Chapter 59: Catch 22

“So, you didn’t see anyone when you got out of the restroom?” Raymond asked his son while the two were in the front yard doing a final rinse of all the paint splashed on the family car.

“No, sir. I opened the door and looked both ways, but no one was there, and a few minutes later, when I left the locker room, I also didn’t see anyone,” Tim answered but paused before continuing. “Now that I think about it, Dad. I didn’t even see the guys leave the restroom. I didn’t hear any rumors about someone getting beat up and going to the office or the hospital, for that matter.”

Raymond nodded his head while continuing to wipe down the car. It was mostly busy work for the Murphy family’s two men since the car wash got the vast majority of the colors off. Once home, the only things they needed to clean were the windshield wipers themselves. “So did you get a look at who was in the car?”

“Not really. I thought I saw a Spurs basketball jersey, which is like these guys’ uniforms, but it was dark in the van, and the door was only open for a second,” Tim answered.

“Do you think it was this gang, or could it possibly have been Valentine from Judson still pissed about you kicking his ass on the field or all his subsequent problems?”

The news of Rodney Valentine’s dismissal from the Judson Rockets football team sent shocks through the local sports media. Rodney Valentine was a highly-sought-after recruit for all the major college football powerhouses across the country. The media’s fascination with what happened soon quelled when neither anyone at Judson nor Roosevelt would talk about what happened to see the football star kicked off his team. A couple of days later, Valentine withdrew from Judson and announced he was transferring to IMG Academy in Florida for the rest of his senior season. That effectively refocused the rumor mill surrounding his dismissal.

“Naw. I don’t think Rodney had anything to do with it, but hey, anything is possible, I guess,” Tim retorted.

“Alright, then. I guess, since no one was hurt, we’ll let it be just a stupid prank, but keep your eyes open while you’re in school, huh?” Raymond decided. Tim nodded his agreement. “Now it’s time we upgraded the security around Casa Murphy, ya think?”

“How?”

“Well, I guess it’s time to get an alarm. I mean, this neighborhood has always been a quiet and safe place, but your mother loves to show me posts from her online friends pointing out the different crimes happening down by the elementary school.”

“That’s like six or seven blocks away! Do you really think we need to get an alarm for that?”

Raymond looked at his son, who initially believed he was joking about the need for an alarm of some kind for the house. He realized that his son, fortunately, had grown up in a very sheltered fashion. He was always a quiet, unassuming boy and had, so far in life, not had to meet many of the harsher realities. No crime. No hunger. No repression. He had lived a blessed life so far.

Both sets of grandparents had passed when he was barely out of diapers. Raymond didn’t have any significant family problems turning the focus on them, and neither did Juanita’s side of the family. However, Juanita’s sister had two kids from two different men, and neither was in the picture. She was always working hard and keeping her family above water. The kids were happy, though, but Raymond knew his wife wished she could help her sister more.

“Well, I figure it’s best to be proactive about it. Best to have a little peace of mind before you really need it, ya think?” Raymond challenged, and Tim answered with that tried-and-true teenage way: an unexcited grunt. Raymond smiled to himself as he dunked a washrag into the bucket of sudsy water. He stood and fired the rag at his son and contacted the back of his son’s head.

“Hey, what the... !” Tim yelled, seeing his dad laughing from the other side of the SUV. Tim smiled and realized his dad must have forgotten what he had for retaliation. Tim tugged on the water hose and, in one motion, raised the nozzle and aimed it at his father, getting him flush with a stream of water before he could duck out of the way.

“Okay! I give! I give!” Raymond yelled and poured the bucket of soapy water out on the driveway. Tim turned the nozzle toward the paint-tinged water to wash it down the driveway. Then he began rolling it up after turning off the water. The two were soaked and in high spirits when they went inside for the night.

After a bit of a scene, the coaches finally got Rodney to understand they were not going to immediately put him in the varsity starting lineup without comparing him against the other players who have already been working in their program.

“Alright, Valentine! Let’s see what you got, big-time Texas football hero! I’m bringing the pain. You best get your ass ready for it!” The IMG Academy middle linebacker yelled from his position behind the line of scrimmage. The two football players were in practice for the IMG junior varsity.

“Just don’t go crying to your mama when I run right over your ass!” Rodney responded. The other players chuckled at his response. On the whistle, the quarterback handed off the ball cleanly to the new running back. Rather than sidestepping to the opening hole, Valentine bore down, and the linebacker closed the slight opening, and the two slammed into each other. Valentine did win the initial hit, but the linebacker was also one of the country’s top-rated younger linebackers.

After the initial impact, Valentine bounced off the blow and continued churning his knees. Still, the linebacker held onto the tackle and, after a few more steps, both players hit the ground. The other players all congratulated them on the impressive play. Rodney put on a healthy smile and bumped fists with the linebacker when offered.

Rodney moved off to the side and grabbed a water bottle, taking a quick swig. He worried to himself. Rodney had just hit the linebacker with his strongest move. Back at Judson, he would have been comfortably running for a touchdown. He was now thinking to himself that maybe the coaches at Judson could have been correct the whole time they told him that, while he was a good player, he was far from a great player.

