“Yeah, I do.” Tyrus bit down on the corner of his lower lip.
“My moms wouldn’t even let me miss school to go to the murder trial so I could hear firsthand what had gone down. She felt like I was too young back then to understand, and she was probably right. But a nigga just wanted to know back then, like a nigga wanna know now.”
Although the last thing Tyrus wanted to talk about was that tragic night that also haunted him, he obliged JoJo and did just that. Since his promiscuous mother was indeed truly to blame, he felt he owed him at least that much.
Only ten minutes or so deep off into the conversation down memory lane, JoJo felt himself grow more and more agitated at what he was hearing. His heart raced, and his blood boiled just as if the murder were taking place right now in front of his face. He could remember so vividly wishing that evening in his prayers that his father would go away and never come back home. He was consumed with emotions and guilt. Closing his eyes, JoJo could almost visualize his mother running out of the house that night, saying his dad had been hurt, and him being left standing there speechless and full of remorse that possibly his wish had come true.
The story Tyrus told of that dreadful nightmare unfolded from his end. He started at the very precise moment his mother, who was getting slapped around, placed that ill-fated, “Help me, help me,” distress call to JoJo’s pops. That was the phone call that led to the confrontation between Dawn’s other man, who’d just been released from prison, and Joseph Sr. It was the confrontation that ended with the ambulance Tyrus ended up calling rushing the married man off to the hospital where he took his final breath. After calling his wife, Dawn Jackson had been right there clinging to Joseph Sr.’s side, much to the dislike of a hysterical Yanna who arrived at the hospital, bursting through the doors and jetting by security, just in time to see them pronounce the time of her husband’s death.
Just listening to the details of how Dawn’s other man had been beating on her and she had called his father over to the rescue, to be Superman, made JoJo’s adrenalin rise. Why didn’t Dawn call the police? Why didn’t Tyrus? Why did she have to call my father? Why did my father get up from the dinner table? Why was he thinking it was all right to cheat on my mother in the first place? The more unanswerable questions he thought about sitting on the stairs, the angrier JoJo got. He could hardly contain his inner rage.
“You can stop,” JoJo loudly ordered Tyrus. He held his head down buried in his hands. “I’m tight! I don’t even wanna hear no more.”
“Dude, I apologize for the role my mother played in your father’s death.” Tyrus tried consoling his new friend and business partner even though he knew it wouldn’t soothe his pain. “That scandalous mess she did that night is what got her so jacked up now and out of her mind. They say God don’t like ugly, so now I guess she paying for all that every day out in these Detroit streets strung out and pimping herself out. What’s not fair is I got dragged out right along with her!” Tyrus felt the anger rising in his spirit.
JoJo lifted his head slightly, enough so Tyrus could see the redness of his eyes, and the complete look of disappointment on his face. “Yo, my bad, man. I ain’t mean to get you upset too. You don’t need to keep talking about it. I’m good. I just wanted to know what really jumped off that night.”
Tyrus took that as his cue to get up and head to the crib. “There is one other thing, in case you wanna know,” Tyrus added with compassion, looking JoJo in the eye. “When the ambulance was taking him away, I heard ya old man pleading with my mother to call your moms and tell her he loved her and his kids. Despite what you think, JoJo, ya pops was a real stand-up dude in the end, and he talked about you and your sister all the time.”
“Oh, yeah, is that right?” JoJo, at that point, really didn’t know how to take that last bit of information about his adulterous father, so he just nodded, lowering his face back down in his hands as Tyrus left.
CHAPTER NINE
I can’t believe that! Why did I even let him tell me that garbage? Then he gonna lie and say my no-good, cheating-ass father said he loved us! Yeah, right! That’s a joke. If he loved me, my sister, and my momma so much, he wouldn’t have been messing around on her in the first place, especially with that boney crackhead! JoJo reflected on what he’d just heard, leaving himself numb to any type of respect for Joseph Sr. or his legacy.
