Hard Revolution_ A Novel Part 21

The comment made Strange think of Troy Peters. He tried too hard sometimes, but his heart was right. All in all, he was about as good a partner as a man could have.

"Come on, Ly," said Strange as they hit the steps going up to the house. "Let's have a little fun."

Strange and Blue waded into the outdoor crowd. They got a couple of Miller High Lifes out of a washtub filled with ice and popped the tops with an opener hung on a string from the tub. Blue introduced Strange to the host, a young Howard student named Cedric Love, who was renting the house with two other young men. Lots of Bison here on Barry Place and the surrounding streets, as Howard U wasn't but a long spit east. Strange looked around, moving his head to the Wilson Pickett, "Don't Fight It," coming from a couple of speakers set up on the porch. People in the yard were coupling up and dancing to the driving rhythm, the Stax/ Volt horns and Wilson exhorting them on. Up on the porch, Strange saw the back of a young woman, had a short baby-blue dress on, going into the house. Strange knew those legs and that shape.

"Excuse me," said Strange to Cedric Love, "I'm gonna see what's going on inside." He was looking to catch Blue's attention, but Lydell was already asking some girl to dance.

Strange went up on the porch. A guy he knew from high school said, "What's goin' on, big man?" and Strange said, "Everything's cool, George, how you been?" and gave the guy the soul shake and moved on. Then he was in the house.

It was warm inside and packed with folks. People against the walls and tight in groups, and men and women leaning into each other, Afros on the men and some of the women, the women wearing big hoop earrings and a few of the dudes wearing shades. Tobacco smoke, and the smoke and fragrant smell of marijuana, hung thick in the air. Conversation and laughter rumbled up under the music, louder in here than it had been outside.

Strange caught some eyes as he walked slowly through the crowd. He saw two fine young women, Rachel Phillips and Porscha Coleman, who had come out of Cardozo a few years back. He recognized many of the faces here. The people who recognized him knew he was police.

He went into a room that was more crowded than the one before it. An O. V. Wright song, "Eight Men, Four Women," came up on the system, with those lazy-voiced female backup singers he liked to use, and Strange thought, Back Beat number 580. And then he thought, Someone at this party knows his s.h.i.+t.

"Derek," said his friend Sam Simmons, tall and rangy, who came up on him suddenly out of the hall. "My brother."

Simmons was with a dude, had a black beret and a soul patch, who Strange didn't know. Probably a college boy, 'cause many of them had that ready-for-the-revolution look going on.

"Cootch," said Strange, using Simmons's nickname, giving him skin.

"Here you go," said Simmons. "Groove on this."

Simmons pa.s.sed Strange a lit joint. Strange looked at it for a moment, then put it to his lips and hit it deep. Smoke was still streaming from his nose when he hit it again. It was smooth to his lungs, which meant it would be good to his head.

Strange pa.s.sed the joint to the man in the beret, who looked at Simmons first, then took it after Simmons made a small go-ahead motion with his chin. Simmons, who'd played end for Dunbar when Strange was playing safety for Roosevelt, smiled at his former adversary. There had always been respect between them, especially when a game had been on the line.

"My man's all right," said Simmons to his companion.

"I am now," said Strange.

"Heard you been keepin' the streets safe," said Simmons.

"Streets gonna have to do without me for a little while," said Strange. "I'm layin' back tonight."

They talked about football and who was coming out of what high school and what colleges they were going on to. The dude with the beret never did warm up to Strange, but that was all right with him. Strange was higher than a motherf.u.c.ker by the time he finished his beer and could muster no bad will toward anyone. He shook hands again with Simmons and went to the kitchen, where he found another High Life and opened it. He drank its neck off down to the shoulders and drifted into another room.

It was an all-couples room. Someone had cleared the furniture and changed the bulbs in the lamps so the room was bathed in blue. Solomon Burke was on the stereo now, singing "Tonight's the Night," Solomon telling his woman, "And when the lights are low, I'm gonna lock all the doors," and some couples were slow-dragging on the hardwood floor, others just holding each other, standing still, kissing each other deep. Strange smiled and leaned his back against the wall. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned his head. What he saw made him smile even more.

"Carmen," said Strange. "How you doin'?"

"I'm good."

She had a little blue ribbon tied in her hair, the same color as the dress. She had big dark eyes, dimples in her cheeks, and smooth, deep-brown skin. She had a figure that caused his breath to come up short. Carmen Hill had it all. The memory of her naked in his bed made Strange's mouth go dry. He had a sip of his beer.

