by Tracy Brown
“But it must be nice to meet a woman who made it on her own. A woman who got to where she is by paying her own dues. Lucky has what she has because you made it possible.”
Lamin looked at me strangely. “It’s funny you should say that, Curtis. Sometimes I feel like that, but I try not to dwell on it too much. I believe that Lucky would be successful with or without me. Plus she was in my corner when I got shot and she gave up her family for me. I love her for that. She’s only a year away from graduating and getting her business degree. Then me and her are gonna be like Bonnie and Clyde in this industry. On the other hand, Dream is the type of woman that I have the utmost respect for. She’s independent and she’s paid.”
“And her head game is tight,” I reminded him.
We both laughed. Lamin said, “I guess you could say I got the best of both worlds.”
I agreed. “You got the kind of problems most niggas would love to have.”
We began searching for the essentials of my new wardrobe.
Zion
I was just arriving back in town from a trip to the Cayman Islands. Business was booming, and while Lamin was making major strides in the record industry, I was making power moves in the streets. When my flight landed, I called Lamin. He told me that his cousin was out of jail and I looked forward to meeting the man I had heard so much about. I got to Lamin’s house just as he did, and we parked our cars. When I got out, I saw him walkin’ toward me with a big, burly dude. Didn’t recognize the guy but he looked a little like Lamin. I quickly put two and two together and got four. From the get-go, there was something about Curtis that I didn’t like. I wondered if it was something in his walk. Perhaps his stony expression. But something in my gut told me not to trust this guy.
Curtis wore a baggy blue and white Phat Farm sweatsuit and a cold sneer as they approached. Lamin and I gave each other a pound and greeted one another.
“Yo, Zion, this is my infamous cousin, Curtis.”
Lamin made the introduction and I smiled. “I heard a lot about you, dog. It’s nice to finally match the name to a face.”
Curtis smiled, too. But his smile seemed forced. “Heard a lot about you, too. I hear you took my place as my cousin’s right-hand man while I was gone.”
“Somebody had to do it,” I joked. “This nigga’s a magnet for trouble, so I had to have his back.”
Lamin laughed. “Zion, if that ain’t the pot callin’ the kettle black! When it comes to trouble you’re like a fly to shit.”
We all laughed and proceeded inside Lamin’s big brownstone. When he first moved there, Lamin only had one floor that he rented for himself. As his career blossomed Lamin purchased the whole brownstone, and what he’d done with the place was just crazy! Curtis was instantly impressed. “Goddamn, cousin! I ain’t know you was livin’ the lifestyles of the rich and famous on this level!”
Lamin smiled proudly. “If it was up to me, I’d still be livin’ like a bachelor with nothing in here but a TV and some Hennessy. Lucky did all this shit.”
As Curtis admired the decor of Lamin’s home, I took a seat in the leather recliner, kicked my feet up, and grabbed the remote. I turned on the TV and switched the channel to ESPN. “Can a nigga get a beer or somethin’?”
Lamin laughed sarcastically. “Nigga, you are not a guest in this muthafucka. You can get your own beer. And while you’re at it, get me one.
As if on cue, Lucky came out of the kitchen followed by Olivia. Lucky looked pretty in a denim dress. But, damn, Olivia looked good. I hadn’t seen her in more than a month and she seemed to be more beautiful than the last time I saw her. She had on a black miniskirt and a white shirt. Her long legs looked like they were glowing and her hair was up in a slick ponytail pulled back from her face. I noticed she was wearing the Manolo Blahniks I bought her during our trip to Philly and I smiled. She looked like a top model.
“Did someone ask for a beer?” she said, looking directly at me. My heart was racin’ but I kept my face from showing it.
“I did.” I licked my lips as I said it, and she tried to stop herself from smiling. She walked over to me and handed me the Heineken and then turned around, strolled over to the sofa, and sat next to Lamin. I forgot how bad her walk was, but the girl had a strut that belonged on the runway. I was mesmerized by the way her booty bounced in that skirt. Thankfully, Lucky diverted my attention.
“Zion, how come you always have to turn to fuckin’ sports when you come over here?” she asked playfully.