Tim spent Monday with the drive-by painting in the back of his mind. As the day dragged on, he was slowly coming to grips with the idea that maybe it was just a stupid prank by someone who didn’t know who was in the victimized car. Tim was still incensed over it since it happened to his family. However, he slowly let his anger fade away ... until a car honking in traffic on Walzem seized Tim’s attention as he walked to his final class of the day at the portable building.

The honking had nothing to do with him, but the battleship-gray van merging into the intensifying traffic snapped into Tim’s full awareness. Instead of taking the ramp to the classroom, Tim quickly jumped into one of his teammates’ truck bed and did not take his eyes off the van as it pulled away from the school.

A few of his classmates saw Tim dart out for the school parking lot rather than enter the class. “Where you goin’, Mayhem?” Hamburger Gomez, the starting left tackle for the freshman football team, asked as he caught up to his friend.

“Did you hear about what happened to my family after the game Friday night?” Mayhem asked while keeping his eyes glued to the van while it turned off Walzem Rd.

“Yeah, the thing with the paint, right?”

“Right.”

“So. What’s that gotta do with what you doing right now?” Hamburger inquired as the one-minute-until-tardy warning bell for the beginning class rang out.

“I think I’m looking at the van right now.”

Hamburger climbed as quickly as he could into the pickup truck’s bed and stood next to Tim. “Are you sure it’s the same van?”

“Not a hundred percent, but I’m just waiting for it to make that turn, and I can maybe get a look at the license. I think I saw some of it Friday night, but it was fast, and well,” he said, pausing for a moment, “maybe.”

“Fucking aye dude, I can see it’s a gray van, sure, but you must have super eyesight to see the license.”

Tim realized he might have made a mistake and needed to cover it up. “Well yeah, better than average. I can see it, but it ain’t crystal clear.”

Hamburger grunted a statement of understanding, and both continued watching as the light changed, and the van turned, making its plate visible from their vantage point. Tim nearly jumped with excitement while he continued watching the van. “But will you look at who is in the passenger seat?”

“Who?”

The van had turned into a gas station and parked at one of the pumps. The passenger door opened, and Tommy, decked out in his black Spurs jersey, baggy black jeans, and bright white basketball shoes, headed into the store. He was still talking to the van’s driver, who had gotten out and was getting ready to pump some gas.

“Is that who I think it is?” Tim pumped his friend for a second opinion.

“Yep. Even I can tell from here who it is. Can’t really miss that dude. Even from way over here,” Hamburger answered and, after a few moments, he asked another question. “What are you going to do? You can’t exactly go right at him; he’s high up in the Darq Squad. They take shit seriously, Tim.”

The bell rang, and that got both teens’ attention. They looked at each other, and both mumbled, “Shit.” They jumped out of the truck bed and ran to the portable classroom while simultaneously readjusting their backpacks.

A couple of other teens entering the classroom were tardy, too, so the short pause at the door gave Hamburger another chance for a quick question. “What are you going to do? If it was Tommy and the Darq Squad who poured paint on your family’s car Friday, you can’t just walk up to him and hit him or something.”

“I dunno. I’ll have to think of something.” The two separated, the conversation ended, and the class began.

After Health class, in the locker room getting ready for practice, Tim was sitting quietly and not paying any attention to the day’s gossip and stories reported by the various varsity football team members. Tim wasn’t usually involved in that activity, but he did try to pay attention, so he wasn’t clueless, normally. Jeff Smith, who’s locker was right next to Tim’s, noticed Tim was not listening to the everyday toils and foibles of the Roosevelt student body. “You okay, Tim?”

Tim reacted to his name. “Huh? Oh, um, yeah. I’m good. Got a minor bit of trouble that I have to figure out how to fix.” The guys seated near Tim heard their star player had a problem. All the other nearby conversations stopped, and everyone leaned in to pay attention.

“Lay it on us, Mayhem,” Frank Robinson’s deep voice commanded from his perch in the corner of the locker area, about five lockers down from Tim and Jeff Smith.

Tim looked around at his friends and realized they would not let it go until he told them all what was going on. He let out a breath and bared his conundrum. “You guys heard about what happened to me and my folks after the Lee game on Friday, right?”

Several players gave grunts and affirmative answers. One said no, and someone quickly relayed the story and gave a grunt to signal Tim to continue.

“Well, I was walking to Health class out in the portables, and I heard a car horn from out on Walzem. Not too big a thing, but I noticed out on the street was what looked like the same battleship-gray van that threw the paint on my dad’s car with me and my family in it.” Several players grumbled their annoyance and quickly surmised what Tim’s problem was.

“So what? Not like you could tell anything else about the van, right?” Jeff asked.

“No, not really, but I did get a quick look at the license when it happened but not really enough to remember it vividly, so I jumped up on a truck out in the parking lot and watched the van go down the street and stop at a light to make a turn into the gas station. It turned in and parked to get some gas. That’s when the passenger got out and made his way into the store like he was gonna pay for the gas.”

