by Anna J.
The client must have said something to the girl because she had a scared look on her face, and the girl that was braiding her hair stopped what she was doing and moved toward the door to lock it. I was wondering why in hell the door wasn’t locked in the first damn place, but she didn’t even get a chance to touch it. Bunz kicked open the door and pulled his gun, causing the girl to stumble back to her chair.
My eyes were quick, and I saw the woman that was getting her hair braided dial some numbers on her phone and turn the volume down before placing her phone under the shelf. I knew for sure she had called the cops. Instead of alerting Bunz to the situation, I tried my best to speed it up because I knew the law was on its way. If he knew that, he would kill them. As he always said, “The dead can’t testify in court.”
“Give me all your fuckin’ money,” Bunz shouted at the two women, who were now shedding tears. I felt like shit at that moment, but I needed this paper.
“There’s no money here. They took it away earlier,” the African said in a heavy accent, and I knew what she was saying to be true. There was another African woman in the shop with her earlier who could have easily been her mother, and knowing the area that we were in, she more than likely took the money when she left. I guess since we had staked the place for so long, Bunz wanted to get whatever he could get, whether it was from the owners or the customers. I was in it to win it, so no matter how ridiculous I thought the plan was, I had to go through with it.
“Let’s just go, man. Ain’t nothing poppin’ in here,” I said to Bunz, trying to quickly diffuse the situation because I knew the law was on its way. I couldn’t do time. It just wasn’t in the cards.
“Man, fuck that,” Bunz said with that wild look in his eyes he got every time a bad situation was about to turn worse. A part of me just wanted to jet on his ass, but he was my boy, and besides all that, he had the car keys.
“Yo, I saw the other shorty leave earlier. She more than likely took the money with her.”
“Yo, nigga, shut up. I know it’s some money in this muthafucka, and that big bitch needs to empty her bag too. I know she got some rent money up in there.”
I couldn’t even look at her. Instead, I looked out the window for any telltale signs that the jakes were heading our way; but everything was quiet. Looking back at Bunz, I could see him starting to get antsy, and his eyes had glazed over. Vince had warned me about fucking with him, but my dumb ass didn’t listen.
Just as I was turning my attention back to the situation at hand, I witnessed the brains of the young African girl fly from her head in slow motion and splatter a bloody mess in the mirror. The client fainted on sight, but Bunz took it to her anyway. He put the silencer so close to her head that the spark bounced off her earrings, and at that very moment, my stomach began to turn.
He rifled through her pocketbook and came up with about fifteen hundred dollars inside of a Bank of America deposit envelope. Either she just cashed her check, or she was going to deposit it. Too bad neither would ever go down.
Bunz looked around the shop, but he found no cash. Cursing up a storm, he made his way to the front of the shop, only to notice the open cell phone sitting under the counter. Going over to it, he picked it up to see 911 displayed across the call screen. I just shook my head. It was one of those kinds of situations where you ain’t had no business doing what you were doing, but you did it anyway, and now look at you.
“Come on, nigga. Let’s roll,” he said after he turned the phone off and tucked it in his pocket.
When we got back to the car in front of the Lincoln Fried Chicken spot, he roofed the phone just in case it had a GPS hookup in it, and we got in the car and jetted. Shanyce was gonna definitely be mad because the breakdown from that fifteen was only seven-fifty a piece, and she needed our son Khalid’s tuition money ASAP.
“Just drop me off on the corner, nigga,” I said to Bunz as we approached my block. I had to face the music, but on the real, I wasn’t ready.
Journey Clayton
Back in the Swing of Things
I had to give my mom her shot before I went to school. The one thing my uncle did right was send me to private school. I guess he didn’t want anyone around the way asking me questions about my mom’s situation, or about him, for that matter.
It was just after the New Year, and I went into 1998 optimistic that my life would change in a major way this year. The thing is, life is always changing, and it’s how you deal with it that makes the difference.
I battled with the high winds and snowfall as I walked the five or six blocks to school from Fifty-fourth and Greenway to Fifty-fifth and Chester Avenue to the Evelyn Graves Christian Academy, located on the corner across the street from the Salt & Pepper Deli. It didn’t seem to matter what time of day it was, rain or shine; the deli was always packed with drunks and drug addicts, who copped from the drug dealers that huddled in the back of the store so that the cops wouldn’t see them conducting business. It was like a one-stop shop, where you could get your drink, your high, and your munchies all in the same place at the same time.
I hated the looks that those old men gave me because it was the same look Vince gave me when he came by. I couldn’t wrap my mind around what these grown-ass men saw in my underdeveloped body, but instead of inquiring, I picked up the pace to get past them so that I could get to school on time.
I pulled my black pea coat, which was missing two of the four buttons, tighter around my neck as another gush of wind threatened to blow me back in the direction I came from. After struggling to open the heavy door of the school building, I rushed to my cubby before anyone else could see me. I wanted to hang up my coat and sit down before anyone noticed my high-water pants and dingy socks. Vince said that if I acted right he would buy me some more school uniforms, but that had yet to happen, and I was past holding my breath waiting on it.
