a hit dog will holler

INDA CRAIG-GALVÁN: a hit dog will holler is written by me, Inda Craig-Galván.

This is a series that is grounded in some of the harsh realities for Black people in America. There might be some moments that feel sad, or they might feel frightening, or just loud. Please take care while listening. And after.

This is episode one: “the roar.”

…

[Gina sips a cup of coffee, then sets it down with a satisfied “ah.” Bracelets jingle.]

GINA: Let’s do this. Start with The Impeached.

[Typing.]

At his latest narcissistic nonsense rally, 45 — asterisk — literally told his audience that he’d tricked them last election, explained how he tricked them, and told them he plans to do it again. And they… applauded.

[Typing stops. Gina shuffles notecards. Then, more typing. Bracelets jingle.]

Segue into voter suppression because that is the only way they’ll get his orange ass back into office. He’s not going to harsh my mellow this day. Self care, self care.

[Gina shuffles notecards again.]

Ooh, look at that. Oh, now this makes me feel good. These pictures of Barack and Michelle, just frolicking. Frolicking, do you hear me? On a vacation, on a boat, in Nevis and St. Kitts. Oh, my forever president and Michelle, my-play-cousin-but-she-don’t-know-it, still out here showing up and showing out. Abs, legs, arms. Ma’am? I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous? Good for you, Barry. Good for you, play cousin. That’s the audacity of hope, right there… More like the negrocity of hope.

[Snickers.]

Let me see... How many times have I used “negrocity” before...?

[Clicking and typing.]

Ooh, that’s a lot. I mean, it’s cute, but damn, Gina. You are a wordsmith, dear. Don’t be repetitive. How about… ooh, ‘Negrolicious’! I like that. Hashtag ne-gro-li-cious-ness. You’re welcome, Black Twitter.

[A beat.]

K, should I talk about the shooting or save that for the next episode?

[Gina taps her fingernails on the table, then types briefly into the search bar.]

[Emotional.] Wow. Sixteen years old. God.

Visander Davis… on his way back home from...

[Closes laptop. Bracelets jingle. Her voice drains of the emotionality it had when she was reading about Visander Davis.]

All right, let me get off Dionne Warwick’s internet and get in this recording booth. After I record this podcast real quick, I am binge-watching… something. I don’t know. I’m in the mood for a comedy, because this real life stuff is…

[A sigh. Bracelets jingle. Gina stands up from her chair. Footsteps. Then, recording booth door opens, closes. Papers crinkle. Gina settles in.]

Testing, testing…

[She clears her throat, does lip trills, diction exercises.]

Mah. Hmm. Kah. Guh.

Take one. Three, two…

[She clicks a button. Her podcast’s theme music — a smooth hip-hop beat — begins, then plays underneath narration.]

GINA: Welcome to Accounts Receivable, the podcast where we keep record, keep accounts, and of course, keep receipts. It’s your girl, Gina Gina.

How are you feeling today, my people? My people. Do me a favor — yes, the book’s coming out soon. Highly requested. Most-asked question on the website. We will get to all that later in this episode, I promise.

But first, I want you all to do this with me, will you? I want you to close your eyes for a second, and take a deep breath…

[Inhales.]

And let it out.

[Exhales.]

Let out today’s headlines. Let out last year’s nonsense. We thought we were past the ’rona, and then up jumps the next variant showing its ass. And the next.

But despite everything, you and me, fam? We are still fighting the good fight. Activism can be exhausting. It can be dangerous. But it is necessary, amen? So fam, do what you’ve gotta do to refill your own cup, practice self-care, and remember to do what we just did. Remember to breathe. DJ Nice says, “Let it breathe.”

[Music fades out.]

Let’s do it again, yes?

[Inhale. Exhale.]

There we go.

[Notebook page turns. New music comes in, darker and more intense.]

GINA: Now, because it don’t stop, there was another shooting today. Sixteen-year-old Visander Davis was shot and killed by a police officer in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Not a lot of details for you right now, fam. But you know your girl Gina will be on Twitter with the updates as they come in, and to let you know where we’ll be marching. Sixteen? Yeah, we’ll be marching.

To the family of young Visander Davis, we are with you. Our hearts go out to you.

[Intense music fades out.]

But, there is some good news this week. Folks in Virginia awoke to find the statue of some dead Confederate loser toppled and covered with graffiti. Was it the work of DruCDru? The so-called Banksy of Black Lives Matter? All clandestine and shit. I mean, I’m not saying. I’m just saying. Probably. I don’t know who DruCDru really is, but he chose violence this morning, and we love to see it. [Laughs.] Hashtag fuck your statues. Now if we could only get the —

[From outside the booth, a buzzing, screeching, hissing cacophony of indistinguishable voices and sounds grows to a heart-pounding roar. Gina fumbles with her notebook, listening. The recording booth door can barely be heard opening.]

GINA (breathing heavily, whispering, terrified): What the hell? What the… hell? Not again.

[The roar is louder with the booth door open. The sounds are coming from outside the house, but might as well be in Gina’s living room.]

[Fade out to a short, intense hip-hop beat.]

…

[Digging through a pile of screws. Then, drilling into a wall. Drilling stops, and screws and tools are packed away into a bag.]

DRU: That’s it. You’re all set.

GINA: Seriously?

DRU: Yup. You know, these walls don’t look thin. I can’t hear any street noise. I’m surprised you’re having a problem. Especially once you’re inside this little booth. You must have real good ears.

[Gina’s bracelets jingle.]

GINA: Yeah, I guess I do. Uh, look, thanks for getting out here so early.

DRU: Oh, o worries. Uh, do you, um, you know somebody at the company?

GINA: Mm-mm, no. I just went on Yelp. And the Better Business Bureau site. Sound Fighter Systems had the best reviews. Why?

DRU: Oh. It’s just… my dispatcher texted me late last night. Said it was an emergency, to get here first thing this morning. Like, bump everything else on the schedule. [A light laugh.] I figured you must’ve been one of Joe’s friends or relatives or something.

GINA: [Laughs, embarrassed.] Eh, yeah, no. I might have cussed your dispatcher out. And then bribed him. Girl, I might’ve offered to fuck him, I don’t even remember exactly. I just needed to get someone here ASAP.

[Both laugh.]

DRU: Gotcha. Uh, well, it’s done. Hope you enjoy your day. You should be getting a survey. And please, be honest. I take pride in my work. No sounds are coming in there. You got my word.

GINA: Thank you. Dru, right?

DRU: Yes, ma’am.

GINA: Oh, Jesus.

DRU: No offense. Sorry. Just trying to be polite.

GINA: All offense taken. [Chuckles.] Don’t worry, I’ll leave that off your survey.

[Gina’s cell phone buzzes.]

DRU: Should I let myself out or…?

GINA: Don’t open the door! Just — hold on, OK — lemme just, uh —

[Into the phone:] Hey, Constance. Let me call you right back. I’m at the… shoe store, trying on some good walking shoes for the rally.

CONSTANCE (on the phone): Gina, that’s what I’m calling about. Your presence at the rally —

GINA: Yeah, absolutely. So many interviews lined up. I hate that it has to happen, you know, like the country’s where it is right now, but this rally and the book about to come out, the timing is, hoo —

CONSTANCE: Gina, do you have in-person interviews lined up?

GINA: Yeah, of course. I was just, um, saying that I have, uh, several —

CONSTANCE: In. Person.

GINA: Constance, what are you —

CONSTANCE: And you’ll take photos? In person?

GINA: What are you —? Absolutely. I always take photos in person.

CONSTANCE: [Sighs.] Dave brought an issue to my attention. There seems to have been several stock photos on your website after the last march, and —

GINA: Stock photos?

CONSTANCE: Gina…

GINA: Why would you think I’ve been using — Dave?

CONSTANCE: Dave Dwyer. He’s my assistant.

GINA: Yeah, no, no, I know who Dave — but I don’t use — I mean, maybe what they call an establishing shot of like the building exterior… Constance, what are you trying to…

CONSTANCE: Eh, I just —

GINA: Say, or imply, or —? I just…

CONSTANCE: Just want to be sure there’s no, uh… no cause for concern. Publishers have been burnt before — hell, even Oprah got — all because an author… let’s say, hasn’t triple-checked their source material. Gina, I need to know that there’s no cause for concern.

GINA: There is no cause for concern. If you can just… Sorry. I have to — ugh. I gotta go. Um… yeah, sorry, I gotta go.

[She hangs up.]

[To Dru:] Sorry… about that.

DRU: Yeah, um, look, I really need to get going.

GINA: Oh. Yeah. Dru. Sorry. Of course. Wait, um — just hold on. [Laughingly.] I don’t even know if this works. You know, what you did? Can you just open the front door, and I’ll go in the booth and see if I hear any outside noises?

DRU: Uh, you got it.

[Dru walks toward the door, then stops abruptly.]

Uh… I’m sorry… Ma’am?

GINA: Gina. Just call me Gina. What is it?

DRU: That piano over there. I — I just — I — where did you get it? If you don’t mind me asking.

GINA: Yard sale. Few years ago. It’s — it’s purely decorative. I don’t even know if it plays. But it’s real cute, isn’t it? That’s all hand painted.

[Piano fallboard quietly thuds open. Dru plays a few notes.]

GINA: Dru. You play, huh?

DRU: Used to. Sorry, I — I didn’t mean to overstep.

GINA: No, it’s fine. Glad to know it works.

DRU (a little sad): Yeah.

GINA: Yeah, cool. So I’m gonna go in the booth now. You want to… leave? Yeah? But, hold the front door open for like five seconds and I’ll give you a thumbs-up. Or down. Got it?

DRU: Gotcha.

[Footsteps.]

GINA: Hold on, Dru… wait till I’m inside the booth.

[The booth door squeaks closed.Gina’s voice is muffled — we hear her from outside the booth.]

OK, I’m inside.

DRU (quietly, archly): I can see you’re inside. Can’t hear you, though. And I know you can’t hear me. That’s how soundproofing works. Man, this lady’s a trip. I need to get up outta here.

[Dru’s footsteps. The front door opens. It’s very quiet out there.]

DRU: Nothing but a quiet-ass street.

[Calling to Gina:] Ma’am — Gina. Can you hear me? Can you hear anything? [Sighs.]

[Inside the booth, the roar is back, and building.]

GINA (gulping, panicky): Oh god, oh god, oh god…

[The roar grows louder and louder, taking over everything. Gina screams, but the roar drowns her out.]

[The booth door squeaks open. Gina rushes out, the roar following her.]

GINA (shouting): Don’t go! Help me! Close it! Close the door! It’s not working! Close it!

[The front door closes. Rapid footsteps.]

DRU: Ma’am — Gina — are you OK?

GINA (gasping): I’m OK. Sorry. But whatever you did, it is not working. You need to fix it.

DRU: I — I was just in there, and I couldn’t hear anything, so. There’s no noise outside, nothing —

GINA (irate): Is that your booth? Is that your booth? Do you record podcasts in there? No. Then it doesn’t matter if you could hear it. What matters is that I can still hear it. And I’m the customer. I will definitely Yelp this. Do you have any idea how many followers I have? A bitch is verified. So you need to fix this.

DRU: OK — of course, I’m gonna fix it. I can, uh… I can come back with our next density — a higher fiber. Vinyl, maybe? Or metal. But that’s gonna —

GINA: I don’t care how much it costs.

DRU: No, I — I was saying... it’ll have to be tomorrow. I have appointments scheduled for the rest of the day. We squoze you in. So, I —

GINA: Wow. See, what you shoulda done... you should’ve brought the better-quality insulation in the first place. Or is this how you do? You throw up some shoddy material for one price, then prove it doesn’t work so the customer has to beg for a better “density,” or… Ain’t that some shit? Just go.

DRU: Do you not want the…

GINA: Of course I want it! Hell, bring bricks and mortar if you have to. But this needs to get done.

DRU: OK, Gina.

GINA: Mm-mm, now you need to call me “ma’am.”

DRU: Yes, ma’am. I’ll make sure our scheduler calls you to set up time for tomorrow.

GINA: Yeah, and...

[Losing a little steam, slightly abashed] I need you to wait until I’m in the booth before you open the front door. Please.

DRU: Mm-hmm.

GINA: And do it quickly.

DRU: Sure.

[Gina’s footsteps. The booth door opens, closes.]

[Dru’s footsteps. A sigh.]

DRU: The hell is up with this chick?

[A few more footsteps. Two notes play out as Dru taps piano keys.]

DRU: Ain’t that nothin’?

[Piano fallboard closes softly. Footsteps. Front door opens. Dru leaves. Door closes.]

[A short, intense hip-hop beat plays.]

…

[Café sounds. We hear the quiet chatter of other people in the background.]

RONNIE: Oh, Dru. Honey.

DRU: Yeah, that was…

RONNIE: First thing in the morning?

DRU: [Sips tea, then sets it down.] Yup. Ronnie, Ion’t even… Mm.

RONNIE: Some people just don’t have any peace.

DRU: I mean, maybe she —

RONNIE: Don’t.

DRU: Ronnie.

RONNIE: Do not make excuses for her. That’s what you do. Always extending yourself — literally and emotionally — for people who… Then on top of the emotional weightlifting you always taking on, we out here putting everything on the line for our community. You even more than me.

DRU: Well, this lady doesn’t know about any of that.

RONNIE (disapprovingly): Prolly wouldn’t make a difference if she did.

[A beat.]

Was it a nice place?

DRU: Mm. Real nice.

RONNIE: ’Course it was. Embracing capitalism and treating the working class like garbage. Was she blind?

DRU: Huh?

RONNIE: Of course she isn’t. She looked at another Black woman, standing right in front of her, looked — OK? — looked you in the face, and chose to treat you like trash. Dru, that is not OK.

DRU: Uh, I get it. But you done made me “garbage” and “trash” twice in the last minute.

RONNIE: Damn, I’m sorry, girl. You know I love you. Ooh, you know what you should do? Channel that pain, take that energy, and put it into this speech you gon’ give tonight. How that sound?

DRU: Like a manipulation. That’s what that sounds like. Ronnie, I’ve told you: I’m not giving the speech. That’s your thing.

RONNIE: Hey, girl, Come on.

DRU: Mm-mm.

RONNIE: No? No?

[Dru takes a sip of tea.]

DRU: No, no, no. Never. I write ’em, you say ’em. That’s never changing. Here.

[Rustling as Dru pulls notecards out of her jacket.]

RONNIE: It’s gon’ make me cry, isn’t it?

DRU: I mean, they killed a sixteen-year-old.

[A beat. Notecards crinkle. Ronnie sighs.]

RONNIE: When we not crying?

DRU: Ronnie, you… you remember what you felt when we were sixteen? What you worried about?

RONNIE: It wasn’t like it is now.

DRU: Right?

RONNIE: Shaving. I was preoccupied with figuring out how to get rid of the hair on my bikini area. [Chuckles.] That’s what I was worried about.

I was going to a pool party that Naomi Driscoll was having at the Y. And I swear from the time I hit puberty at like thirteen… every single time I looked, there was a new damn hair poking out the side of my panties!

[They both laugh.]

I was so paranoid that I’d walk around that pool in my bathing suit, thinking I looked cute, and there’d be a dang-on bush waving hi to everybody!

[They have a good laugh over this. Then it dies.]

RONNIE: Damn, that feel like a long time ago, doesn’t it?

[Dru sips her tea.]

DRU: Can you imagine being that age now? Ugh. These kids got it rough.

RONNIE: Worried about being killed by police, instead of regular teenage shit.

[A beat.]

What about you? What was Dru worried about at sixteen?