"What you doin' in the blue-light room all by yourself?" said Carmen.

"I was waitin' on you, girl."

"Go ahead, Derek." Carmen laughed, looking into his heavy-lidded eyes. "You're high, aren't you?"

"A little."

"I just had some nice smoke myself."

"You gonna be a doctor, you need to quit it. Can't be, like, operatin' operatin' on people with your mind messed up." on people with your mind messed up."

"I'm just an undergraduate. I got time to have fun. Anyway, what you gonna do, write me a ticket?"

"I'll let you off with a warning tonight."

Strange held his beer out to Carmen. She took it, drank, and gave the bottle back. Strange reached out and wiped his thumb across some foam that had gathered at the corner of her mouth. She leaned a little into his touch. She looked at him and looked away. Then she looked back into his eyes.

"I was thinking of you last December," said Carmen. "The day Otis died."

"Yeah, December tenth," said Strange. "I was in my squad car when the news came on the radio, said his plane had gone down in Wisconsin."

"He left some music, though, didn't he."

"Always gonna be there," said Strange. His eyes went to one of the speakers in the room, where King Solomon's voice was still coming out strong. "This is real pretty right here, too."

"Sure is."

"Wanna dance to it?"

"Okay."

He placed the beer bottle on the floor and as he stood tall she came into his arms. He trembled a little as she put her head against his shoulder. He smelled that shampoo of hers and her dime-store perfume. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were firm against his chest, her fingers warm through his. They moved slowly and easily, as if she'd never left him, as they'd danced all through high school and beyond, until the trouble had come between them and she'd told him to go.

Otis Redding came on the box, the song with that beautiful piano introduction that always gave Strange chills. "Nothing Can Change This Love." It had been one of theirs. Strange held Carmen close and breathed her in.

"I been missin' you," said Strange.

They kissed. Her lips were warm, and he felt the heat come off her face. Otis sang to them and there was no one else in the room.

LATER, AS THE crowd thinned and the music notched down, Strange and Carmen Hill sat outside the house on the front steps, sharing another beer. Lydell had gone back to Strange's place with a girl he'd been on and off with for some time. The alcohol had brought Strange down nice, taking the edge off his high. His thigh touched Carmen's as they talked. crowd thinned and the music notched down, Strange and Carmen Hill sat outside the house on the front steps, sharing another beer. Lydell had gone back to Strange's place with a girl he'd been on and off with for some time. The alcohol had brought Strange down nice, taking the edge off his high. His thigh touched Carmen's as they talked.

"Tonight was good," said Strange. "Good to relax some, you know? Good to see you."

"Was for me, too."

"It's easy with you, Carmen. Always has been."

"You can pick up the phone, Derek. You want to talk, you can call me."

"I feel like I need to sometimes. Been rough, with my job and whatnot, these last few months."

"You knew it would be."

"I knew some of the white police would resent me. I was ready for that. What I didn't expect was my own people lookin' at me like I'm the enemy. I'm just trying to do my job and I'm duckin' fire from both sides."

"Then do your job," said Carmen. "That's what you always told me. Keep your head down and go to work. That's what grown folks do."

"I guess you're right."

"Anyway, you always did want to be like one of those dudes from those westerns you love. 'A man who protects the community but can never be a part of it his own self.' Isn't that how you described it to me once?"

"I might have," said Strange.

"You're luckier than most, then. You're the man you wanted to be."

She found his hand and laced her fingers through his. He looked her over with deep affection.

"Where you stayin' at now?" said Strange.

Carmen Hill nodded across the street. "I'm right there on the corner, up on the third floor. See that light up there? That's me. Finally got a place that's walking distance to my cla.s.ses."

"I heard you moved."

"You did?" said Carmen in a slightly mocking way.

"Saw your sister one day, on the street."

"You sure it was like that? 'Cause she said you called her up and asked her where I'd gone to."

"I don't remember the particulars. Point is, your sister told me."

"Okay," said Carmen with a little laugh. She squeezed his hand.

"So, seein' as how you ain't but a few steps away . . ."

"What?"

"Aren't you gonna ask me over?"

"I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"I been talkin' to people, too. You still seeing that little hairdresser from Northeast, right?"

"That ain't nothin' serious."