The players in the locker room were gripped in attention and hanging on Tim’s every word. He explained it was Tommy, in his Darq Squad black Spurs uniform, and the driver, another guy in a black Spurs jersey waiting to pump the gas itself. You could tell the players who had dealings with the Darq Squad before, and they instantly understood Tim’s problem.

Jeff looked to Frank, who took his shoulder pads off and got back into the shirt he wore to classes. Jeff quickly began to do the same. Frank addressed Tim, “Look, Mayhem, it’s a delicate situation but, luckily, it is something that can be dealt with and pretty simply. You, me, and Jeff are gonna go right now, before practice starts, and talk to A-Train.”

There were a few involuntary shocked reactions from some of the players. People generally went out of their way to avoid A-Train and his gang. No one in their right minds would want to get on that guy’s radar. It was best to avoid all contact with those guys, and if you did come into contact with them, pray that it ended quickly and amicably on A-Train’s behalf.

“Yeah, man. You heard how A-Train called you an important person in the school. He doesn’t want to harm you or to get into any business predicament with you. You go and explain what happened, and hopefully, if he’s in a good mood, he nips any potential problem between you two in the bud,” Jeff explained.

Tim, Jeff, and Frank replaced their cleats with their regular shoes but left on their uniform pants with hip, thigh, and knee pads. They stopped at the coaches’ bench. “Coach O’Shaughnessy, we need to take care of some business right quick. We will only be a couple of minutes. It’s for class,” Frank said to the coach.

“Well, don’t dick around. Hurry up and don’t be too late,” Coach answered.

“Yes, sir, won’t be more than a few minutes max,” Jeff added, and the three defensive stars for the Roosevelt football team jogged out of the locker room and into the school hallway.

Tim was following the other two since he didn’t know where they were going. The three made their way past the cafeteria and out onto the covered patio that featured regular picnic tables built over the years as class projects by Woodshop students.

They jogged through the patio and out the back exit, toward the wood and metal shop buildings. A-Train and his entourage would spend after-school hours in the car shop making repairs and generally fooling around until it was time for their everyday work to begin. The three football players slowed down, and their approach activated several members of the Darq Squad into defensive mode, surprised by their entrance. Frank, Jeff, and Tim all stopped before entering the actual building.

A-Train was apparently in a good mood as he and another member were laughing at a joke no one else had heard. A-Train saw the three players, and a look of confusion flashed across his face. He looked at his watch and started the impromptu meeting. “Say, Frank, ain’t you fellas supposed to be going to practice right about now?”

Frank and the others stepped into the building when A-Train waved them to enter. The alert level visibly dropped as the three made their way between the wrecked cars and car parts strewn across tables everywhere. A-Train and his boys were sitting on some sofas and recliners in a circle to talk with each other. “What’s up, A-Train? You good?” Frank asked.

“As well as can be expected. What brings you around to my neck of the world?”

Frank turned and tilted his head toward Tim, “Go ahead. Tell him what’s up.”

Tim stepped forward and began explaining his problem to A-Train. “Friday night after the game, my parents picked me up, and we rode home all together.” A-Train nodded. “While we turned onto Walzem to turn around out toward our house, someone pulled up alongside of us and poured paint all over my dad’s car and then sped off.”

Several of the seated members sat up straight, and a couple more who were standing in the back physically reacted.

“We didn’t get a great look, but I did happen to see a battleship-gray van and about four or maybe five people inside the van. They were all wearing Spurs jerseys. Finally, I did get a quick view of the license as it sped away, and I just saw that van again right before my seventh-period Health class out in the portable building outside the locker room exit.”

A-Train had not moved during Tim’s story, but he was sitting up straight, and he did look at a couple of his guys when they reacted.

“I heard a car horn honk like it was trying to avoid someone not paying attention to the road. So, while walking to class, I saw a battleship-gray van going down Walzem. I stood up in a pickup parked near the portable building and waited while the van was stopped at the light but getting ready to turn into that Chevron station on the corner. When it did turn, it pulled up to get some gas, and I saw Tommy get out of the passenger side to go inside the store. I also saw another person in a Spurs jersey get out of the driver’s side and get ready to pump gas. It was easy to tell it was Tommy. He’s kinda easy to spot even in a crowd.”

“Okay, so what do you want me to do?”

“Can you ask him whenever you see him if he poured the paint on my parents on purpose because of me for the little fight at lunch, or was he just having some fun, and it just turned out to be the car I was in?”

A-Train sat still for a few moments and did not say or do anything. He was just staring at Tim like he was trying to figure out what to do. Tim was a little nervous standing in front of these guys who were hardcore gangsters and criminals.

“Tim ... may I call you Tim?” Tim nodded. “Tim, I’ll tell you something I don’t normally tell people about the goings-on in my business. Whenever we have some new recruits joining, they generally have to perform a crime of some kind to begin the initiation into my little family.” Tim again nodded.

A-Train got up from his seat and walked across the circle to Tim and the other football players. “I can also tell you that indeed Friday night there was an initiation like that and, unfortunately, you were caught in the middle again. Now, for that, I do apologize. I don’t think Tommy targeted you and your parents for that particular event.” A-Train paused, looked around to a couple of snickering gang members, and shot them a look to settle down.