ANYTHING 4 PROFIT (ANYTHING FOR PROFIT)

by Justin Amen Floyd

  Pastor Johnson took a brief reprise from his sermon to take a long look into the crowd. It seemed as if he was looking into each individual’s soul, and searching. “I’m tired, y’all… I said I’m tired, y’all! Tired of the killing, and tired of the senseless violence in our communities! How many more young Black men and women am I going to have to bury?! And for what?! For what?! We’re killing one another for nothing! It’s a cycle that’s been going on since the days of slavery, but we can no longer blame the White man. We’re doing it to ourselves! Brothers and sisters, this madness must stop! Oh, Lord knows I’m tired of seeing mothers burying their sons and daughters, before they even get the chance to find out what life is all about.”

  Shawn’s mother was crying hysterically now, her family doing their best to console her and keep her from falling to the ground.

  “So before we leave this afternoon, I would like to lead everybody in a much needed prayer. Every head bowed, every eye closed… Lord God, we come to you today as sinners, as murderers, as robbers, as drug dealers, and adulterers. But we know all of that means nothing to you. You died so that our sins might be wiped clean. We come to you today, O Lord, to ask for forgiveness, and to ask for understanding in these trying times. To ask for guidance as we travel down this tumultuous road called life. Lord, please help us see things as you would have us see them, and not with our own misguided sight. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done. On Earth as it is in Heaven...Amen.”

  The mourners opened their eyes. More than a few had tears in them, deeply affected by Pastor Johnson’s words. For a moment there was a long silence, as everyone in attendance reflected back on the words that had just been spoken so eloquently and heartfelt by the pastor.

  His words were like seeds being planted in the fertile soil of some of the youth in attendance. Of course some of the ground had been too hardened by the circumstances of their lives to take root, but a few seeds had managed to penetrate a few cold, embittered hearts.

  An up and coming R&B group from the ‘Ville called Black Soul broke out into a heartfelt rendition of an old hit called “Gangsta Lean”, as the mourners filed pass the casket to take one last look at the life that had been taken from them too soon. Despite the song’s secular title, it sounded like pure gospel coming from the four young men’s mouths’. Their harmony was beautiful.

  “This song’s dedicated… to my homey in that gangsta lean. Why’d you have to go so soooooooon? It seemed like yesterday we were hangin’ round the hoooooood – Now I’m gonna keep your memory alive like a homey shooooooould… This is for my homey… See you when I get there…”

  Mike stared at Shawn’s serene face as he walked past his opened casket, and wondered why it wasn’t him lying in that box. For once in his life, he seriously contemplated his own mortality and wondered where the hell he was going. He wondered what kind of plan God had in store for him.

  $$$

  Over the next weeks, Ant D and Mike waited to hear some news concerning who had left Meka in that trash can for dead. Mike also spent a lot of time with Nikki. He enjoyed her company more than any other girl he’d ever been with. The way she smelled, the way she walked, the way she talked, her smile… Everything about her had him intrigued. Against his better judgment, he was falling in love.

  After a while, it became impossible for them to have any privacy at her mama’s house, so Mike asked Nikki to move in with him. She said yes, and of course after that their bond became even stronger. Nikki would wake up in the morning, cook them breakfast, and then be off to class at Greenville Tech. When she got home, they would often take hot bubble baths or showers together. When Mike would sit down on the couch to watch TV, Nikki would lie on the couch too and put her feet up in his lap. Mike would massage her soft pedicured feet while the two of them laughed at re-runs of “Martin” and “In Living Color.”

  Over time, their relationship continued to grow. It got to the point where Mike found himself telling Nikki about his life and dreams as they lay in the bed listening to her favorite album, The Diary of Alicia Keys.

  “I won’t tell your secrets. Your secrets are safe with me-e. I won’t tell your secrets - just think of me as the pages in your diary…”

  It was more than just the bomb sex they shared. It was the fact that they actually clicked, both mentally and emotionally. Mike had never experienced anything like that before. He was surprised at how willing he was to remain faithful to Nikki.

