then turned his attention to the men gathered around him. “Green K here says any you motherfuckers got a problem with his bike you can take it to him. He wrong about that.”
    Kashawn’s heart pounded in his chest.
Here it comes. I’m gone.
    “Anybody got a problem with Green K’s ride,” D’Loco continued, “you come see
me.
Brother got a job. He find a way get his ass to work each day. Green K don’t come to me wonderin’ ’bout how he gonna get to his corner. Don’t bother none of y’all with his transportation needs neither. Brother get hisself what he need to get the job done.” D’Loco turned back to Kashawn. “That was more fun I had in days, boy. I thank you for it.” Then D’Loco leaned in and whispered, “Now get with J-Fox and get yourself that license. And a car. You a 97 now. You gonna need four wheels what I have in mind for you.” D’Loco slapped the seat of the bicycle and called out to the rest of the men. “I’ma get me one of these. Damn, that stuff’s fun.”
    —
    Kashawn’s eyes shot open when he felt the slap to his feet.
    “You didn’t hear me knockin’?” Big Cheeks grabbed both sides of Kashawn’s headphones and popped them against his ears. “Wha’choo got that volume set at, anyway? I coulda come in here, take anything I had a