Crazy Summer

by Cole Hart

  “Y’all niggas ain’t got no powder?” he asked.

  Jermaine shook his head. “We got dat mid.”

  The guy moved on, and they watched him until he left their eyesight. A gold Camry with tinted windows came down the fire lane and pulled into a parking space across from where they were standing. The twins knew about the narcs and the unmarked cars they drove. They’d seen enough drug activity and raids in the projects to know the games they played.

  The advantage the twins had is that they were identical, and they used it well to play tricks on people, including their teachers, their principal, and even a few young girls.

  Almost an hour had passed, and they’d made close to one hundred dollars. Jermaine looked up, craning his neck almost at a 360-degree angle. An older looking guy was about four feet behind them. Jeremy spun around, his hand in his pocket on the pistol. The stranger was tall himself. He stood nearly 6’6”, his jaws were sunken, and he was bony as a pole with long, skinny fingers. He was dressed in filthy clothes, and his shoes were so raggedy that his big toes were visible through the top of them. Both twins stared up at him. He was a junkie; there wasn’t a doubt about that.

  “Whuzzup, pimp?” Jermaine asked as his eyes scanned the guy from head to toe.

  The guy stood silent for a moment, his eyes darting back and forth from Jermaine to Jeremy. Finally, he whispered, “All I got is ten dollars, but if one of y’all could beat me on da court, I’ll double it.”

  “How you gonna double it if you ain’t got but ten dollars?” Jeremy asked, his hand still on the twenty-five. Then he slowly removed it from his pocket.

  The guy looked directly at it. “I don’t want no problems,” he said. “I’m jus’ tryna get some extra money.”

  Two other guys came up through the small cut that separated two of the buildings. They were a few years older than the twins, but everybody in the projects knew of them and their bad habits. They smoked weed, sniffed powdered cocaine, sold crack, and robbed anything or anyone they could. They were smoking Newport’s when they approached. One of them looked at the junkie.

  The other looked at the gun Jeremy was holding and said, “Fuck y’all lil’ niggas doin?”

  Jermaine spoke up first. “Dis nigga tryna run game.”

  They looked at the junkie. “Whazzup, bruh. What’s goin’ on?”

  The junkie shook his head. “I’m jus’ tryna get a bet on da ball court.”

  “Ain’t chu da one who supposed to went pro a few years back?”

  The twins were already staring at him to see if they’d seen him somewhere before. Now they were interested.

  “You went pro?” Jermaine asked.

  The junkie shrugged. “You can say dat.”

  “And you wanna hustla us ‘cause you went pro and fucked up?” Jermaine said with an angry tone, then looked at his brother. “I’ma go get da ball, and I’ma show dis nigga.”

  “I got thirty to ten against the twin.”

  The deal was sealed. There was a small crowd that went down to the gym behind the project, while Jermaine went to their apartment to grab the basketball. His grandmother was lying on the hospital bed in the living room, Lil’ Danté was putting lotion on his feet, and Alisa was brushing her hair. Jermaine walked over to his grandmother and kissed her cheek.

  “You alright, Grandma?” he asked.

  Her eyes were weak, and her skin was wrinkled. She tried to speak, but the words barely escaped her mouth as her lips parted slightly. “Where you goin’?”

  “We at da gym. We finna play basketball.”

  “Can I come?” Lil’ Danté asked, interrupting the conversation.

  Mrs. Diane’s eyes closed as she drifted off to sleep from the medication that kept her drowsy. Jermaine shot upstairs to grab his basketball. He stepped into a pair of sweat pants and went back downstairs. As he headed to the front door, the phone rang, stopping him in his tracks. His little sister answered, and a smile appeared across her face.

  “It’s Mama,” she said cheerfully.

  Alisa smiled as she spoke into the phone. Her eyes sparkled at Jermaine. He moved away from the door and came toward the phone, with the ball cuffed under his arm.

  “Here, Maine,” she said, handing over the phone.

  “Hey Mama,” Jermaine said. He was definitely happy to hear from her.

  “Everything alright?” she asked.