DRU: Man… I just wanted to hoop and not to fail trig. [Laughs.]

RONNIE: Why did we need trig anyway? Have you ever used that mess?

DRU: Never. And they make it seem real important when you’re sixteen. Visander —

[They pause. Because Visander Davis will never grow up.]

Sixteen.

[Notecards rustle for a bit. Then:]

RONNIE: We only have a few hours. I should practice… Dru, I know you don’t want to be on stage. I know. But you put your whole self into writing this speech. Maybe — I mean, I’m just — maybe… Maybe just think about being the one giving it?

[A short, driving hip-hop beat plays.]

…

[On a video call. There is rustling, then a mouse click. We hear the conversation through Gina’s computer.]

CONSTANCE (firmly): Gina —

GINA: Uh, I’m sharing my screen. Are you seeing a chart? You should be seeing a chart.

CONSTANCE: I see the chart. Gina —

GINA: Great. OK, so I’m not doing numbers on TikTok. OK, not my platform. But on Twitter, I am still killing it with my engagement numbers. Two hundred new followers yesterday. And IG — um, OK, see the… hold on, uh, let me share this other graph —

CONSTANCE: Gina! You’re muted. I muted you at “TikTok.” I need you to stop talking, and listen. Can you do that?

GINA: Wow. Uh, yeah.

CONSTANCE: OK, you’re still muted, so I’ll take that as a yes. Your new followers. Of those two hundred, eighty percent are bots or Russian trolls who think you still have something relevant to say.

GINA: Bitch, no you didn’t.

CONSTANCE: Still muted, but I know you just called me a bitch. Our numbers are down because without fail, 20% of any day’s new followers also come on board because of your reputation. But then they see your actual content and unfollow or just don’t engage. Do you know why that is?

[A pause.]

You’re unmuted.

GINA: First of all, Constance, you said “our numbers.” Our numbers are down. But let’s not get it twisted. This is me. This is all me.

CONSTANCE: It — it — it was you. Gina, Gina, Gina. Activism. Political savvy. The internet was just a tool — a means to an end. That is what excited Corbin and Thomas about you. That’s why we offered you the book deal. It was you, Gina. Not the number on your Twitter followers.

GINA: That’s bullshit.

CONSTANCE: OK, OK, it’s part of it, sure. For marketing. We’d be dumb to ignore it. But we were much more interested in what you had to say about and to your community. We wanted to be a strong ally, to get the message out to as many people as possible. But… the message, um... changed. The witty banter you’re doing on the podcast, honestly, feels like a different brand.

GINA: It’s been a bit rough adjusting to — I don’t know — a worldwide pandemic and a coup and the seas rising because we’re literally in the middle of a biblical apocalypse. Like, inside of an actual — it’s crazy. [Incredulously.] You know, this is crazy that I’m being asked to explain myself —

CONSTANCE: Gina! Gina, that’s not — that’s not what I’m —

GINA: No, it is.

CONSTANCE: I’m not asking that.

GINA: Sorry if I needed to keep it light once in a while for my own sanity. Sorry if I didn’t — couldn’t — sit up here and steep myself and my listeners in Black trauma — that they live with every single day — in order to satisfy your desire for allyship.

[A beat.]

Was I muted that whole time or —

CONSTANCE: Nope. No. I heard you. I hear you.

GINA: Good. Thank you.

CONSTANCE: Of course. We can continue to discuss our concerns about the book deal another time.

[A beat.]

Will you be at the march tonight?

GINA: Will you?

CONSTANCE: Actually, yes. Perhaps I’ll see you there.

[Laptop closes. Video call ends.]

GINA: Shit.

[A short, funky hip-hop beat plays.]

…

[People marching in the street, chanting. Car horns honking.]

CROWD: No justice, no peace! No racist police! No justice, no peace! No racist police!

[Chanting dies down. The crowd applauds. Now, Ronnie is on a microphone. There are occasional crowd murmurs of agreement as she speaks.]

RONNIE: Thank you all for being here. Thank you. Most of y’all know me. I’m Ronnie Jackson. But I don’t matter tonight. Sister, can you hold that poster so everyone can see it? Thank you, sister.

This is Visander Davis. Look at that baby’s face. They’ll try to tell us he’s a man. Won’t they? They’ll try to paint him as… we know. I don’t even have to say it. We know.

We know what they’ll do even better than they know themselves. Because we’ve had to know them. Study them. Their so-called history. Their history — isn’t that a trip? We know it’s our history, too. But they refuse to even learn or teach it.

But we know it. We hold onto it. And we hold onto our knowledge of them. And we hold onto our knowledge of self. And we hold onto that baby boy. We hold onto that woman…

[Ronnie’s voice fades out, as Dru’s voice takes over. Quietly. No mic. This is personal.]

[Simple, tinkling music slowly fades in under Dru’s speech.]

DRU: We hold onto that woman. And that man. And that trans woman. And that trans man. We hold onto our own. We hold each other up. We hold onto what we know to be true. We hold up that truth. We stand. We stand on the soil of this nation — our nation. We demand that it is a better nation, because it is our right.

They want to restrict voting rights? We will pick up our people — our poor, our elders — and we will bring them to the polls in droves to vote them out of office. They want to rewrite history to protect the fallacy of their so-called war heroes? We will topple their statues and mock their very monuments. They want to empower their officers to kill without impunity? We will hold them accountable.

How? We will march. We will march. We will hold up our son Visander Davis. We will hold him up. And we. Will. March.

[Dru is spent, exhausted. We hear her breathing heavily. The music fades out. Then, the crowd noise returns. Cheers. Applause. A man begins leading a call-and-response.]

MAN (on mic): Black lives!

CROWD: Matter!

MAN: Black lives!

CROWD: Matter!

MAN: Black lives!

CROWD: Matter!

MAN: Black trans lives!

CROWD: Matter!

MAN: Black women’s lives!

CROWD: Matter!

MAN: Black men’s lives!

CROWD: Matter!

MAN: Black children!

CROWD: Matter!

MAN: Black children!

CROWD: Matter!

MAN: Black. Children.

CROWD: Matter!

RONNIE (on mic): Yes! Yes! No justice, no peace.

[The rally fades out. A short, energized hip-hop beat plays.]

…

[A power drill pushes a screw into drywall. Then, hammering. Simple blues-style instrumentals play in the background.]

DRU (struggling): Uh, can I bother you for a glass of water, Gina?

[Gina’s bracelets jingle. She is trying to be kinder than before.]

GINA: Sure. I’m sorry, I should’ve — I’m sorry. Just a sec.

[More hammering. Footsteps. Blues music fades as we move away from the living room. We’re in the kitchen.]

[Calling back to Dru:] Dru, do you want ice? Do you —

[To herself:] She probably wants ice. She’s in there sweating.

[Gina presses a button on the freezer door, and her fridge dispenses ice into a glass. Water is poured into the cup. Footsteps. Back to the living room, where we can hear more hammering and the blues music resumes.]

GINA (trying hard not to be horrible): I put ice in it. I hope that’s OK.

DRU: One, it’s great. And two, I didn’t hear you because I had the door to the booth closed and you cannot hear anything outside of this door. I promise.

GINA: You said that last time.

[Dru takes a refreshing drink of water.]

DRU (confident): Try it out. See for yourself.

[Footsteps as Gina heads into the booth. The booth door closes behind her.]

DRU: OK, can you hear me?

GINA (inside the booth): I can’t hear you, but that is not the problem.

DRU (very loudly): See? I’m screaming!

GINA: Oh god. She’s yelling, isn’t she? I can’t — hear — thumbs-up. [Louder.] Two big thumbs-up. You’re great. Good job.

[Booth door opens. Footsteps as Gina steps out.]

DRU: What did I tell you?

GINA: Yeah no, I get what you’re saying. But the issue is the noise that’s coming from outside. Like, outside.

DRU: Right… but… if you can’t hear me yelling in your living room, like, right outside the — I was standing right outside the booth —

GINA: I — I know. You’re not quite understanding what I’m saying. I’m —

DRU: Oh, oh, OK —

GINA: This is difficult —

DRU: Well let’s test it. There’s seriously not any street traffic right now but if you wanna be —

[Footsteps moving quickly toward the front door.]

GINA: No — I’m not ready to do that just… yet.

[Front door opens.]

No don’t — I can’t —

[The roar. Gina sobs and gasps. The front door slams shut, and Gina rushes into the booth. The roar stops.]

DRU: Oh my god.

[We hear Dru’s footsteps as she rushes to the booth.]

Oh my god, oh my god. Gina, what’s happening?

[Gina sobs.]

I don’t understand what’s — can you talk? Do you — you want to get up? Can you get up? Can you get up? Can you stand up?

GINA (through sobs): I tried — I tried to tell you…

DRU: What? What did I do? I don’t —

GINA (still sobbing): You shouldn’t have —

DRU: Here. Take a sip. Take a sip.

[Dru hands Gina the ice water. Gina gasps a few more times, then gulps down some water. Her breathing starts to return to normal.]

GINA: I’m OK. It’s passed.

DRU: Good. Glad I could help.

GINA: Help? You did this.

DRU: Look, I don’t know what you got going on. I can call somebody for you, maybe. But I don’t — I don’t think I feel real comfortable being here.

GINA: You opened the door when I told you not to.

DRU: Why are you trying to blame me for this?

GINA: You were the one who did the shoddy work — twice now.

DRU: Yo, I got the materials that should’ve cost you five times what I’m charging you. I felt real bad about yesterday and you looked like you were in a bad way. And, yeah, I thought maybe there was a slim chance that I didn’t do it right. But I know it wasn’t me. I don’t do shoddy work. There’s no way any noise is getting through that soundproofing and into the booth. Nothing. And I — [laughs] I was standing right at the door. Whatever noise you’re hearing, ma’am, is in your head.

GINA (indignant): Oh you calling me — this bitch gon’ come up in my house and tell me I’m imagining things? I guess that’s easier than doing your job correctly. You know what, forget Yelp. I’m calling your boss. And I’m calling you out on Twitter. Baby, I’ve got so many followers, you’ll be lucky if you can get a job at McDonald’s. Get the hell out.

DRU: Damn.

GINA: Yep.

DRU: I was just at the march last night —

GINA: Don’t care.

DRU: Mm. When’s the last time you lifted someone else up?

GINA: Bye.

DRU: Or been lifted?

GINA: If you don’t get out of my house…

DRU: Mm-hmm. Sure.

[Dru grabs her bag. We hear her footsteps as she heads for the door. Gina, in the booth again, shuts the door. Her breathing speeds up in anticipation of the roar and the pain.]

DRU (calling to Gina): Stay inside your stupid soundproof booth. Hope you rot in there!

[To herself:] Ain’t that something, I’m cussing her ass out and she can’t even hear me. Gonna get me fired?

[Dru walks to the piano and plays a few notes. She scoffs.]

Bet. Might as well make it worth it.

[Dru unzips a pocket on her backpack, grabs a tool, then opens the piano lid. She violently rips out the piano strings. We hear a discordant racket. Then, Dru slams the lid shut, walks to the door, opens it, and leaves. The door shuts behind her.]

GINA (inside the booth, calling out): Get the hell out of my house! And don’t you ever think about coming back here.

[To herself:] Dammit. She knows where I live. Knows exactly where I — Why the hell did I make a scene? I could’ve just called her boss and done all the things I said I was gonna do without telling her that I was gonna do them. That was stupid.

[Gina takes a deep breath.]

Give yourself grace. I made a mistake. Wasn’t as bad as her mistake, ’cause she doesn’t know who she is messing with. But… I also don’t know who she is. So... yeah. That was — that was a mistake. Maybe — maybe wait a month or so before I call her boss so she doesn’t know it was me. Grace, girl. Grace.

[Gina opens the booth door, gets out, and walks around. She’s breathing easier now.]

I need a glass of wine.

[She walks toward the kitchen. Then, she stops.]

What the hell...?

[Gina hits a key on the piano and it makes a terrible racket, loose strings jangling around inside.]

Ohhh, it’s on, bitch.

[An up-tempo, dark hip-hop beat plays, then fades out.]

…

MARK PAGÁN: In the next episode of a hit dog will holler…

GINA (watching footage of the march): I know that face in the crowd. That is her. That’s Dru. She’s mouthing the speech right along with…

[A beat.]

Dru! Oh. My. God.

…

[Podcast theme plays: a mysterious, intriguing, driving hip-hop beat.]

INDA: a hit dog will holler from Radiotopia was written by me, Inda Craig-Galván. It was produced and directed by Gisele Regatao. Mixing and sound design by Sandra Lopez-Monsalve, with help from Isabel Hibbard. The music theme is by Cristina Gaillard.

This podcast was recorded under a SAG-AFTRA Collective Bargaining Agreement. It features Cynthia K. McWilliams as Gina and Ronnie. J. Nicole Brooks as Dru. Jacqueline Guillen as Constance and the receptionist.

Thank you to WNYC News for the audio of Black Lives Matter protests.

Support for this project was provided in part by a PSC-CUNY Award, jointly funded by The Professional Staff Congress and The City University of New York.

For Radiotopia Presents, Mark Pagán is the producer. Production support from Yooree Losordo. Audrey Mardavich and Julie Shapiro are the executive producers.

For more information, go to radiotopiapresents.fm.

[Music ends.]

END OF EPISODE.

INDA CRAIG-GALVÁN: a hit dog will holler is written by me, Inda Craig-Galván.

This is a series that is grounded in some of the harsh realities for Black people in America. There might be some moments that feel sad, or that might feel frightening, or just loud. Please take care while listening. And after.

This is episode two: “black banksy.”

…

[A dial tone, then the sound of a phone number being typed on a keypad.]

GINA: Come on. I got something for you, mm-hmm.

[A ringback tone. Gina’s bracelets jingle in the background. The ringing stops as the call is answered.]

RECEPTIONIST (on the phone): Sound Fighter Systems. How can I direct your call?

GINA: Yes. Good morning. I need to make a complaint.

RECEPTIONIST: Oh. OK. Umm… What’s your complaint about?

GINA: I had an installer come out to my home yesterday. Not only did the installed soundproofing not work — I don’t know if she just didn’t know what she was doing, had the wrong materials — I don’t know. I just know it didn’t work. I can still hear the noise coming from outside my recording booth, and I paid to not hear noise. That’s first. Let’s just get that out of the way.

Second, and more importantly, she damaged my property. Not like she bumped into something. No, she literally snatched the strings out of my piano. I mean, who does that? I don’t know what kind of anger management program she needs to be in. But what she shouldn’t be doing — she shouldn’t be allowed to go up in people’s houses when she’s clearly unstable.

RECEPTIONIST: OK. Wow. Um… Did you call the police?

GINA: Trust me, I thought about it. But I’m not trying to get the sister shot over it. Let’s just rectify this, and then I’ll see what other recourse I need to take.

RECEPTIONIST: Of course. The installation supervisor isn’t in yet. I can have him, um, call you back, or —

GINA: OK. What about your HR department? Who hires? Who fires?

RECEPTIONIST: Uh, it’s — uh, it — it’s just the owner. We’re a small business. We don’t really have an HR department…

GINA: OK, no, that’s fine. What’s his name? The owner. Or — or the installation supervisor, one of them.

RECEPTIONIST: Same person. Tony Johnson. I’ll have him call you back. Can he reach you at this number?

[Gina sighs.]

GINA: Fine. Fine.

[A click as Gina hangs up the phone. Her bracelets jingle, and we hear her walking across the floor and getting into her recording booth. The door closes behind her, and she shuffles some papers around.]

GINA: Testing, testing…

[She clears her throat.]

