The Enclave of Jyme (G Street Chronicles Presents) (2 page)

Plus, he’s always been lucky when it came to the ladies and was constantly explaining himself to his wife. Sheen had been married for two years now, and he hadn’t slowed down with the girls for a second.

Before his wife, he was dating this girl who used to live on the Res but who moved away some years back. I didn’t really know her, but was familiar with her family. They always thought they were better than everyone else. They used the reservation to their advantage. They claimed to be Native when it benefited them. They were Natives when it came to getting money from the government; they were Natives when it came to getting land from the government; and they were Native when it came to voting. I don’t remember the girl’s name, but Sheen was in love with her. He never admitted it to us, but during one of his drunken nights, he called her crying and begging for her to take him back. She must have told him okay because he begged for us to drop him off at her house in the city. We had to finally convince him that he was married now and that he couldn’t go over to her house. He wasn’t himself for a whole month after that. The guys and I knew this girl had hit him hard. He didn’t really want to hang out anymore; we had to go over to his house and make him come with us. About six months later, he seemed to finally get over her and bounced back to his old self.

“I told them I would go out there with them next time and protect them from the killer whale.”

“Don’t no fucking whale come that close to the surface, and you know it,” I said.

Sheen started laughing. “I know that, but those damn kids are preparing for a whale attack.” he chuckled.

I smiled and looked up to the sky.

“Same ole, same ole with Elle, huh?”

I nodded.

“Look, man, it’s going to work out; it always does in situations like this.”

“Yeah, like it worked out for you?” I snapped.

“Look, I made my fucking bed, and I’m lying in it.”

“Yeah, every fucking night,” I said.

“I got fucking responsibilities. Everyone don’t have the luxury to go as they fucking please. I got kids and a wife, man.”

“And I don’t have responsibilities?” I stood. “I’ve been taking care of my fucking family since I was twelve, asshole,” I pounded my fist against my chest.

“I know that,” Sheen stood up. I walked up on Sheen because I wanted to stare this fucker in the face after the god-damned remark he just made.

“I didn’t have the fucking luxury to be a fucking kid or lead a normal life like everyone else. My dad was a fucking drunk and still is. I’ve been feeding four god damned mouths since I was twelve, fucker.”

“I know that, man. I didn’t mean it like that,” Sheen explained.

“Well, how the fuck did you mean it then?”

We stood nose to nose now.

“I just meant your business is going on strong now. You have a couple dozen people working for you. You can come and go as you please. You don’t have a wife and kids to answer to. You answer to no one, Lil Sampson.”

“So, I’m just supposed to leave my mother and sister here to fend for themselves? Fuck you, Sheen. I’m not that self-absorbed.”

I’m a crab and salmon fisherman. I’ve been fishing since I was in grade school. I started my very own fishing company when I was a preteen. We fished all day and night on Thursdays, and then we sold the crab and fish over the weekend at the fish market. In the beginning, all we did was sale the fish to the buyers; but I learned and studied the business. People were always in a hurry, and they wanted to come to the market and buy ready-prepped fish. We started cleaning and seasoning the fish for those who wanted it. Our sales started doubling quickly, and I had to hire a few more men. When I was in high school, male strippers were popular with the older women. I figured that women liked to see half-dressed men bumping and grinding, so my cousin Loon found us a choreographer to help us with a routine, and we practiced hard. Loon was more civilized and he hung out with a different type of crowd. He liked the finer things in life, and wasn’t afraid to work hard to get them. During our dance classes, we wore tight tanks and board shorts and the women loved it. The sales flew through the roof and we’ve been going strong ever since.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is that you could live somewhere else; somewhere like the city. You could run your business from there. Man, if I could leave here I would. This place will do nothing but drag you down. I remember how we used to be, going up to the city and stealing those rich boys’ money. I miss that life. And you fit right in with them. They loved you; it was like they wanted to give you their money,” Sheen was grinning from ear to ear.

