Criminal Minded

by Tracy Brown

  “Why couldn’t you find a black girlfriend, La?” she asked.

  I laughed. “Lucky’s half black, Olivia.”

  “Half, my ass! She don’t look black.”

  I smiled at her. “Is my baby sister jealous?” I asked.

  “Jealous?” Olivia stood with her hands on her hips. “Why would you say something stupid like that?”

  “Because you’re telling me that Lucky’s not black enough. I guess that means Zion’s not black enough, either.”

  Olivia knew she was busted. She was trying to act like Lucky’s heritage was what was bothering her, but I knew her better than that. She smiled because I saw through her bullshit.

  “Well, I don’t like her ’cause she takes up all your time these days,” Olivia admitted. “I never get to see you anymore.”

  It felt good to be missed. I hugged Olivia and then smacked her in the head. “Stop your whining,” I told her. “There’s enough of me to go around.”

  Olivia wasn’t laughing. “Seriously, Lamin. I wish you still lived at home. Ma’s been acting real weird lately.”

  “Weird, how?”

  Olivia shook her head. “I can’t put my finger on it. She’s been really quiet. She lays in bed all day. She just seems depressed.”

  “Depressed about what? Wally’s fat, ugly ass is still there, right?” I couldn’t stand that muthafucka.

  “Yeah, he’s still there. But things are just different in that house all of a sudden. I wish you were still there, Lamin.” Olivia looked like she’d lost her best friend.

  I still had some good memories about my moms despite all her bullshit. “She still make them pancakes on Sundays?” I asked.

  Olivia’s face lit up. “Yup. With the butter and the—”

  “Don’t rub it in.”

  “Oh, did I get carried away?” Olivia joked.

  I smiled. “Don’t worry. In a few months you’ll be a grown woman, and I bet you’ll move out as soon as you turn eighteen.”

  Olivia shook her head. “Nope. I don’t have no bills and no responsibilities. I ain’t going nowhere.”

  “Spoiled brat!” I smacked her in the head with the dishcloth.

  Olivia chased me back into the living room, and to my relief, she gave Lucky a chance. By the end of the night, the two of them were discussing the latest fashions and hairstyles like old friends. I couldn’t have been happier. The two women in my life were becoming friends.

  My next order of business was taking Lucky with me to visit Curtis. Up to that point, I hadn’t introduced Lucky to that part of my life. She had met Zion, and I think she suspected that the two of us made our money by not so traditional means. But taking her to a prison was the true test. I wanted to see how real she was.

  When we first got there, Lucky wouldn’t let go of my hand. I could tell she was nervous. But once Curtis came out, and me and him got to talking, Lucky relaxed. She loosened up and Curtis really liked her.

  “How come there were no girls like you on Staten Island before I got locked up?” Curtis asked her with a smile.

  Lucky was gassed. “When you come home, I’ll hook you up with one of my girls. Don’t worry.” Curtis told her that he planned to take her up on that offer.

  By the end of the visit, they were laughing and joking like they’d known each other for years. When Lucky excused herself to go to the bathroom, I got the 411.

  “So what you think, Curtis? Be honest.”

  Curtis nodded his approval. “Shorty got the fat ass …” My cousin gave me a pound. “She seems perfect for you. She’s pretty and she’s not conceited. You got lucky for real when you found her.”

  I was very happy to hear him say that. “Yo, I’m feeling her.”

  Curtis looked envious as if he would give anything to spend time with a female for a change. Then he smiled mischievously. “You hittin’ that yet?”

  I shook my head, embarrassed. Curtis laughed. “Damn, cousin. I see you still ain’t got no game. after all these years.”

  Curtis laughed at my expense, and I allowed him to. It was good to see my cousin laughing and smiling. I still worried about him, and it made me feel better knowing that he was still in good spirits. I was glad that he liked Lucky so much. She had gotten a perfect score on each one of my tests.

  Curtis

  At first, when I found out that Lamin was doing some illegal shit to get money, I was worried about him. Being in jail was worse than any of my scariest nightmares. The last thing I wanted was for my cousin to find himself enduring the same horrors that I was being subjected to. I didn’t want Lamin to wind up dead or in jail. I wanted more for my cousin.