  Nowadays the word “love” is completely overused, but that’s what their thing was becoming… Anybody’s who’s ever been in a real relationship, and really genuinely cared and loved that other person, could relate to what Mike and Nikki were experiencing.

  On the date of October 26th, Nikki came out of the bathroom and told Mike that she was pregnant, not exactly sure how he would take the news. Mike was overjoyed that she informed him that he was finally going to get a chance to be what nobody ever was to him… a father. Together, he and Nikki celebrated. But unfortunately, the celebration wouldn’t last long.

  Chapter 24

  That same morning at 9:32 A.M. Gloria was sitting in a cushioned chair next to Meka’s bed reading the latest hot urban novel from Synergy Publications, when she thought she heard somebody say something. She figured she had to be hearing things because there was nobody else in the room besides her and Meka. So she went back to reading her book.

  “Mama…” Gloria jumped, startled by the sound of her daughter’s voice, which she hadn’t heard in a very long time. That time she knew she wasn’t imagining things. She dropped her paperback on the floor, and turned to look at Meka, who’s eyes were wide open and staring at her.

  “Mama…”

  Meka had been admitted into the hospital back on September 3rd. Since then, the severe swelling had gone down, and the bruises and cuts had healed. The only real signs of what had happened to her were her four missing top teeth, and a scar on her forehead. Other than that, she appeared to be the same Meka. At least physically. Psychologically, no one knew how long it would take her mind to heal, or if it ever would. All of the doctors had said that she’d need reconstructive surgery, but they were obviously wrong. She had healed well over the last weeks.

  Glo thanked God silently, and then she grabbed Meka’s hand, and said, “Hey baby, how you feelin’?”

  “Like I just got hit by an 18 wheeler,” she replied hoarsely. It was going to take Meka a minute to get her voice back right, after not using her vocal chords for so long.

  “Let me go get the doctor and tell him you up, baby. I’ll be right back.” Glo was overjoyed.

  When she left out of the room, Meka wiggled her toes and fingers to make sure she still had them all, and that they still worked. She closed her eyes for a second, and images of what Rico and them had done to her played vividly in her mind. The scene was so clear that it was like she was reliving it all over again. Not a single tear escaped her eyes though. Naw, fuck that. The time for crying was over. And the time for revenge had just begun.

  Gloria walked back into the room with two nurses and Dr. Baker, who had been Meka’s doctor since she was first admitted. “Well, well, well. Sleeping Beauty is awake,” said Dr. Baker, smiling. “How are you feeling, Tameka?”

  “I’m real sore, and my voice is really hoarse, but other than that I’m good.”

  “Well, the soreness is to be expected from you being immobilized for so long. The same thing goes for your voice. Your vocal chords are muscles, and any muscle that is not used on a regular basis atrophies.”

  “Uhhh, doc, could you say that in English, please.”

  “Well, Tameka, it’s like this. With a little rehabilitation and exercise, you’ll be as good as new in no time.” Dr. Baker was elated at seeing one of his patients pull through. That didn’t happen often in a case like Meka’s.

  Dr. Baker checked Meka’s vitals and her reflexes, and then briefly looked into her pupils with a small penlight. Seeing that everything appeared normal, the doctor left, a
long with the two nurses, who said they’d be back later to start her rehabilitation.

  As soon as they were out of the room, Meka asked her mother where Ant D and Mike were at. “Well, your brother is probably at the house. Him and Mike ain’t really been doing too much since this happened. They’ve been waiting for you to pull through,” said Glo. “Mike done started messin’ with some girl named Nikki, but other than that it’s been the same ole’ same ole’.”

  “Mama, call Ant and tell him I’m up, and that we need to talk. Tell him to make sure Mike comes with him too,” said Meka, with nothing but revenge on her mind…

  $$$

  As soon as Ant D got off the phone with his mama, he dialed Mike’s number.

  “Hello?” answered Nikki.

  “Hey Nikki, it’s me. Let me holla’ at Mike real quick.”

  Hearing the intensity in Ant’s voice, Nikki knew something was up. Besides that, Ant D never got out of bed that early. Never.

  “Ant, what’s going on?” asked Nikki.

