Down by Law

by Ni-Ni Simone

  “Isis, when I got on that bus, I didn’t know where I was going. All I knew is that I had to leave and get away from everything. And I was wrong to leave you. I know that now. But I was empty. I need you to understand that. I didn’t have nothing. I was a whore, living with a pimp, yo’ daddy, and the life we lived was hell. And I was tired of hell. My mother died when I was seven. I never knew my father. My aunt raised me and she didn’t wanna do that. So I ran away at fourteen and I met Zeke. I thought he was the answer to everything, but he wasn’t.”

  “So you ran away again and left me here.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “And triflin’.” The cab pulled up at a red light. “I’m outta here.”

  “Isis, I’m not letting you go anywhere!”

  “Screw you!” I hopped out of the cab and ran across the street.

  Queenie hopped out behind me. “Where are you going?!”

  “I don’t know ’cause I don’t have anywhere to go!” I was trying to hold myself together, but I couldn’t. “Do you understand how tired I am? I was selling weed trying to make it on my own. Went to jail! Now I’m out. I don’t have nowhere to turn. Nowhere to go! I don’t have nothing! Nothing! And now you wanna come and take what little I do have away from me!”

  “And what little is that? Your boyfriend? Let me tell you something, I been exactly where you are, and all he is going to do for you is pull you down. And if you think for one minute that he loves you—”

  “I know you of all people are not about to lecture me about love. What? You love me? Really? Is that how you love your child, by leaving them? You think I wanna be with Fresh like this? Depending on him? You think I don’t want to be away from him?! Do you see what he did to my face?”

  Tears streamed down Queenie’s face. “Isis, I’m so, so sorry. I am. And I am willing to spend the rest of my life making it up to you. But if you want out, truly, truly want out then I need you to listen to me.”

  “Listen to you for what?”

  “Before you were brought into court today, I had a conversation with the detective. And he came up with a plan.”

  43

  Till infinity

  I promised Queenie that I wouldn’t run away but told her that I needed her to give me a minute to breathe. At first I wasn’t sure where I was going... all I knew was that I needed a minute to myself.

  I rang K-Rock’s bell and prayed that he answered the door. I wrung my hands and tapped the balls of my sneakers, as I pressed the bell again.

  Ding . . . dong...

  A few moments later the knob and the lock jiggled from the other side.

  K-Rock. Thank you, Jesus.

  He opened the door and said, surprised, “Icy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Come in.” He closed the door behind me. “Wassup? What you doing here?”

  “K-Rock, I really need to talk to you.”

  “Sure, baby. What’s going on?” He sat down on the edge of the couch.

  My throat swelled with tears, as I slid my glasses off and untied my hood. K-Rock looked into my face and jumped up. He walked over to me and lightly grabbed my cheek. “Yo, what the . . . what happened to you? And don’t tell me nothin’ about Yvette, ’cause I’m not gon’ believe it.”

  I shook my head. “Not Yvette. My boyfriend—”

  “Your boyfriend? He did this to you? Where he at? ’Cause I’ma handle him today. This gon’ be the last time he puts his hands on you.”

  “No, please. I don’t need you to do that. I need you to listen to me.”

  “I don’t need to listen. You’ve already said enough. He did this to you and now I’m about to go and see about him.”

  “Would you listen to me?! I need to tell you this!”

  “Tell me what?”

  “He had on Schooly’s watch.”

  “What?”

  “Yes. He came out the bedroom with Schooly’s watch on. I confronted him and things got ugly.”

  “Wait. Hold up. Who’s your boyfriend? What’s his name?”

  “They call him Fresh.”

  K-Rock looked at me like I was crazy. “You over there chillin’ wit’ Fresh? Do you know that’s Snoop’s cousin? Snoop, who killed Schooly. Snoop, who Face killed.”

  “I know that now! But I didn’t know he was anything to Snoop. And he just found out I was Face’s sister and he went ballistic on me!”

