“I need to rest somewhere and Iesha and this kid of yours ain’t gonna last too long either unless they get some sleep. We can’t go back to my place though and we damn sure can’t go to yours. It’s probably crawling with cops about now.”
I thought for a minute. Only one solution came to mind.
“I know a place where we can go, but you ain’t gonna like it.”
I directed him onto the freeway and soon we were headed downtown towards Center City. I picked up my cell phone and dialed a number. Huey watched suspiciously as I made arrangements for us. I hung up and smiled at him.
“It’s cool. I got us a place to crash for a few days.”
“With who?”
“Just make your next right. You’ll see when we get there.” I was still smiling and Huey was still glaring at me skeptically.
Huey sneered and shook his head in disgust as Christina opened the door to her tiny one bedroom apartment overlooking South Street. Without modesty or pretension she flew into my arms, greedily sucking my lips and tongue as she kissed me passionately, grinding her pelvis and opulent breasts against my body, which responded despite my fatigue. The girl was amazing.
I gently pulled her off of me and turned to Huey. He rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling and let out a sigh then turned as if searching for an exit. Iesha was behind him urging him forward so he relented and stepped into the apartment. He had to admit, there was nowhere else for us to go. Christina was bubbling over with excitement at seeing me. It almost made me blush.
“I can’t believe you’re here! Come in, all of you. This is Huey right?”
“Yeah, and this is his lady Iesha and this…” I gestured toward the baby who was now soundly asleep, “…is one long fucking story.”
“What happened to your ear? You’ve got blood all over the side of your head.”
“It ain’t nuthin’. I’ll tell you all about it in a minute.”
We sat down on Christina’s couch while she went to get a washcloth to wipe the blood from the side of my head. After I was clean she stuck a huge Band Aid over the wounded ear and dabbed the abrasion alongside my head where the bullet had traveled with peroxide. Huey’s immutable scowl had not diminished in the least.
Annoyingly, I felt every bit the shuffling, shucking, Tomming, white man’s dog Huey’s eyes accused me of being as Christina attended to me.
Fuck that hateful bastard! This bitch treats me like a goddamned king. Who gives a fuck what color she is? I thought to myself. Then I closed my eyes and enjoyed her ministrations.
“Anything else I can do for you baby?”
“I think the kid needs to be changed. Why don’t you and Iesha go to the store and get him some diapers and formula and stuff.”
I peeled off a hundred dollar bill from a roll that included the ten thousand dollars I’d gotten from hittin’ Jah Warrior just a week ago and handed it to her. Her eyes widened as they spotted my bankroll, but she didn’t comment. I’m sure she had assumed my gangster lifestyle was just some sort of act and she was now starting to realize that it was all real. I was curious to see how she’d handle it. Shit was about to get deep now and there would be no way I could keep her out of it.
After Christina and Iesha left, Huey and I sat and discussed the best way to bring the pain to Scratch as the baby slept calmly between us, surrounded by pillows to keep him from rolling off the couch.
“It don’t make no sense for us to be kickin’ back in this white bitch’s crib while that fool is out there spreadin’ the word all over the city about your ass. Pretty soon we won’t be able to go nowhere in this town. We need to peel this fool’s cap back tonight!”
“You’re the one who said we needed to get Iesha and the baby safe first and get some rest. Scratch don’t know nothin’ about Christina. He won’t be lookin’ for us way down here. He’ll still think we’re in the hood somewhere. This is the best place for us to kick it until we can figure out how to finish this. We can’t just stroll up into the Raymond Rosen projects and blast that mutherfucker. We need a plan.”
“Yeah? And why can’t you just walk the fuck up in there? He ain’t shit and them fools who work for him is just as scared of your ass as they is of him. They ain’t got no loyalty to him and if they think the mantle of power is shifting hands they’ll step in line to back the successor to the throne. You know I’m sayin’? Instead of walking in there like you tryin’ to run away and get out of the business, you walk in there like you takin’ over the mutherfucker. That’ll cause enough confusion to give you a chance to take his ass out.”
