Chapter 2
David pulled the skullcap from his tousled curls and tossed it on top of his dresser. Tomorrow, he was expected to go back to school as if nothing had happened. Since his father's murder, he had felt the anger building up inside of him. He needed to do something to release the tension he was feeling. He grabbed his jacket and left the house without bothering to tell his mother he was leaving. She was too wrapped up in her own grief and sorrow to notice that he was gone anyway.
Stuffing his fists into his jeans, he started walking away from the house with his head bowed. He barely noticed his surroundings as he wandered out of his own neighborhood. Finally, he found himself at a deli several blocks from his home. Opening the door, he stepped inside where he knew it would be cool.
He roamed the aisles, mindful of the watchful eye of the clerk behind the counter, as he pondered what to purchase. From the corner of his eye, he saw the front door open and two older boys came into the store. They were dressed in ragged jeans, ripped tee shirts and denim jackets bearing the insignia of a local street gang, The Red Dragons.
David watched as one of the boys grabbed two bottles of soda from the cooler and set it down on the counter. He saw the clerk shake her head adamantly as the boy held out some money to pay for it. David was too far away to hear what was being said but he immediately sensed trouble.
Suddenly, the other boy pulled a gun from beneath his jacket and pointed it at the clerk, both boys laughing at the terrified look that washed over the oriental woman's face.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," David said quietly, stepping forward and making his presence known. "That's Mrs. Chang. Her sons are members of the Chinese Mafia….they'll hunt you down if you hurt her."
"Who the fuck are you, kid?" the boy with the gun snarled at David, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at his unexpected appearance. The boy was older than David and almost thirty pounds heavier. Several tattoos decorated his forearms, mostly gang related. He had taffy colored hair that hung almost to his shoulders.
"My name is David Starsky, and I live a few blocks from here," David told him more calmly than he actually felt.
"This chink won't take our money! Our money is just as good as yours!"
"You got the gun. Why don't you just take the sodas and leave? Live to fight another day." David suggested.
"You got balls, kid," the boy with the gun smirked. "I'll give you that much…even if you are short on brains. What's to stop me from wasting the chink and you too?"
"Because you didn't come in here to kill anybody. You just wanted something cold to drink…same as me."
"Come on, Ice. The kid's right," the other boy spoke up in a high, squeaky voice as his eyes darted around nervously. "Let's get out of here."
"You're lucky I'm in a good mood today, kid" the boy called Ice said with a sneer as he grabbed the two sodas from the counter. In a sudden unexpected move, he drew back his other hand and hit the clerk in the face with his gun, knocking her to the floor. Laughing, the two boys left the store.
David immediately went to the aide of the shopkeeper. She was dazed, and her bottom lip was split and bleeding, but otherwise, she was unharmed. She began ranting in Chinese, pulling at David's jacket insistently. Gently loosening her grip on his clothing, David pushed himself to his feet and helped her up. As she grabbed for the phone to call the police, David backed away and hurried from the store. He wisely decided that it was time to return to his own turf.
He slowly walked back home, adrenaline still surging through his veins from his close encounter with the two youthful gang members. When he reached his house, he found Rachel waiting for him on the front steps. She looked upset and he knew that he was in trouble.
"Where have you been?" she demanded as he walked up the sidewalk towards her.
"I went for a walk," he told her evasively, as he climbed the stoop and stood facing his mother.
"You know I don't like you leaving without telling me where you're going. I need for you to watch Nicky for me while I go to the store."
"Why do I have to watch him? Why don't you ask Mrs. Yardley to watch him for a little while?"
"Because there's no reason to impose on Mrs. Yardley when you're here."
"Yeah…whatever." David said in an annoyed voice, starting past his mother and into the house. He was surprised when his mother reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. He turned to look at her almost defiantly.
"I don't like your attitude, David," Rachel said firmly. "Until you can remember to speak to me with respect, you're grounded."
Without a word, David pulled away and walked into the house. He struggled to contain the sudden rage that smoldered inside of him. He knew that his father would have taken a switch to him for being disrespectful to his mother. But, his father was dead, and his mother insisted on still treating him like a child. He stopped being a child the day his father was murdered. It was time his mother realized that.
David went into the kitchen to make himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Through the open screen door, he could see Nicky playing in the back yard. Grabbing a glass out of the cabinet, he poured himself some milk and stepped out onto the back stoop. He sat on the top step to eat his snack and keep an eye on his brother.
Noticing his brother, Nicky dropped his toy airplane to the ground and ran to David's side. "Hi, Davy" he lisped with a wide grin. "Can we go get some ice cream?"
"No," David said, a hard edge creeping into his voice. He choked back the sudden lump that rose in his throat as he thought about their last trip to the drug store to get Nicky ice cream.
"Davy, are you mad at me?" Nicky asked as he cocked his head to look at his older brother inquisitively.
"No," David said shortly, "Now go play, and quit bothering me."
