hand. I closed my fist and said, “Let’s go.” But we couldn’t go; we were stuck in a jam of narcotic trafficking. The car ahead of us had not finalized its deal and was not budging. The car behind us had what they wanted and began to honk. Finally we reached the corner and Mercedes took a right at the red light. That’s when I heard the whup-whup of the police siren. “Fuck,” said Mercedes. “Shit,” I added. All this trouble and I was going to get busted. I should have stuck with risking my life at 12th and Hoover. We both were silently hoping that the siren was for someone else, that the police would fly by on their way to a real crime. I heard the whupwhup again and looked over at Mercedes. Her face was still tight, her eyes focused and determined. She wasn’t going to pull over. “Fuck,” was all she said. The SUV sped up, so did the cops. Mercedes hooked a hard right, a surprise left, sped up when she had space, slammed on the brakes when cars got in front of us. Goddamn it, I was in a high speed chase in downtown Los Angeles and there was a madwoman at the wheel. I promptly stuck the four balloons deep into my underwear, under my ball sack and clenched in between my butt cheeks where I could feel each individual balloon. The chase went on for several more blocks till Mercedes decided it was futile. She pulled over on the side of an overpass and took a deep breath. I sat silently waiting for some kind of direction, some kind of cue, as I watched the cops in the rearview march toward the vehicle. There was no command to show our hands or to exit the vehicle slowly, the officer just opened up the door, grabbed me by my shirt, and pulled me out of the car. When he had me standing upright, he pushed me back against the car—hard. “What the fuck is your problem? You
“Mercedes hooked a hard right, a surprise left, sped up when she had space, slammed on the brakes when cars got in front of us. Goddamn it, I was in a high speed chase in downtown Los Angeles and there was a madwoman at the wheel.” fuckin’ deaf? You not see us behind you? Where’s the dope?” I wasn’t sure which question he wanted me to answer. I began to shrug. “I didn’t see you,” I said. “Bullshit,” he bellowed and a little of spit flew off of his lips and onto my cheek. “We know you just scored, we watched you, so give it up.” He was poking me in the chest with his index finger. I could hear the other cop giving Mercedes the same treatment. “I’m clean, I swear,” was all I could muster. It even sounded like bullshit to me. It was a line the cop had heard a thousand times and would hear a thousand more. “What are you doing down here then?”
Published on Jan 15, 2012
Issue 1 of PoV Magazine. The STREETS issue. PoV is the quarterly themed magazine with content you create. Get involved on our website. We h...