Lamin answered for me. “The living room is for the men. You and Olivia can go in the kitchen and talk about shoes, clothes, and all that other bullshit women discuss when they’re together.”
Lucky hit Lamin in the head with one of the throw pillows from the sofa. “Shut up.” She turned her attention to Curtis, who was admiring all the African oil paintings on the wall. “Curtis, come on and let me give you a tour of the place. Lamin and Zion are too busy with sports and beer to show you anything.”
Curtis happily followed Lucky down the hall for the tour. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of Olivia. Lamin must have seen how good his sister was lookin’ so he commented on it. “Why you always gotta wear your clothes two sizes smaller than you really are?”
Olivia sighed loudly. “Don’t start this shit today, Lamin …”
“I’m just sayin’. It’s like you crave attention or somethin’. What’s up with that?”
Olivia grinned. “I get all the attention I can stand, Lamin. Don’t you worry.” Olivia looked in my direction and winked at me. Lamin didn’t catch it though. Thank God.
I changed the subject. “Olivia, congratulations on your new apartment.”
She smiled. “Thanks. I’m loving it. You’ll have to come see it for yourself one day.”
Just as I was beginning to squirm in my seat, Curtis came back with Lucky and she turned off the TV set. “Come on, y’all. It’s time for us to get going. Veronica is waiting for us and saving us the best table at the lounge.”
“What’s the name of this spot you’re taking me to?” Curtis asked.
“The Autumn Lounge,” Lucky answered. “It’s Veronica’s supper club in East Harlem and only the beautiful people go there.” Lucky smiled, proud of her friend and the successful business she was running.
We all rose to leave. I watched Olivia put on her tight leather jacket and touch up her lip gloss in the mirror. I couldn’t help noticing her fat ass in that skirt. I asked myself if I had done the right thing by ending our so-called relationship. Then I looked at Lamin and realized that I had done the right thing. The right thing just ain’t always easy.
We all drove our separate cars to the club, and Curtis rode with Lucky and Lamin. When we got there, Veronica met us at the door. The place was packed. Janet Jackson’s “That’s the Way Love Goes” blasted from the speakers and the waitresses in short cocktail dresses made the rounds to each table.
Veronica hugged Lucky. “Hey, girl. I was holding the best table in the house for you.” Veronica looked good, wearing a white pantsuit and a big diamond necklace with matching earrings.
Lucky held Lamin’s hand. “We got here as soon as we could. This place is standing room only!”
Veronica nodded. “There’s a forty-five minute wait for a table. You’re fortunate you have connections.”
She showed us to our table, walking us through the restaurant with its round tables covered with ivory tablecloths and napkins and matching ivory-and-gold-trimmed silverware. There were candles on each table with breadbaskets and flowers in the center. I saw that Leo was there that night with his entourage of about seven niggas. We threw up a peace sign to him and he smiled at us. A few of the diners recognized Lamin, stopped him, and asked for his autograph. He was good enough to sign them and stopped to take pictures with a couple of pretty girls. Lucky took it all in stride. She was confident enough in her own beauty not to care.
Our table was in the back, giving us a bird’s-eye view of the entrance and all the patr
ons. I was happy with the table we had, since I never sit with my back to the door. This table allowed me to sit where I could relax and take in the whole scene. Leo sent a bottle of Moët over to our table and we raised our glasses in a toast to him across the room.
Curtis tapped me. “Don’t you ever want to share the spotlight, Zion? Everybody knows who Lamin is, but you never get no shine.”
I nodded. “That’s how I am,” I said. “I don’t like the spotlight. I prefer to sit back in the shadows and watch everybody else. Me and Lamin ain’t in competition for shine.” I kept my conversation with Curtis brief because he seemed to be subtly antagonizing me. I brushed it off as my usual paranoia that everyone was secretly out to get me. But although I couldn’t put my finger on it, something wasn’t right about the dude. I soon learned he was gettin’ the same vibe from me.
Curtis gave me a funny look and grinned. Looking at Olivia he said, “I don’t know if I like this guy.”
Olivia laughed. “What’s not to like?”
I noticed one seat was empty and said, “Who’s that seat for?”
