Percival Everett - Erasure

“Go, nigger, you here?” the voice call out. I recognizes it as Reynisha.

“That you, Reynisha?” I ax.

“Yeah, it me,” she say. “Come on out from dem shadows.”

“You by yo’self?” I ax.

“Yeah,” she say. “I dint think you was gonna get away from there. Them police still lookin through the studio.”

“Take mo’ than twenty police to catch me,” I say. “You come lookin fo’ me?”

“Yeah,” she say. “Come on down.”

I step out the shadows and down the steps and stand in front of her. “What you want?” I look at the street and down the block. “You got any money or food?”

“No, nigger, but I gots this fo’ yo’ ass,” she say and she pull out that nine and point it at me.

“Shit, Reynisha,” I say. “Is that muthafucka loaded?”

“Dame straight it loaded, you sorry son of a bitch,” she say. “I’m gone shoot yo’ ass dead and get you out my baby’s life fo’ good.”

“Chill out, baby doll,” I say.

She laugh. “Baby Doll?” she say and shake her head. “You got some fuckin nerve.”

“What you talkin bout, baby?” I say. “You know you aint wanna shoot me now, do you?”

“Oh, I wanna shoot you. There aint no question bout that,” she say. “I wanna shoot you and let somebody else clean up the blood.”

“Give me the gun, Reynisha,” I says and I take a step her way.

“One mo’ step and it will be yo’ last,” she say.

“What you want?” I ax.

“I wanna shoot you, stupid,” she say.

“You want money?” I ax.

“You know you aint got no money,” she say.

“Who that?” I say, lookin at the street. When she look, I takes the pistol from her. “Woooo. I’m glad I a smart muthafucka. So, you was gonna shoot my ass?”

“Damn straight,” she say, mad even though I got the gun.

“You lucky you my baby’s mama,” I say. “If you wasn’t I be puttin a bullet right tween yo’ eyes.” I put the barrel of the pistol on her forehead.

“You aint got the balls,” she say.

I dont pay her no attention. I pull the gun back and look at it. “I been wantin and needin me one of these.”

“Gimme my gun back,” she say.

“Fuck you,” I say.

“You a big man, right?” she say.

I feels the weight of the pistol in my hand. “I is now,” I say. “I is now.”

“I’m gone tell ‘em you got a gun,” she say.

“Tell ‘em,” I say. I be lookin at the gun, the way it look in my hand, feelin the weight of it. “You go ‘head and tell ‘em.”

“What you gone do?” she ax.

“What that mean to you?” I say. “I got what I want from you and you kick them Hush Puppies on down the road.”

“I hope they kill yo’ ass,” she say.

“Yeah,” I say. “Me, too. They kills everybody else. So, why not me?”

I’m walkin downtown now. Just in case Reynisha go runnin to the cops and tellin ‘em she seen me in the hood. I be feelin the nine in my pocket and my head feel light. Then I see this cop cruiser comin toward me on the street. I ducks into a store. The store be full of stereos and telebisions and I think it would be cool as hell to actually have me one of them fine stereos. I wanna use my gun and take one. But the stereo be heavy and the cops be outside. I aint stupid. And there on the screen, on screen after screen down the row, is me, me on the Snookie Cane Show. Me in front of everybody. Me on telebision. I be lookin good and then the police come in. Then they rolls the tape back and show it again. Over and over. On screen beside screen beside screen. And there be this fat bitch standin down in front of a big screen and she look at me and I looks away. I walks on out back to the street where that cruiser been. But the cops aint there when I gets out. I heads down this alley and that, this street and that until I be back at the hood.

I sits under a tree in the park across from the licker sto’ and looks at my pistol. It be so black and shiny. It like a black diamond. It like money that aint money yet.

I walks on down out the park and down the street. I’m goin to the K’rean muthafucka’s sto’. He owe me. He owe me all he got for tellin me to get outta his fuckin’ sto’ and then callin the police. Just cause I wasn’t buyin nuffin. K’rean muthafucka. I just know that register of his be fulla money.

I stand cross the street and I watch people goin in and comin out the lil’ grocery sto’. Finally aint nobody in there but that K’rean. I crosses the street, give another look up and down the street and I go in.

That K’rean recognize me when I walk in. I can tell by the way he look at me. But he dont say nuffin. I look at the chips on the rack and he step real slow round the counter. He be runnin his hand through his hair like he nervous, shootin glances at me wif them little squinty eyes. Then he behind the counter, facin me and I see he’s reachin down for sumpin.

I pulls my piece and point at his yellow face. “Put yo’ hands on the counter,” I say.

He put ‘em flat on the counter. He lookin at my eyes. “What you wan?” he ax. “Take what you wan and go way.”

“Gimme the money in the register,” I say. I watch him while he do it. It look to be bout round a hundred. “Okay, where the safe.”

“No got safe,” he say.

“Fuck you, man,” I say. “Where the safe.” I push the gun closer to his face.

“Safe in back,” he say. “Don’t shoot.”

“Come round from there real slow,” I tells him.

But he don’t come round real slow. He duck down behind the counter and try to come back up with a shotgun. I pop him. The pistol jump in my hand and I almost drop it. I hit him in the head, in the side of the head. The hole look neat and there aint much blood at first. I shoots him three mo’ times until he in a lake of blood. Muthafucka. Shit, fuckin K’rean made me kill his ass. I dint tell him to grab no gun. I grab the money up off the counter and run out.

My head be throbbin. I dont know what to think or where to go. I run and run and run but I aint gettin nowhere. I be hongry as hell and I go into a Popeye chicken place. I eat some chicken and drink me a Sprite while sittin in the back booth near the bafrooms. I just be hopin I dont see nobody I knows. But the food be good.

I walk past the high school and down a wide alley and somebody call out to me. I pull the gun real fast and turn round and there is Willy the wino.

“Whoa,” he say. “Dont shoot me, pardner.” He drunk as shit and swayin in the light from a window above him. “That you, Van Go.”

“Yeah, it me, you drunk muthafucka,” I say.

“Where you runnin to and why you got that gun?” he ax.

“Just leave me alone,” I say.

“How yo’ mama?” he ax.

“What?”

“I say, how yo’ mama?” he say. “Think bout it, Van Go. Look at my face. Look at my coal black skin and then look at yown. Look at my black eyes and then look at yown. Look at my big black lips and look at yown. I be your daddy whether you likes it or not.”

“Shut up,” I say.

“It true,” he say.

“Then where you been?” I ax.

“I been doin what I do, survivin,” he say. “You aint worth a piss. Yo’ mama aint worth a piss. So, here I is.”

I can feel the rage swell up inside me. I hates this man. I hates my mama. I hates myself. I’m seein my face in his. I see the ape that stupid girls say they be fraid of. I see my long arms hangin down. I see eyes that dont care what happen tomorrow. I see myself rockin on my heels, waitin, waitin, waitin for sumpin I won’t recognize when it come. My only cure gone be death. I heard it all my life. I be hearin it now. I see Mama bleedin in my dream. I see my babies. I see Rexall, wifout a brain, growin up and axing “Why not me?” I see my daddy. I see myself. I shoot the muthafucka. Pop! In the gut.