OK… Take one. Three, two…

[She clicks a button. Her podcast’s theme music — a smooth hip-hop beat — begins, then plays underneath narration.]

GINA (upbeat): Welcome back to Accounts Receivable. The podcast where we keep record, keep accounts, of course, keep receipts. It’s your girl, Gina Gina.

Now, this is the part in the podcast when I typically ask how you’re feeling. Check in with you. But this day? Ma’am. Sir. Your girl Miss Gina is feeling… whew! I truly don’t even know how to describe it. Hurt? Yes. Anger? But of course. Confusion? Absolutely. It is all that and more. Your girl’s just a jumble of emotions this week.

Now, I can’t go into all the details on here, because there may just be some litigation involved. But what I can tell you… This phrase just about sums up the situation: All skin folk ain’t kinfolk. You know that’s the truth. It’s sad, y’all. It’s real, real sad. But sometimes it be your own people.

Now, for my non-melanated listeners, for the allies, this moment of the podcast is not for you. Take this time to go for a walk, get your steps in, catch up on that book. Better yet — renew that Accounts Receivable Patreon subscription, yeah? No, seriously. Get all that good, extra Accounts Receivable content. But right now I need you to give us a minute. Gina needs to talk with the fam.

[A beat. Accounts Receivable theme fades out]

I’ll wait…

OK, good. Fam, tell me how come we can’t have nice things? Why is it so hard for some of us to treat each other well? How can you look at your sister and think, “I want to cause harm to this Black person who has been nothing but kind”? It’s like, seriously, like looking into a mirror and — you know what, that’s it right there. If you can’t love yourself, then you cannot love those who look like you. And I’m not even talking about Candace Owens’ ass this time. Next episode of the podcast, I promise.

Right now, fam, I’m talking about a very personal incident that went so far beyond bad customer service. Again, I can’t be too specific. But I will say that my space was violated. I’m OK, fam. I’m OK. But there was a theft. An implicit agreement of trust was broken. And it hurts so much more because it was a sister. Trust, I will get to the bottom of this. I will get recompense. And I will find forgiveness… eventually.

[Gina clicks a button, and a shortened version of her podcast theme begins again, playing underneath her narration.]

Also heavy on my mind — the arraignment is coming up this week for the officer who shot and killed sixteen-year-old Visander Davis, as well as the second officer — his partner — who stood by and did nothing while that baby lay dying in the street.

The mayor’s office hasn’t been very forthcoming on the details. No exact date or time yet. You know what we do: stay ready so you don’t have to get ready. When they announce that it’s about to go down, we will be there, fam. Won’t we? On the steps of that courthouse, taking up space, being present to let the mayor, the police chief, the governor, the media — to let them know we will hold them accountable.

[Theme music fades out. A beat.]

And that goes for — I won’t name names. Let’s just say, “anybody” who’s done some shady shit lately. You know who you are. You, Miss Ma’am, will be held accountable.

[A short, smooth hip-hop beat plays.]

…

[Gina’s cell phone buzzes and jingles with an incoming call.]

GINA: This is Gina.

RECEPTIONIST (on the phone): Hi, this is Sofia from Sound Fighter Systems calling you back. We spoke earlier.

GINA: Yeah, I remember. Uh, is Mr. Johnson available now?

RECEPTIONIST: Yup. Before I connect you, he wanted me to ask the name of the installer, um, if you remember it. I — I need to pull the person’s file so Mr. Johnson has it in front of him. I should’ve asked for that earlier, but I didn’t think about it.

GINA: Give yourself some grace, girl.

[On Sofia’s end, another line rings.]

Uh, I didn’t get her last name. Now I wish I had. Anyway, her first name was —

[Two lines are ringing on Sofia’s end, now.]

RECEPTIONIST: I’m — I’m sorry. I’ve got to get these other calls. Can you — can you please hold?

GINA: Yeah, just don’t, please, put that music on and —

[A click, followed by hold music.]

OK… Whatever. Hmm... let me look at this footage from the rally.

Hmph. Wish I could’ve been there. Oh, look at all of them. Aww… Oh! Here’s that sister — everybody’s been talking about her speech. Let me listen…

[Ronnie’s speech begins to play, with the hold music quietly continuing in the background.]

RONNIE: Their so-called history. Their history. Isn’t that a trip? We know it’s our history, too, but they refuse to even learn or teach it. But we know it. We hold onto it. And we hold onto our knowledge of them…

GINA: Hold the fuck on.

RONNIE: And we —

[Gina pauses the speech.]

GINA: I know that face in the crowd.

[Gina unpauses the speech, and it plays in the background while Gina monologues. Ronnie: “We hold onto that woman. And that man. And that trans woman. And that trans man. We hold onto our own.”]

GINA: That is her. That’s Dru. [Gasps.] She is mouthing the speech right along with…

[Gina pauses the speech again.]

Dru! Oh my god — [Gasps.] Oh. My. God.

RECEPTIONIST: Sorry about that. I can connect you with Mr. Johnson now.

GINA: Mm-mm. As a matter of fact, no. No. You know what, I must have misspoken. You know, here’s what I need instead…

[Intriguing, anticipatory short hip-hop beat plays.]

…

[Birds chirp. Footsteps on gravel. A doorbell rings.]

GINA: Right on time.

[We hear Gina walk to the door.]

[Calling through the door:] Dru? I am going to unlock the door. When I do, you count to five, step in — quickly — then shut the door. One knock if you understand.

[A single knock.]

Good.

[To herself:] All right. Ten steps from here to the booth.

[Gina takes a deep breath. Then, the door unlocks.]

And... go.

[We hear Gina’s ten footsteps jogging to the booth, and she takes little gasps of air while she jogs. Then, the booth door opens and closes.]

DRU (outside): … three… four… five. Ready or not…

[Front door opens, Dru enters. Inside the booth: the roar.]

GINA: Oh god, oh god, oh god. Make it stop. Make. It. Stop. Hurry. Hurry up. Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up.

[The front door closes, and the roar quickly fades away. Gina breathes heavily, sobs softly, and gathers herself. Then, the booth door opens and Gina exits. Her bracelets jangle.]

GINA: Well, look at you. Glad you showed up.

DRU: Gina, I’m so sorry. I want to apologize. What I did was impulsive and irrational. I — I’m sorry.

GINA: Can you at least tell me why? I mean, I’m trying to be calm about this because… other than the way things ended, we seemed to have a pretty good rapport.

DRU: Well I —

GINA: I mean, I let you into my home. I’m a public figure, and you were given access to my home.

DRU: I know and I’m really —

GINA: And you stood there and admired the piano. I mean, how it was hand-painted.

DRU: Right. That’s the part of the —

GINA: I mean, Dru, who even notices something like that unless you were casing the joint.

DRU: Casing —?

GINA: And the second I wasn’t looking —

DRU: I know, Gina.

GINA: You destroyed it, Dru.

DRU: I — I know, and I —

GINA: So, I mean, speak, Dru. I don’t have all day to sit up here and wait for your lame excuse as to why you destroyed my piano.

DRU: OK, I just… [Laughing somewhat disbelievingly.] Gina, are you done?

GINA: Sorry. I have been accused of being wordy before.

DRU: Your piano is —

[Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 4 begins playing quietly underneath.]

… was my grandmother’s. It was me who painted it. I paint in my free time. Which isn’t much anymore. Anyway, um… My grandmother used to watch me, you know, when I was little. All through high school, really. I’d — I’d sit with her after school and listen to her play. Then, my senior year, I asked her if I could paint it.

GINA: Dru, I need you to get to the point…

DRU: Yeah. Um… I came out to her about a year ago. And she said that she always knew. Or, more accurately, she said that she was always afraid of that being the case. Now, I thought she meant that she was afraid for me. Like, you know, worried that I’d have a difficult time. But that’s not what she meant. Still, I — I figured she and I could talk about it. I thought, you know, with time she’d…

GINA: She never accepted you?

DRU: She did not. [Regretfully.] She did not. She used to tell everybody I was her little runnin’ buddy. And then once she knew for certain, she didn’t even want me at her house.

[Piano music ends.]

GINA: Wow. And then you come in here, and get this demanding-ass client who has the very piano that reminded you of all that pain.

DRU: Well, I wouldn’t call you demanding…

GINA: Dru, do not play with me.

DRU: OK, yeah, yeah, yeah. You was pretty demanding.

GINA: And you thought, “I’ma fix this heifer.”

DRU (quickly): No, that’s not what I was —

GINA: Dru. Do not play with me. You told me this much. May as well be completely honest, right? I mean, what do you have to lose?

DRU: True. Yeah, I thought, “I’ma fix this heifer.” I was pissed and tired —

GINA: Mm-hmm.

DRU: — because you were a demanding-ass client. Like mad demanding.

GINA: OK, we’ve already established that, Dru. Let’s move off that point.

DRU: Right. My bad, my bad. I was pissed, and on top of all that, I realized in the moment that my grandmother had not only rejected me, but she turned around and got a little coin from selling her prized piano. She used to be so proud of it. Telling everybody, “My grandbaby painted that. She’s a Picasso.” Guess she didn’t want to be reminded of me anymore.

GINA: [Sighs sympathetically.] I’m sorry. That’s… that’s really fucking sad.

DRU: Yeah. Uh, anyway, I lost my shit and I shouldn’t have, and I apologize.

GINA: Hmm… Thank you.

DRU: And… I brought over some things to make up for yesterday.

GINA: Like?

DRU: I kinda sorta borrowed some of the heavy gauge materials from the supply room. My ID card still worked so I was like, bet. Lemme get my Robin Hood on and hook Gina up.

GINA: Oh. You did that for me?

DRU: Figured I’m on my way out the door, may as well finish the job I came over here to do. Then when they fire me, you know —

GINA: You’re not getting fired, Dru. Well, I mean, now that you stole stuff, probably. But, I didn’t complain about you to Sound Fighter Systems. You aren’t losing your job because of me.

DRU: Wait — what? Why?

GINA: Well, despite the… vandalism, you tried your best with the soundproofing. I would appreciate some of those heavy duty gauge things you brought, yes, please. But, you tried. Come on, what was I gonna do? Escalate things? Press charges? C’mon, sis. I was mad, in my feelings for a minute. But we’re in it together. There are too many outside forces who would tear us apart. We have to have each other’s back.

[A beat.]

DRU: Uhh… OK, Gina. What the hell is happening?

GINA: What are you —?

DRU: Seriously. You’re not that good of an actor. What — what’s going on?

GINA: Fine, Dru. Fine.

[Gina hits play on Ronnie’s speech on her phone.]

RONNIE (in the recording): But we know it. We hold onto it. And we hold onto our knowledge of them. And we hold onto our knowledge of self. And we hold onto that baby boy…

[Gina lowers the volume. Underneath her dialogue, Ronnie’s speech continues: “We hold onto that woman. And that man. And that trans —”]

GINA: You don’t need to hear it. You were there. Oop, there you are. Right there.

[Gina pauses the speech dramatically. She’s fully in her ‘gotcha’ moment.]

You’re Dru Allensworth. You wrote that speech, huh? Probably write all of them. But nobody knows who you are. The Black Banksy. Elusive Dru Allensworth. I thought you were a myth.

DRU: Yeah, I’d kinda like to keep it that way.

GINA: Yeah, I can imagine. So you wouldn’t want me outing you — so to speak — to… well, everyone, really. Where you work, the fact that you stole from your job, how you destroyed a customer’s property… Wouldn’t want any of that getting out, would you, Dru?

DRU: Gina why are you —?

GINA: Because I need something from you.

DRU: Then why not ask?

GINA: You might say no.

DRU: And?

GINA: I need you to say yes.

DRU: What is it?

[A beat.]

GINA: Let me interview you.

DRU: Gina…

GINA: On my podcast. It’s typically a half-hour show — we could do an hour, or two episodes, or —

DRU: Gina, I can’t.

GINA: “Can’t” is not in my vocabulary.

DRU: Look, if you want to get to know the work I do, a group of us are going to protest outside the mayor’s house tomorrow.

GINA: Tomorrow’s not good for me.

DRU: Or the arraignment. That’s this week. We could use some positive media there to help us, you know —

GINA (firmly): I won’t be able to.

DRU: They haven’t even announced which day it is. You might be free to make it.

GINA: I don’t think so.

[A beat. Then, she tries a more compromising tone.]

I just want to interview you. Why can’t we do that, huh?

DRU: Gina. [An exasperated laugh.] I appreciate that you didn’t get me fired. But even if you had, there’s other jobs. The most important thing in my life is this movement. The liberation, the freedom, fighting for equality and equity our people deserve. It’s about the movement. It can’t be about me. That’s why I don’t do interviews. I’m sorry. I’ll go, um — I’ll get the tools and stuff and get your booth right.

GINA: Wait!

DRU: Oh, my bad. You want to go inside the booth first? You — you got that thing about the birds or whatever…?

GINA: I didn’t say no to your invitation to the mayor’s house or the arraignment because of my schedule. I need to be honest with you now.

[A beat while she works up her courage.]

The thing with the door. I have acute social agoraphobia. “Acute” because it’s intense.

DRU: I know what the word means.

GINA: But… more intense than normal-intense. I… shit, I haven’t said this part out loud to anyone. Um… I feel — I hear — a loud, roaring sound when that door is open. Or a window, even.

DRU: Roaring like a — like a airplane or something?

GINA: Mm-mm… bigger. Louder. More… alive.

[The roar quietly begins playing underneath, simmering, growing.]

DRU: What do you mean, Gina?

GINA (trying to find the words): It’s like a — a bear or — or, um… a dinosaur kinda thing, or like a…

OK, you know, like, when there’s a crowd of… them? Screaming their “go back to” wherever screams, or — and the —

[The roar fades into soft, melancholic violin music.]

And the “you don’t belong here” bullshit? It’s like there are a thousand of them, all standing right at my shoulder.

[A percussive beat layers on top of the violin music.]

Yelling into my ear. Spit flying. Their voices angry and violent. And — and I can’t make out any words, exactly. But I know — I know that the intention is behind it. You know? What the — what the roar carries. It’s like I can… It’s like I can hear oppression. You know? Literal oppression.

[The music turns more electronic, more driving, less melancholic.]

DRU: This happens to you every time the door is open?

GINA: Every single time. So yeah. I can’t go with you.

DRU: I thought “can’t” wasn’t in your vocabulary.

GINA: Yeah. My one exception, I suppose. One of those for every rule.

DRU: OK, Gina. I will consider doing your interview.

GINA (excited): Really, Dru?

DRU: I will.

[A beat.]

I should get to work on that booth.

GINA: OK.

DRU: My tools are still out in the truck, so…

[Music fades out.]

GINA: I will disappear to the bedroom. Need to make a phone call anyway. Try not to vandalize anything?

DRU: [Laughs ruefully.] You know my government name now. I’m not screwing up again.

GINA: [Laughs.] Thanks, Dru… For considering it.

DRU: Thanks for being honest with me.

[Intriguing, anticipatory short hip-hop beat plays.]

…

[A ringback tone.]

CONSTANCE: This is Constance.

[Gina’s bracelets jangle.]

GINA: Constance, it’s Gina.

CONSTANCE: Gina, how was the rally?

GINA: Great. I mean, considering the reason we were all there.

CONSTANCE: Were we?

GINA: Hmm?

CONSTANCE: Were we all there? I was there. I looked all over for you. Didn’t see you. No one I ran into saw you.

GINA: It was dark, Constance. I don’t know what to tell you. Shoulda looked harder? Anyway, I’ve got something huge.

CONSTANCE (unimpressed): Do you?