Olivia smiled and nodded toward the door. “It’s for him.”
I saw a tall nigga walking our way with a toothpick in his mouth. He had on baggy jeans and Timbs, a turtleneck and a leather jacket. He was dark skinned—about Lamin’s complexion—with a bald head and dark features. He looked a little like that male model who’s in all the pictures. He strolled over to our table and Olivia stood up and kissed him long and full. I was tight. But true to form, I kept my face from showing my emotions.
When she came up for air, she said, “Everybody, this is Donovan. He manages the R&B group, Phya. Lamin did their video and Donovan has had my undivided attention ever since.”
I watched Olivia introduce that nigga to everyone at the table. When she got to me, she said, “And this is Zion. The baddest nigga in New York City.” Donovan extended his hand to me and I shook it, despite the fact that I wanted to crack his fuckin’ jaw. Olivia was playin’ herself. I felt like she was trying to make me jealous so I ignored her ass.
We ate dinner and had a few drinks. Lamin proposed a toast to Curtis on his first day home. The conversation was good. Lamin talked about his plans for Shootin’ Crooks and his plans to start a family with Lucky. Curtis said how happy he was to be home and how good it felt to be around women for a change. I sat and watched Olivia feeding that son of a bitch Donovan from her own plate and wiping his mouth with her napkin. The shit made me sick to my stomach.
She was playing dirty and I decided to play along. I slipped Veronica my number when I knew Olivia was lookin’. Two could play this game. Except I was gonna play to win.
Curtis
It felt good to be home. I was happy to be back around my family and glad that Lamin had done so well for himself. I admired him for all the big things he was doing, and I was happy to have a job on my first day home. I had to admit, though, that Lamin’s friendship with Zion made me feel like the fifth wheel. I had always been my cousin’s best friend. When I went away, I felt like a void should have been left in Lamin’s cipher until I returned. But Zion had quickly filled that void, and I was left feeling like a newcomer. So much had changed about Lamin and Olivia since I left. Most of those changes were good. But Zion was one part of their new life that I could do without.
During dinner, every now and then, someone would bring up a situation that happened while I was in jail. “Remember when we all went to Miami for the weekend?” or “Remember when Zion and Lamin used to challenge the youngsters in the neighborhood to basketball games?” I felt like I was invisible. It showed me just how easily life had gone on for everybody while I was gone. Zion had more fun with my cousins than I did. That shit infuriated me.
I went home that night with a girl I met at the lounge. Her name was Jennifer and she helped me release a lot of tension. I knew that she was so willing to give up the ass on the first night only because I was Lamin’s cousin. But I didn’t care. The pussy was good, and I was happier than I had ever been. I spent the next few weeks soaking up the lifestyle that Lamin had become accustomed to. I also spent a lot of time catchin’ up with my boys from around the way in Shaolin.
I started chillin’ with the hustlers from the block, smokin’ weed and hangin’ around in the presence of drug transactions. Careless, reckless shit. I missed curfew a few times, but nothing happened so I pushed my luck. After a while, I ignored that curfew altogether. I was the man around my way. Even though I wasn’t Lamin Michaels, the famous director working in the music and film industry, I was his cousin. I was famous by association. Every time I went to clubs in Staten Island—the Island Room, especially—I was given VIP treatment. I loved it. I got more ass than I knew what to do with, and I was the toast of Shaolin.
I saw Zion around the way often. We never kicked it, though. He was always checking up on his workers and flossin’. It made me sick to see him drive through the ’hood slow so that everyone could see his new Porsche. To me, it was ridiculous that he wanted attention so badly. The bitches loved his pretty-boy image and that also got on my nerves. I just made up my mind that I would stay as far away from his punk ass as possible. I didn’t want to have to beat the shit out of my cousin’s new best friend.