  But as time went by, and Lamin was on the road from rags to riches, I started wishing I could switch places with him. Lamin was doin’ it! He was doing all the shit I daydreamed about doing while I was locked in my cell with the dregs of society. I tried not to let it bother me that Lamin’s life was so wonderful while my shit was fucked up. But no matter how I tried to shake it, I couldn’t help being a little envious of my cousin. He was making a lot of money doing a lot of illegal shit, yet I was the one incarcerated. It made me furious to think of my cousin spending time with a chick as fine as Lucky while I was forced to jerk my shit off every fuckin’ day. I felt jealousy every time I thought of him living the high life with this new nigga Zion, while I was wasting away in a fuckin’ jail cell with a bunch of murderers, rapists, faggots, and thieves. I didn’t even know Zion personally. I had never even met the dude. But I didn’t like him, simply because I felt he was in the position that should have been mine. He was at Lamin’s side as he made his meteoric rise to the top of the drug game.

  I didn’t express my feelings to Lamin. Instead, I tried my hardest to be happy for him. I tried my hardest not to allow jealousy to emerge and drive a wedge between me and my cousin. But try as I might, I couldn’t help feeling like I was the only one whose life was a downward spiral. And I was gettin’ sick of that shit.

  Lamin

  Eventually, Lucky started hinting around about her upcoming senior prom. It was springtime in 1992, and all the chicks her age were worried about that prom bullshit. I wasn’t feelin’ all that tuxedo shit, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to let some other dude take her. I agreed to be her escort. All we had to do was clear it with her father.

  Mr. Matheson was no joke. He guarded his home, his wife, and his children like a bulldog. (Lucky had an older brother named Andrew who was in the military like his father—a typical lame. She also had a younger sister named Stephanie.) On the night of the prom, I pulled up in front of Lucky’s house in a white, stretch Lexus limousine. I stepped out wearing my Giorgio Armani tuxedo with a white silk cummerbund. My black Kangol derby and walking stick gave me “’hood flava.” I was looking good and smelling like Fahrenheit. I was determined to get some ass that night.

  As I walked up her porch steps, I prayed that Lucky had told me the truth when she said that her moms had convinced her father to let me escort her that night. I found that hard to believe since the man never even let me call his house! But, I rang the bell anyway.

  Lucky’s mother came to the door. She was a little Korean woman, no taller than five feet, three inches. I surmised that Lucky got her height from her father. Lucky’s moms invited me inside, smiling from ear to ear as she took in my appearance. She checked me out from head to toe, smiling and nodding her approval all the while.

  “Laila will be down in a minute, Lamin,” she said in a soft, heavily accented voice. “Please have a seat in here.” She smiled broadly, and pointed to a large room just off the foyer. I found out it was the living room, and Lucky’s burly father sat looming on the sofa.

  “Sit down, young man,” he barked. I don’t like to be spoken to any kind of way. My status in the streets demands that I be shown a certain level of respect. So, this nigga barking orders at me wasn’t sittin’ too well at all. Then I pictured Lucky with her legs spread out on my king-sized bed, and I sat across from the Hulk.<
br />
  He didn’t beat around the bush, hesitate, nothing! “Why are you so determined to pursue my daughter?”

  I noticed Lucky’s mother polishing a table nearby that was already gleaming, pretending not to listen. I decided to level with Mr. Matheson.

  “With all due respect, Mr. Matheson, I think Lucky is old enough to make her own decisions …”

  “Don’t sit in my house and tell me what Laila is old enough to do!” He emphasized “Laila” like I didn’t know that was her name. Now I knew how to get under his skin.

  “Lucky is a beautiful girl, Mr. Matheson.” He started to interrupt me again, but his wife (who was suddenly in on the conversation) coaxed him to silence. I continued.

  “I know I’m not the type of guy that you had in mind for your daughter. I understand that.” It dawned on me that Lucky’s father was no fool. He had probably concluded that the Armani suit and the limo parked outside were not things most nineteen-year-old boys could afford. I hadn’t asked him or his wife to pay for a thing. I paid for everything including her wardrobe, ’cause that’s how much I liked Lucky. I never thought about what her father must have been thinking.