GINA: Maybe I’ll just get my PR person on it, since you don’t sound all that interested.

CONSTANCE: How about we stop with the games. Just tell me what you have, Gina.

GINA: The what: an interview. The who: I’ve got Dru motherfuckin’ Allensworth.

[A short upbeat hip-hop beat plays.]

…

[We’re at a wine bar. The sounds of glasses clinking, bottles pouring, people chatting. Smooth lounge music plays in the background.]

DRU: Ronnie, have you heard of Gina Evans? She’s, uh, an activist, I think. She’s got some kind of… podcast. You know, kinda popular.

RONNIE: Oh, you can stop right there, Dru. I know exactly who that hot mess is.

DRU: Is she?

RONNIE: Are you seeing her or something?

DRU: No. No, I was doing some work at her house. She’s got a recording booth or whatever.

RONNIE: Or whatever? Of course she’s got a — ’cause she does a podcast. Why are you downplaying it like that?

DRU: Huh?

RONNIE: Oh my god, you as bad as my ex. Talking ’bout “huh?” When you know damn well what I just said. What are you not saying, Dru?

DRU: Gina wants to interview me.

RONNIE: You don’t do interviews.

DRU: I know, Ronnie. That’s what I told her.

RONNIE: But you’re still entertaining the thought or you wouldn’t be asking me about her. Am I right? Please tell me I’m wrong.

[A beat.]

Shit, Dru.

DRU: I know. I just —

RONNIE: No, you don’t know. You don’t know anything about that woman. Which is good. Your lack of internet savvy has protected you from the truth of that skanky bitch.

DRU: Ronnie?!

RONNIE: No. Don’t “Ronnie” me. OK, fine, maybe she not skanky. But I’m not walking back calling her a bitch. Gina Evans is the female Shaun King. Pretending she cares about our people when, in reality, she’s trafficking our trauma for a little bit of coin. Dru, promise me you’ll stay away from her.

DRU: No, the woman I saw, she — spent time with — she wasn’t like that. Or… Ion’t know, maybe she was, but… she was also scared. She’s got… I don’t know — I don't know what. Something about this pandemic or the shooting deaths or — or — or something’s got her messed up.

RONNIE: I’m telling you, Dru. Gina Evans was messed up way before this pandemic started. She’s an opportunist. Don’t fall for whatever sob story she’s giving you.

DRU (dubiously): I guess.

RONNIE: Dru.

DRU: I said — I said fine. All right, can we focus on the plan for our arraignment, and the contingency plan? We need to be prepared to respond, whichever way this one turns out.

[A beat.]

RONNIE: Dru?

DRU: Come on, leave it alone, Ronnie. Don’t worry about Gina. I’ll take care of that.

RONNIE: That mean you’ll stay away from her?

DRU: I don’t believe in throwing people away.

RONNIE: Call people in, don’t call them out?

DRU: You hate saying that, don’t you?

RONNIE: With all my being.

[A beat.]

Just be careful.

DRU: I can handle Gina.

[Wine bar fades out. A short, melancholic, anticipatory hip-hop beat plays.]

…

[Piano keys being struck, tools clunk-clunking against the hammers, under the lid. These sounds continue underneath the conversation.]

GINA: So you paint, write ridiculously good speeches, you do piano repair —

DRU: Nah, just restringing.

GINA: Oh, OK, just a little restringing of a whole piano. What other talents are you hiding, Dru?

DRU: That sounds like an interview question.

GINA: Guilty as charged.

DRU: Gina. Stop. For real. I said I’d consider it.

GINA (lightly): Uh-huh.

DRU: I’m still considering.

GINA: Ugh. Fine. I’ll stop pushing.

[A beat. A few piano notes are played, then a discordant plucking of piano strings.]

Hey, I came up with a code name for you. You know, like the president and the top folks always have code names. In case someone leaks the interview.

DRU: Gina.

GINA: President Obama was Renegade. Michelle was —

DRU: Gina.

GINA: What?

DRU: Fine. What was Michelle’s —

GINA: Renaissance. See? You wanted that information. You’re welcome.

DRU: Doesn’t mean you know what’s best for me. Or for the movement.

Speaking of the movement…

GINA: Please don’t do that.

DRU: What?

GINA: [Mimicking.] “Speaking of the movement.”

You ain’t slick. So what, you dug into me on the internet? You phoned a friend? What’s your source?

DRU: A friend, OK?

GINA: Let me guess. ‘Gina Evans used to be a serious newswoman, but sold out her journalistic integrity to podcasting and Patreon when newspapers went away.’

DRU: It doesn’t matter. I can get to know you on my own.

GINA: Tell me. Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me…

DRU: All right.

GINA: Tell me, tell me!

DRU: All right! It was more like… Ugh… you sold out your people. You became unknowable. You —

GINA: Oh, that’s rich.

DRU: Not like you’re keeping incognito to avoid getting arrested when you topple Confederate statues. That’s why I keep out of the limelight. With you, it’s more like… you don’t let anyone know the real Gina because you’re hiding behind a flippant persona.

GINA: Ah.

DRU: And you’ve lost touch.

GINA: OK, I get it.

[A beat.]

Oh for fuck’s sake, what else? I can see it on your face. Don’t play poker. Ever. C’mon, spill it.

DRU (uncomfortably): Mm. There was a, um… comparison made.

GINA: Gayle King? People always get us confused. It’s the voice.

DRU: Actually, it was Shaun King.

GINA: [Gasp.] Get out.

[A beat.]

Like… like, people think I’m white, or…

DRU: No, no, no. More in, um, secrecy, transparency, where’s the money going — in that kind of way. My two cents?

GINA: Why not.

DRU: Maybe if folks saw you out, participating and — and just being amongst them, it might help change their perception of you. I — I — I know that that’s not something you want to do right now, so…

[A simple, lonely piano piece begins softly.]

GINA: Do you want to be queer? What about Black? Do you want to be part of two marginalized communities? I mean, good for you if you do. Love yourself and let the world meet you there and all. But Dru, even if you didn’t want it, that’s still your reality. You can’t change either one of those facts. That’s the reality of who you are.

My reality is that I’m a Black woman who wants to get out there and do what you do. OK, fine, maybe not exactly what you do. But the point is, I want to be amongst my people. I want it more than anything. But my reality is that whether I want to be outside or not, that noise — the roaring — is still gonna be there. Waiting for me every time I open my front door.

[Music ends.]

[A beat. Dru sighs, plunks at a few piano keys, plays a little melody.]

GINA (sincerely): That’s nice.

DRU: Needs tuning, but the string’s replaced.

GINA: Most people answer a compliment with a “thank you,” bitch.

DRU: [Chuckles.] I don’t want to call you that.

GINA (good-naturedly): Ha ha.

DRU: [Laughs.] Thank you. I guess my grandmother’s playing rubbed off on me.

GINA: Thankfully, not her homophobia. What about the rest of your family?

DRU: Not many of us. How many cousins do you have — by blood?

GINA: Shit, twenty? First and second cousins? Thirty? Forty, maybe?

DRU: I have two. And was never close with either of them. My mom had cancer, I don’t… I don’t even remember her. My dad raised me — or really grandmother, you know, did while my dad worked.

[Shimmery, slightly melancholic piano music comes in.]

GINA: What kind of work? This isn’t the interview, promise. I just want to get to know you. I don’t get out much.

DRU: He was a judge. Juvenile court. He was, uh, the kind of dude who got to know every one of those kids. Would send them encouraging messages. Kept in touch. Even set up a little college scholarship. They were really lucky to have him.

GINA: Oh. So were you?

DRU: Eh. Those kids got way more of him than I did. Still, made me want to follow in his footsteps.

[Gina’s and Dru’s phones both ping with a text alert. Music stops.]

GINA: Oh shit. The arraignment is in an hour. Those motherfuckers.

DRU: Trying to elude the protests. But we ready. I’ve got to get to the courthouse. Um…

GINA: Pick up your tools later. It’s fine. Give ’em hell.

[We hear Dru’s footsteps as she heads to the door. The door opens as Dru exits. Before the door can shut, the roar sneaks in, surprising Gina.]

GINA: Oh no, the door! Shit!

[Gina breathes heavily, panicked, overwhelmed.]

Shit…

[Intriguing, anticipatory short hip-hop beat plays.]

…

[A crowd chants, murmurs.]

CROWD: No justice, no peace! No justice, no peace! No justice, no peace! No justice, no peace!

[Crowd begins to cheer. Cameras click every now and then.]

RONNIE (on bullhorn): I’m Ronnie Jackson. Thank you for being present. Taking up space on these courthouse steps. It is so very necessary. We know how this can go today. And we see their army lined up and ready to punish us for exercising our right to free speech and our right to lawful assembly. But we are not afraid. We will not shrink ourselves. We will not disappear. And we will not go away.

[Crowd begins chanting again.]

MAN: What do we want?

CROWD: Justice!

MAN: When do we want it?

CROWD: Now!

MAN: What do we want?

CROWD: Justice!

MAN: When do we want it?

CROWD: Now!

[A large metal door squeaks open. A flurry of reporters, camera clicks, rushing footsteps. Sirens. The crowd continues their chanting in the background.]

RONNIE: Dru?

DRU: Yeah. Here we go. Brace yourself for the mayor’s b.s. She’s only pandering to the cameras.

RONNIE: Even with this? She has to have a conscience.

DRU: Ronnie the Optimist. Mm. She’s starting…

[A simple, neutral, slow piece of music begins to play. The mayor begins to speak — she could be any mayor in any American city.]

MAYOR: This tragic encounter that resulted in the death of Lisander Davis has created division within our city. But in order for healing to occur, we must begin now. Today. The judge presiding over the arraignment of Officer Comiskey and Officer Bartak has ruled today that neither officer will face criminal charges.

[The crowd erupts in boos and jeers. Sirens whoop-whoop. The simple music suddenly begins to build up to a point of tension.]

RONNIE: Dru, what should we do?

DRU: Fuck “should.”

[Angry, shouting to the crowd:] Fight back, y’all! Knock it all down!

[The tension of the music finally breaks, and the percussive intensity of the beat means action. All hell breaks loose.Tear gas canisters land on the ground, emitting hisses. We hear chaos, people yelling, the police on bullhorns.]

[It all fades away till the music is the only thing left. It goes hard — it’s a grinding, bassy beat with 808s and kicks. It’s all we hear for a few seconds. Then, it’s over.]

…

[Gina’s bracelets jangle. One sigh. Liquor being poured into a glass. Another sigh. Ice and liquor tap at the glass as it’s stirred. Gina offers it to Dru]

GINA: Hey, Dru. Here. It’ll settle your nerves.

DRU: I don’t want to settle. Gina, I —

GINA: Dru, you came here for a reason. And I’m glad you did. You shouldn’t be out on those streets right now.

DRU: Fuck! He was sixteen. It’s all on camera. That was a flat-out murder. Caught. On camera. And it didn’t make any difference?

GINA: I know. There’s always a civil suit.

DRU (angry now): Of course you’d say that. It’ll be paid by the city. Our tax dollars pay for their misconduct.

GINA: Hold up, Dru. Why the attitude towards me? What’d I do?

DRU: Nothing, Gina. Absolutely nothing.

[Dru takes a gulp of her drink. She exhales loudly.]

What do you ever do?

GINA: OK. All right, Dru. Let’s call you a Lyft.

DRU: Nah. Seriously, Gina. Other than profiting off of our collective trauma. What do you do? What do you do?

GINA: I will chalk this up to the Henny. But I need you to stop talking now, Dru.

DRU: Sitting up here. [Scoffs.]

GINA: Here we go.

DRU: In your own little version of reality. Helping no one but yourself. And blaming it on a mental health issue that you haven’t even bothered to see a doctor about. Just self-diagnosing and treating everyone like shit because your pseudo-illness makes it impossible for you to leave.

GINA (warning): Dru.

DRU: More like convenient. So you don’t have to get dirty with the rest of us. You — you, you, you watch us do all the boots-on-the-ground, while you — while you collect a paycheck.

GINA: Oh I —

DRU: We are the content you sell on your fucking Patreon.

GINA: What about you, Dru? Woe is me, nobody loves me. Maybe if you tried to be more lovable. Understood that your grandmother was a hundred and two and maybe needed a minute. Maybe your cousins just don’t want to hang out with you. Maybe that’s it: nobody wants to hang out with your dour, gritty ass so you decided to adopt this Marcus Garvey-wannabe persona.

Tell you what — Marcus Garvey wasn’t afraid to be seen. He did plenty of interviews. Your anonymity isn’t helping anyone, Dru. You’re just feeding your little superhero fantasy. Why don’t you just go to ComicCon instead. At least there you can wear a mask and nobody will give a damn.

DRU: How ’bout I play the supervillain instead?

GINA: Whatever.

DRU: Here’s your kryptonite, Gina.

[Dru wrenches the front door open. The roar comes in on a vicious wind. Wailing. 400 years of violence, oppression. It all rushes in, a full cacophony.]

DRU (shouting over the roar): No! What’s happening?! Make it stop!

GINA (screaming to be heard): Close it! Close the door. Close the door, Dru!

[Dru slams the door shut. The room is suddenly quiet. Dru and Gina breathe heavily.]

[A beat. Gina’s bracelets jangle.]

GINA: You… you heard it?

DRU (shaken): I — well — yeah. Yeah.

[Gina laughs twice.]

GINA: Welcome to my world, bitch.

[Disjointed, chaotic music comes in.]

…

MARK PAGÁN: In the next episode of a hit dog will holler…

[Music ends.]

DRU (into the phone): Ronnie. Why the hell did you cancel the march?

RONNIE (on the phone): You got some nerve, Dru. I couldn’t find you. You were supposed to be our leader. How’s anyone supposed to follow you if we don’t even know where the hell — Where the hell are you?

…

[Podcast theme plays: a mysterious, intriguing, driving hip-hop beat.]

GISELE REGATAO: a hit dog will holler from Radiotopia was written by Inda Craig-Galván. It was produced and directed by me, Gisele Regatao. Mixing and sound design by Sandra Lopez-Monsalve, with help from Isabel Hibbard. The music theme is by Cristina Gaillard.

This podcast was recorded under a SAG-AFTRA Collective Bargaining Agreement. It features Cynthia K. McWilliams as Gina and Ronnie. J. Nicole Brooks as Dru. Jacqueline Guillen as Constance and the receptionist.

Thank you to WNYC News for the audio of Black Lives Matter protests.

Support for this project was provided in part by a PSC-CUNY Award, jointly funded by The Professional Staff Congress and The City University of New York.

For Radiotopia Presents, Mark Pagán is the producer. Production support from Yooree Losordo. Audrey Mardavich and Julie Shapiro are the executive producers.

For more information, go to radiotopiapresents.fm.

[Music ends.]

END OF EPISODE.

INDA CRAIG-GALVÁN: a hit dog will holler is written by me, Inda Craig-Galván.

This is a series that is grounded in some of the harsh realities for Black people in America. There might be some moments that feel sad, or that might feel frightening, or just loud. Please take care while listening. And after.

This is episode three: “she hears it too.”

…

[Footsteps. Water fills a tea kettle. On the stove, a gas burner turns on.]

GINA: All right, what’s going on in the news?

[Gina clicks on her laptop a few times.]

Barack came out with some eloquent, presidential words about this COVID situation. Meanwhile, the Orange Man insulted yet another ethnic minority at his latest rally — why is he even having these super spreader rallies? Well, we know why. He’s still gonna lose.

Oh, Barry. Just out here being decent and intelligent and — oh! Gotta make sure Constance sends him an advance copy of my book. Get on his year-end list. Between him and Oprah… ooh man, I would be set for life with one of those endorsing the book. OK, Barry, rally, segue into the —

[Tea kettle whistles.]