I was rearranging the few things I had in my desk when I looked up just in time to see Khalid and his dad exchange a loving hug before he left. I didn’t know his father’s name, but I saw him hanging out with Vince on more than one occasion, so I figured he was bad news, too. Khalid was so cute, though, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a small crush on him, even though I wasn’t crazy enough to let him know it. Besides, I think he had a thing for Gina, the prettiest girl in the class.
When the teacher came in, I noticed that she seemed upset, and she looked like she may have been crying. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her face looked flushed and tear-stained. I also noticed I didn’t see Kareema in class yet, and I said a quick prayer in hopes that nothing was wrong with her. Kareema never missed a day of school, and was usually one of the first people in class in the morning. Not that we were friends or anything, but out of all the people in my class, she was one of the few that was actually nice to me.
The principal came into the classroom shortly after with the Daily News folded in half across his arm. From what I could make out from my seat, it looked like a picture of Kareema’s mother displayed across the front of the paper.
“Class, I have an announcement to make,” Mr. Carpenter said after he excused our teacher, Mrs. Solomon, out of the class. I could feel my chest getting tighter by the second, and a part of me didn’t want to hear the bad news.
Once he had our attention, he informed us that over the weekend, Kareema’s mother was killed while getting her hair done at a braid shop. He gave us a packet of information to take home to our parents and told us to remain in our seats until Mrs. Solomon was able to come back to class.
It was like the room was stuck on pause as each of us absorbed the news. Some of us were crying and some were just in a state of shock at what occurred. I felt horrible for Kareema because in my heart, I knew I would be losing my mother soon, too, and I wasn’t ready. A tragic loss like that is devastating, and I prayed that she would be okay one day.
It took Mrs. Solomon more than a half hour to come back to class, and when she did finally arrive, her eyes were bloodshot.
I overheard Mrs. Martin, our music teacher and Mrs. Solomon’s best friend, tell the principal that Mrs. Solomon and Kareema’s mother were real close and that she was taking her death pretty hard. I didn’t really understand the concept of death all like that, but I knew that I lost a lot of people that were close to me, and I could feel her pain. The way my uncle Vince explained it was that we all had to die some day, but that didn’t stop it from being devastating, whether you were expecting it or not.
I could see Mrs. Solomon trying to get herself together, and I wondered why they didn’t just ask her to leave.
For most of the morning, we read silently at our desks until it was time for recess. It was too cold for us to play outside, so we were escorted to the music room, where we were left to play amongst ourselves. On this day, though, no one did. We kind of just sat around, tinkering with the instruments and talking amongst ourselves. I was in the corner by myself, making a card for Kareema out of construction paper, so that I would have something to give her when she got back. She lost her mother, and I knew that was hard for her, and I wanted her to know that she could talk to me if she wanted to.
I wasn’t paying much attention to anyone else in the class, and was a little startled when I looked up and saw Khalid standing in front of me. I instantly blushed, not believing that he had actually noticed me. I looked at him quickly then put my head back down, too shy to make eye contact. What did I do to deserve this attention? As bad as I wanted to know, I would never ask; but he didn’t take long in satisfying my curiosity.
“Whatchu doin’?” Khalid asked, taking a seat on the floor next to me. My face felt flushed, and the room spun briefly before I was able to focus and answer his question.
“Making a card for Kareema,” I responded in a barely audible voice as I continued to cut out heart shapes on the construction paper. I could barely breathe with him being this close to me, and I hoped he couldn’t feel how nervous I was.
“That’s cool.”
“Yeah.”
“So, umm . . . if you want, maybe we can study after school sometimes. Either at your house or mine. You live on Grays Avenue, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool,” he said to me with a slight smile on his face. “Whenever you want, let me know.”
Before I could respond, the school principal came back to get us so that we could finish with the rest of our day. Mrs. Solomon was gone when we got back, and we were informed that she had left for the day. The rest of the afternoon was pretty gloomy, and we didn’t really do much of anything besides reading and going over our spelling words in a mini spelling bee that Mrs. Solomon had scheduled on our agenda for the day. After a long, dragged-out day, we were finally able to leave.
I waited until all of the other students got their belongings from the cubbies before I went over to put on my coat, because I didn’t want anyone to see how raggedy my coat was. I took my time putting my stuff in my book bag, hoping that everyone was gone.
I put my book bag on my back and made my way out to the front of the school just in time to see Khalid standing on the corner. At first I started to act like I didn’t see him, but I had to go home that way, so it was senseless to do that. I got up the nerve to go over to where he was standing, waiting for the light to turn green. I was hoping he would just cross, but he didn’t.
“Girl, what took you so long coming out? I thought you were going to let me freeze,” he said with a smile, holding out his hand for me to hold it. I didn’t reply; I simply smiled back and took his hand as we started crossing the street.
I thought he was going to let my hand go once we got to the other side, but he held it as we walked and talked all the way home. I was on cloud nine, not believing my fortune on this afternoon. The cutest boy in the class had me by the hand and was walking me home. He could have easily chosen to walk with Gina and her stuck-up friends, but he chose me. I didn’t feel the wind or the snow on this day; for me, it felt like springtime with him walking next to me.
