the Third Twin (1996)

An alarm bell started ringing in the back of his mind. Don’t get in a fight, Steve.

The cop’s partner stood leaning on the car, watching, his face a blank.

“What’s the matter, brother?” Dorothy said seductively. “Do I disturb you?”

The patrolman punched him in the stomach. The cop was a beefy guy, and the punch had all his weight behind it. Dorothy doubled over, gasping.

“The hell with this,” Steve said to himself, and he strode to the corner.

What are you doing, Steve?

Dorothy was still bent over, gasping. Steve said: “Good evening, Officer.”

The cop looked at him. “Vanish, motherfucker,” he said. “No,” Steve said. “What did you say?”

“I said no, Officer. You leave that man alone.” Walk away, Steve, you damn fool, walk away.

His defiance made the kids cocky. “Yeah, thass right,” said a tall, thin boy with a shaved head. “You got no call to fuck with Dorothy, he ain’t broke no law.”

The cop pointed an aggressive finger at the boy. “You want me to frisk you for dope, you just keep talking that way.”

The boy lowered his eyes.

“He’s right, though,” Steve said. “Dorothy isn’t breaking any laws.”

The cop came over to Steve. Don’t hit him, whatever you do, don’t touch him. Remember Tip Hendricks. “You blind?” the cop said.

“What do you mean?”

The other cop said: “Hey, Lenny, who gives a shit. Let’s go.” He seemed uncomfortable.

Lenny ignored him and spoke to Steve. “Can’t you see? You’re the only white face in the picture. You don’t belong here.”

“But I’ve just witnessed a crime.”

The cop stood close to Steve, too close for comfort. “You want a trip downtown?” he said. “Or do you want to get the fuck out of here, now?”

Steve did not want a trip downtown. It was so easy for them to plant a little dope in his pockets, or beat him up and say he had resisted arrest. Steve was at law school: if he were convicted of a crime he could never practice. He wished he had not taken this stand. It was not worth throwing away his entire career just because a patrolman bullied a transvestite.

But it was wrong. Now two people were being bullied, Dorothy and Steve. It was the cop who was breaking the law. Steve could not bring himself to walk away.

But he adopted a conciliatory tone of voice. “I don’t want to make trouble, Lenny,” he said. “Why don’t you let Dorothy go, and I’ll forget that I saw you assault him.”

“You threatening me, fuckhead?”

A punch to the stomach and a left-and-right to the head. One for the money, two for the show. The cop would go down like a horse with a broken leg.

“Just making a friendly suggestion.” This cop seemed to want trouble. Steve could not see how the confrontation could be defused. He wished Dorothy would walk quietly away now, while Lenny’s back was turned; but the transvestite stood there, watching, with one hand gently rubbing his bruised stomach, enjoying the cop’s fury.

Then luck intervened. The patrol car’s radio came to life. Both cops froze, listening. Steve could not make out the jumble of words and number codes, but Lenny’s partner said: “Officer in trouble. We’re out of here.”

Lenny hesitated, still glaring at Steve, but Steve thought he saw a hint of relief in the cop’s eyes. Maybe he, too, had been rescued from a bad situation. But there was only malice in his tone. “Remember me,” he said to Steve. “’Cause I’ll remember you.” With that he jumped into the vehicle and slammed the door, and the car tore away.

The kids clapped and jeered.

“Whew,” Steve said gratefully. “That was scary.”

It was also dumb. You know how it could have gone. You know what you’re like.

At that moment his cousin Ricky came along. “What happened?” Ricky asked, looking at the disappearing patrol car.

Dorothy came over and put his hands on Steve’s shoulders. “My hero,” he said coquettishly. “John Wayne.”

Steve was embarrassed. “Hey, c’mon.”

“Any time you want a walk on the wild side, John Wayne, you come to me. I’ll let you in free.”

“Thanks all the same.…”

“I’d kiss you, but I can see you’re bashful, so I’ll just say good-bye.” He waggled red-tipped fingers and turned away. “Bye, Dorothy.”

Ricky and Steve went in the opposite direction. Ricky said: “I see you’ve already made friends in the neighborhood.”

Steve laughed, mainly with relief. “I almost got in bad trouble,” he said. “A dumb-ass cop started beating up on that guy in the skirt, and I was fool enough to tell him to stop.”

Ricky was startled. “You’re lucky you’re here.”

“I know it.”

They reached Ricky’s house and went in. The place smelled of cheese, or maybe it was stale milk. There was graffiti on the green-painted walls. They edged around the bicycles chained up in the hallway and went up the stairs. Steve said: “It just makes me mad. Why should Dorothy get punched in the gut? He likes to wear miniskirts and makeup: who gives a damn?”

“You’re right.”

“And why should Lenny get away with it because he’s wearing a police uniform? Policemen should have higher standards of behavior, because of their privileged position.”

“Fat chance.”

“That’s why I want to be a lawyer. To stop this kind of shit from happening. Do you have a hero, someone you want to be like?”

“Casanova, maybe.”

“Ralph Nader. He’s a lawyer. That’s my role model. He took on the most powerful corporations in America— and he won!”

Ricky laughed and put his arm around Steve’s shoulders as they entered his room. “My cousin the idealist.”

“Ah, hell.”

“Want some coffee?”

“Sure.”

Ricky’s room was small and furnished with junk. He had a single bed, a battered desk, a sagging couch, and a big TV set. On the wall was a poster of a naked Woman marked with the names of every bone in the human skeleton, from the parietal bone of the head to the distal phalanges of the feet. There was an air conditioner, but it did not seem to be working.

Steve sat on the couch. “How was your date?”

“Not as hot as advertised.” Ricky put water in a kettle. “Melissa is cute all right, but I wouldn’t be home this early if she was as crazy for me as I was led to believe. How about you?”

“I looked around the Jones Falls campus. Pretty classy. I met a girl, too.” Remembering, he brightened. “I saw her playing tennis. She was terrific—tall, muscular, fit as hell. A service like it was fired out of a fucking bazooka, I swear to God.”

“I never heard of anyone falling for a girl because of her tennis game.” Ricky grinned. “Is she a looker?”

“She’s got this really strong face.” Steve could see it now. “Dark brown eyes, black eyebrows, masses of dark hair … and this delicate little silver ring through her left nostril.”

“No kidding. Unusual, huh?”