His plans for having a good time later were halted as he sat on the porch infuriated, not knowing what to do next. As he simmered, shooting phone call after phone call to voice mail, he suddenly had the strange desire to not remember what Tyrus had put on his mind. There was only one way he could do that, and that was to buy something to drink. After all, it worked for his mother all the time. Whenever Yanna was depressed, which was often, facing the troubles of the world, that bottle hidden in the closet took the edge off and often seemed to put his mother in a much better and mellower mood.
I need to get drunk or good and buzzed for real. Slowly getting up and brushing off his designer blue jeans, JoJo headed down the block toward the corner liquor store where he was stopped by, of all people, Dawn. She’d darted out of the alleyway after trying to con some old man in a red Ford F-150 out of his money.
“Hey now, Little JoJo.” Dawn smiled, showing her rotten teeth as she squinted. High as a kite, she had a flashback of the good old days before she’d begun worshiping the crack pipe. Tyrus’s mother took notice of all the characteristics her boyfriend from once upon a time had in common with his son.
“Oh, hey, Ms. Jackson.” JoJo, hard as it was, tried giving her a small amount of respect since he and Tyrus were now in business together, as well as friends. “How you doing this evening?”
“I’d be doing a whole lot better if you could just spare me a little bit of change so I can get something to eat.”
“Come on now, Ms. Jackson, I know your son got your pockets straight enough to get a sandwich, so go pull that hungry routine with the next sucker. Besides, I’m not in the mood for listening to all those games you be trying to run, okay? Tonight is not the time.”
Dawn, now feeling like she and JoJo were on good terms, placed her hand on his shoulder. “Listen, baby, Tyrus is stingy and don’t be giving me no damn money. He think I’m gonna just blow it on getting high and whatnot.”
“And is he wrong?” JoJo moved his shoulder backward so her filthy hand wouldn’t dirty his expensive Pistons throwback jersey.
“Naw, he right, but so damn what? I’m a grown-ass woman. I’m the parent, not the other way around!” Dawn, already lifted beyond belief, clutched the five-dollar bill she’d just worked for in the alley. “He can’t stop me from doing what I do, no matter how much he tries. Anyway, he ain’t nothing but a hypocrite. I mean, look at him running around here playing big, bad dope man all week, and then trying to drag my behind to church with him on Sunday. He sounds like a fool! He can’t change me talking about faith in God!”
“What?” JoJo paused, not believing what she’d just said. Shocked, as they continued to walk into the store’s crowded parking lot, he finally responded, “Did you just say Tyrus be going to church? Tyrus? Are you serious?”
“Yeah, I said church. Every Sunday now for a month or so he keep waking me up or be out searching for me, thinking I’m going with him. He even claims he’s getting baptized this week. Ain’t that about nothing! Who do Tyrus think he is? He makes me sick sometimes! All I want is a few dollars to get high, and that cheap nigga won’t even help his own momma out. JoJo, I know you ain’t doing your mother like that. I see her driving by me in the new truck, still looking at me like I’m some trash.”
“Wow, that’s deep,” JoJo replied, laughing to himself, trying to imagine big, bad, “I’m so cool, nobody can beat me” Tyrus posted in church like he used to be when he was younger. “And naw, I look out for my mother. Shitttt, she makes sure of that. But, hey, fuck all that. Right about now I need for you to do me a small favor. Can you hook me up or what?”
“Anything f
or you.” Dawn was elated Joseph Sr.’s son was coming to her for assistance. Normally, in the world where she lived and in the seedy circles she traveled, it was common knowledge that when anybody wanted anything from her, they had to pay for it. But, of course, she would do anything to help out JoJo any way she could, free of charge. “What you need, angel face? Looking just like your daddy.”
Letting her get away with even mentioning his father showed the black-hearted Detroit state of mind he was in. JoJo reached into his pocket, pulling out a crisp fifty-dollar bill. With hate in his heart, he handed it to Dawn. “Look, I need for you to go in the store and buy me a drink, some Rémy.”
“You want a drink?” She couldn’t believe what the once Goody Two-shoes had said. “Did you say you want some Rémy? Naw, not you, JoJo. What happened to that nice—”
“Yo, listen, Ms. Jackson, you can kill all that extra noise.” Once again he was thrown back to disrespecting her and her drug-addict lifestyle. “You can spare me all them judgmental stares and trying to be all up in my business! Just do what I asked you! Besides, you the last one who needs to be around here acting like you anybody’s mother! And oh, yeah, after you cop that bottle, you can keep the change so you can do what you do!”
