by Styles, T.
Motel – Washington, DC
Once You Go Black, You Neva Go Back
Carolyn lay on the hotel bed looking at the ceiling light. The more she stared the harder it was to focus. Her naked body drenched from the sweat shared between their bodies during lovemaking.
She was addicted to everything about him. The way he held her, the way he smiled and the way he was as different from her as night is to day.
“What you thinkin’ bout?” Ozim “J-Swizz” Daye asked as he returned from the bathroom, nude, his limp penis dangling before he cupped it. “You ready for another round?”
Carolyn’s desires to live her own life, manifested itself into bittersweet rebellion and poetic justice. She had a tendency to be pulled to what was forbidden. Even in her earlier years, her father told her never to eat strawberries because she was allergic. For years she did as she was told, until one day his forbids got the best of her and she ate six of them and almost died. In a lot of ways, J-Swizz was her strawberry.
So after weeks of riding to the neighborhood with Tina and Modell, even after J-Swizz told her to stay away, she finally got the courage to come back alone one night. There was something about the way that he looked at her that had her intrigued. But when she pulled up on the block, she couldn’t find him. She was stupid for thinking he’d be interested in a white girl who grew up privileged all her life, while he had to neighbor with the cold hard streets. Besides, outside of a few glances, there was nothing she could say to him that he could relate to.
It wasn’t until Tina joked that someone called “Take Back The Streets”, requesting the only white girl there that her wishes came true. She answered the phone and J-Swizz was on the line and offered to take her out. She accepted. And from that moment on, they’d been kicking it ever since.
When he eased into the bed next to her, she rolled over and looked at his dark handsome face. She was a woman. He was a man. She longed to get away from her father and his unreasonable beliefs, and the streets were taking a toll on him and she was his escape. What they didn’t speak out loud was that through it all, he was a drug dealing black man, and she was Carolyn Jamison, the daughter of an extreme racist.
Things were even more complicated than when they first began. Because now she was in love with a man that knew nothing about who she really was. It panged her heart that all her father cared about was the racist chief of police he got elected on his payroll when all she cared about, was J-Swizz. She wanted to introduce him to who she loved, but she feared for both of their lives.
“You are always ready!” she said as she grabbed the cup filled with Vodka on the night stand, before downing it all.
Lately she relied on alcohol and her addiction for sex to take her mind off her life.
“I am when it comes to you.”
“I figure you’d be tired of me by now.”
“How can I get tired of this?” He pulled her to him and placed his hands on her ass, before gyrating against her until he was hard again. “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
“Good…cause I want it to stay that way.”
She kissed him softly on the lips and wondered why he looked as if something was on his mind.
“What’s wrong?” she asked with puppy dog eyes.
“When are we going to talk about your family?” His questions caught her off guard. “It’s like you don’t want me knowing nothin’ about them.”
“I can’t talk about them J.” Carolyn lifted up and lie beside him. “And I really don’t want to go through this again.”
“Look…we been together for months now and I have a right to know everything about you. So if you don’t want to tell me, it makes me think you’re hidin’ somethin’. Are you adopted? Is that it?”
“I can’t talk about them, J. I wish I could but I can’t and I’m asking you to respect that.”
She sat up on the side of the bed.
“You should really trust me more, Carolyn. I haven’t let you down yet.”
“You don’t understand. My family’s different. There are a lot of things going on in my life that I can’t even understand. And I’m afraid if I tell you, you’ll feel differently about me.”
J-Swizz sat up, moved behind her and massaged her shoulders.
“I don’t care what you tell me…I ain’t gonna stop dealin’ wit you, Carolyn.”
Carolyn looked behind her at his face and smiled.
“I wish I could believe that.”
Outside the Motel
Todd Jamison sat in his green Ford Wagon looking at the motel his sister was in. He’d been following her for months now. The hate he felt for her was starting to consume him. How could she deal with a nigger, knowing full well what their family stood for? Todd also battled with the fact that no matter what he did, his father always took to Carolyn more. He was jealous of the relationship she had with their father.
His eyes were wide as he took a knife repeatedly to his thigh over and over again. Blood soaked his dingy jeans and fell into the burgundy seats. Whenever anger consumed him, he took it out on his body. It was as if punishing himself, made things easier to deal with. The stinging sensation running through his thighs acted as a release and in a way gave him complete power over the situation.
For now he would say nothing to her. Everything would be done when he was ready. But when the time was right, he would make sure she’d know exactly how he felt.
Yo Yo J-A-Y, I flow sick…
Fuck all y'all haters blow dick…
I spits the game for those that throw bricks…
Money cash hoes money cash chicks what…
Sex murder and mayhem romance for the street…
Only wife of mines is a life of crime…
And since, life's a bitch in mini-skirts and big chests…
How can I not flirt with death?...