As soon as things had started looking up for me, they quickly went completely wrong. One night, I was at the Island Room with a couple of my boys. We were drinking like crazy, smoking weed outside, and just acting up. It was cold outside, and we all huddled together passing the blunt. A couple of young dudes were in there that night, and I should have sensed trouble. But I didn’t. Out of nowhere, a loud commotion started right near the entrance of the club where we were standing. The door flew open and a whole crowd of niggas poured out onto the sidewalk. A fight had broken out, and before I could pass the blunt back to my man, shots rang out. I ducked for cover, as did the rest of my crew, while shots echoed through the quiet street. When the bullets stopped firing, I heard the shooter yell to my man, “Yo, Vaughn, take this shit!” The shooter, a young guy who I had seen a couple times around the way, handed Vaughn a .45-caliber gun still smoking from the shootout. Vaughn took it, and the shooter ran off toward a black Nissan Sentra.
Vaughn and I took off running, both from the gunfire and from the police who would surely be on the scene within minutes. We got into Vaughn’s Ford Explorer and he started the car. We peeled out of there, tires screeching from the speed. But by the time we made a mere two and a half blocks, there were cops hot on our trail. They ordered us to pull over, but we weren’t about to give up that easily.
Vaughn took them on a high-speed chase down Richmond Terrace. But the cops started shooting at our tires. Right around the Markham Homes in West Brighton, they finally shot out the rear tires. Vaughn and I both jumped out and began running toward the projects. I was out, running like Carl Lewis toward the tall buildings. I even psyched myself up, telling myself that I was close to getting away. But just as I approached Henderson Avenue doing top speed, a police car swerved in front of me. I stopped short, trying to redirect my path, but instead, I flew into the car and rolled across the hood from the impact. I tried to get to my feet and keep running, but the police had me, and they were hitting me with their sticks and cursing me for making them chase me. As quickly as it started, my freedom was over. I was goin’ back to jail despite my vows not to return.
Of course they found the murder weapon in the car. And even though my prints weren’t on the gun, and I was not placed at the scene by any of the witnesses, I was still going to jail. In the courtroom, when the judge ruled that I had violated parole, I was devastated. My mother was cryin’, looking all sad, and she was so disappointed in me. But more importantly, I was disappointed in myself. I had spent my whole adult life in prison, and I was facing at least another year behind bars. It hurt even more since I had a taste of the lifestyle my cousin was living. Once again, I was living in a cell the size of Lamin’s linen closet, and I resented myself for that. I woul
dn’t admit that I was jealous of my cousin, but I was damn sure sick of living my life the way that I was. It was time for me to stop playin’ games and get my shit together.
SIXTEEN
kick in the door
April 1996
Olivia
I liked Donovan at first. Not the way I liked Zion—I loved Zion. But Donovan was a nice guy. He treated me nice and took me out all the time. But I wasn’t planning to settle down. I had just turned twenty-one and I had no desire to be tied down to one man. I was meeting lots of different guys. Wealthy guys with titles—CEOs, VPs, managers, agents, publicists. I had no time to be anybody’s wifey. Instead, I spent a lot of time playing the field. The trouble was that Donovan was playing for keeps.
Donovan started getting possessive. He wanted me all to himself. Needless to say, this caused an argument or two. But soon the arguments became more and more frequent. Donovan started calling me on the set each day, calling me at home each night, and even had the nerve to ask for a key to my place. I told him no, and I couldn’t help wondering why a guy who was so good-looking—a guy who had so many women falling at his feet each day—would be so insecure that he felt he had to keep tabs on me at all times. I didn’t like it. But it got to the point that I was afraid to tell him that. Soon our arguments became more frequent, and I began to wonder if he was obsessed with me.
I went to work each day and felt safe knowing that Lamin had my back. I knew that no matter how jealous Donovan was, he wasn’t stupid. He didn’t ever want to cross Lamin knowing how protective he was of me. I felt safe with him, and I didn’t worry about Donovan when I was with my brother.
I began to notice that Zion was spending a lot more time at Shootin’ Crooks. And although he thought I didn’t notice, he kept a close eye on me. True, he was a silent partner in the company, but I had a feeling that his visits were more for the purpose of seeing me than to check up on how business was going. A couple of times, he brought that bitch Veronica with him when he came. She was so happy to have a nigga like Zion paying her some attention that she was just giggly and silly around him. I knew he didn’t like her the way he liked me. I didn’t let their so-called relationship get me upset. I had so much going for me for the first time in a long time.