  “You lucky he didn’t kill you! You hardheaded! I keep telling you to leave these streets alone, but you don’t listen to nobody. You think you know everything. Now I got to go out there and risk my freedom ’cause I’ma have to put a bullet in his head, ’cause if I don’t he most definitely gon’ put one in yours.”

  “I don’t need you to do that! I need you to just be here for me. Give me a moment to figure things out. I’m messed up right now, Queenie showed up at the courthouse.”

  “She did what?”

  “You heard me. After all this time, she just appears like I’m supposed to run off in the sunset so we can chill. Well, that ain’t happening. And you know I can’t go back to my grandmother’s house.”

  “You can go back to your grandmother’s. You just don’t wanna humble yourself and apologize.”

  “Apologize for what? She put me out!”

  “Listen, your grandmother loves you. Otherwise she would’ve never took you in.”

  “I’m not going back there. I’m not.”

  “Well, you can’t go back to Fresh’s.”

  “I have to.”

  “What, you got a death wish? Who do you think you playing with? Do you know how dangerous he is? How much do you even know about this dude? You know he’s my age right?”

  “Yeah, but he ain’t you.”

  “No, he ain’t me, ’cause I would never put my hands on you!”

  “Yeah, you would never hit your lil sis.” I sucked my teeth. “You know what?” I slid my shades back on. “I got this.”

  “You got what? You don’t have nothin’. That’s your problem—you don’t never wanna deal with nothin’. I don’t know what you tryna be so tough for. You think I don’t know you checkin’ for me? You know how long I been checkin’ for you? But you was too young—”

  “And what about now?! Or are you going to keep lying to yourself!”

  He walked over to me and pressed his forehead against mine. “No. I’m not going to keep lying to myself. I want you. I do. But I need you to get yourself together. All this selling weed and going to jail. And Fresh. It’s too much. I ain’t in that life no more.”

  “But this is all I know.”

  “Learn something different then.”

  I stared at K-Rock and looked deeply into his eyes. He was everything I wanted and more. But this wasn’t about him. This was about saving my life. “You’re right. I need to learn something different. Do something different. But first I got some unfinished business I need to take care of with Fresh.”

  “And what’s that?”

  I smiled and brushed him softly with a kiss. “Listen to this . . .”

  44

  Criminal minded

  Ring . . . ring...

  “Hello.”

  “Hello. This is Isis Carter. Remember me . . . ?”

  “Yes. I sure do.”

  “Well, remember you said that you needed me? Well, now I need you.” I chuckled. “And no. I don’t need air to breathe. Okay. Yes. I can meet you in an hour. Thank you.” Click.

  By the time I got back to Fresh’s, he was on the phone yelling about having no connect. I walked into the kitchen and looked him dead in the eyes. Before he could tell me to leave or get pissed off about me being here I placed a duffel bag filled with five pounds of marijuana in front of him.

  Fresh hung up the phone without even saying good-bye. “Yo, where you get this from?” he said to me, like he was seeing things.

  “I got it from my brother’s homeboy.”

  “Homeboy? What’s his name?”

  I hesitated. “I
t’s Rick. And he owed me a favor, so I asked him to hook me up with his weed connect and he did.”

  “What?” He gave me a suspicious smirk.

  “Yeah. I got us some weight. And I know things are tough for you right now, so I bought that for you. And if you want, I can introduce you to him, and you two can take things from there.”

  “And where is your mother?”

  “She’s not going to bother us. I promise.”

  “Your brother’s homeboy?” He frowned. “I already don’t trust him.”

  “Nah, baby, he’s good people. I promise you. He’s a friend of the family. K-Rock knows him too. And I know you’re in a tight spot, which is why I wanted to check things out and get that for you myself.” I pointed to the table. “Hopefully, this’ll help us get back on the right track and get past all of the nonsense trying to get in between us.”

  Fresh didn’t say anything. He just stared at me.