-Jay Z
Crayland
(Seventeen Years Later)
West Baltimore, Summer of 2006
Menace To Bmore
It was a hot summer day and twenty-nine-year old Crayland was watching his boy Markise run niggas on an outside basketball court in East Baltimore. Sitting in the stands, he sipped on a Corona as he sported a pair of green army fatigues, and a white wife beater. His hair was bleached blonde and he kept it low to prevent it from curling up too much. A few feet over, someone blasted, Tupac’s “Hail Mary” from radio speakers.
“Markise is killin’ they asses out here!” Jason said as he sat next to Cray.
He’d lost all his baby fat and hit the weights so hard that you could see his build under a coat. As strong as he was, he was still weak without Cray.
“You tellin’ me.” Cray confirmed. “Dat nigga’s vicious.”
When Cray’s phone vibrated, he frowned when he saw it was Melody. Whenever he wanted somebody to disappear, he hit him with all 9’s. Ever since Melody told Cray he saw him kill Kris, he’d been putting in work for him. And over time Melody respected how tough Cray was. Cray was fine with their business arrangement until he realized the money wasn’t long enough to get the thing he wanted…POWER. The only way to get really paid was to involve himself in the distribution part of the business, and he was ready. In fact, he wanted Melody’s operation.
“What up?” Cray asked.
“He’s at a cookout at Druid Hill Park,” Melody went straight to the point. “How long will it take you to get there?”
“Cray glanced at his watch and said, “Thirty minutes.”
“Cool. Handle your bizness.”
“I always do,” Cray reminded him. “But when I get back I want to holla at you bout somethin’.”
“Before we do all of that, take care of my biz.” Melody hung up.
Punk ass mothafucka! Cray thought.
When he put his phone back in his pocket, he saw Markise get close lined by a nigga on the basketball court. Without even thinking, he hopped down eight and nine benches at a time to get at him. From his periph
eral vision, he saw his boys were running in that direction too. They were twenty deep! Cray led the pack as he ran up to the dude who momentarily put Markise on his back.
“You a’ight, man?” he asked helping Markise up eyeing the perpetrator the entire time.
He nodded yes.
“You must’ve forgot how to play the game, dude.” Cray said, looking for a reason to lay the tall lanky man on his back.
“I ain’t forget shit! He traveled.” His four friends hesitantly moved behind him.
But the look in their eyes showed him that they were praying things were resolved civilly. To say that they were outnumbered was an understatement. Cray had over twenty men behind him.
“Yo, got mouth!” Jason added. “Let’s bank this mothafucka!”
That was all he needed. Cray hit him with a two-piece. His friends tried to run but were caught a few feet out by Cray’s goons. It looked like a riot on the basketball court. The dudes were getting stomped out by three and four niggas at a time! As always, somebody watching from the sidelines called the cops. And when they heard the sirens, everybody bailed. Cray and them didn’t relax until they reached Cray’s car.
“Yo, got his shit cracked!” Markise said, jumping on his 900 red Suzuki motorcycle. “Good lookin’ out.” He continued putting on his helmet.
“You know how we do.” Cray laughed giving him dap.
“I’ll get up wit ya’ll tomorrow though. I got to grade these papers.”
Markise was a teacher at a community college and played basketball overseas. Nobody even knew he had skills until he got to high school. But it wasn’t until Markise picked up a ball that he knew himself.
“A’ight, yo!”
Zoom…ZOOM…ZOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMM!
When Markise sped off Jason and Cray jumped into Cray’s white Crown Vic. His ride was beyond clean even though it resembled a police car.
“That shit was wild, yo!” Jason laughed, firing up the bob.
Cray watched him carefully from the corner of his eye. He didn’t mind smoking in his car just as long as he didn’t get shit all over his seat skin covers and shit. He was a neat freak to the ninth degree.
“You rollin’ wit me?” Cray asked. “Cause I ain’t goin’ straight home.”
“Where we goin?”
“I got to handle somethin’ right quick.”
He gave him the look that said murder was on his agenda.
“I guess I’m rollin’ wit you then.”
At The Picnic
The park was crowded with families there for the big picnic. Cray scanned the area for the police and didn’t see any nearby. There were so many people out there he could barely drive. So he parked, got out, and looked for Tip, the dude who owed Melody money. He didn’t understand why people didn’t get it through their heads that Melody wasn’t playing when it came to his dough. He couldn’t count the number of bodies he dropped.
Although the park was jammed pack, he knew Tip wouldn’t be hard to spot. And just as he thought, he stood out as he groped some short girl with dark blue hair. Cray hoped for her sake that she could carry his weight when he popped his punk ass.
Carefully he approached his target, heat in hand. He had to be quick because there were already a few people who recognized him. Cray’s rep whistled throughout BMore and he’d earned the name the Reaper.
“Main man, you got change for a …POP!”
He hit him in his head with a hot slug and watched him fall onto the girl in front of him.
When she moved he toppled to the grown eyes wide open. His body started shaking violently. And to be sure he was dead, Cray walked up on him and…Pop…Pop…Pop! Three more into his body.
Kneeling over him he said, “You shoulda paid up. Now you’re number 128.” He continued referring to how many people he killed in a lifetime.