  “Ain’t shit. I just need to holla’ at Mike ‘bout somethin’ real quick, ya’ heard?”

  “Umm hmm,” said Nikki skeptically. “Hold on for a second, he’s in the shower,” she said walking to the bathroom.

  Ant was happy that his homey had found somebody he’d ride for and all that, but all of that Brian McKnight, Ne-Yo, R&B shit wasn’t for him. “Skeet it then beat it” was Ant D’s motto, and he hadn’t met a bitch yet to make him change that. Besides, Ant D considered being in love a weakness that he couldn’t afford to indulge himself in.

  “Only wife of mine is a life of crime,” Ant mumbled to himself, quoting a line from one of his favorite rappers, Jay-Z.

  Mike’s voice came on the line. “What’s up, homey?”

  “Meka’s outta her coma. She told my mama that she had to see us, and that she had somethin’ to tell us. You already know what it is, my nigga. Time to get this shit poppin’, ya’ heard? You is still ready to ride, ain’t you?” questioned Ant, hoping that a little in-house pussy hadn’t turned his best man soft.

  “Come on, nigga, you ain’t even gotta ask me no shit like that. Meka my sister too. I’ma ride ‘til the wheels fall off. Ain’t shit changed.”

  “Say no mo’. I’ll see you at the hospital then,” said Ant, and pressed the end button on his phone. He leaned over the side of the bed and used a rolled up hundred dollar bill to snort a line of coke off a tray on the nightstand.

  Mike handed the cordless phone back to Nikki, and stepped out of the shower. He wrapped a towel around his waist, and then proceeded into the bedroom, where he began to get dressed.

  Nikki stood in the doorway with her hand on her hip watching Mike as he silently put his clothes on. The happiness and excitement that they’d shared earlier, after finding out that she was pregnant, had evaporated with Ant’s call. “Mike, what’s going on, baby? What did Ant want?”

  “Meka just came outta her coma. I’m finna meet him at the hospital.”

  “That’s good news, but you don’t seem too excited, so what’s really going on?” she asked.

  “Listen baby, I told you from day one that I’d never lie to you. And I ain’t fixin’ to start now. Now that Meka’s outta her coma, we gonna find out who did that shit to her. And whoever it was is gonna pay. It’s that simple.”

  “Pay how? Mike, please tell me that you’re not thinking about doing anything crazy.”

  “Nikki, come here.” She walked over to the foot of the bed where Mike was sitting, and sat on his lap. Mike said, “Baby, look. In these streets, if niggas hurt somebody that you care about, you gotta get at ‘em. It’s that simple. Meka like the sister I never had. Ain’t no way I’m finna let that shit go down like that.”

  “Why not let the police deal with it?” asked Nikki naively, not understanding the unwritten rules of the street. She wrapped her arms around Mike’s neck.

  “See that’s the thing, Nikki. Once you start livin’ this life right here, there’s codes you gotta live by. You don’t go to the police fa’ shit. Nothing, I don’t care what the situation is. Besides, the police don’t give a fuck about us no way. That’s what these clown ass niggas that be snitchin’ fail to realize. Niggas be actin’ like they fuckin’ killas and gorillas, but when shit gets hot, they asses turn into fuckin’ chumps and chimps. They start singing to the pigs like they tryna start a new R&B group or something. They got the rules to the game fucked up. But as long as I’m out here in these streets, I’ma stay true to ‘em.”

  “Stay true to what, Mike? To what?! These streets don’t give a fuck about you!! I do! What about me?! What about the baby? What about staying true to us,” pleaded Nikki, looking deep into Mike’s eyes.

  Frustrated that Nikki couldn’t understand the values that had governed his life for so long, Mike got up and told her they’d talk about it later.

  She argued, “What if there is no later, Mike? You don’t have to go. Stay here with me, baby. Please.” He wrapped his arms around Nikki and held her close, in her embrace finding reprieve from a life of abandonment and pain from not being wanted, and not being loved. He wished he could make her understand how important it was to retaliate for Meka, but she was from a totally different world. They held each other in silence, neither wanting to let the other go.