  His eyes darted to Lil’ Danté, who was staring directly at him. “Yes, ma’am. I was on my way to da gym. We got an old dude who wanna play us on da court.”

  “Where’s Jeremy?”

  “He’s already there waitin’ on me.”

  “Is Mama alright?”

  He looked over at his grandmother. “She’s asleep.”

  “Tell her I called.”

  “You still comin’ home in four months?”

  “With the Lord’s will, I’ll be home in July.”

  Jermaine smiled. “I’ll be glad.”

  Lil’ Danté listened in on the conversation, and when it sounded like his brother was about to hang up, he said, “Let me talk.”

  “Okay, Mama,” Jermaine said. “I’ma let Tae talk. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Lil’ Danté got on the phone and began talking to Summer about his grades in school. He was a straight ‘A’ student and loved bragging about it. He told her about a few of his friends who were on the boxing team at the Augusta Boxing Club. He wanted to join, but his grandmother told him that he’d have to ask his mother. So, he did.

  “Is that what you wanna do?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am, ‘cause I already know how to fight.”

  “Have you been fightin’ in school, Danté?”

  “No, ma’am,” he said. “But, I beat up a boy down the street fo’ Maine.”

  She laughed on the other end. Lil’ Danté was her youngest son; he’d be ten years old that year, and she knew he wasn’t a baby anymore.

  “When I come home, I’ll let you box, but only on one condition, though.”

  “What’s the condition?” he asked enthused, a broad smile playing over his face.

  “Promise me that you will not get into any trouble.”

  “I promise.” He continued to smile.

  “And promise me that you won’t get knocked out.”

  “Promise.”

  *****

  Jermaine ran full speed from one end of the court to the other, touching the line at each end. This was how he warmed up. After that, he took a few practice shots from the three-point line with his brother feeding him the ball. He hit six three’s in a row before missing one. The junkie watched his performance. He’s full of energy, he thought of Jermaine. With Jermaine bouncing the ball through his long legs, he faced the junkie one on one. Jermaine crossed him with an amazing crossover, shaking him out of his shoes. Jermaine blew past him, and just as he was going up, the junkie came from behind him and pinned the ball up against the glass. The crowd chanted. Jermaine gave a bewildered stare for a moment.

  The junkie gave him back the ball. “Try it again,” he said.

  “Don’t show him no mercy!” Jeremy yelled from the sideline.

  Jermaine passed him the ball. “Check ball,” he said.

  The junkie gave him the ball back, and Jermaine blew past him again. He dunked fiercely, holding on to the rim and slapping the backboard before he came down.

  He stared at the junkie. “Get wit’ it, old man.”

  The junkie had the rock now. His hands were so huge that he palmed it with ease. He extended his arm, holding the ball in Jermaine’s face. He flinched as if he were about to go toward the rim, but instead, he pulled a long-range jumper, and when it hit, the net barely moved. A few spectators cheered.

  They went back and forth for over an hour. Jermaine lost to the best three out of five. Then the junkie called the other twin out. Jeremy was more aggressive; he loved to bang in the paint, but he wasn’t any match for the guy who they learned was
named Big Will.

  After several games, the three men were exhausted. The twins wanted to talk to Big Will. They wanted to learn more about the game and where he went wrong. Big Will explained to them that the main key to reaching the top is discipline. They both listened to Big Will as if they were in school. He was a good teacher, and they were perfect listeners.

  For the next two months, they met with Big Will at Sunset Center nearly every day. They learned that he worked at Castleberry Meat Company. He had attended Glen Hills High school, and his basketball career got him into Georgia Tech. He later went on to play for the Charlotte Hornets for one year. He only played three games, not as a starter, but he did get playing time, though. The next season, he was cut and never picked up by another team. When he came back to Augusta, he turned himself over to the almighty white bitch, cocaine.

  The twins stared at Big Will in amazement, and at the same time, there was a bit of confusion in their glare, also. Big Will tried to avoid their stares while fighting back the tears building up in his eyes. His tears were not for his career that went down the drain, but because there was more he wanted to tell. So, he asked them if they could talk more in the cafeteria.