“True. That might work. It might also get my ass killed.”
“You a dead man right now anyway. At least this way you might have a chance. Now,” Huey picked up his cup of ginseng tea and crossed his legs atop the smoked glass coffee table, “Fuck is up with you and this white bitch?”
“Dog, don’t even go there with me right now. That Black consciousness shit is played out anyway. Ain’t nobody tryin’ to hear that shit no more.”
“I’m just sayin’, you was workin’ for a white drug dealer killin’ other brothers and talkin’ all that bullshit about God fuckin’ up your life and shit and now,” he shook his head and chuckled to himself as if he were discussing the ridiculous antics of some pathetic moron, “And now you all hugged up with this Caucasoid trick. Do you have that much self-hatred? You hate your own skin that much?”
“I told you I ain’t tryin’ to hear this shit right now! Don’t you think I got enough shit goin’ on without your bullshit?” I started to rise from my seat when Huey reached out with one hand and shoved me back onto the couch. Huey and I have never fought again since that first meeting when we were little kids, but the memory of that long ago ass-kicking still cowed me. I stayed put.
“Sit the fuck back down and listen to what I got to say. This white bitch is lookin’ at you and seein’ every stereotype she’s ever heard about Black men. You think she really knows what you do out there? You think she knows who the fuck you are? She looks at you and sees gangsta rap videos with young playas sittin’ in million dollar homes filled with naked women, guns, and mountains of cash like little Black Capones. She sees romance novels where African warriors turned slaves risk hanging to fuck the massa’s flat-assed dick hungry wife. She sees natural athletes with ten-inch dicks who can’t get enough of white pussy, the bad boy from the other side of the tracks that her parents will hate and her friends will envy as a sign of her liberal rebelliousness. You’re her little Mandingo, her Tupac Shakur, her Mike Tyson. You feel like some big time Mack Daddy when you’re with her don’t you? She play the innocent little white girl who’s been turned out by her charismatic Black pimp? She even calls you Daddy don’t she? It’s all some kind of fantasy to her. She ain’t no less prejudice than them fools in the white sheets just because she spreads them lily white thighs for you. When she looks at you she sees the same vicious sub-human animal they do only she sees one with a big dick.”
“You finished now? You got that shit off your chest? ’Cause you ain’t said shit as far as I’m concerned. How you gonna be in her house, drinkin’ her tea, and talkin’ shit about her while she’s out there tryin’ to help our asses?”
“Whitey guilt. That’s all that is. They do a little charity work and they don’t feel so bad when they pass us over for promotions and tell nigger jokes around the dinner table. Look, just answer me one question, what’s wrong with Black women?”
“I love Black women. They just…”
“They just what? Don’t talk to you if you ain’t got no money? Argue too much? Talk too loud? Dress too flashy? Wear too much jewelry? Expect too much from a brother? Won’t let you treat them like hoes? Act too much like hoes? Too bossy and domineering? Too hard and unfeminine? They don’t suck your dick and let you cum in their faces? All that’s bullshit and you know it. Those are just more fucked up stereotypes.”
“I was gonna say they’re too damned religious and they don’t give me no play
anyway. Everytime I like a sista she disses me for some other brother. They all want light-skinned pretty boys with hazel eyes and wavy hair like you or big buff brothers with two percent body fat. An average nigga like me ain’t got a chance with nuthin’ but the neighborhood chicken heads and I ain’t willin’ to stoop that low. I want a woman that wants more for herself than the average bitch in the street. That’s why I don’t fuck with no sistas but Yolanda.”
“That’s ’cause that heavy bitch spoiled your ass. Now you done found another stupid hoe to kiss your rotten ass.”
This time it was my turn to shake my head in exasperation.
“Can’t a brother just have a little fun without it having to get all political and shit? Damn. I don’t understand why you hate White people so much anyway. I mean, how can you already hate people you’ve never even met? You got your mind made up about the whole race based on what you know about the handful you’ve met. There’s like two hundred million White folks in America. It ain’t like you know all of ’em.”