Oh shoot, that was fast.

[She turns the burner off. Whistling stops.]

[Calling:] Dru, I’ll have your tea for you in just a second, OK?

[A beat.]

Dru? Maybe she went to take a shower.

[Gina’s bracelets jangle. Water pours into the teacup.]

At least I hope she did. No shade. I mean, I have been there. I have really, really been there…

[Gina stirs the tea, hitting the walls of the teacup gently.]

OK, let me go ahead and record today’s podcast. It may be a short one.

[Gina yawns and slaps her cheeks to energize herself.]

Hoo! No time to be dragging.

[Gina walks toward the booth. Booth door opens, then closes. Her bracelets jangle, and she types quickly on her keyboard.]

GINA (inside the booth): Testing, testing…

[She clears her throat and does some vocal warm-ups.]

Mmm-wah! [She makes a few popping sounds with her lips.] Mmwah! [A sniff.]

Take one. Three, two…

[She clicks a button. Her podcast’s theme music — a smooth hip-hop beat — begins, then plays underneath narration.]

GINA (upbeat): Welcome back to Accounts Receivable. The podcast where we keep record, keep accounts, and of course, keep receipts. It’s your girl, Gina Gina.

Now, I truly could start doing a daily podcast rather than once a week because every single day, 45 — asterisk — sinks to a new low. I mean, every. Single. Day.

[Music ends.]

At today’s press briefing — and, by the way, I will be so glad to get back to seeing a president standing at that podium, briefing the press. Like, he just decided he didn’t want to because they made him look bad… because he is bad… and this nation didn’t insist that we continue the presidential precedent. We just let his ass say, “Nah.” Just, “nah.” Ridiculous.

So today at his own little COVID giveaway — I mean, rally — this man said —

[The booth door opens.]

DRU: Hey —

GINA (surprised): Shit!

DRU: — Gina.

[Booth door closes.]

Sorry, I…

GINA: You damn near gave me a heart attack. What the hell, Dru?

DRU: I’m — I’m sorry, Gina. I — I… Mm…

[An awkward beat.]

GINA: Dru?

DRU: Yeah?

GINA: What is it? What do you — do you need something?

DRU: Oh, um… the remote’s not working?

GINA: The TV remote?

DRU: Yeah. It — it’s OK if you — oh, were — were you — were you recording? You were — oh! — you were recording, weren’t you? I’m so sorry, Gina. Sorry…

GINA: Sorta-kinda, yeah. But, um… I can…

[They step out of the booth, and the booth door closes behind them. Footsteps. A drawer scrapes open and Gina starts digging through it.]

Actually, I don’t even know if I have extra batteries for the — I’ve never had to change them.

[The TV quietly drones on in the background.]

I’ve had that TV for two years but I barely watch it. And in two weeks of you being here, you have entirely drained the batteries. I thought you didn’t watch TV?

DRU: Iunno. Not much else to do from your couch.

GINA: Well, I find that work — you know, the thing that pays me? I manage to do that from home. As lots of people do nowadays. So, you maybe wanna join the fun and do some of that? Some work? Obviously not going door-to-door installing soundproofing, since…

DRU: Yeah, they fired me.

GINA: Yes, again, I’m sorry about that. I was actually going to say since you’ve been hearing the roar outside. The roar that I told you was real but you didn’t want to believe me until you heard it for yourself?

DRU: Oh, you mean that roar?

GINA: Yeah, that roar. [Laughs.] Dru’s over here trying to get a little sense of humor back, I see.

DRU: [Laughs.] Been watching a lot of Bernie Mac. Actually, watched all of Bernie Mac. [Laughs.]

GINA: I mean, you had time.

DRU: Maybe you adjusted to hearing that sound, but I — I’m struggling, Gina.

GINA: Adjusted? Who adjusted? Me?

DRU: For as much grief as I was giving you, you’re right. You’re right, Gina. You — you still manage to do your job.

GINA: I’m fortunate that most of what I do can be done online. And, believe me, Dru. I get that a lot of folks lost in-person jobs during this panna cotta. Maybe you can find something that you can do remotely.

[A wistful, tinkly synth beat comes in.]

DRU: It’s about more than getting back to work. I know I owe you for food and all that, Gina but… what I’m saying is… I can’t get back to me. I can’t find myself. My center. I used to meditate. I love meditation. Closing off everything and getting deep into flow. Just breathing and taking that time for it. When the world is so damn hard. Just saying, “No, no, no, no, no. No. You stop. You back up off me until I get to me.”

GINA: I mean, I guess. Shit, I talk to myself all the time. It’s always just me, me, me.

DRU: I noticed.

GINA: OK, Ms. Comedian. Now Dru trying to be too funny.

[A beat. Music fades out.]

Seriously, is meditating not working for you anymore?

[Dru shifts in her seat.]

DRU: I’m too afraid. I’m worried that if I get too quiet, if it’s just me and my breaths and… What if it happens?

GINA: You mean what if the noises come?

DRU: Yeah. What if the noises come?

GINA: Dru — I mean, I don’t know for sure, of course. But, I don’t think that’s how it works. It only happens when we go outside. Or open the door. It’s only out there.

DRU: But what if it’s not?

GINA: I — I don’t know. I don’t even — I can’t think about what that would… How about this… How about I order some batteries online? Shit, as much as we’ve been talking about them, that bitch Siri probably was listening and already has them on the way. [Laughs.] But in case she’s slipping, I’ll order them, OK? Yeah?

[An intriguing, anticipatory hip-hop beat fades in.]

Dru? I’ll get your batteries, OK?

DRU: Yeah. Yeah, thanks.

[Music continues for a few seconds, then ends.]

…

[Dru’s phone buzzes with an incoming call.]

DRU: Shit.

[It continues buzzing. Dru picks it up.]

DRU: Hey, Ronnie.

RONNIE (joking): Oh yeah, hey, Dru. Let’s just act real casual-like even though you haven’t been answering the phone when I call —

DRU: I — I know, Ronnie —

RONNIE: — or calling me back. “Hey, Ronnie.” What kind of shit is that?

DRU: I’m sorry.

RONNIE: Stop it, Dru. I’m just playing with you. I know you busy as hell. Shit, knowing you, we’ll probably see it on the news that a Confederate flag got mysteriously shoved up Trump’s butt. [Both laugh.] Although, he might’ve done that himself.

DRU: I know, right? [Laughs.]

RONNIE: Anyway, I was just calling to confirm you’ll be at the march. The team got the word out there — told everyone that the legendary Dru Allensworth is going to be there. No more Black Banksy.

[A beat. Dru sighs.]

Dru? You are gonna be there, right? I mean, everybody’s expecting —

DRU: Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Of course. Look, Ronnie, um… I’m gonna have to get of the phone so I can —

RONNIE: Ooh! Did I seriously catch you in the middle of some clandestine shit?

DRU: Eh, kinda-sorta.

RONNIE: OK, cool. Cool, cool. I’ma see you there.

[Call ends.]

DRU: [Sighs heavily.] Shit.

[A short, bouncy hip-hop beat plays.]

…

[Clicks of a remote cycling through TV channels. Over and over. Gina’s footsteps approach.]

GINA: Hey, Dru. What are you watching?

[Click.]

DRU: Nothing.

[Click. Click.]

GINA: OK then. We’ll, I’m gonna go take a bath and then do some work from my bedroom.

[Click.]

Wouldn’t want to disturb you. Is all. Because you’re clearly…

[Click. Click. Click.]

Good talk.

[Gina’s footsteps as she leaves the room. Then… Click. Click.]

DRU: Oh shit.

[She clicks back to the previous channel and turns the volume up. On TV, we hear a protest march.]

REPORTER: The rally was planned to honor young Visander Davis. March organizers apparently canceled the march, but people still showed up, as you can see. I’ve spoken with several protesters who say they’re not sure how to respond.

PROTESTER 1: Nobody told us it was canceled. I mean, you — you — you’ve got all of these people showing up for that young man, for his family — I came 700 miles to be here today. And the one person — the one person — who needs to be here, Dru Allensworth, doesn’t show up. Then we’re told it’s canceled, after we came all this way. It’s confusing, it’s — I — I don’t know. It — it just — it — it — it doesn’t make sense.

PROTESTER 2: This is what they want. They want to see us disorganized, not working together, not supporting that family. And we giving them exactly what they want. Nobody knows where to go. The police are out here, and we running scared instead of standing up.

REPORTER: Sounds like you’re pretty angry.

PROTESTER 2: Damn right I am. Where the hell is she? Where’s Dru Allensworth?

[Dru’s phone rings. She’s startled, clicks the TV off. Then, answers the phone.]

DRU: Ronnie. Why the hell did you cancel the march?

[On the phone, we can hear the beeps of a grocery store checkout line, behind Ronnie.]

RONNIE: You’ve got some nerve, Dru. I couldn’t find you. You were supposed to be our leader. How’s anyone supposed to follow you if we don’t even know where the hell — Where the hell are you?

DRU: I’m with a friend.

RONNIE: Who?

DRU: Ronnie…

RONNIE: Uh-uh, nope.

DRU: Look, Ronnie… it’s…

RONNIE: That right there. I asked you a real direct question, and you hemming and hawing. God, you got me out here sounding like an old lady. What — you see what you doing?

DRU: I’m sorry. I…

RONNIE: Don’t apologize. Just tell me what’s going on with you. Seriously. Where are you? Are you OK?

DRU: [Exhaling.] Um… I’m, uh… I’m sick, Ronnie.

RONNIE: Oh, shit. You caught it?

DRU: Wait — what — how do you —

RONNIE: The ’rona got you? Oh, shit, Dru. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even — it didn’t even occur to me that maybe — Oh, god, how bad is it? Are you alone? You need something — what do you need?

DRU: No, no, no, Ronnie, stop, stop. It’s… it’s not COVID.

RONNIE: Then what?

DRU: I don’t — hmm. I don’t know how to…

RONNIE: Dru, you’re scaring me now. Is it cancer? Are you — you got the cancer?

DRU: OK. OK, OK, just — let me try to explain this. Uh… There’s this… I don’t know, this condition. This, uh, thing that started happening. At first it was — you remember when I asked you about Gina?

RONNIE: Wait a minute. Hold the fuck up. This has something to do with that woman?

DRU: Ronnie, hold on. Just let me explain —

[The roar begins faintly, barely audible. It builds and builds as the conversation continues.]

DRU: Ronnie, stop. Where are you? Are you outside right now? Is that noise on your end?

[The roar ebbs slightly.]

RONNIE: I’m in the checkout line trying to buy bottled water for these people who came out here to march for that boy. What difference does it make where I am if you not here?

[The roar grows again, getting more intense.]

DRU: Shh, shh, shh. Do you hear that?

RONNIE (not hearing it): Dru, you still fucking around with that waste of melanin? With Gina? Dru, you’ve got to be kidding me.

[We can hardly hear Ronnie’s voice over the roar.]

DRU (panicking, hyperventilating): Ronnie. Ronnie! Ronnie, I can’t hear you — No, no! No! No, make it stop!

RONNIE: What?

[Dru is coming undone.]

Dru, what are you talking about?

[The roar is everywhere, but we hear a few more beeps on Ronnie’s end as items are scanned at the grocery store. Then, Dru ends the call. The roar is gone. Dru catches her breath and steadies herself.]

[Short intense but tinkly beat plays.]

…

[The TV remote click-click-clicks. We hear random ads and TV shows with each change of the channels. Then, Gina’s footsteps as she enters the room. She snatches the remote from Dru, and the TV turns off.]

GINA: Nope.

DRU: Gina, what are you doing? I was watching that.

GINA: No, Dru, you were not. You’ve been sitting on this damn couch for weeks now. And because I’ve been exactly where you are, I’ve tried to be patient and give you space to go through this. But when I say it has been weeks, weeks of clicking and clicking and clicking and you not landing on anything — if I hear one more half-episode of SVU… you don’t even find out who did the crime. Who watches TV like that?

DRU: I don’t really care who did it, though.

GINA: I know. It’s a distraction, I know. How about I give you a different distraction?

DRU: [Scoffs.] Like…?

[Gina walks away from Dru. Then, we hear the piano fallboard open.]

GINA: C’mon. You said you play, right?

[Gina plunks out a sad version of the first few notes of “Happy Birthday.”]

Gotta be better than me.

DRU: Gina, I haven’t played in a long time.

GINA: You ain’t got off that couch in a long time either. Just try it. You went through all the trouble of restringing it…

DRU: And tuning it.

GINA: See there?

DRU: OK. OK, OK. I’ll try.

[Dru walks across the room. The piano bench slides out, and Dru takes a seat.]

GINA: That’s my girl!

DRU: Not promising Mozart or anything.

GINA: That’s all right. Better than nothing.

[Gina walks a few paces away.]

DRU: Let’s see here… Um…

[A few notes.]

OK. Yeah.

[A melody. Dru hits a bad note.]

GINA: Oh, that’s not right.

[Dru hits more bad notes. Loudly. Suddenly, the roar.]

OK, maybe that’s enough for now, Dru.

[The roar gets louder, and Dru’s breathing grows panicked.]

Dru!

[The fallboard slams shut, and the roar stops.]

Dru! Dru… Are you OK?

[A short, club-style hip-hop beat plays.]

…

[The shower is running. Gina’s bracelets jangle and she knocks on the door.]

GINA (outside bathroom): Dru? You take as long as you want in there, yeah? I need to get some work done, so I’ll be out here. If you need anything.

[Gina walks away. Her phone vibrates and rings with an incoming call.]

GINA (answering phone): Hey, Constance.

CONSTANCE (on the phone): Hello, Gina. Been on Twitter lately?

GINA: Always, actually. And I’m fine, thanks for asking.

CONSTANCE: So you’ve seen how they’re excoriating your girl.

GINA: My girl?

CONSTANCE: Ms. Allensworth. That better?

GINA: Actually, yes.

CONSTANCE: They are turning against her. It’s vicious. And I want you to do a follow-up interview.

GINA: Can’t.

CONSTANCE: Why not?

GINA: Haven’t done the first interview? Look, Constance —

CONSTANCE: No. No, that’s good. The tone of that interview would’ve been all wrong. Too sympathetic.

GINA: Sure, yeah. Exactly what I was thinking.

CONSTANCE: Now you’ve got a chance to hit her hard. Make her squirm.

GINA: No, that was not what I was thinking at all.

CONSTANCE: Gina, we’re talking about the woman who single-handedly beheaded the Colonel Garrison statue on the Indianapolis Capitol steps. The woman who organized fifteen-thousand marchers in a day. A. Day. Dru Allensworth reinvigorated a movement. And now those same people she’s dedicated her life to are trash-talking her on the internet. And they’re right.

GINA: They’re opinionated.

CONSTANCE: They’re. Right.

GINA: Constance, let’s be honest. You don’t know what Dru’s dealing with right now. The pressure of holding up a movement, all on one Black woman’s back?

CONSTANCE: She disappeared, Gina. She abandoned her community.

GINA: Constance, stop. Internet love is fleeting. But so is the rage.

CONSTANCE: Which is why you need to capitalize on this moment of justifiable anger and interview the subject of all that animosity.

[A beat.]

I mean… that is of course if you can come through.

GINA: What? What are you getting at, Constance?

CONSTANCE: Dru Allensworth won’t talk to anyone. But you claim to have a direct line of communication.

GINA: Not a claim. I’m in regular communication with Dru Allensworth.

CONSTANCE: If you say so.