  All of a sudden…BOOM! The front door of the apartment imploded, and police in blue uniforms and black vests with yellow writing on them that read Greenville County swarmed into the apartment with their guns drawn. Mike’s first instinct was to go for his gun, but Nikki was there with him. He didn’t want to jeopardize her life, or the life of his unborn child. For he had no doubt that those scary ass, trigger happy, crooked ass cops wouldn’t hesitate to kill them both, and have their deaths ruled “justifiable homicide.” He’d seen it happen too many times. So when they pointed their guns at him and Nikki and yelled “Sheriff’s Office, get on the ground—NOW!!”, he followed their instructions and got on the ground. Crying uncontrollably and confused, Nikki did the same. The officers forcefully pulled their arms behind their backs, and using more force than necessary, placed cuffs on them both.

  “Mike, what’s going on?”

  “Nikki, everything…”

  “Shut the fuck up, boy,” yelled one of the officers, as he grabbed Mike by the arm and snatched him up on his feet. His pink face only inches from Mike’s, he said, “Your ass is goin’ down, motherfucker! We got your fuckin’ ass now, boy! I bet next time your ass will stop when you’re supposed to!” The officer’s breath stank, and spittle flew from his mouth into Mike’s face as he spoke.

  Mike looked directly into the cop’s eyes, and returned his hateful glare. He said, “As soon as I make bail, I’ma make sure to stop by your mama’s house and get some of that good head she got. Heard that bitch can suck a mean dick. It’s too bad she ain’t do the world a favor and swallow yo’ sorry cracker ass...”

  Before he could say another word, the cop sucker punched Mike in the gut, causing him to double over in pain.

  “Get their sorry asses out of here! And don’t forget to read ‘em their goddamn rights! I don’t want no fuckin’ technicalities biting us in the ass later on.”

  Chapter 25

  The ride downtown to the county jail was one that Mike had taken on numerous occasions over the years as a juvenile offender, so it really wasn’t a big deal to him. Taking chances, and living the life that he and so many others like him lived on a daily basis, it was an inevitability that sooner or later you would get locked up. Almost every black male in the ‘hood at some point in time had to experience the inhumanity of being caged like a wild animal. Somehow over the years, doing a bid had become a badge of honor, provided you went in and came back like a man. It was a rite of passage into manhood. That misguided way of thinking was what had so many young brothers doing 35, 50, and 75 years without parole; never to see the outside streets again.

  Though Mike could more than handle himself, it was Nikki that he was
mostly concerned about, as they approached the jail in separate cars. She was the type of girl that had never been in any type of trouble in her entire life, so he could only imagine what was going through her mind right now. Whatever it took, he had to see to it that she didn’t get mixed up in any of the charges they were getting ready to throw at him. The thought alone of her riding in the back of that police car, with his unborn child in her womb, behind some bullshit he did pained him more than any physical pain he’d ever experienced.

  Once at the county jail, both Mike and Nikki were placed into separate holding cells. The holding cells were tiny concrete boxes that reeked of sweat, vomit, and urine. They were rarely, if ever, cleaned. The walls were filthy and littered with years of graffiti, dirt, and only God knew what else. That was where the “suspects” were kept until they faced arraignment, a process in which they were taken before a judge, told of the charges that were being brought against them, and whether or not they would be eligible for bond.

  Mike didn’t know exactly what the charges against him were, but whatever they were, he knew he’d have to take responsibility in order for them to let Nikki go.

  After hours upon hours of waiting in that nasty ass holding cell to be called (a subtle tactic often used by the police to coerce confessions and information out of individuals), finally Mike was pulled out, handcuffed, and walked down the hallway by a deputy to the judge’s chamber.

  “Ok, let’s see what we have here,” said Judge Anderson. He looked down at the stack of warrants in front of him, as he sat behind the elevated judge’s bench. “Failure to stop for a blue light, reckless endangerment while driving, unlawful possession of a firearm, possession of marijuana…” The litany of charges being read by the bespectacled, balding, Judge Anderson went on and on. Mike just looked up at him with a blank stare. Unfortunately this was a position Mike was all too familiar with, so he knew the protocol: remain silent.