Tough Luck by Jason Starr Page B

“You can see what happened to me, can’t you?”
    “Yes, and I’m very sorry,” Harry said, “but it’s no excuse for not calling in. You have my home number—you could’ve called me this morning.”
    “Ah, come on, man,” Charlie said.
    “So long,” Harry said, smiling as he left the store.
    “Motherfucker,” Charlie said. “If I had to get my arm fuckin’ cut off, he’d try to dock me. Son of a bitch piece of shit.”
    “What happened?” Mickey asked.
    “You heard him? ‘You gotta stay out of the white neighborhoods at night.’ Like it’s my fault ’cause I’m black? Like I gotta sit home all night in my house like I got a curfew. Fuck him, man.”
    “Come on, tell me,” Mickey said.
    Charlie let out a deep breath then said, “My cousin was DJ’in’ this sweet sixteen party in Mill Basin last night. I wanna start gettin’ into DJ’in’ myself, you know, so I went with him. Anyway, we was leaving, standing outside the house, when Jerome, my cousin, starts talkin’ to this white girl. Then these white dudes come out and start saying shit, calling us niggers and shit. My cousin started saying shit back to them, then one of the white dudes goes away and comes out with one of them aluminum baseball bats. My cousin and me, we run, trying to get to our car. But the dude’s behind us, swinging the bat. He got my arm, but I made it inside. But they had Jerome up against the car outside. The dude was swinging the bat at him, and I was in the car, watching. What the fuck was I supposed to do? I thought if I opened the door the guys would drag me out and beat me too. So I just started honking on the horn, and then these other people came over and the guys just ran. Jerome was in bad shape, man. Lost a lot of blood, broke bones and shit everywhere, but they got him in stable condition now. It’s gonna be in the paper—somebody from the Post talked to us at the hospital last night.”
    “Jesus,” Mickey said.
    “Whatever,” Charlie said. “I just feel bad ’cause I didn’t do nothing. I was just sittin’ there in the car, watchin’ it happen.”
    “You did the right thing,” Mickey said. “If you got out they could’ve killed you.”
    “Or maybe I could’ve saved my cousin’s ass.”
    “Or maybe you did save his ass,” Mickey said. “Maybe if you didn’t honk on the horn, no one would’ve come over and scared the guys off. Maybe if you went out there, you both would’ve been killed.”
    “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Charlie said, “but I still feel like I did him wrong.”
    “Can I get you something?” Mickey asked. “You want something to drink? You want some of my sandwich?”
    “That’s all right,” Charlie said. “I just wanna forget about it. That’s why I came into work today. So I could go on with my life, you know? I ain’t gonna let those motherfuckers keep me at home.”
    Mickey took a bite of his sandwich and washed it down with a gulp of coffee. He took another bite when the bell above the door rang, and the girl who had been in the fish store yesterday walked in. She was wearing a lot of makeup today, especially around her eyes, and she must have done something with her hair because it looked fuller and bigger than Mickey remembered. Her legs looked perfect, in tight purple acid-washed jeans, and she was wearing a baggy white sweater.
    “Remember me?” the girl asked.
    Mickey didn’t know what to say or do. He just stood there, staring. He remembered he had a bite of food in his mouth and swallowed it, then he said, “Sure I remember you. Hey, I’m really sorry about yesterday. My boss is just an asshole sometimes.”
    “Amen,” Charlie said.
    “What happened to you? ” the girl asked Charlie.
    “Nothing,” Charlie said, “just fell off my bike last night.” Then he said to Mickey, “I gotta go wash up,” and he exited to the back of the store.
    “So can I get you something?” Mickey asked the girl.
    “No, thank you,” the girl said.