  As the three sat in a booth, Jermaine sipped on a sweet tea and politely wiped his hands on a paper napkin. He then looked at Big Will and asked, “So you ain’t never have no kids?”

  Big Will’s stomach tightened, and his eyes darted from one twin to the other. He cleared his throat before speaking.

  “I believe y’all are my sons,” he said, almost choking on his words.

  Chapter 21

  The letter Summer had received from the twins made her so mad that she called home every hour on the hour trying to catch her boys to see what the hell they were talking about. In her eyes, Danté was their father, and he was deceased now. She sat in her cell with the letter folded in her hand. She unfolded it again and ripped it up into tiny pieces. Summer had so much hatred built up in her heart toward whoever this Big Will guy was. She tried to think back to the night when she was tricked by this guy she really didn’t know. His name was Victor, but everybody called him Vick for short.

  The year was 1988. It was Summer’s first year at Glean Hills High School, and she came from Morgan Road Middle School with a fighting reputation. A few girls already knew her, and everybody knew her brother Rodney. She was mainly known through him. One day after a third period class, she bumped into her friend from the neighborhood. Red Bone was a young high school princess who demanded respect from any and everybody that walked the halls. She casually dressed on a preppy level, but at this school, there were several females that dressed in Duck Head fashions. It was the same with Polo; the women wore it from head to toe. This school really produced some damn good dressers. Red Bone wore her hair in the style of the rap group, Salt ‘n Pepper. That day she was wearing jeans and a long colorful rugby Polo. Summer was dressed similar to her. They hugged each other briefly and exchanged overwhelming smiles. A crew of females walked by. They spoke of course and didn’t give any funny stares.

  Red Bone looked at Summer and asked, “You like it so far?”

  “Yeah, it’s alright, I guess.”

  A whistle came from a small crowd of guys. They both turned their attention toward them. It was four of them, and two were the high school football jocks. They were stocky and tall, standing no less than 5’11”. Red Bone knew all of them except one guy. They came over toward them.

  “Who’s ya friend?” one of them asked Red Bone.

  Red Bone smiled. “This is Summer. Summer, this is Ramon.” She pointed to the tall guy. “And this is Andy.” She pointed toward one of the guys in a jersey. “And this is Mark.”

  Summer’s eyes scanned over them all, but she took a double look at Ramon. He eyed her, also, admiring her well-shaped body and staring at her bowed legs. She gave him a smile. After they exchanged phone numbers, Summer talked to Ramon for several days after that.

  It happened one night after a high school football game. Ramon picked up Summer and took her to his house in a subdivision near Fort Gordon Army base. His parents weren’t home at the time. They pulled up in front of a two-story red brick house. They were in a new Volvo, and they pulled in next to a Benz. Summer was impressed with the house and the cars. Ramon switched off the engine and pulled a bag from the back seat. It held two bottles of grape Mad Dog 20/20. Summer had chosen the flavor.

  She looked over at Ramon. “Who else is here?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Probably my brutha.”

  He opened his door, and the interior light illuminated a small portion of the driveway. She opened her door, stepped out, and slung her small leather purse over her shoulder. Once they were inside the house, he flipped the light switch in the small foyer. The rest of the house was dark and quiet.

  Ramon kissed her there. He caught her by surprise, but she went along with it and kissed him back. She was nearly on her tiptoes. His large hands explored her body and palmed her soft round ass. He waited for her to stop him, but she never did. After they got inside his bedroom, they drank two glasses of Mad Dog apiece. He rolled up a small joint and lit it. After taking two hits, he passed it to her, along with another glass of liquor.

  She remembered it so clearly. He lit up another joint as she stripped naked and danced with Ramon to an old Al B Sure song. She was giggling and acting silly. The liquor and weed had taken control. Ramon got naked, also, and laid her on the bed. The room was totally dark. Her head was spinning, and she felt herself about to throw up. She held it back until Ramon pulled out of her. She begged him for more. He poured another drink.

  “I got to pee,” she whispered, her words slurring from her drunkenness.

  Ramon got up and guided her to the door. Butt naked, she walked into the bathroom across the hall.