Nicky looked at his older brother solemnly for a few minutes and then ran off to continue playing. David finished his sandwich and dumped the rest of his milk onto the ground. When his mother came home from the store a half hour later, he abandoned his place on the stoop and went to his room, shutting the door firmly behind him. Since his father's murder, the room had become his sanctuary, the one place where he felt safe. The one place where he could shed the tears he refused to shed in front of anyone.
He knew that his mother was dealing with her own grief while still trying to maintain their home and take care of her sons. As Michael Starsky's widow, she would receive a small pension for the rest of her life but eventually, she would have to find a job to help support them. He ignored his mother's knock on the door when she came upstairs to tell him that supper was ready. He spent the rest of the night in his room, brooding and alone.
Around midnight, he slipped out of his room and went downstairs to raid the refrigerator. His mother had left a plate of food for him on the top shelf along with a cold soda. He ate his cold supper and rinsed off his dishes, leaving them in the sink to wash in the morning. Slipping quietly through the house, he grabbed his jacket out of the front closet and eased open the front door. He stepped outside, disappearing into the darkness.
He walked to a nearby park and sat on one of the swings, rocking slowly back and forth. He knew it was dangerous to be out this late at night alone, even in his own neighborhood. He stared into the darkness, lost in his own thoughts. He heard footsteps approaching from behind, but he didn't look around to see who it was. Four boys suddenly surrounded him, all wearing the distinctive jackets of the Red Dragons.
"What are you doing here, kid?" demanded a heavyset boy with stringy, red hair. "This is our turf. Shouldn't you be at home all tucked away in your bed for the night?"
"I don't want no trouble," David said quietly "I just wanna be left alone."
"He wants to be left alone," Another boy with a pock-marked face remarked with a smirk. "He don't want no trouble..."
"So is that why you're trespassing on our turf this time of night?" demanded a third boy with bushy brown hair and beady little eyes.
"I live just down the street, so this is my turf too." David said almost belligerently. He knew the minute he said it that it was a dumb thing to say considering the gang's reputation for violence. The other boys immediately stepped closer, making him nervous and uneasy.
But David was no coward. If he was going to get beat up by the older boys, he was going to make sure he got in a few good punches of his own. He saw the surprise in their eyes when he suddenly shoved himself to his feet and stood facing them with a defiant stance, even though he was a good three inches shorter and at least twenty pounds lighter than they were.
"Hey, he's okay," another voice said from the darkness. The other boys immediately took a step back as they were joined by a fifth boy. David immediately recognized him as the boy called Ice that he had confronted at the Deli earlier that day. The older boy looked at David with a smug smile and shook his head. "Like I said earlier, kid, you got a lot of balls but you're kinda short on brains. What are you trying to do? Get yourself killed out here?"
"What's it to you if I am?" David said, tilting his chin at the other boy in a cocky gesture. In spite of his show of bravado, inside he was scared to death. But he was determined not to show any fear in front of the gang members. "I have as much right to be out here as you do."
"Relax, kid." Ice said, slinging an arm around David's shoulder as if they were old friends. "Ain't nobody here gonna hurt ya." He cast a glance at the other four boys, who all shook their heads slightly, indicating their compliance. It was obvious that Ice was the leader of the gang and that whatever he said was immediately obeyed. Ice turned his attention back to David and said, "Tell you what, kid…you stick around and have a drink with us and then you can go home if you want to. What do ya say?"
"Sure," David said "And don't call me kid. I ain't no kid."
"Okay, okay…" Ice said with a chuckle "So how about if I call you Curly? That suit ya better?"
"Okay," David said, relaxing slightly but keeping his guard up.
Ice reached into his jacket and pulled out a pint of whiskey. Unscrewing the cap, he held the bottle out to David who accepted it after a moment's hesitation. Closing his eyes, he took a deep swallow, gasping as the liquor burned its way down his throat and to his stomach. His eyes watered, and he began coughing.
The older boys laughed as Ice slapped him on the back to help him catch his breath. "Take it easy, slick," Ice said "The next time it'll go down a whole lot easier."
In a show of defiance, David took another drink of the alcohol, sipping it this time. It still burned and made his eyes water, but at least he managed to keep from gasping and coughing. Ice chuckled at his display of nerve. In a rare show of comradery, Ice slapped him on the back.
"Like I said, you're okay, Curly. You can hang with us anytime."
David wasn't naïve. He knew it was a compliment to be accepted so readily by the gang. To reject Ice's offer of friendship would be akin to suicide. David nodded without comment as he handed the bottle back to Ice. The boys passed the bottle back and forth, with David drinking his fair share. It wasn't long before David had a nice buzz. For a brief moment, he forgot how much he was hurting inside.
It was shortly after two am when he slipped back into the house and quietly tiptoed up the stairs to his room, moving stealthily through the darkness so he wouldn't alert his mother to his nocturnal activities. In his room, he stripped off his clothes and fell across his bed, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.