“Good looking, sweetheart. Say no more. Momma Dawn got you!” Bobbing her head and scratching at her arms, Dawn happily went into the store so that she could cop JoJo’s poison for comfort: a bottle of liquor. Soon after, with the change he so graciously was allowing her to keep, she would cop the poison of her choice as well: crack cocaine.
* * *
What seemed like hours slipped by as JoJo, who admittedly was not a drinker, attempted to drown his sorrows by nursing the fifth of Rémy Ms. Jackson had purchased on his behalf. Throwing rocks at his mother’s empty flowerpots, which served as perfect targets, the young man sat posted on the third step from the top. Yelling out obscenities from time to time he cursed the name of everybody he felt was responsible for his father being snatched out of his life. That included Dawn, Tyrus, Yanna for nagging his pops like she used to, and his old man for being so dumb, selfish, and stupid to put the next woman and kid before his own.
JoJo was confused, and his emotions were running wild. I hate my father! I hate him and everything about him! echoed throughout his mind, consuming him with an intense fury and rage he had never felt before. I’m glad that disrespectful bastard is dead! Good riddance! I hope he’s burning in hell!
Several of Yanna’s longtime neighbors came onto their porches to see what all the commotion was about at the small-frame house that was normally quiet; that was, up until lately. Gossiping among themselves, they’d all taken notice of JoJo’s now increasingly blatant and sometimes rude behavior. But they dared not bring up to Yanna the unexpected change pertaining to her precious baby boy’s rotten demeanor, especially considering that she seemed to be suffering from the same wild, unpredictable transformation in her own lifestyle. The pair both kept late hours and had strange cars stopping by at all times of the night; not to mention, JoJo hadn’t volunteered to cut their yards in months.
Yanna Banks used to speak to them every morning she went to work, or she would share a cup of coffee with them. But now, as the nightclub-hopping single mother of two drove by in her new truck, she scarcely acknowledged her longtime neighbors. They were the same ones who stood by her when she and her kids were down and out. Maybe she was blinded by all the short dresses, tight jeans, and flashy jewelry she’d been rocking the last couple of months. It was the sentiment of most that those things were hindering her once-sensible judgment. Possibly that was also why they hadn’t seen that much of Jania lately. And maybe that was why Yanna condoned the twisted reality of JoJo keeping company with the likes of Tyrus Jackson and that no-good, shady mother of his, Dawn.
Realizing that the young man was distraught and obviously troubled, old Mr. Sims, who was pushing seventy-one, decided to take action. Out of concern, he held on tightly to the black steel handrail, making his way off his porch and across the street to console the son of his former friend and Masonic Lodge brother, Joseph Sr. “Hey now, son.” He smiled reassuringly like he had so many other times throughout the years. “Do you need to talk to someone?”
“Naw, Mr. Sims. I’m good.” The teen’s breath reeked of liquor as he stood, almost losing his balance. “I’m real, real, real good!”
“Well, you don’t look good, son. Why don’t you come on over to my house, put that bottle down, and let my wife fix you a plate of that good home cooking of hers you like so much?”
“I’ll pass,” he slurred as he burped.
Not ready to give up on JoJo, Mr. Sims tried insisting, hoping he’d change his mind. “Come on now, a hot meal will do you good. It’s smothered pork chops and mashed potatoes.”
“Naw. I done told you once, I’m okay.” JoJo tried stashing the half-smashed bottle of Rémy behind one of the flowerpots as he wildly waved his arms, dismissing the elderly Mr. Sims. “You can go on and just leave me alone. I don’t need nobody’s help! I done told you, old man, I’m fucking good! Just leave me the hell alone!”
“All right, all right, all right.” Mr. Sims reached in his back overalls pocket and got out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his brow. “I’m gonna do just that, son, because I see that you are intent on going down the road of self-destruction and defiance. But while you taking that hard, bumpy and, unfortunately, often-traveled journey, take these words of wisdom along with you for comfort: remember, son, it ain’t never too late to turn back on that road and do the right thing.”
