Eastside by Caleb Alexander

Author:Caleb Alexander
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Strebor Books
Published: 2007-12-26T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

The Stereo Shop

Two Hours Later

Bass notes resonated loudly throughout the area.

“Is that my shit?” Travon asked.

A short young white guy peered out of the shop’s large glass window. “Yeah, I think that’s yours.” He turned back to Travon. “The Oldsmobile, right?”

“Yeah,” Travon answered proudly.

“Boy, Tre, your shit is hittin’!” Frog told him.

“I think your shit might be louder than Fro-Dog’s,” Marcus added.

Travon beamed proudly. A slim Asian installer with a white T-shirt, a pair of blue jean shorts, and a white baseball cap turned backward walked in. He pointed at Travon.

“We are just about finished with your alarm system,” he informed Travon. “The stereo system is done.”

Travon walked out to his car, where he marveled at the loud, crisp sounds emanating from the speakers. Another young Asian technician was lying on the floorboards, working on something beneath the dashboard. A tall, slim white technician was working beneath the hood. Travon could tell that it had to do with the alarm’s siren, because of the intermittent chirps that pierced the air. He walked to the rear of the car, where he peered into the trunk and watched the subwoofers work.

Inside the trunk sat four fifteen-inch subwoofers, mounted in what the technicians called an isobaric configuration. In this configuration the subwoofers were mounted facing one another, and one of the speakers within each pair had their polarities reversed, so that they could help one another push and pull. The effects were tremendous.

In addition to the subwoofers, the trunk also played host to four amplifiers, on very large electronic crossover, and a twenty-disc CD changer. Travon marveled at the seemingly built-in installation, shook his head, and then ventured back into the waiting area.

“Here’s your receipt, Mr. Robinson,” the clerk said, handing Travon a yellow slip.

Outside, the alarm system blared loudly as the technicians put the final touches on it. Inside, the boys fiddled with the stereo systems on display until they were finally told that the car was ready.

Travon was the first one out of the store. He strutted to his car with all the pride of a victorious fighting cock and climbed inside.

“Say, I know y’all hungry,” Travon told Marcus and Frog. “So we gonna go and get something to eat, my treat.”

“Shit, yeah!” Marcus replied.

Frog nodded. “Cool.”

“We’ll go to Bob’s barbecue,” Travon told them. He started his car and pulled into traffic.

“Oh, hell yeah!” Marcus told him. “Bob’s is on!”

Travon cranked up the volume on his new stereo system, and the noise became deafening. The boys sank down into their seats, and began bobbing their heads and throwing up gang signs to the music.

Travon exited the highway, turned down W.W. White Road, and headed for Rigsby Road, home to South Texas’s most famous barbecue eatery.

“Combo plate, here I come!” Marcus announced, rubbing his stomach.

His fuel light blinked on. “Damn!” Travon exclaimed.

He had gone straight from the car lot to the stereo shop, and had yet to visit a filling station. The needle on his gas gauge was now pleading for him to do so.

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