  “But, I promise you that I would never cause her any harm or allow anyone else to do harm to her as long as I’m around. I’m not trying to treat your daughter like any ole chick …”

  Mr. Matheson cringed, and his wife patted his back gently. This seemed to soothe the beast.

  Out of respect, I cleaned up that last statement. “Lucky … Laila is special to me. I care for your daughter, and I just wanna take her out to dance on her prom night. That’s all.”

  His wife was really patting his back now. As I sat waiting for his response, I heard a voice behind me.

  “Well, come on and take me dancing then, Lamin.”

  I turned around halfway in my seat and there stood beauty. Lucky looked like a dream. Ma had on a soft pale green silk dress that fastened at the back of her neck (she later called it a “halter dress”—whatever that means!). The color looked good against her skin tone. The dress was long with a split up the right leg, and her titties were just sitting up like suck me. Her hair fell down past her shoulders in sexy loose curls, and the front was pulled back from her face. She was beautiful. I nearly stumbled, but I pulled myself together and stood up. She gave me a big Kool-Aid smile when she saw me in my suit, and I felt good. We looked good together.

  I stared at her for a few moments—too stunned to speak. Thankfully, Lucky’s mom cleared her throat to break the silence as I stood staring speechless at her daughter. “Laila, you look gorgeous.” Her accent was adorable.

  Mr. Matheson seemed as amazed as I was by Lucky’s flawless looks. He sounded choked up when he said, “Lamin, make sure she’s home by 2:00 A.M.”

  “Daddy!” Lucky was defiant. She raised one eyebrow as if to remind him of some previous agreement. Mr. Matheson backed down. “Four o’clock, Laila, and I ain’t playing!”

  I knew I would persuade her to stay out until 5:00 A.M. once I got her to myself. I was the happiest I had ever been in my life when I walked her to the limo and the driver closed the door. We were alone at last.

  Lucky’s prom was at the exclusive Staten Island Country Club. Her school’s bourgeois upper-crust student body consisted mostly of blue-blooded white folks. I was about to subject myself to a night of Van Halen and Aerosmith. I knew Lucky was special for me to put up with that shit.

  In the back of the limo on the way to the prom, I proposed a toast. By then I had unbuttoned the jacket of my tux and gotten somewhat comfortable in the monkey suit.

  “Cheers to the fly lady on my arm this evening.” I felt like I was starring in a black Casablanca. It dawned on me right away that I loved the lifestyle of limos and Cristal champagne. This was what I would aspire to have from that night forward.

  Lucky clinked glasses with me and sipped her champagne. I hoped she would continue to sip that champagne since I had serious plans for how I wanted the evening to end. I pulled out the video camera she gave me and started filming her beautiful smiling face. She told me the dress was by Chanel. I had given her two G’s to shop with, and it seemed that she spent the whole amount on the dress. She explained that she used her own money to pay for the matching Chanel sandals and “clutch.” (That’s what she called the pocketbook she carried. All this feminine clothing terminology was new to me.) But one thing was certain—Lucky was workin’ the hell out of all of it. I focused the camera on her shiny golden legs and her pretty toes, which were painted to perfection.

  She looked and smelled so good. I couldn’t resist the urge to kiss her. I put the camera down beside me and moved closer to Lucky. Her lips were so soft, and before I knew it I was hard as a rock. Lucky must have sensed my excitement, and she started stroking my dick through my pants while she unzipped them. I couldn’t believe it. She had never been this bold. My eyes flew open and our gaze met. The breeze from the open sunroof was blowing her hair around, and she bit her lower lip. She looked so sexy like that. She straddled me, and started grinding her pussy into my lap. My man was at full attention at that point. She was grinding and playfully biting my lip. I was ready to tear her little ass up! Where had this side of Lucky been hiding?

  “Damn, ma!” I liked this new Lucky. “You can work it like that?”

  Lucky shoved her tongue in my mouth, and placed both of my hands on her breasts. Finally she came up for air and said, “I can do whatever you want me to, Lamin. If you teach me.”