GINA: So, what? You don’t believe me now? What are you trying to say, Constance?

CONSTANCE: This is your last shot, Gina. Either come through with the interview you’ve been promising. Put Dru’s feet to the fire.

GINA: Or…?

CONSTANCE: Or we’ll have to reevaluate the book deal. We’ve only teased it in the press. Easy enough to walk it back.

GINA: Wow. That is… Constance, the — my book deal was never contingent upon any one interview.

CONSTANCE: There is a contingency — and you may wish to have your lawyers revisit the contract to confirm — a contingency that makes this all go away, Gina.

GINA: Oh, please. Quit being dramatic. I’m continuing to produce the podcasts. I’m at events. I’m holding up my end of this thing.

CONSTANCE: Then what are you forgetting? Hmm…? Ah, yes. Yes, yes, yes. Your relevancy. As a content creator, as an activist, as a commentator, as a — Should I go on?

GINA: I still do all those things, Constance. What is your point?

CONSTANCE: Of course, you do them. But does anyone care? Is anyone watching? You said yourself that this interview would get you more ears than you’ve had in a long while.

GINA: I just meant it would be a boost.

CONSTANCE: Gina, let — let — let’s be real. Everyone with a phone is a social-political critic. And some of the youth on TikTok are truly using the platform to push the needle, really say something worth listening to.

GINA: Wow. OK.

CONSTANCE: Gina, I’m not trying to be unkind here.

[A phone rings loudly in the background on Constance’s end.]

There are just so many important voices on the internet that we’re starting to wonder if this deal is still the best decision all the way around.

GINA: Got it. Well, thanks for putting that in perspective for me.

CONSTANCE: We can expect your interview with Dru Allensworth… when?

GINA: [Drawing in a breath.] Next few days, Constance.

CONSTANCE: Great. I’ve gotta run, jump on another call. Glad we got a chance to get some clarity.

GINA: Yeah. Sure. And I really feel like —

[Constance hangs up and the line goes dead.]

[A short, smooth hip-hop beat plays.]

…

[Drawers opening, closing. Gina digging through things.]

GINA: Shit, not there, not there. Where can I hide this phone so I can record… Hmm… What about…

[Piano fallboard opens.]

Inside the piano’s a tad ironic, but that could work. That could definitely — Oh, shit. Wait. That’s not gonna work. How’s it going to pick anything up through the… Y’know what, let me — let me just test it.

[The piano bench creaks as Gina shifts.]

All right, voice memo… record… there. Good. Now close it up and…

[Fallboard closes. Gina clears her throat. A single key plunks on the piano.]

GINA: Testing, testing…

[The door to the room opens and Dru walks in.]

Shit!

DRU: Hey, Gina? Sorry, I — didn’t mean to startle you.

GINA: No, it’s — it’s fine. I was just, um… I didn’t hear you. What’s up, Dru?

DRU: You trying to teach yourself piano? [Chuckles.] I was wondering how you could have that in your house and never even try. Here, I can show you some of the basics of playing —

[The fallboard squeaks as Dru starts to lift it. Gina slams it back down.]

GINA: No! No — I — no! No, no, no. [Trying to sound more nonchalant.] I mean, um… I wasn’t. I was just, uh, cleaning. And after learning your history with your grandmother and — and — and her rejecting you after you did such a beautiful job painting this piano for her. Just — the colors and the artistry — Wow, Dru. Y’know? Um. But I wouldn’t think of asking you to… I — I… and I really don’t have an ear for it. I don’t. I’ve tried. And I hated it. So. What are you up to? Seriously. I love that top on you, by the way.

DRU: Man, your mind goes a mile a minute. I can’t keep up with you sometimes.

GINA: [Fake-laughing.] I know, right? Girl. I had coffee this morning, you know? It was good, but I made it too strong. I — I cannot get that darn French press right to save my life. [Dru laughs.] You know, one day I make it great, the next day either I grind the beans too fine or the water’s too hot. I should switch to tea, like you.

DRU: Yeah, maybe decaf?

GINA: You are right. You are right. Mm-hmm. Mm. You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you… um, and, you know, since you’re here —

DRU: Where else am I going to be?

GINA: I know, right? So I’ll — I’ll just ask…

DRU: I already know what you’re gonna say, Gina. And, yes, I’ll try to use less water in the shower. I get that I’ve been here, you know, almost a month —

GINA: Twenty-two days, but who’s counting?

DRU: Oh, it’s like that?

GINA: I’m joking. Girl, I’m joking. But it has been twenty-two days. Yep. Actually, I am very grateful you’ve moved past the non-showering phase on the couch. And… on a real tip, I feel bad that, since this has happened to you —

DRU: Gina, it’s not your fault.

[Dark, contemplative piano music begins quietly.]

GINA: Oh no, I know that. I was going to say that ever since you’ve been staying here, I’ve not been as good a friend to you as you’ve been to me.

DRU: What are you talking about, Gina? These last twenty-two days would say otherwise.

GINA: I’m saying… I mean, you came over, tried taking care of me, tried getting me outside. Until, well… Anyway, you tried getting through to me and being supportive and I’ve never even asked you about… y’know… your struggles right now. I mean, for example, what it must feel like to have people think you’ve abandoned them. I mean, I don’t think that. Of course not. I mean, I know you can’t leave.

DRU: Can’t even open that front door. And… Wait — abandoned? What do you mean?

GINA: What do you mean, what do I — Oh, shit. Dru, have you not been online lately? Like, at all?

DRU: Eh, it’s been about a week since I’ve looked at Twitter. It got so frustrating that I — I couldn’t be out there. You know, because of this… situation. And I got damn sick of watching TV. As much as I tried to avoid it, I kept landing on the news channel talking about Visander Davis’ case, and… [Sighs.]

Wait, you know… Damn, are they really saying I abandoned them? Is — is that what the family saying? Or… I should call them or — or — I don’t know, I mean, how do I even explain why I haven’t been out in public?

GINA: That, I don’t think you can do, Dru. I mean, there’s not a logical way to explain this that anyone outside of it would understand. Maybe — maybe just don’t mention the actual “why.”

DRU: Tell me what are they saying? I mean — it’s bad, huh? It — it’s bad? Fuck. Shit, it’s bad.

GINA: You know what, let’s not worry about the haters and the naysayers. What would you — you know, I’m — I’m just curious — what would you say — I mean, not even a big speech or anything, though I know you were the one writing all of Ronnie Whitaker’s speeches — I’m not the only wordsmith here, I see. I see you, Dru.

[Music ends.]

DRU: [Half-laughs.] I don’t like being the one, you know, to draw attention. It’s never been about me. And Ronnie doesn’t mind, though.

GINA: Please. She loves it.

DRU: Maybe. Yeah, she does. [Laughs.] But I can’t stand that shit. There’s — there’s always a line. Like, is the applause for what you said — for the concept — for the sentiment? Or is it, you know — is part of it for the speaker? Like…

[Melancholy, sincere piano music begins.]

Is there a point — even when the cheers and the applause are all genuine — all on-message… but then the person giving the speech takes some of it for themself? You start feeling yourself, and who do you become? Do you say things a certain way to get the crowd to like you more?

GINA: I remember every time Barack sang.

DRU: Exactly. Couldn’t tell you what the rest of the speech was about or why he was even at an event, but folks will tell you how nice his voice was.

GINA: I mean, it was nice.

DRU: True, but do you get what I’m saying? Seriously, Gina. Even with me being “elusive” as you want to call it —

GINA: Because you are.

DRU: Even though I’ve made myself invisible, just posting facts and updates on my Twitter, giving out instructions to stay safe at the protests… even when I limit my interaction with the public so that they’re not given access to my personal info… people still try to make that a thing. “The Black Banksy.”

GINA: Sorry about that.

DRU: It’s not your fault, Gina.

GINA: Actually… I coined that phrase. That was me. So… it kinda was my fault…

DRU: Oh, wow. Oh… Wow…

GINA: Wordsmith, remember?

DRU: You won’t let me forget.

GINA: How about this, Dru… What would you say to… I dunno… to Visander’s family? About your absence? What would you want them to understand? Why haven’t you been there for them?

[Piano music ends.]

DRU: Well…

[Dru takes a deep breath to speak.]

[Short, upbeat, funky hip-hop beat plays.]

…

[Inside Gina’s recording booth. Her bracelets jangle. We hear typing, a few clicks. Her podcast’s theme music — a smooth hip-hop beat — begins, then plays underneath narration.]

GINA: This is your girl, Gina Gina. You know I don’t do IG Lives very often. But everyone’s been asking lately about Dru Allensworth, the activist who organizes rallies, knocks over Confederate statues — allegedly — and keeps things interesting. While remaining incognegro.

But lately, rallies and marches have gotten canceled — literally speaking. And Dru Allensworth is suddenly even more MIA than usual. Where is she? Why is she so quiet all of a sudden? Well, fam, I spoke with her. Yes, I did. And she’s got a lot to say. You’re going to be surprised by some of it. I want to play you a snippet of — you know what… I’m just going to play it. You can judge for yourselves.

[Theme music fades out. A few clicks.]

[Piano music that switches back and forth between sweet/hopeful and discordant begins.]

[Dru’s words — that Gina recorded — play.]

DRU (on recording): Well… I have reasons, but those are only going to come off sounding like excuses. What’s more vital, right now, than the fight for Black lives? So, yeah, anything personal that’s happening to me, my own shit… [Sighs.] How do I weigh the value and importance of that against this fight? I can’t.

[Emotional, teary-eyed.] Ultimately, I let Visander Davis down. I let his family down. What I would say to his family. What can I say? I am sorry for your supreme loss. For your grief. And for not being there to do what was expected of me. I wasn’t there to press, to hold people accountable, to…

[A beat.]

[Dark, foreboding string music takes over for the piano music.]

It wouldn’t have mattered, though. Would it? Seriously, would it? Even if I had been there, every day. Hell, even if I had been the one on the mic making the speeches. They still hate us. They still want — not just want us dead — they maintain laws — shit, they’re creating new laws every day. They don’t want us to vote, to live near them, to teach freakin’ history. They don’t want us here. They hate us. They. Hate. Us.

And all the speeches and marches and rallies don’t mean shit. Because their — [bitter laugh] their hate is taking on a different form. It’s big and it’s loud and it won’t be denied. We didn’t do anything to cause it, so what the hell can we do to stop it? This is on them. They made this monster.

And you know what, Gina? I am sorry. I’m sorry to that family. And all the families before and all the families after. But there’s not a damn thing I can do about it… I —

GINA (on recording): So what are you saying, Dru?

DRU (on recording): I… I like this couch. [She taps the couch for emphasis.] I hate it but I love it. I want to sit on it and watch Golden Girls and not lift a finger to do a damn thing. Except maybe soak in a long bath and wash my ass, which feels like an actual luxury — an indulgence, nowadays, just to take care of my body. To care for myself.

[Music ends.]

[Emotional, teary.] I don’t want to go back out there, Gina. I — I can’t. I’m saying — I’m saying… I’m tired. And I’m sorry. But I’m done.

[Short, Intense, chaotic piece of music plays.]

…

[Water filling a bathtub. Gina’s phone buzzes as a call comes in.]

GINA: Shit.

[She turns off the water, then calls out to Dru:] Dru, your bath’s ready, but just, uh, give me just a second, OK? I need to clean up a spill in here.

DRU (outside the door): OK, thanks.

GINA (answering the phone, covertly): Hey, Constance. Sorry, I’m in a —

CONSTANCE (on the phone): You’re a genius! A fucking genius. I doubted you. You know I doubted you, right?

GINA: Yes. That was quite clear.

CONSTANCE: Well, I was wrong to do so and I’ll never do it again. You are a genius. The response to your “snippet” — way to tease it, by the way. People are loving it. All of it. You, Dru Allensworth, the whole self-care angle —

GINA: It’s not really an “angle,” Constance.

CONSTANCE: You’re trending.

GINA: Say what?

CONSTANCE: You didn’t know? Gina Gina is trending. How could you not know? Where the hell are you? Why are you whispering?

[Dru knocks on the door.]

DRU: Gina, are you gonna be much longer? Because I —

GINA (calling to Dru): Twenty seconds, I swear.

CONSTANCE: Is that her? She’s there!?

GINA: Yeah, but —

CONSTANCE: Do a follow-up. Immediately. You should do a whole episode of the podcast — no, no! A two-parter. Maybe even three. You two are Black girl magic together.

GINA: Mm-mm, nope. I need you not to say that.

CONSTANCE: Gina. You turned things around for her. Everyone’s on Dru’s side again.

GINA: That’s good — that’s great to hear. It truly is, Constance. But I’ve got to go and, um, I’ll just —

CONSTANCE: Look, do your thing. We’ll chat later. I want to fill you in on the conversations we’ve been having here about a possible second book.

GINA: Another book? Seriously?

CONSTANCE: Look, I’ll have my assistant Dave send over some times and we’ll get a call scheduled. Oh, and Gina…

[The roar. It’s faint at first. Then it grows, drowning out Constance’s voice.]

GINA: Wait, what are you —

CONSTANCE: … Everyone is impressed with …

[The roar gets louder.]

GINA: What the hell is happening!? Constance! Constance, can you —?

[The roar is enormous. Gina breathes heavily, in pain. She ends the call. The roar disappears.]

Oh god. Oh god! [Sobbing.] Oh-god-oh-god-oh…

[Gina sobs hard. The door opens.]

DRU: Gina? What happened? Why are you on the floor? Did you fall?

GINA (still sobbing): Dru. Dru, I’m so sorry.

[Gina weeps, and we hear the tiny sounds of water moving in the tub.]

[Bouncy, driving music begins.]

…

MARK PAGÁN: In the final episode of a hit dog will holler…

RONNIE & CONSTANCE: Something’s happening.

RONNIE: Dru, you gotta get somewhere safe —

CONSTANCE: Gina, I don’t know what they’re talking about, but —

GINA: Constance, slow down.

DRU: Ronnie, take it easy.

CONSTANCE: People are reporting —

RONNIE: Dru, it’s everybody. It’s everybody Black.

[The roar drowns out the end of the music. Then, all we hear is the roar. A final shout reverberates.]

…

[Podcast theme plays: a mysterious, intriguing, driving hip-hop beat.]

SANDRA LOPEZ-MONSALVE: a hit dog will holler from Radiotopia was written by Inda Craig-Galván. It was produced and directed by Gisele Regatao. Mixing and sound design by me, Sandra Lopez-Monsalve, with help from Isabel Hibbard. The music theme is by Cristina Gaillard.

This podcast was recorded under a SAG-AFTRA Collective Bargaining Agreement. It features Cynthia K. McWilliams as Gina and Ronnie. J. Nicole Brooks as Dru. Jacqueline Guillen as Constance and the receptionist.

Thank you to WNYC News for the audio of Black Lives Matter protests.

Support for this project was provided in part by a PSC-CUNY Award, jointly funded by The Professional Staff Congress and The City University of New York.

For Radiotopia Presents, Mark Pagán is the producer. Production support from Yooree Losordo. Audrey Mardavich and Julie Shapiro are the executive producers.

For more information, go to radiotopiapresents.fm.

[Music ends.]

END OF EPISODE.

INDA CRAIG-GALVÁN: a hit dog will holler is written by me, Inda Craig-Galván.

This is a series that is grounded in some of the harsh realities for Black people in America. There might be some moments that feel sad, or that might feel frightening, or just loud. Please take care while listening. And after.

This is episode three: “she hears it too.”

…

[Footsteps. Water fills a tea kettle. On the stove, a gas burner turns on.]

GINA: All right, what’s going on in the news?