Huey poured more tea into the imitation Japanese tea cup with pictures of little Bonsai trees on the sides. He raised the cup to his lips and loudly slurped down the Ginseng brew.
“You should be asking yourself why you don’t hate all of them. You blame God for everything and let them devils off the hook when they’re the ones with our blood on their hands. That don’t make no sense!”
“I can’t hate them ’cause they ain’t did shit I wouldn’t have done myself if I was in their position. You think that if brothers was runnin’ shit we’d be anymore fair and compassionate? Just take a look at Africa. Brothers is always talkin’ about the white man’s nature but conquering and exploiting is just man’s nature. Fuck do you think would have happened four or five hundred years ago if Africans had guns and bombs and shit and traveled to Europe and found White folks over there chuckin’ spears? We would have kicked they asses and took all they shit. They would have been cleanin’ our houses and plowin’ our fields and we would’ve been rapin’ their women and sellin’ off their families just like they did to us. White folks would be the ones callin’ us devils. Shit, we was already conquering and enslaving our own people before the white man ever came to Africa. I ain’t sayin’ I don’t hate them in general. I ain’t got no love for no peckerwoods. I mean if there was a war goin’ on and we had to pick sides I’d have no problem droppin’ bombs on faceless White enemies, but when you deal with them one on one you realize that they’re just people like you and me. They ain’t no devils.”
“Except Scratch?”
“Yeah, except him.”
“And yet you worked for his ass too, killin’ your own brothers for him.”
“Dog, I’m all out of excuses for that shit. I just want to cap that devil and be done with it.”
Christina and Iesha stepped back into the apartment, each carrying a grocery bag and chatting excitedly. Iesha had been as suspicious and cynical of Christina as Huey, but now the two girls were gossiping like old friends. Huey glowered menacingly at the noisome duo and Iesha immediately fell silent, casting one last smile at the tall white girl before they shut the door behind them and walked into the kitchen to put their groceries down.
“Have you called your mother yet?” Iesha asked, and then, seeing the shock and fear wash over my face, added, “I—I’m sure she’s alright. It’s just–you know—don’t you think you should check?”
Horrible images flashed through my head as I looked over at the phone. My eyes, wide with fear and a sadness in the pit of my stomach, scanned the ashen faces of Huey, Iesha, and Christina. Their expressions were sympathetic, as if they had already assumed the worse.
I took a deep breath and told myself that everything was okay, that Scratch hadn’t gone to my house and murdered my mother after we’d left.
I’ma kill you and everyone you ever knew!
Scratch’s enraged voice boomed in my head as if I was still down in that basement with him. I rose to my feet and staggered over to my cell phone. Huey, Iesha, and Christina followed, crowding around me and placing consolatory arms around my shoulders. We didn’t even know for certain that anything had happened and I already felt like I was at a funeral mourning my mother’s death. I dialed the numbers in a daze as I thought of the reconciliation my mother and I had never had and the look of disappointment and disgust on her face as she watched me speed away from the scene of Yellow Dog’s murder. My stomach tightened painfully as the phone began to ring.
“Hello?”
I nearly fainted. I was so relieved.
“Mom? It’s Malik.”
“Yeah?”
There was a strange tremor in her voice as if she’d been crying.
“Is everything alright? Did anybody come by looking for me?”
“You mean like the police or friends of that guy you murdered right in front of our home last night? The cops were here for hours asking me about you. They wanted to take me down to the station. I can’t believe you would kill someone right in front of me like that! I saw you! Is this the type of shit you’re into? Killing people? Is this what I raised you to become? I don’t even know you anymore. But don’t worry, I didn’t tell the police nothing. You’re still my child.”
“I— uh…I’m sorry.”
She snorted contemptuously.
“Nobody else came by while I was home, but I left about an hour after the police did,” her voice choked up again and now it was clear that she was crying, “I spent the rest of the night at the hospital.”