“They would be all pumped up on whatever they had taken and they thought they were,
The kings of the world
,” Sheen mimicked the
Titanic
movie voice. He spread his arms out and shit. I couldn’t help but laugh at his crazy ass. “You remember that shit, and you loved it just as much as we did,” he said.

And I really couldn’t say anything because he was right. We used to race for fun. I thought back to the day when Loon came up to me a year after high school and told me about some guys he had met in the city.

“Hey, I need to talk to you about something,” Loon said.

“What is it?” I asked as we emptied the crab cages. A few of the other guys stared at Loon and then me. Everyone stopped working, and now they were all staring at me.

“Shit, who died?” I teased. They were all so still and so quiet that it freaked me the fuck out.

“Shit, who died?” I asked frantically.

“No one died,” Loon assured me. I relaxed a little and tried to start back with the crabs, but no one was moving.

“What?” I asked them.

“I met these guys a couple weeks ago in the city,” Loon said. I stood there waiting for the rest. I took my wet gloves off because whatever it was Loon had to tell me I could tell it would be a minute before he got it out. He didn’t live on the Res anymore - he left as soon as he graduated - but he still worked for me...I knew he wouldn’t stay here long; Res life just wasn’t for him. We had been through a lot together and I think he understood me better than I understood my damn self. He was going to school online and was already talking about the next degree he wanted after this one.

“I was at this bike race and these guys --”

“Rich guys,” Kanoke interrupted him. Kanoke was my cousin too, but no relation to Loon, and he was the total opposite of Loon. Kanoke was reservation bound. He loved the Res life and wouldn’t change a thing. He was born here, and he would die here. Kanoke didn’t need the finer things in life like Loon did. Loon had to have better; something in him just wanted more to life. Kanoke didn’t give a fuck about school and barely went when we had to go. He was satisfied with his life and didn’t ask for anything more.

“They can’t even ride, Sampson. I mean the assholes can’t even fucking ride their bikes. And a few of them have Ducati’s.”

“What?” I said. The guys all started moving in closer when I sat down on one of the empty crab cages. I looked up at Loon and he looked around the boat at all the other guys before telling me more.

“They race for their bikes and cash. This one guy lost his bike, and he had to pay the guy $2000; and he paid him cash and gave him the title to his bike right there on the spot.

“What the fuck?” I said.

Loon just nodded. “And Sampson there were hundreds of people out there. It’s like some serious underground shit. These little rich boys want to play Billy Bad Ass or something. They’re just giving their shit away; and the people watching have to pay a hefty fee as well. It’s like $30 a pop to watch the race.”

“How did you hear about this?” I asked.

“Through some guys I met at this bike event.”

We had all been riding bikes since we were kids. We road through the hills and mountains, and that’s the best way to learn how to ride. If you can ride through the mountains on your bike, you’re damn near a pro; and we’d been doing this almost ten years now.

“Well shit,” I said, scratching my head. I couldn’t believe these dumbasses were riding for their titles and then straight cash. Who were these guys, and what the hell was wrong with them?

“There’s a race this weekend if you want to go and see for yourself,” Loon said. And sure enough, we all went that weekend and saw it with our own eyes.

Loon was right, these guys would race anything. They raced dirt bikes, four wheelers, water scooters, and motorcycles. After a couple of weeks of observing, we started racing; Loon wanted to start right up to the motorcycles, but I convinced him to take it slowly. We began with the four wheelers, mastered that, and took over in the races. Second, we went in on the dirt bikes, then the water scooters, and mastered that; and finally we killed it on the motorcycles and owned it all.

We raced this way for about four years, and then the cops started sniffing around hard so we just let it all go. We had all made a small fortune and were content. We loved it and hated when it ended, but after a dozen fist fights and the cops closing in on us, we were all done with that life.

“Yep, those were the days,” I told Sheen. We heard a rustling noise coming in behind us and turned to face who was coming.

“Lil Sampson, we’re sending Elle up to her grandparents to heal for a bit,” my mom told me.