"It never is with you."

"She's just a girl, is all I'm sayin'."

"But she's not the only girl, is is she, Derek?" she, Derek?"

"I ain't married to her, if that's what you mean."

"And now you're lookin' to get with me tonight, too."

"What's your point?"

"You got the same problem you always had. And that will not work with me, Derek; not again."

"If I could be with you, it would would be only you." be only you."

Carmen leaned in, kissed him on the side of his mouth, and stood.

"I always knew, Carmen," said Strange. "Even when we were kids . . . you standing down by the corner market in that Easter dress of yours and those patent leather shoes. I knew."

"So did I. We try it again, though, this time it's gonna be on my terms. You need to think on that, Derek. You come to a decision, well, you know where to find me. Now that you know where I live."

"You remember where I I live, don't you?" live, don't you?"

"Yes. I still have your key."

Strange watched her go down the steps and across the street to her row house. He wondered if he would ever be capable of committing to one woman or if it was just that he was young and would change in time. He wanted wanted to change. 'Cause there wasn't any question about it: Carmen was the one. to change. 'Cause there wasn't any question about it: Carmen was the one.

He got up and went down to Barry Place, then onto Florida Avenue. He walked east through a quiet city. He stopped to tell a boy of nine or ten, dribbling a basketball alone on the sidewalk, to get inside his house. The boy asked him why it was any business of his.

"I'm a police officer," said Strange.

He waited for the boy to do as he was told, and then he walked on.

TWENTY.

ON TUESDAY, IN Memphis, Negro leaders announced plans for a ma.s.sive march at the end of the week, with trade union members and civil rights spokesmen from across the country due to attend. A settlement of the garbage workers' strike would postpone the march, but no one expected that to happen. Dr. King had been scheduled to arrive in Tennessee that day to prepare for the demonstration, but he had been held up in Atlanta. His people promised that he would begin to head the operations in Memphis on Wednesday instead. Memphis, Negro leaders announced plans for a ma.s.sive march at the end of the week, with trade union members and civil rights spokesmen from across the country due to attend. A settlement of the garbage workers' strike would postpone the march, but no one expected that to happen. Dr. King had been scheduled to arrive in Tennessee that day to prepare for the demonstration, but he had been held up in Atlanta. His people promised that he would begin to head the operations in Memphis on Wednesday instead.

On Tuesday, in Milwaukee, Senator Eugene McCarthy celebrated his victory in the Wisconsin primary, having soundly beaten noncandidate Lyndon Johnson as well as write-in candidates Robert Kennedy and Hubert Humphrey the night before. In the Republican primary, Richard M. Nixon had won 80 percent of the vote to Ronald Reagan's 10 and seemed well on the way to his party's nomination.

On Tuesday, in D.C., the Cherry Blossom Festival of 1968 officially commenced. Over the Potomac River in Virginia, U.S. Park Police removed a Vietcong flag found flying over the Iwo Jima monument near Arlington Cemetery. Later that afternoon, two brothers were busted in the parking lot of a Northwest drive-in restaurant on Wisconsin Avenue, netting the largest seizure of has.h.i.+sh ever made in the Was.h.i.+ngton area.

At the same time, Buzz Stewart and Dominic Martini worked uneasily together at the Esso station on Georgia Avenue while Walter Hess, without remorse or anything else clouding his head, did his duties at the machine shop on Brookeville Road. Darius Strange flipped eggs and burgers on the grill of the Three-Star Diner on Kennedy Street while his wife, Alethea, cleaned a house in the Four Corners area of Silver Spring, Maryland. Their older son, Dennis, slept late, watched television, and read the want ads in the Post. Post. Their younger, Derek, had a slow morning, reading and listening to records, then dressing to meet Troy Peters for their evening patrol. Their younger, Derek, had a slow morning, reading and listening to records, then dressing to meet Troy Peters for their evening patrol.

Frank Vaughn heard the hash bust story on all-news WAVA as he drove his Polara south on a downtown Silver Spring street. It made him think of Ricky, and the small pipe he'd found in his son's car the week before.

"I was driving around with a bunch of guys the other night," explained Ricky. "One of them must have dropped it under the seat or somethin'. I swear, Dad, I don't even know what it's for."

Bulls.h.i.+t, thought Vaughn. But to his son he said, "Just get rid of it, okay?" thought Vaughn. But to his son he said, "Just get rid of it, okay?"