  “I’m saying, baby, just take the weed and push it. And if you want, I’ll set up a meeting, introduce you to him, and you two can take it from there.”

  He hesitated. “Okay. A’ight. Call him up. ’Cause I’ma need more than five pounds. I’ma need at least ten more. You think he could do that?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. I mean, I just got five from him, so he should be able to do ten.”

  I picked up the phone and quickly dialed the number. “Johnson, hey, wassup. It’s Isis. Can you get back in touch with Nice for me? ’Cause Fresh needs to get a little bit more.”

  “Okay,” Johnson said. “Say no more. Meet me in three hours at the spot.” Click. I looked at Fresh after I hung up and said, “Done.”

  “A’ight.”

  Three hours later, as Fresh and I drove to the spot, he smiled and told me about another meeting he had set up for tomorrow for a new coke connect. “That’s beautiful, baby.” I forced myself to smile.

  “I know it’s been rough, Isis. But once I get my money rolling in again and my connects in place, baby, we gon’ be straight. I promise you that.”

  “Pull over there,” I said, pointing to where Johnson stood in front of a short brick building. “There he is.”

  Once we were out of the car Fresh tapped the side of his pants and adjusted his gun. Then he slung his duffel bag, filled with money, over his shoulder.

  “Johnson, this is Fresh and, Fresh, this is Johnson,” I said, as Fresh and I walked over to him.

  They gave each other dap. “Oh, so this is Fresh,” Johnson said. “A’ight. A’ight. Good to meet you, come on inside.” He walked us into a sparsely furnished one-bedroom apartment.

  “Appreciate you hooking me up, man,” Fresh said. “My connects got locked up and ain’t nothin’ been right since.”

  “I understand that,” Johnson said.

  “The streets been drying up for me and I just need a little something to get me back straight.”

  “So what you need?”

  “You got ten for me?”

  “Yeah. Give me a minute.” Johnson walked into the back of the apartment and quickly returned with a garbage bag filled with weed.

  Fresh’s face lit up as he and Johnson made an even exchange.

  Johnson placed the duffel bag on the floor, while Fresh looked through the garbage bag and inspected the weed. “A’ight, this is lookin’ right.”

  “I bet it is,” Johnson spat. “Now hold your head up and place your hands behind your back.”

  “What?!” Fresh jerked his head up and Johnson had his gun drawn and pointed at him. Fresh reached for his gun, but before he was able to retrieve it, the room filled with police. “You have the right to remain silent,” Detective Johnson said to Fresh.

  “You set me up!” Fresh yelled. “I can’t believe this, after everything I’ve done for you! This is what you do!”

  “So what you gon’ bitch up, ’cause you got locked up? Charge it to the game.”

  EPILOGUE

  Two years later

  “I hope you all heard me and took notes.” I looked around the room at the small group of troubled youth. “My life wasn’t easy. I had to fight for everything I had. And I made some terrible decisions, which is what I don’t want you all to do.”

  “How did you make it? I don’t know if I could’ve survived all of that,” one of the girls said.

  “I had no choice but to make it work for me. Like my mother once told me, I’m a survivor.”

  “How’s your relationship with your mother now, Isis?”

  “It’s better. It took some time though. After Fresh was arrested, I moved down here to Atlanta to live with my mother. We had to get to know each other and we’re still learning.”

  A young man raised his hand. “Do you think you’re a snitch for what you did? In my hood, you don’t run your mouth like that.”

  “Young man!” one of the counselors admonished.

  “No.” I smiled. “It’s okay. You know what, all that ‘don’t snitch, don’t tell’ is crazy. When your life or somebody else’s life is in danger, you have to do what’s right. How long do you think I could’ve lived with Fresh before he killed me? Or tossed me out into the street? Or I was arrested again because of some drugs he had in the house? Not long. I had to do the right thing. For me. And for my brother, Schooly.”

  “So did you take back the watch?”