I watched her carefully; something was off. I must have really fucked Elle up this time. Mom turned around and went back the way she came. I started behind her and Sheen tugged at my arm.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up about it. Elle loves you, and that crazy ass girl would do almost anything to trap you.”

“Man, whatever,” I yanked my arm away from him.

“Samson, I’m serious,” Sheen gave me a look of pity and then it turned into disgust. “That girl has an ulterior motive; she’s got all the girls calling her Mrs. Samson when you’re not around. Man, she wants you too bad; it’s something up with that.”

When I made it back to the house, Mom and one of the elders were loading my truck up. I walked past the open truck and Elle wasn’t in there. I walked through the front door and saw her wrapped up in a small ball on the couch. Her hair was wet and pulled back into a ponytail. I lifted her gently, trying my best not to jostle her. Her piercing jet black eyes looked up at me; I turned away quickly.

“Could you hand me that pillow?” I asked one of the women standing in the hallway. She picked up the soft fluffy pillow on top of Elle’s suitcase. Elle reached for it, and the woman handed it to her with a small smile.

I walked out the house and went over to my truck. My truck was the biggest vehicle any of us had. I knew Elle needed to lie down in the back seat. She clung to that pillow like her life depended on it. I got that feather pillow last year during one of these incidents. She says it’s her favorite, and she always slept with it. I laid Elle down; gently placing the soft blanket I kept in the truck for her around her. I placed the pillow under her head and buckled her up. I bent down and kissed her softly on her forehead. I tried my best not to make eye contact with her. She gripped my shirt, and I yanked her hand away and slammed the door. I started walking back towards the forest; I stopped hearing her screaming when I reached the edge of the ocean.

It’s been three months and I haven’t seen Elle once. It’s not from the lack of her begging me. She has been pleading for me to come see her, but I always said no. She eventually stopped asking me. Our conversations sounded so robotic now.

“What did you do today?” I’d ask.

“My cousins and I walked to town. And you?”

“Oh, that sounds good.”

“Yeah.”

And then we’d makeup some lame excuse and hang up.

One extra nice Saturday at the fish market, my mom surprised us with homemade fry bread and Wojapi. Fried bread is exactly how it sounds: its bread that’s fried. Wojapi is an Indian traditional berry soup. You can eat it hot or cold, but most of us preferred it cold. We shut the show down for an hour for lunch. I had an old school Winnebago, similar to the one Walt and Jesse used in
Breaking Bad
. We all climbed inside after Mom, and she sat at the end of the counter at the edge of the breakfast nook. The whole RV fell quiet and all eyes were on me now. There was pure silence for a couple of heartbeats, and then sounds from the TV surrounded the RV. I looked at Mom closely and then I headed for the bathroom. The guys always washed their hands in the sink and used the porta potties outside. I went into the tiny bathroom and scrubbed my hands. There was a knock at the door, but I ignored it; scrubbing my hands to my forearms. Someone turned the knob and cracked the door open.

“Can I come in?” Elle asked in a whisper.

I nodded and moved to the side a little so she could get in. She squeezed behind me and then dropped the lid of the toilet. She sat down and stared up at me. I watched her through the mirror and continued scrubbing.

“Your hair is getting so long,” she smiled. I nodded, but I showed no emotions. Mom had told me she wasn’t coming back from her Grandmother’s for a couple more weeks, but here she was. I bent over the sink and used the attachable sprayer and rinsed off my arms. Elle reached behind her and a pulled one of the towels off the small rack. She stood and started wiping my arms down. I turned to face her, and we stared into each other’s eyes. Normally, Elle would turn away from me by now, but this time she didn’t. I bent down a little closer to her and she didn’t move. My lips pressed against hers, and she opened her mouth, welcoming me inside. I pulled her close, but something was off. Elle didn’t feel the same, she didn’t smell the same, she didn’t breathe the same, she didn’t taste the same, and fucking damn well, she didn’t look the same.