[Gina clicks on her laptop a few times.]

Barack came out with some eloquent, presidential words about this COVID situation. Meanwhile, the Orange Man insulted yet another ethnic minority at his latest rally — why is he even having these super spreader rallies? Well, we know why. He’s still gonna lose.

Oh, Barry. Just out here being decent and intelligent and — oh! Gotta make sure Constance sends him an advance copy of my book. Get on his year-end list. Between him and Oprah… ooh man, I would be set for life with one of those endorsing the book. OK, Barry, rally, segue into the —

[Tea kettle whistles.]

Oh shoot, that was fast.

[She turns the burner off. Whistling stops.]

[Calling:] Dru, I’ll have your tea for you in just a second, OK?

[A beat.]

Dru? Maybe she went to take a shower.

[Gina’s bracelets jangle. Water pours into the teacup.]

At least I hope she did. No shade. I mean, I have been there. I have really, really been there…

[Gina stirs the tea, hitting the walls of the teacup gently.]

OK, let me go ahead and record today’s podcast. It may be a short one.

[Gina yawns and slaps her cheeks to energize herself.]

Hoo! No time to be dragging.

[Gina walks toward the booth. Booth door opens, then closes. Her bracelets jangle, and she types quickly on her keyboard.]

GINA (inside the booth): Testing, testing…

[She clears her throat and does some vocal warm-ups.]

Mmm-wah! [She makes a few popping sounds with her lips.] Mmwah! [A sniff.]

Take one. Three, two…

[She clicks a button. Her podcast’s theme music — a smooth hip-hop beat — begins, then plays underneath narration.]

GINA (upbeat): Welcome back to Accounts Receivable. The podcast where we keep record, keep accounts, and of course, keep receipts. It’s your girl, Gina Gina.

Now, I truly could start doing a daily podcast rather than once a week because every single day, 45 — asterisk — sinks to a new low. I mean, every. Single. Day.

[Music ends.]

At today’s press briefing — and, by the way, I will be so glad to get back to seeing a president standing at that podium, briefing the press. Like, he just decided he didn’t want to because they made him look bad… because he is bad… and this nation didn’t insist that we continue the presidential precedent. We just let his ass say, “Nah.” Just, “nah.” Ridiculous.

So today at his own little COVID giveaway — I mean, rally — this man said —

[The booth door opens.]

DRU: Hey —

GINA (surprised): Shit!

DRU: — Gina.

[Booth door closes.]

Sorry, I…

GINA: You damn near gave me a heart attack. What the hell, Dru?

DRU: I’m — I’m sorry, Gina. I — I… Mm…

[An awkward beat.]

GINA: Dru?

DRU: Yeah?

GINA: What is it? What do you — do you need something?

DRU: Oh, um… the remote’s not working?

GINA: The TV remote?

DRU: Yeah. It — it’s OK if you — oh, were — were you — were you recording? You were — oh! — you were recording, weren’t you? I’m so sorry, Gina. Sorry…

GINA: Sorta-kinda, yeah. But, um… I can…

[They step out of the booth, and the booth door closes behind them. Footsteps. A drawer scrapes open and Gina starts digging through it.]

Actually, I don’t even know if I have extra batteries for the — I’ve never had to change them.

[The TV quietly drones on in the background.]

I’ve had that TV for two years but I barely watch it. And in two weeks of you being here, you have entirely drained the batteries. I thought you didn’t watch TV?

DRU: Iunno. Not much else to do from your couch.

GINA: Well, I find that work — you know, the thing that pays me? I manage to do that from home. As lots of people do nowadays. So, you maybe wanna join the fun and do some of that? Some work? Obviously not going door-to-door installing soundproofing, since…

DRU: Yeah, they fired me.

GINA: Yes, again, I’m sorry about that. I was actually going to say since you’ve been hearing the roar outside. The roar that I told you was real but you didn’t want to believe me until you heard it for yourself?

DRU: Oh, you mean that roar?

GINA: Yeah, that roar. [Laughs.] Dru’s over here trying to get a little sense of humor back, I see.

DRU: [Laughs.] Been watching a lot of Bernie Mac. Actually, watched all of Bernie Mac. [Laughs.]

GINA: I mean, you had time.

DRU: Maybe you adjusted to hearing that sound, but I — I’m struggling, Gina.

GINA: Adjusted? Who adjusted? Me?

DRU: For as much grief as I was giving you, you’re right. You’re right, Gina. You — you still manage to do your job.

GINA: I’m fortunate that most of what I do can be done online. And, believe me, Dru. I get that a lot of folks lost in-person jobs during this panna cotta. Maybe you can find something that you can do remotely.

[A wistful, tinkly synth beat comes in.]

DRU: It’s about more than getting back to work. I know I owe you for food and all that, Gina but… what I’m saying is… I can’t get back to me. I can’t find myself. My center. I used to meditate. I love meditation. Closing off everything and getting deep into flow. Just breathing and taking that time for it. When the world is so damn hard. Just saying, “No, no, no, no, no. No. You stop. You back up off me until I get to me.”

GINA: I mean, I guess. Shit, I talk to myself all the time. It’s always just me, me, me.

DRU: I noticed.

GINA: OK, Ms. Comedian. Now Dru trying to be too funny.

[A beat. Music fades out.]

Seriously, is meditating not working for you anymore?

[Dru shifts in her seat.]

DRU: I’m too afraid. I’m worried that if I get too quiet, if it’s just me and my breaths and… What if it happens?

GINA: You mean what if the noises come?

DRU: Yeah. What if the noises come?

GINA: Dru — I mean, I don’t know for sure, of course. But, I don’t think that’s how it works. It only happens when we go outside. Or open the door. It’s only out there.

DRU: But what if it’s not?

GINA: I — I don’t know. I don’t even — I can’t think about what that would… How about this… How about I order some batteries online? Shit, as much as we’ve been talking about them, that bitch Siri probably was listening and already has them on the way. [Laughs.] But in case she’s slipping, I’ll order them, OK? Yeah?

[An intriguing, anticipatory hip-hop beat fades in.]

Dru? I’ll get your batteries, OK?

DRU: Yeah. Yeah, thanks.

[Music continues for a few seconds, then ends.]

…

[Dru’s phone buzzes with an incoming call.]

DRU: Shit.

[It continues buzzing. Dru picks it up.]

DRU: Hey, Ronnie.

RONNIE (joking): Oh yeah, hey, Dru. Let’s just act real casual-like even though you haven’t been answering the phone when I call —

DRU: I — I know, Ronnie —

RONNIE: — or calling me back. “Hey, Ronnie.” What kind of shit is that?

DRU: I’m sorry.

RONNIE: Stop it, Dru. I’m just playing with you. I know you busy as hell. Shit, knowing you, we’ll probably see it on the news that a Confederate flag got mysteriously shoved up Trump’s butt. [Both laugh.] Although, he might’ve done that himself.

DRU: I know, right? [Laughs.]

RONNIE: Anyway, I was just calling to confirm you’ll be at the march. The team got the word out there — told everyone that the legendary Dru Allensworth is going to be there. No more Black Banksy.

[A beat. Dru sighs.]

Dru? You are gonna be there, right? I mean, everybody’s expecting —

DRU: Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Of course. Look, Ronnie, um… I’m gonna have to get of the phone so I can —

RONNIE: Ooh! Did I seriously catch you in the middle of some clandestine shit?

DRU: Eh, kinda-sorta.

RONNIE: OK, cool. Cool, cool. I’ma see you there.

[Call ends.]

DRU: [Sighs heavily.] Shit.

[A short, bouncy hip-hop beat plays.]

…

[Clicks of a remote cycling through TV channels. Over and over. Gina’s footsteps approach.]

GINA: Hey, Dru. What are you watching?

[Click.]

DRU: Nothing.

[Click. Click.]

GINA: OK then. We’ll, I’m gonna go take a bath and then do some work from my bedroom.

[Click.]

Wouldn’t want to disturb you. Is all. Because you’re clearly…

[Click. Click. Click.]

Good talk.

[Gina’s footsteps as she leaves the room. Then… Click. Click.]

DRU: Oh shit.

[She clicks back to the previous channel and turns the volume up. On TV, we hear a protest march.]

REPORTER: The rally was planned to honor young Visander Davis. March organizers apparently canceled the march, but people still showed up, as you can see. I’ve spoken with several protesters who say they’re not sure how to respond.

PROTESTER 1: Nobody told us it was canceled. I mean, you — you — you’ve got all of these people showing up for that young man, for his family — I came 700 miles to be here today. And the one person — the one person — who needs to be here, Dru Allensworth, doesn’t show up. Then we’re told it’s canceled, after we came all this way. It’s confusing, it’s — I — I don’t know. It — it just — it — it — it doesn’t make sense.

PROTESTER 2: This is what they want. They want to see us disorganized, not working together, not supporting that family. And we giving them exactly what they want. Nobody knows where to go. The police are out here, and we running scared instead of standing up.

REPORTER: Sounds like you’re pretty angry.

PROTESTER 2: Damn right I am. Where the hell is she? Where’s Dru Allensworth?

[Dru’s phone rings. She’s startled, clicks the TV off. Then, answers the phone.]

DRU: Ronnie. Why the hell did you cancel the march?

[On the phone, we can hear the beeps of a grocery store checkout line, behind Ronnie.]

RONNIE: You’ve got some nerve, Dru. I couldn’t find you. You were supposed to be our leader. How’s anyone supposed to follow you if we don’t even know where the hell — Where the hell are you?

DRU: I’m with a friend.

RONNIE: Who?

DRU: Ronnie…

RONNIE: Uh-uh, nope.

DRU: Look, Ronnie… it’s…

RONNIE: That right there. I asked you a real direct question, and you hemming and hawing. God, you got me out here sounding like an old lady. What — you see what you doing?

DRU: I’m sorry. I…

RONNIE: Don’t apologize. Just tell me what’s going on with you. Seriously. Where are you? Are you OK?

DRU: [Exhaling.] Um… I’m, uh… I’m sick, Ronnie.

RONNIE: Oh, shit. You caught it?

DRU: Wait — what — how do you —

RONNIE: The ’rona got you? Oh, shit, Dru. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even — it didn’t even occur to me that maybe — Oh, god, how bad is it? Are you alone? You need something — what do you need?

DRU: No, no, no, Ronnie, stop, stop. It’s… it’s not COVID.

RONNIE: Then what?

DRU: I don’t — hmm. I don’t know how to…

RONNIE: Dru, you’re scaring me now. Is it cancer? Are you — you got the cancer?

DRU: OK. OK, OK, just — let me try to explain this. Uh… There’s this… I don’t know, this condition. This, uh, thing that started happening. At first it was — you remember when I asked you about Gina?

RONNIE: Wait a minute. Hold the fuck up. This has something to do with that woman?

DRU: Ronnie, hold on. Just let me explain —

[The roar begins faintly, barely audible. It builds and builds as the conversation continues.]

DRU: Ronnie, stop. Where are you? Are you outside right now? Is that noise on your end?

[The roar ebbs slightly.]

RONNIE: I’m in the checkout line trying to buy bottled water for these people who came out here to march for that boy. What difference does it make where I am if you not here?

[The roar grows again, getting more intense.]

DRU: Shh, shh, shh. Do you hear that?

RONNIE (not hearing it): Dru, you still fucking around with that waste of melanin? With Gina? Dru, you’ve got to be kidding me.

[We can hardly hear Ronnie’s voice over the roar.]

DRU (panicking, hyperventilating): Ronnie. Ronnie! Ronnie, I can’t hear you — No, no! No! No, make it stop!

RONNIE: What?

[Dru is coming undone.]

Dru, what are you talking about?

[The roar is everywhere, but we hear a few more beeps on Ronnie’s end as items are scanned at the grocery store. Then, Dru ends the call. The roar is gone. Dru catches her breath and steadies herself.]

[Short intense but tinkly beat plays.]

…

[The TV remote click-click-clicks. We hear random ads and TV shows with each change of the channels. Then, Gina’s footsteps as she enters the room. She snatches the remote from Dru, and the TV turns off.]

GINA: Nope.

DRU: Gina, what are you doing? I was watching that.

GINA: No, Dru, you were not. You’ve been sitting on this damn couch for weeks now. And because I’ve been exactly where you are, I’ve tried to be patient and give you space to go through this. But when I say it has been weeks, weeks of clicking and clicking and clicking and you not landing on anything — if I hear one more half-episode of SVU… you don’t even find out who did the crime. Who watches TV like that?

DRU: I don’t really care who did it, though.

GINA: I know. It’s a distraction, I know. How about I give you a different distraction?

DRU: [Scoffs.] Like…?

[Gina walks away from Dru. Then, we hear the piano fallboard open.]

GINA: C’mon. You said you play, right?

[Gina plunks out a sad version of the first few notes of “Happy Birthday.”]

Gotta be better than me.

DRU: Gina, I haven’t played in a long time.

GINA: You ain’t got off that couch in a long time either. Just try it. You went through all the trouble of restringing it…

DRU: And tuning it.

GINA: See there?

DRU: OK. OK, OK. I’ll try.

[Dru walks across the room. The piano bench slides out, and Dru takes a seat.]

GINA: That’s my girl!

DRU: Not promising Mozart or anything.

GINA: That’s all right. Better than nothing.

[Gina walks a few paces away.]

DRU: Let’s see here… Um…

[A few notes.]

OK. Yeah.

[A melody. Dru hits a bad note.]

GINA: Oh, that’s not right.

[Dru hits more bad notes. Loudly. Suddenly, the roar.]

OK, maybe that’s enough for now, Dru.

[The roar gets louder, and Dru’s breathing grows panicked.]

Dru!

[The fallboard slams shut, and the roar stops.]

Dru! Dru… Are you OK?

[A short, club-style hip-hop beat plays.]

…

[The shower is running. Gina’s bracelets jangle and she knocks on the door.]

GINA (outside bathroom): Dru? You take as long as you want in there, yeah? I need to get some work done, so I’ll be out here. If you need anything.

[Gina walks away. Her phone vibrates and rings with an incoming call.]

GINA (answering phone): Hey, Constance.

CONSTANCE (on the phone): Hello, Gina. Been on Twitter lately?

GINA: Always, actually. And I’m fine, thanks for asking.

CONSTANCE: So you’ve seen how they’re excoriating your girl.

GINA: My girl?

CONSTANCE: Ms. Allensworth. That better?

GINA: Actually, yes.

CONSTANCE: They are turning against her. It’s vicious. And I want you to do a follow-up interview.

GINA: Can’t.

CONSTANCE: Why not?

GINA: Haven’t done the first interview? Look, Constance —

CONSTANCE: No. No, that’s good. The tone of that interview would’ve been all wrong. Too sympathetic.

GINA: Sure, yeah. Exactly what I was thinking.

CONSTANCE: Now you’ve got a chance to hit her hard. Make her squirm.

GINA: No, that was not what I was thinking at all.

CONSTANCE: Gina, we’re talking about the woman who single-handedly beheaded the Colonel Garrison statue on the Indianapolis Capitol steps. The woman who organized fifteen-thousand marchers in a day. A. Day. Dru Allensworth reinvigorated a movement. And now those same people she’s dedicated her life to are trash-talking her on the internet. And they’re right.

GINA: They’re opinionated.

CONSTANCE: They’re. Right.

GINA: Constance, let’s be honest. You don’t know what Dru’s dealing with right now. The pressure of holding up a movement, all on one Black woman’s back?

CONSTANCE: She disappeared, Gina. She abandoned her community.

GINA: Constance, stop. Internet love is fleeting. But so is the rage.

