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He laughed. “Something like that.”
I turned to walk away.
“Wait a minute, Soul Train. Where you goin’?”
That was funny so I turned around and smiled. “To get some punch.”
Sharon pulled my hand. “Yero Brown, this is Saundra Patterson,” she said. “Saundra just moved in across the street from me.”
“What happened to the cop?”
“I’m his daughter.”
“Oh,” said Yero. “I guess I’d better hide my stash.”
I knew he was only teasing but the remark also let me know why the other teens seemed to be avoiding me at school and around the block.
“Where are you moving from?” he asked.
“Manhattan.”
“Well,” he said, “welcome to Queens.” He grinned at both of us and strolled back into the crowd.
Sharon told me that Yero was two years out of high school and waiting for the post office to call him. He was at the party with his brother Khari who was an eleventh-grader like me because Khari had a bad temper and would fight at the slightest provocation and Yero would keep things calm. The good news: Yero had been an excellent student, was quiet, well-mannered and had always kept at least a part-time job since he was fourteen years old, the age when New Yorkers are eligible for working papers. He was a gentleman and, although he had been seen with girls, they were always from outside the neighborhood. There was no gossip or scandal connected with Yero and his reputation was spotless.
He didn’t approach me again and when the party ended, I went back across the street feeling very let down. It would have been nice to have a new boyfriend to go along with my new home and my new status as the only female in my daddy’s house.
The next day I walked out of the school and turned left toward home, wondering what to do with the rest of my afternoon. I was thinking about how much I already missed Asha when a car rolled up behind me and a male voice called out.
“Saundra!”
I turned around. It was Yero, leaning out of the driver’s side window. “
“Hi, Soul Train,” he said, grinning. “Come take a ride with me!”
I jumped in and we drove all over Queens, not wanting to leave each other after the conversation started flowing. We rode, stopped for burgers and fries, rode some more and talked about a whole lot of stuff: his mom, who struggled to raise five children after his father ran off with a white nurses’ aide; my dad, who was overjoyed that we were finally going to live under the same roof; how he aced the postal exam; my dream of studying fashion design; and how we both used to smoke weed bu
t now thought that drug dealers should all be arrested and charged with attempted murder.
Four hours later, he finally pulled up in front of my house and turned off the ignition. “Saundra, I know this is going to sound crazy but you’re the girl I’ve been looking for. Will you have me?”
Have him? Well, I hadn’t had sex since Mama died and I did like Yero Brown an awful lot.
“Yes, but not at my place. If Daddy caught us, he would shoot you and probably throw me in jail till my eighteenth birthday. Is there a hotel nearby?”
“No,” said Yero, laughing heartily. “I didn’t mean sex. I want to be your boyfriend.”
Embarrassed at the fact that I’d been willing to give it up so quickly, I tried to recapture some shred of dignity. With my nose in the air, I rattled off my phone number. “Call me and we’ll see,” was my answer.
Now, six years later, Sharon Hoffman was a senior at a college in Arizona and Yero and I were headed for the tuxedo shop to look for a cummerbund that Yero would feel comfortable in at our wedding.
Chapter 20
PHIL
I watched as Hugo, my short and stocky partner of more than ten years, paced in front of my desk. His skin seemed even whiter than usual and he kept ruffling his thinning mop of jet black hair. There was no point in telling him to calm down. Hugo worked out the tension that was part of our job in his own way. We both jumped when the phone rang.
“Detective Patterson,” I said.