The closer we got to home, the slower I walked, because I didn’t want it to end. Come to find out he lived right around the corner from me on Glenmore Avenue, about three houses from the corner.
We stood looking at each other for what felt like an eternity, until he suddenly leaned over and kissed my lips.
“We’re going to be good friends, Journey,” he said to me with a big smile on his face before taking his hand away from mine. “Don’t forget to ask your mom if we can study together. We can start next Monday.”
I was stuck on that corner for a good five minutes before the wind pushed me onto my block and into the house. I knew at that moment nothing could ruin my day, or so I thought. Like most children, I had chores, and since I pretty much kept our place clean, the only thing I had to do was to make sure my mom ate and had her fix for the night. Some days it went smoothly and she was able to keep all of her food down, and other days she could barely stomach a saltine cracker and vomited all over the place. I would soon see what kind of day I was having once I settled in and started making her some soup.
I put the package that the school gave us concerning Kareema’s mother on the table for Vince to look at, since my mother couldn’t do it. I knew I would have to see him later because I only had one more fix for my mother, and he knew I would need more for the next couple of days. I hurried through my homework so that I could feed my mom and be ready by the time he got here. He wanted me undressed when he walked in the door or else, and I didn’t feel like dealing with the extra nonsense.
Heating the soup in the microwave because Vince didn’t like me using the stove, I tasted it to make sure it wasn’t too hot before placing a couple of saltine crackers on the side and balancing it on a plate. I walked into the room to find my mother watching television. I could see a slight tremor in her body and I knew that was because it was almost time for her medicine.
Propping the plate next to the alarm clock on the table, I began spoon-feeding her small amounts of the broth just to see how her stomach would act before I fed her noodles.
She acted like she was feeling well, but the moment I started feeding her noodles and crackers, she began to gag like it was coming back up. I rushed to the bathroom to grab some towels to catch the vomit because it would be too difficult to change her by myself if she messed up her clothes. The nurse that came to dispense her prescription medication only came once a day. My mother took medicine for AIDS, as well as heart medication. The nurse pretty much stayed long enough for two doses. Vince was responsible for giving her the last dose for the day, but I always ended up doing it. They didn’t know about the dope I fed her twice daily, or if they did, nothing was ever said to me.
I looked at the clock to see that Vince was running late, and I hoped that he wouldn’t have me sitting around for the rest of the night waiting like he sometimes did. I couldn’t go to sleep until he got there, and I had school tomorrow, so I wanted to turn in kind of early. I thought about Khalid, too, and I didn’t know what to make of it, so I decided to play it by ear and not read too much into it.
I was happy that my mom only spit up a little bit, and I was able to feed her the rest of her soup without incident. By now it was already dark and going on six o’clock. Vince was usually in the living room already waiting for me, but he wasn’t out there yet, so something must have happened. I just hoped it wasn’t something that kept him from bringing me what I needed.
I took a seat in front of the television and waited. I wanted to get this over with as soon as possible so that I could get back to thinking about Khalid.
Lying on the couch completely nude, I turned the television to UPN so that I could catch a little bit of my favorite show, Good Times, before Vince showed up. This show gave me hope sometimes, and I loved the theme song: Ain’t we lucky we got ’em? Sometimes I wasn’t so sure.
Vincent Clayton
Huggin’ the Block
“Ay, yo, Street! You duckin’ me, nigga?” I hollered down the street at my ma
n Joey. Bunz told me that bullshit that went down in West Philly the other night, but I needed to hear it from someone with a level head. Usually this dude was out grindin’ all day, but I hadn’t seen him since that shit, and it made me suspicious about who I was dealing with.
I took a glance at my white gold Vacheron Constantin timepiece, seeing that I was running behind schedule. I was supposed to have been at my sister-in-law’s house, and I knew my niece was waiting on me; but Journey had waited before, and she knew not to go to sleep before I got there. I needed to talk to her anyway, because I came up with a good idea that could make me even more money, and I’d be willing to cut her in on it if she acted right.
Journey had been cutting and cooking coke for her mom for well over a year, and I secretly used my sister-in-law as a test dummy for different shit that I got along the way. Surprisingly, Journey hadn’t killed her yet. That’s a skill that isn’t taught, but inherited, and I needed to cash in on that immediately. She was good at math. All I had to do was teach her how to measure and bag the shit up and I was in there.
This nigga took his time getting down the block. I was getting impatient, but I didn’t want to make a scene, especially since I needed answers. Bunz was acting all tightlipped and shit, only telling me what he wanted me to know, but something else happened at that braid shop that he wasn’t saying.
Joey looked a little awkward as he got closer. He was holding a manila envelope tightly in his hand like it held the answers to living a longer life or something. I’d inquire about that after I found out what was really good.
“My nigga,” I said to Joey, giving him a pound and a half-embrace like brothers do. He looked like he was upset about some shit, and I was debating whether I wanted to know what it was. “Where you been hiding at, yo? I been tryin’a get at you all week.”
“Dude, it’s a lot going on right now.”
“Yeah, Bunz told me about that bullshit-ass braid shop robbery that went down the other day. What I tell you about fuckin’ with that dude, yo? He bad news, mark my words.”