  “I sure did.”

  Another young man raised his hand. “So what about your friends?”

  “Well, Munch and Cali are both in college, like me. Except they are still in New Jersey.”

  “Are you still friends?”

  “Yes. We’re not as close as we used to be, but we still talk and catch up.”

  “What about K-Rock?”

  “I’m still here,” K-Rock said from the back of the room. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  All I could do was blush.

  “What about Yvette?” someone shouted from the back of the room.

  “Yvette is still out there in the streets. I’m hoping and praying that one day she’ll be standing here able to tell her story. I thank you all for listening to me and I truly hope that if nothing else, hearing everything that I’ve gone through will make a difference.”

  A READING GROUP GUIDE

  DOWN BY LAW

  Ni-Ni Simone

  ABOUT THIS GUIDE

  The following questions are intended to

  enhance your group’s reading of

  DOWN BY LAW.

  Discussion Questions

  1. Down By Law takes place in the 1980s. What do you think would’ve been different had the story taken place today? What do think would’ve been the same?

  2. What do you think it means to be down by law?

  3. The first chapter is titled “The Message.” What message do you believe Isis received from her parents? How do you think this message influenced her decisions in life? Do you believe Isis’s parents gave her brothers the same message?

  4. Face was Isis’s oldest brother. What influence do you believe he had over her life? Do you know anyone who has a brother like Face?

  5. How do you think Face, K-Rock, and Isis robbing the drug dealers changed their lives forever? In what way?

  6. How do you think Isis’s life would’ve been different had Schooly not been killed?

  7. What kind of mother do you think Queenie was? Do you think she loved Isis? What do you think of her leaving Isis with Nana? Do you know any mothers like Queenie?

  8. What kind of father do you think Zeke was? Do you think he loved Isis? Why do you think he treated her the way he did when she went to see him on her sixteenth birthday?

  9. What did you think of K-Rock? What did you think of his decision to change his life? What did you think of his parents?

  10. What do you think Yvette’s future will be?

  Don’t Miss

  Caught Up

  by Amir Abrams

  School’s out and sixteen-year-old Kennedy Simms is

  bored. That could be a recipe
for disaster . . .

  Available wherever books and ebooks are sold.

  Turn the page for an excerpt from Caught Up . . .

  1

  Swaggerlicious. That’s the word that comes to mind to describe this dark-skinned cutie-pie standing in front of me with the gold fronts in his mouth, pierced ears, and an arm covered in intricately designed tattoos trying to get his rap on. Swag plus delicious equals swaggerlicious. Not that that’s a real word found in Webster’s dictionary or anything. No. It’s found in the hood. It oozes out of the music. It jumps out at you in the videos. It’s splattered all over the pages of Vibe and XXL and every other hip-hop magazine there is. It’s flooded in the pages of every urban fiction novel I’ve coveted over the last two years. It airs on Love & Hip Hop and BET. Okay, okay, maybe there’s more ratchetness than swaggerlicousness on those TV shows. Still . . . it’s there. That hood swag.

  And it’s my guilty craving. It’s my dirty secret.

  I want it.

  Swag.

  I ache to know what it’s like to be caught up in the excitement of the fast-paced street life found across the other side of town—right smack in the heart of the hood, where I am not ever allowed to be. Where the streets are hot and alive and full of excitement.

  God, my parents would have a full-fledged heart attack if they knew I was saying this, that I’m attracted to the hood life. Fascinated and intrigued by it.

  See. I’m from the suburbs. Live in a gated community. And swag doesn’t exist here. Not in my eyes. Not in my opinion. And definitely not in the way it lives and breathes in the hood. Or in the ghetto, as my mom would call it.

  But I personally don’t think there’s anything ghetto about the hood. I think ghetto is a state of mind as well as a state of being. And I definitely don’t think everyone who lives in the hood is ghetto. But of course, my parents, particularly my mom, would beg to differ. Whatever.