  That shit sounded so sexy! I swear school was about to be in session. But the limo came to a stop, and the driver said, “Here we are, kids.”

  Lucky froze and looked at me like a deer caught in headlights. She giggled and so did I as we looked out the window at all the yuppies dressed up, staring at the limo that just pulled up. Thank God for tinted windows.

  “One minute,” Lucky called to the driver through the partition.

  “No problem,” he yelled back. “Just let me know when you’re ready.” I knew that nigga was smiling. He had to know what we were up to back there. Lucky pulled out a mirror from her bag and started fixing her hair. I buttoned my suit jacket and prayed for my woody to disappear. Lucky leaned over and kissed me softly on the lips.

  “I heard what you said to my father,” she said. “I don’t care what kind of guy my father wanted for me. You’re the one I want for myself.” She kissed me again, knocked on the partition, and said to the driver, “We’re ready.”

  When we emerged from the limo, all eyes were on us. Not only was our ride the flyest one in the lot, but Lucky made all the other girls look like losers in a beauty pageant. Most of the chicks were blondes, wearing tons of makeup and looking like Barbie dolls. Their dates looked like a bunch of Kens.

  To my surprise, there were quite a few sistahs in the crowd. I recognized two of them as Lucky’s friends, and most of the others seemed like they didn’t know they were black. Two even had white dates. Lucky looked better than all of them.

  Lucky greeted her two friends, Veronica and Audrey, and their dates. I recognized Veronica’s date—this guy from the Stapleton projects they called Born. Veronica introduced him as “Jeffrey” so I looked at him again to confirm his identity. He gave me a look that told me that Veronica had no idea that he was one of Zion’s workers. I guess he was “Jeffrey” around Veronica and Born in the streets. I nodded my understanding, and our silent conversation went undetected. We all proceeded inside the Country Club.

  All the ladies at our table stood out. Veronica and Audrey looked nice, although Lucky was still the number-one stunna! I remembered Audrey was the loud mouth from the sneaker store the day I met Lucky. Guys don’t like for their girlfriends to hang around with hoes, flirts, or loudmouths. Those are the three types that no man wants his girlfriend around. Audrey fell into that last category, and I would keep an eye on her.

  When Jodeci’s “Come and Talk to Me” came on, I steered her away from her chatty friends and onto the dance fl
oor. We danced well together and I was glad I came. As we swayed back and forth to the beat, we had the attention of everyone in the room. I didn’t know that white people listened to R&B, but they sure liked that song. It turned out to be a pretty nice party. They robbed my baby, and named some Irish girl as prom queen. But Lucky didn’t seem to mind. She was happy just having fun with me, and that made me feel good.

  By 10:00, I was ready to go. Lucky’s friends tried to persuade her to go with the rest of the senior class to the Jersey Shore for an after party at some boy’s summerhouse. But me and Born were trying to get some ass that night. The last place we wanted to go was to some whack-ass party.

  Audrey and her stiff date George went with the rest of the class. We said good-bye to them and prepared to go do our own thing. Born was taking Veronica to a hotel in New Jersey. I had plans of my own for Lucky.

  While her and Veronica had “girl talk,” I conspired with the driver. When the ladies said their good-byes, we got inside the limo.

  “Where do you wanna go, Lamin?” Lucky asked, clueless about my plans. The driver pulled away from the Country Club and onto the expressway, headed for the Verrazano Bridge. Lucky smiled. “Where are we going? To your house?” I guess she thought she knew where my mind was at. She was only half right.

  “Nah,” I told her. “Tonight is special. So I’ma take you someplace special.” I kissed her pretty lips to stop her questioning. By the time we came up for air, the limo was rolling through the bright lights and busy streets of Manhattan.

  Lucky was surprised. “Where are we going, Lamin?” She was smiling, but I could tell the suspense was killing her.

  I put my finger to her lips. “Shhh,” I said. “Trust me, Laila.” It was one of the few times I had called her by her real name. She smiled, letting me know that she noticed.

  “I trust you, Lamin.”