The last thing JoJo wanted to hear about was doing the right thing. “Mr. Sims, please go on back to your house and leave me alone! And stop calling me son! You ain’t my daddy,” he demanded, falling back against the pillar and knocking one of the flowerpots to the pavement. “I ain’t got no daddy! Matter of fact, my dad is dead! He ain’t care about me or my momma! He left me! You act like you wasn’t around back then! You know what he was doing.” JoJo pointed around at all the other seemingly concerned longtime neighbors outside. “Y’all all knew what his no-good ass was up to!”
“Yes, son, that’s true. I’m not your father, but remember this,” Mr. Sims preached with a tone of certainty in his voice. “If you trust in the Lord, He’ll never abandon you. And, as for Joseph Sr., I bet my last dollar he’s up in heaven missing you every passing day. So, try to be the best you you can be and make him proud. You owe it to yourself.”
“Heaven? Him? That cheating-ass nigga is burning in somebody’s hell fire for how he played my momma and us! Fuck him!”
With his spontaneous sermon concluded, Mr. Sims went back to the security of his front porch. JoJo licked his lips and leaned back, reaching for his bottle, defiant of the advice he was just given. After twisting the cap off and raising the bottle to his lips, he glanced down at the bottom stair as he took another long swig. “Who do that old man think he talking to? Trying to tell me what I need to be doing! I’m gonna be a boss one day selling those pills! I’m the man, a way better man than my dead daddy ever was,” he mumbled under his breath.
Mr. Sims watched the young, troubled teen from his porch and shook his head, wondering what was gonna become of JoJo if he kept on the path he was traveling. One day that boy gonna learn. I just hope it don’t be too late. And Yanna needs to be ashamed of herself for running around town like some unfit parent. It’s like she taking Dawn Jackson’s place.
CHAPTER TEN
On his second trip to the store, a totally wasted JoJo tried and tried but couldn’t find Dawn to do him the same solid she’d done earlier by buying him another bottle. Barely standing against the brick wall of the store’s parking lot, he attempted coaxing person after person, no matter who they were. The teen hoped that one of them would be dishonest and dumb enough to break the law and risk getting ticketed to buy his underaged, already-drunk self some more liquor.
“Hey, you.” JoJo belched out loud as his eyes darted around the crow
ded street. Cocky, he waved another fifty-dollar bill in the air. “Hey, man, can you grab something out the store for me? Can you look out for me?”
“Naw, young playa,” responded one guy dressed in a suit and tie.
“Ain’t that Yanna Banks’s son?” another one commented to her friend as they walked past. “It’s a shame how these kids behave when they raise themselves. Look at him, drunk as I don’t know what. He ain’t a thing like his daddy used to be.”
“Girl, you right,” the other woman replied. “I know that man turning over in his grave. His wife out here running the streets like she young again, and his son drunk as a skunk.”
Hearing people ignore his demands had him heated. And they had the nerve to then talk about him and his mother like he wasn’t standing there. Making matters worse, on top of that they were comparing him to his two-timing, cheating, womanizing father. JoJo grew more enraged than he was when he’d first walked down the block. His small frame shook, and his jaws grew tight.
“Y’all don’t know shit about me or my mother,” the youth shouted so the entire world could hear him. “I’m sick and tired of y’all hypocrites trying to judge me! I’m my own man! I make my own rules! Can’t nobody tell me shit! I runs my own world and you bitches just around in it for nothing!”
As JoJo stood in the middle of the parking lot, jeans sagging, proclaiming his independence and manhood, two plainclothes police officers pulled up. After receiving a call from the store’s owner who’d gotten complaints from several older customers about a teenager outside disrespecting them, the duo was dispatched. They observed the youth briefly before getting out of their unmarked vehicle. They cautiously approached him with their guns drawn, but JoJo didn’t care. He was spent, letting the liquor take over his system, resulting in him cursing the cops out without any regard whatsoever for their authority.
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