CONSTANCE: Which is why you need to capitalize on this moment of justifiable anger and interview the subject of all that animosity.

[A beat.]

I mean… that is of course if you can come through.

GINA: What? What are you getting at, Constance?

CONSTANCE: Dru Allensworth won’t talk to anyone. But you claim to have a direct line of communication.

GINA: Not a claim. I’m in regular communication with Dru Allensworth.

CONSTANCE: If you say so.

GINA: So, what? You don’t believe me now? What are you trying to say, Constance?

CONSTANCE: This is your last shot, Gina. Either come through with the interview you’ve been promising. Put Dru’s feet to the fire.

GINA: Or…?

CONSTANCE: Or we’ll have to reevaluate the book deal. We’ve only teased it in the press. Easy enough to walk it back.

GINA: Wow. That is… Constance, the — my book deal was never contingent upon any one interview.

CONSTANCE: There is a contingency — and you may wish to have your lawyers revisit the contract to confirm — a contingency that makes this all go away, Gina.

GINA: Oh, please. Quit being dramatic. I’m continuing to produce the podcasts. I’m at events. I’m holding up my end of this thing.

CONSTANCE: Then what are you forgetting? Hmm…? Ah, yes. Yes, yes, yes. Your relevancy. As a content creator, as an activist, as a commentator, as a — Should I go on?

GINA: I still do all those things, Constance. What is your point?

CONSTANCE: Of course, you do them. But does anyone care? Is anyone watching? You said yourself that this interview would get you more ears than you’ve had in a long while.

GINA: I just meant it would be a boost.

CONSTANCE: Gina, let — let — let’s be real. Everyone with a phone is a social-political critic. And some of the youth on TikTok are truly using the platform to push the needle, really say something worth listening to.

GINA: Wow. OK.

CONSTANCE: Gina, I’m not trying to be unkind here.

[A phone rings loudly in the background on Constance’s end.]

There are just so many important voices on the internet that we’re starting to wonder if this deal is still the best decision all the way around.

GINA: Got it. Well, thanks for putting that in perspective for me.

CONSTANCE: We can expect your interview with Dru Allensworth… when?

GINA: [Drawing in a breath.] Next few days, Constance.

CONSTANCE: Great. I’ve gotta run, jump on another call. Glad we got a chance to get some clarity.

GINA: Yeah. Sure. And I really feel like —

[Constance hangs up and the line goes dead.]

[A short, smooth hip-hop beat plays.]

…

[Drawers opening, closing. Gina digging through things.]

GINA: Shit, not there, not there. Where can I hide this phone so I can record… Hmm… What about…

[Piano fallboard opens.]

Inside the piano’s a tad ironic, but that could work. That could definitely — Oh, shit. Wait. That’s not gonna work. How’s it going to pick anything up through the… Y’know what, let me — let me just test it.

[The piano bench creaks as Gina shifts.]

All right, voice memo… record… there. Good. Now close it up and…

[Fallboard closes. Gina clears her throat. A single key plunks on the piano.]

GINA: Testing, testing…

[The door to the room opens and Dru walks in.]

Shit!

DRU: Hey, Gina? Sorry, I — didn’t mean to startle you.

GINA: No, it’s — it’s fine. I was just, um… I didn’t hear you. What’s up, Dru?

DRU: You trying to teach yourself piano? [Chuckles.] I was wondering how you could have that in your house and never even try. Here, I can show you some of the basics of playing —

[The fallboard squeaks as Dru starts to lift it. Gina slams it back down.]

GINA: No! No — I — no! No, no, no. [Trying to sound more nonchalant.] I mean, um… I wasn’t. I was just, uh, cleaning. And after learning your history with your grandmother and — and — and her rejecting you after you did such a beautiful job painting this piano for her. Just — the colors and the artistry — Wow, Dru. Y’know? Um. But I wouldn’t think of asking you to… I — I… and I really don’t have an ear for it. I don’t. I’ve tried. And I hated it. So. What are you up to? Seriously. I love that top on you, by the way.

DRU: Man, your mind goes a mile a minute. I can’t keep up with you sometimes.

GINA: [Fake-laughing.] I know, right? Girl. I had coffee this morning, you know? It was good, but I made it too strong. I — I cannot get that darn French press right to save my life. [Dru laughs.] You know, one day I make it great, the next day either I grind the beans too fine or the water’s too hot. I should switch to tea, like you.

DRU: Yeah, maybe decaf?

GINA: You are right. You are right. Mm-hmm. Mm. You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you… um, and, you know, since you’re here —

DRU: Where else am I going to be?

GINA: I know, right? So I’ll — I’ll just ask…

DRU: I already know what you’re gonna say, Gina. And, yes, I’ll try to use less water in the shower. I get that I’ve been here, you know, almost a month —

GINA: Twenty-two days, but who’s counting?

DRU: Oh, it’s like that?

GINA: I’m joking. Girl, I’m joking. But it has been twenty-two days. Yep. Actually, I am very grateful you’ve moved past the non-showering phase on the couch. And… on a real tip, I feel bad that, since this has happened to you —

DRU: Gina, it’s not your fault.

[Dark, contemplative piano music begins quietly.]

GINA: Oh no, I know that. I was going to say that ever since you’ve been staying here, I’ve not been as good a friend to you as you’ve been to me.

DRU: What are you talking about, Gina? These last twenty-two days would say otherwise.

GINA: I’m saying… I mean, you came over, tried taking care of me, tried getting me outside. Until, well… Anyway, you tried getting through to me and being supportive and I’ve never even asked you about… y’know… your struggles right now. I mean, for example, what it must feel like to have people think you’ve abandoned them. I mean, I don’t think that. Of course not. I mean, I know you can’t leave.

DRU: Can’t even open that front door. And… Wait — abandoned? What do you mean?

GINA: What do you mean, what do I — Oh, shit. Dru, have you not been online lately? Like, at all?

DRU: Eh, it’s been about a week since I’ve looked at Twitter. It got so frustrating that I — I couldn’t be out there. You know, because of this… situation. And I got damn sick of watching TV. As much as I tried to avoid it, I kept landing on the news channel talking about Visander Davis’ case, and… [Sighs.]

Wait, you know… Damn, are they really saying I abandoned them? Is — is that what the family saying? Or… I should call them or — or — I don’t know, I mean, how do I even explain why I haven’t been out in public?

GINA: That, I don’t think you can do, Dru. I mean, there’s not a logical way to explain this that anyone outside of it would understand. Maybe — maybe just don’t mention the actual “why.”

DRU: Tell me what are they saying? I mean — it’s bad, huh? It — it’s bad? Fuck. Shit, it’s bad.

GINA: You know what, let’s not worry about the haters and the naysayers. What would you — you know, I’m — I’m just curious — what would you say — I mean, not even a big speech or anything, though I know you were the one writing all of Ronnie Whitaker’s speeches — I’m not the only wordsmith here, I see. I see you, Dru.

[Music ends.]

DRU: [Half-laughs.] I don’t like being the one, you know, to draw attention. It’s never been about me. And Ronnie doesn’t mind, though.

GINA: Please. She loves it.

DRU: Maybe. Yeah, she does. [Laughs.] But I can’t stand that shit. There’s — there’s always a line. Like, is the applause for what you said — for the concept — for the sentiment? Or is it, you know — is part of it for the speaker? Like…

[Melancholy, sincere piano music begins.]

Is there a point — even when the cheers and the applause are all genuine — all on-message… but then the person giving the speech takes some of it for themself? You start feeling yourself, and who do you become? Do you say things a certain way to get the crowd to like you more?

GINA: I remember every time Barack sang.

DRU: Exactly. Couldn’t tell you what the rest of the speech was about or why he was even at an event, but folks will tell you how nice his voice was.

GINA: I mean, it was nice.

DRU: True, but do you get what I’m saying? Seriously, Gina. Even with me being “elusive” as you want to call it —

GINA: Because you are.

DRU: Even though I’ve made myself invisible, just posting facts and updates on my Twitter, giving out instructions to stay safe at the protests… even when I limit my interaction with the public so that they’re not given access to my personal info… people still try to make that a thing. “The Black Banksy.”

GINA: Sorry about that.

DRU: It’s not your fault, Gina.

GINA: Actually… I coined that phrase. That was me. So… it kinda was my fault…

DRU: Oh, wow. Oh… Wow…

GINA: Wordsmith, remember?

DRU: You won’t let me forget.

GINA: How about this, Dru… What would you say to… I dunno… to Visander’s family? About your absence? What would you want them to understand? Why haven’t you been there for them?

[Piano music ends.]

DRU: Well…

[Dru takes a deep breath to speak.]

[Short, upbeat, funky hip-hop beat plays.]

…

[Inside Gina’s recording booth. Her bracelets jangle. We hear typing, a few clicks. Her podcast’s theme music — a smooth hip-hop beat — begins, then plays underneath narration.]

GINA: This is your girl, Gina Gina. You know I don’t do IG Lives very often. But everyone’s been asking lately about Dru Allensworth, the activist who organizes rallies, knocks over Confederate statues — allegedly — and keeps things interesting. While remaining incognegro.

But lately, rallies and marches have gotten canceled — literally speaking. And Dru Allensworth is suddenly even more MIA than usual. Where is she? Why is she so quiet all of a sudden? Well, fam, I spoke with her. Yes, I did. And she’s got a lot to say. You’re going to be surprised by some of it. I want to play you a snippet of — you know what… I’m just going to play it. You can judge for yourselves.

[Theme music fades out. A few clicks.]

[Piano music that switches back and forth between sweet/hopeful and discordant begins.]

[Dru’s words — that Gina recorded — play.]

DRU (on recording): Well… I have reasons, but those are only going to come off sounding like excuses. What’s more vital, right now, than the fight for Black lives? So, yeah, anything personal that’s happening to me, my own shit… [Sighs.] How do I weigh the value and importance of that against this fight? I can’t.

[Emotional, teary-eyed.] Ultimately, I let Visander Davis down. I let his family down. What I would say to his family. What can I say? I am sorry for your supreme loss. For your grief. And for not being there to do what was expected of me. I wasn’t there to press, to hold people accountable, to…

[A beat.]

[Dark, foreboding string music takes over for the piano music.]

It wouldn’t have mattered, though. Would it? Seriously, would it? Even if I had been there, every day. Hell, even if I had been the one on the mic making the speeches. They still hate us. They still want — not just want us dead — they maintain laws — shit, they’re creating new laws every day. They don’t want us to vote, to live near them, to teach freakin’ history. They don’t want us here. They hate us. They. Hate. Us.

And all the speeches and marches and rallies don’t mean shit. Because their — [bitter laugh] their hate is taking on a different form. It’s big and it’s loud and it won’t be denied. We didn’t do anything to cause it, so what the hell can we do to stop it? This is on them. They made this monster.

And you know what, Gina? I am sorry. I’m sorry to that family. And all the families before and all the families after. But there’s not a damn thing I can do about it… I —

GINA (on recording): So what are you saying, Dru?

DRU (on recording): I… I like this couch. [She taps the couch for emphasis.] I hate it but I love it. I want to sit on it and watch Golden Girls and not lift a finger to do a damn thing. Except maybe soak in a long bath and wash my ass, which feels like an actual luxury — an indulgence, nowadays, just to take care of my body. To care for myself.

[Music ends.]

[Emotional, teary.] I don’t want to go back out there, Gina. I — I can’t. I’m saying — I’m saying… I’m tired. And I’m sorry. But I’m done.

[Short, Intense, chaotic piece of music plays.]

…

[Water filling a bathtub. Gina’s phone buzzes as a call comes in.]

GINA: Shit.

[She turns off the water, then calls out to Dru:] Dru, your bath’s ready, but just, uh, give me just a second, OK? I need to clean up a spill in here.

DRU (outside the door): OK, thanks.

GINA (answering the phone, covertly): Hey, Constance. Sorry, I’m in a —

CONSTANCE (on the phone): You’re a genius! A fucking genius. I doubted you. You know I doubted you, right?

GINA: Yes. That was quite clear.

CONSTANCE: Well, I was wrong to do so and I’ll never do it again. You are a genius. The response to your “snippet” — way to tease it, by the way. People are loving it. All of it. You, Dru Allensworth, the whole self-care angle —

GINA: It’s not really an “angle,” Constance.

CONSTANCE: You’re trending.

GINA: Say what?

CONSTANCE: You didn’t know? Gina Gina is trending. How could you not know? Where the hell are you? Why are you whispering?

[Dru knocks on the door.]

DRU: Gina, are you gonna be much longer? Because I —

GINA (calling to Dru): Twenty seconds, I swear.

CONSTANCE: Is that her? She’s there!?

GINA: Yeah, but —

CONSTANCE: Do a follow-up. Immediately. You should do a whole episode of the podcast — no, no! A two-parter. Maybe even three. You two are Black girl magic together.

GINA: Mm-mm, nope. I need you not to say that.

CONSTANCE: Gina. You turned things around for her. Everyone’s on Dru’s side again.

GINA: That’s good — that’s great to hear. It truly is, Constance. But I’ve got to go and, um, I’ll just —

CONSTANCE: Look, do your thing. We’ll chat later. I want to fill you in on the conversations we’ve been having here about a possible second book.

GINA: Another book? Seriously?

CONSTANCE: Look, I’ll have my assistant Dave send over some times and we’ll get a call scheduled. Oh, and Gina…

[The roar. It’s faint at first. Then it grows, drowning out Constance’s voice.]

GINA: Wait, what are you —

CONSTANCE: … Everyone is impressed with …

[The roar gets louder.]

GINA: What the hell is happening!? Constance! Constance, can you —?

[The roar is enormous. Gina breathes heavily, in pain. She ends the call. The roar disappears.]

Oh god. Oh god! [Sobbing.] Oh-god-oh-god-oh…

[Gina sobs hard. The door opens.]

DRU: Gina? What happened? Why are you on the floor? Did you fall?

GINA (still sobbing): Dru. Dru, I’m so sorry.

[Gina weeps, and we hear the tiny sounds of water moving in the tub.]

[Bouncy, driving music begins.]

…

MARK PAGÁN: In the final episode of a hit dog will holler…

RONNIE & CONSTANCE: Something’s happening.

RONNIE: Dru, you gotta get somewhere safe —

CONSTANCE: Gina, I don’t know what they’re talking about, but —

GINA: Constance, slow down.

DRU: Ronnie, take it easy.

CONSTANCE: People are reporting —

RONNIE: Dru, it’s everybody. It’s everybody Black.

[The roar drowns out the end of the music. Then, all we hear is the roar. A final shout reverberates.]

…

[Podcast theme plays: a mysterious, intriguing, driving hip-hop beat.]

SANDRA LOPEZ-MONSALVE: a hit dog will holler from Radiotopia was written by Inda Craig-Galván. It was produced and directed by Gisele Regatao. Mixing and sound design by me, Sandra Lopez-Monsalve, with help from Isabel Hibbard. The music theme is by Cristina Gaillard.

This podcast was recorded under a SAG-AFTRA Collective Bargaining Agreement. It features Cynthia K. McWilliams as Gina and Ronnie. J. Nicole Brooks as Dru. Jacqueline Guillen as Constance and the receptionist.

Thank you to WNYC News for the audio of Black Lives Matter protests.

Support for this project was provided in part by a PSC-CUNY Award, jointly funded by The Professional Staff Congress and The City University of New York.

For Radiotopia Presents, Mark Pagán is the producer. Production support from Yooree Losordo. Audrey Mardavich and Julie Shapiro are the executive producers.

For more information, go to radiotopiapresents.fm.

[Music ends.]

END OF EPISODE.