“Why were you at the hospital? What happened?”
“Your grandmother had a stroke last night. I would have called, but I didn’t know where you were.”
“Is she alright?”
“No…,” her voice softened and became very small, quivering with emotion, “…she passed away this morning. The funeral is tomorrow at 9:30 am.”
Mom continued talking, mostly chastising me about not being at the hospital to comfort my dying grandmother who loved me more than anything. I barely heard a word she said.
“Grandma?”
My friends had returned to their seats laughing at themselves in relief when they heard me talking to my mother, then when they saw the grief-stricken mask that my face had become, and heard the soft helpless, “God, no.” whisper from my trembling lips, they returned to where I stood once again throwing their arms around me. I closed the flip-top cell phone and stood there staring at it as if it had wounded me and not the cold tactless tongue of my mother. Tears flowed freely down my face as I stood trembling with a profound sadness I could not express and an anger I could not understand.
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
“My Grandmom died this morning. She had a stroke last night and went into a coma. Then she just passed away. The funeral is tomorrow.”
“Oh my God, Malik. I’m so sorry.” Christina’s eyes were filling up with tears as if she had just lost a relative. Irrationally, I felt possessive of my grief and resented her attempt to share it with me.
“Malik, I—,”
“You can’t go.”
Huey, who had sat silently, staring at the floor, interrupted Iesha before she could offer her condolences. He was looking right at me and shaking his head. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My grief ignited in an explosion of white-hot fury.
“Don’t you fucking dare! Don’t you fucking dare! Who the fuck do you think you are?”
Huey looked down at his feet as if he was sorry for what he was saying. Still, he repeated it.
“You can’t go, Snap.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I punched a nearby porcelain lamp and shattered it into a dozen pieces. Both girls jumped and let out a squeal. Huey didn’t budge.
“There’s just no way you can go.”
“Why the fuck not? What the fuck are you talking about? My grandmother is dead! Didn’t you hear me? What are you tryin’ to say I can’t go to her damn funeral? Who the fuck do you think is
going to stop me?”
Huey kept his eyes glued to the floor watching my shadow rage across the carpet.
“Scratch. That’s who. If you go, that entire funeral will turn into one big bloodbath. You’d be a sitting duck at that funeral and you and I both know that Scratch wouldn’t miss such a perfect opportunity to take you out along with half your friends and family. It would be the perfect revenge. And that’s why you can’t go. Your Mom will be there. Your aunts, uncles, cousins, it would be ridiculous to risk it. I can’t protect you in a crowd like that and even if I could I couldn’t protect your entire family. I might accidentally shoot one of your relatives myself trying to get to Scratch. I know how you feel, but it’s just too much of a risk.”
I collapsed into the seat across from Huey. Iesha and Christina took the baby into the bedroom to change his diaper while Huey and I talked. I felt completely empty, like a used tube of toothpaste that had been rolled all the way up from the bottom until every drop was squeezed out of it then slit up the middle and scraped clean. No way I was gonna let Scratch rob me of the opportunity to properly grieve.
“You can’t possibly know how I feel. I spent the last four years raising hell in the streets and my grandmother still loved me despite all the rumors flying around about me. Even though they whispered behind her back at church because of the shit I was doing. She still loved me. Even when the cops showed up on her doorstep and ripped her house apart looking for evidence of one of my crimes, she never spoke bad about me. But, I can’t remember the last time I sat down and talked with her for more than two minutes. I was too busy doin’ dirt in the street to give my own grandmother the time of day, even when I knew she was old and sick. I can’t even remember the last time I told her I loved her. I know it might not make sense to you, but I need to tell her I love her before they put her in the ground forever.”
Huey issued a long sigh of capitulation and finally raised his head to look me in the eyes. Tears were stubbornly holding at bay in his eyes, pride preventing them from spilling. He reached out and placed his hand on mine. His palms were softer than a woman’s.
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