  Ramon’s older brother was in the hallway and beside him was another guy by the name of Big Will. They were both seniors and on the basketball team. Big Will went into Ramon’s bedroom just as the toilet flushed on the other side of the door. When Summer came out, she went straight into the room and pulled Ramon by the hand. His brother followed.

  The next day was Sunday, but that didn’t stop her mother from raising hell because she had been out all night. Her brother Eric really didn’t care, but Rodney wanted to know who she was with. She only told him about Ramon and his brother; Big Will’s name was never mentioned. Ten guys from Barton Village later jumped Ramon and his brother after a football game. Rodney and Danté were charged with assault, and Summer never found out who was the father of the twins.

  Summer replayed the scene in her mind; the more she thought about it, the angrier she became.

  The day she was released, the twins had an older guy from the projects to drive them to the bus station to pick her up. She rode in the front seat with a young guy who was no more than seventeen years old. He had borrowed his mother’s car just for the cause. It was a ten-minute ride back to the projects. She thanked the young guy for picking her up. Then she and the twins went inside the apartment. Summer hadn’t aged one bit, and her body was more toned than it ever had been. While in jail, she exercised four days a week and took up Yoga classes the other three days.

  Mrs. Diane was lying in her hospital bed with an oxygen tank at her side. Summer stroked the side of her face with the back of her hand.

  “Hey, Mama,” she whispered.

  Mrs. Diane’s eyes barely opened; they parted just enough so she could see her daughter. A glow came across her face, then a small smile followed by a tear that rolled down her right cheek. Summer wiped her face and kissed her cheek.

  “You’re still pretty,” she said.

  The words didn’t actually come out, but Summer could read her lips.

  She could barely stand to see her mother like this. Her heart rumbled inside her chest. She held her mother’s hand; Mrs. Diane was stronger than she looked. Summer shed a tear herself.

  “You need anything?”

  “
Jus’ take care of dem babies.”

  “I’ma take care of you, too.”

  Mrs. Diane smiled but didn’t say anything. Her hand relaxed on Summer’s grip. She stared at her mother for the next ten minutes. This wasn’t good. She didn’t need to come home and see her mother like this. There has to be something that can be done, she thought.

  She looked up at each of her boys. She was impressed with their height at such an early age. They group hugged her; they knew she needed it. There was a lot of catching up that had to be done with her family.

  She looked around briefly. “Where is Danté and Alisa?” she asked.

  “You know they sleep late in da summer,” Jermaine said.

  Summer turned and walked upstairs, while the twins stared at each other.

  “Man, our mama fine,” Jeremy said.

  Jermaine punched him playfully, and they laughed together. Then they went upstairs and joined their little sister, brother, and mother. She was back home with all her children.

  Chapter 22

  The small A-frame shotgun house was located on High Street. Inside, it was crawling with crackheads. Most of them were stuffed in the living room, packing and pushing their glass pipes. Freddy, the owner of the house, was in his mid-fifties and hustled liquor and beer. He sold brillo and glass pipes, and charged the smokers a small fee to use the house. B.B. King was playing on low, while Big Will sat on the arm of a sofa covered with thick plastic. He crushed a small piece of crack up in his sweaty hand and then scooped it up in his shooter. He probably had the biggest piece out of everyone else in the house. In his mind, he wasn’t about to share it. Not with one soul.

  He put it in his mouth and shook his lighter before striking it, his eyes glancing around. He was nervous, and it showed across his face. He was unshaved, and his teeth were stained. He hadn’t had a shower in seventy-two hours and had the house smelling like onions. Big Will struck his lighter and the flame blazed high. When he moved it to the other end of his shooter, he inhaled deeply; it almost took his breath away. The crack smoke hit him, going straight to the brain. He felt lightheaded when he stood up. He bought himself a dollar shot of gin, which was mixed with clear rubbing alcohol. He threw it back and swallowed it like a champ. He then walked outside into the fresh night air and stood on the porch for a few minutes, his shooter gripped tightly in his sweaty hand. He opened it, and it fell to the concrete. He crushed it in tiny pieces before walking away. Another junkie called after him and asked him if he were crazy for doing that.