With his work now done, he calmly walked away.
On His Steps
“You sure you can handle this?” Melody asked him after Cray told him how he felt about wanting a change in position. “Cause I don’t like my money fucked wit.”
They were outside, in the same place where seventeen years ago he knocked the wind out of his undeveloped chest for touching his car.
“Positive.” Cray said with his hands in his pockets rocking from side to side.
Melody exhaled, walked a few feet away, and went back over to Cray.
Cray wanted to be put on but he wasn’t about to beg his bitch ass either. If he didn’t put him on, he had plans to be his worse enemy.
“You can trust me.” Cray offered hoping it would be the deal breaker.
“A’ight, Cray,” Melody said as if he should rethink his decision. “I’ma try you out tonight with my D.C. folks who move my product from NY. He’s the only one I trust outside of J-Swizz to handle biz. Normally, I meet him myself, but since you want it, I’ma give it to you.”
“I got…”
“I’m not finished,” he said, cutting him off. “If everything goes as planned, you’ll get more work. Got it?”
“Yeah,” Cray said, trying not to be too anxious even though this was the break he needed. The only problem was he hated DC cats to the core!
“If my weight’s off just a little, you might as well put a bullet in your head, cause what I’ll do to you will be far worse.”
Cray shook his head.
“ I’m the same dude who cracked your chest back in the day, lil nigga. Remember that.” Melody stated staring him down.
Cray listened but he had a news flash for Mr. Melody. He may have been the same dude who cracked his chest, but he wasn’t a kid no more. He was a cold-hearted killer who wouldn’t hesitate to put it to anybody who tested him. And that included the nigga who put him on.
At Home
Cray was returning home from D.C early in the morning, half sleepy after being in the hospital with Markise who had just gotten into a motorcycle accident. He’d already dropped Melody’s dope off at his house but had to dip right back out after receiving the call from Jason that he was hurt. Nobody said it, but his ball playing career was over. Luckily for Markise outside of a few broken bones, he would be alright and still able to walk.
He almost dosed off on the road when he heard a cab driver pressing repeatedly on his horn behind him at the light. The cab driver had long blond hair and was swearing at him out his window. Just to fuck with him, Cray looked out his window and pointed his weapon in his direction. The cab driver through his hands up in the air and shook his head pleading with him not to shoo. Cray laughed and pulled off.
But the moment he entered his house and the hallway leading to his room, he couldn’t help but feel that something was different. Turning the doorknob, he removed the gun from his waist, and tiptoed stealthily inside. Once inside, he saw his father kneeling on the floor peeling the plastic back off of one of Melody’s keys. He was enraged. All his life his father violated him and he was tired. Aiming at him he cocked the hammer and saw his life flash before his eyes.
Nyzon Peate
Washington DC
Family Ties
Nyzon was laying in Gabriella’s bed, trying to think of the right thing to say to convince her to slide out of her panties. It was late in the afternoon and he was hoping to get some pussy before handling his business. It was hard for her to resist because Nyzon was finer than ever. He wasn’t sportin’ the waves anymore, but he did keep his hair in a low cut and knew how to wear his clothes. Not to mention, he was getting a little money from transporting some of the best heroin from New York that the east coast had ever seen..
“Gabriella…you know I’m feelin’ you, right?” he said, laying on his side looking into her eyes. They were facing each other.
“I guess.” She shrugged her shoulders playing with his platinum diamond chain. “But you like my best friend too.” She grabbed a pillow, placing it between her legs.
“I know, but she ain’t as sexy as you.” He dug deep into his Game database. “I can see s
pendin’ the rest of my life with you.” He went too far, and he knew it.
“Monesha told me you said the same thing to her.”
He was becoming sloppy with the game he ran on chicks but he wanted to fuck her so badly, he didn’t care. He loved the chase and he broke hearts on a regular. It was all about fucking, getting money and flossing. Besides, he’d been with Monesha since high school and she still hadn’t put out.
“I don’t remember sayin’ all that.” He lied. “I’m serious, Gab, I’m tryin’ to get to know you.” He touched her face.
“Nyzon…,” she said softly letting her guards down. “You messin’ wit my head.”
“I don’t mean to be.” He said as he pulled up her shirt. He licked his lips when he was able to see the brownness of her nipples. “But you shouldn’t be so fuckin’ sexy.”
The next thing she knew he had one of her titties in his mouth. He was quick and then his phone vibrated.
“Shit!”
He was about to ignore it until he remembered he needed to meet with Melody to deliver the keys.
“Hold on, shawty.” He looked at the number. “Give me a sec.”
“Go ‘head.” She pouted. “I guess I betta go to the bathroom and wipe myself off. And to think…I was gettin’ real wet.”
After hearing that he wanted to punch Melody in the throat for interrupting.
“What up?” he answered the phone watching her sash-shay away with that phat ass toting behind her.
“Change of plans. Same place. Same Car. New Person. Blonde Hair.”
“Got it.” He said hanging up. Nyzon never said too much over the phone.