“You might could get your chance,” said Sonny. “But we’re gonna talk to Chris Carpet first.”
SEVENTEEN
Chris, Ali, and several younger men were in a Saturday afternoon game on the basketball courts at the Hamilton Rec Center between 13th and 14th in Northwest, in an area known as 16th Street Heights. When he was available, Ali liked to have Chris hang out with his boys, so that they could see by example an ex-juvenile offender who had managed to reenter society in a positive way. Chris wasn’t about giving speeches or deep advice, but if it meant simply showing up to ball, he was there.
Chris had asked Ali to bring the boys to Hamilton, as the fenced-in courts were in good shape, and the red, white, and blue nets were kept intact. He’d been playing there since his teens and found the quality of players fairly high. It was here where an errant elbow had split his lip and given him his scar, which Katherine later told him was the second thing she’d noticed about him and liked, after his eyes. Ham Rec now held value to him for that alone.
Ali had driven out from Southeast in his mother’s beat-up Saturn with William Richards and Marquis Gilman, Lawrence’s nephew, in tow. They had invited in two young men who lived on Farragut Street and gone three-on- three for a few games. Chris had bulk and a jumper, and Ali still had his vertical leap, but the teenagers had them on speed. The games had been hard fought but without major conflict, the players evenly matched, and all had been sweated out and satisfied when it was agreed that they were done.
Chris stayed on the court and worked with Marquis, showing him his box-out move and telling him to watch the extra step on his drive to the bucket. Marquis, still gangly in his youth, looked Chris in the eye when spoken to but disagreed that his pretty move was a violation.
“That’s a jump step, Mr. Chris,” said Marquis.
“It’s an extra step,” said Chris. “Just ’cause they don’t call it in the NBA doesn’t mean you can do it out here.”
“I’ll do it when I go pro, then.”
“You’re not goin pro, Marquis. But you could be a good pickup man. If you didn’t travel with the ball every time you drove.”
“Okay,” said Marquis. “I hear you.”
Ali returned with some bottles of water he had gotten out of the Saturn’s trunk. William Richards, who had been sitting by himself near the playground, got up and joined them. Ali offered him a bottle, but he waved it away.
“I don’t want it,” said William, his Bulls cap cocked sideways on his head. “That water’s hot.”
“Wet, too,” said Ali.
“I’m gonna walk down to Kennedy and Georgia, get somethin to drink at the Wings n Things.”
“They closed that place,” said Chris.
“Whateva they call it now, they still got cold sodas,” said William. “You comin, Marquis?”
“Is it all right, Mr. Ali?” said Marquis.
“Yeah, go ahead. Keep to yourselves, hear? I’ll come by and pick you two up on my way out.”
The two young men walked east on Hamilton, then cut north on 13th. Ali and Chris went to the black Saturn, parked behind Chris’s van. Ali sat on the hood and took a swig of warm water.
“Marquis is all right,” said Chris.
“Ain’t nothin wrong with him,” said Ali. “He got some issues at home and with his peers at those apartments, is all. Marquis only did dirt ’cause his friends did. He’s just tryin to belong to something, man.”
“You get him legit work?”
“I’m about to hook him up at a Wendy’s, if the manager ever calls me back.”
“Ben said Lawrence came to see you.”
“He wanted me to put Marquis up with your pops. I wouldn’t even ask. Wendy’s is a better start for him at this point. That boy’s gonna be one of my success stories.”
“No doubt,” said Chris.
“You seen Lawrence lately?”
“No. Ben and him were together one night recently. But I wasn’t with ’em.”
Chris hadn’t told Ali about Lawrence and the bag of cash. Lawrence had been putting that money up his nose, most likely, or watching it bounce on his dick since he’d broke into the Kramer house to take it. Chris was trying to forget about the money, and for the most part he had.
“Man looks old,” said Ali. “But he’s the same Lawrence.”
“Bughouse is Bughouse,” said Chris, repeating something that had been said often in their unit, many years back.
Ali took a long drink. Chris bunched up his shirt and wiped sweat from his face.
“Appreciate you coming out today,” said Ali.
“I just came to play basketball.”
“It’s more than that. The boys like seeing you. You got a nice way with them, man.”
“I don’t mind hangin with them, when I have the time.”
“You ever think of changing up? Doing something different?”
“What, you asking me to come work with you?”
“I make less than you do,” said Ali. “So I wouldn’t suggest that. I’m talking about switching careers. You love reading those books of yours so much, why don’t you use it? Good as you are with kids, you could be a history teacher, somethin like that.”
“You mean like Mr. Beige? He didn’t look all that prosperous to me.”
“Teachers make decent money now, Chris, and it’s getting better all the time. In some cities schoolteachers make six figures, they hang with it long enough.”
“But I can’t be one,” said Chris.
“Sure you can.”
“Armed with a high school degree?”
“So get yourself enrolled in a community college, then transfer to a university or state school when you make grades.”
“How would I support myself?”
“You’d work, just like you do now. Work during the day and go to your classes at night.”
“That would take forever.”
“Those years would go by quick. You could earn your teaching certificate and get out there and do some good. They got this Teach For America program, where people come fresh out of college and go to work in disadvantaged school districts-”
“Nah, man.”
“Why not?”
“That’s not who I am,” said Chris. “I’m a carpet installer, Ali.”
“You could be more.”
“Okay, Shawshank.”
Ali chuckled. “Shit. That old man just didn’t know when to quit, did he.”
“Like you,” said Chris, eyeing his friend and tapping his water bottle to Ali’s.
“Well, let me go pick up those knuckleheads,” said Ali, getting off the hood of his mother’s car.
“My father’s having his employee barbecue tonight at his house,” said Chris, retrieving the van keys from the pocket of his shorts. “You gonna come past?”
“Your pops walks backward when he sees me,” said Ali.
“He asked me to tell you to come by. Even though you made him put Lonnie and Luther on the payroll.”
“Don’t forget Milton.”
“Yeah, Milton couldn’t operate the tape measure. But my old man does like you. Not that I can figure out why. Prob’ly cause, out of me and my friends, you’re the only one who’s had any success.”
