by Carl Weber
“No, I don’t,” I told him.
I entered the house to see a room full of very intense-looking cops. All of them had their guns out pointed in the direction of a panic-stricken man, who had his hands raised in submission beside a deranged, knife-wielding woman. The man was my uncle, Willie, my mother’s younger brother and caregiver. The woman was my bipolar mother.
“Sir,” an officer shouted at Willie, “I’m going to need you to step out the way and let us handle this.”
“I’m not going to let you shoot my sister,” Willie answered.
“Get out! Get out of my fucking house, you demons!” my mother screamed, stabbing at the air behind Willie, daring them to come closer.
“Lorna, please! Please! You’re not making this any better,” Willie pleaded, but she was too far into another realm to be able to comply.
Seeing me, Willie’s face flooded with relief. “Niles, man, please help her! Please, man, if she don’t calm down they’re gonna kill her.”
“They aren’t going to kill anyone,” I declared, stepping into the line of fire. Like Willie, I held my hands up so that the officers understood my passivity as I moved further into the room. Last thing I needed was a trigger-happy cop to make me another casualty in the ongoing war between the cops and people of color.
I turned and stared at my mother as she stabbed at the air with the knife. Unfortunately, seeing her in this state wasn’t a rare occurrence. It was actually the reason why I had joined the Army and gone overseas. I loved my mother more than anyone in the world, but eighteen years living with a bipolar parent had almost sent me to the nut house along with her.
“Ma. Ma,” I called out to her, my voice calm and coaxing.
She turned to me, her eyes glassy in that way that let me know she hadn’t really seen me yet. “Willie! Get these devils out of my house! They’re trying to poison me!” she shouted, flailing her hands and waving the knife around.
“Ma!” I raised my voice a little, hoping to jar her out of her current state. She froze for a split second. I took that moment to move toward her, waiting for her to recognize her only son. “Ma, it’s me, Niles.”
“Niles?” A spark of recognition glinted in her eyes. She glared at me hard, but then her face began to soften. “Oh my God. Niles? Willie, it’s Niles.”
“I can see that.” Willie’s voice was flooded with relief, but I noticed that he still kept his hands raised. He wasn’t taking any chances with those officers. “Now give him the knife.”
“Niles.” Ma smiled and reached out her free hand to touch my face. “My Niles is home.”
“Yes, Mama, your Niles. I’m home now. Home for good.”
She kept grinning at me like I was a little boy, until one of the cops moved behind me. That set her off again, and she leaped in front of me, gesturing toward the cops.
“Stay behind me, baby. These are the devil’s demons. They must’ve found out you were coming home, and they’re going to try to take you to their master.” She looked like she might attack them at any moment.
I tried to place myself between her and the cops, who looked even more confused than before, but she wasn’t having it. She was like a mama bear protecting her cub.
“Don’t fucking move!” I shouted at the cops then turned to my mother. “Ma, take a good look at them. Those aren’t devils. Those are angels in disguise. Can’t you see it?” My tone sounded light and sing-songy—nothing like how I felt.
She shook her head. “No, baby, those look like devils.”
“Look closely and you’ll see it.” I began to massage her shoulders, hoping to loosen her up and also make sure I could stop her if she attacked one of the cops.
“You know, I think I’m starting to see it.”
“Of course you are. They’re right in front of your face.”
My mother glanced from me to them and back before her face broke out in a sweet smile. “Niles.”
“Yeah, Ma?”
“Those angels really should get better disguises, ’cause they are ugly as hell.”
I laughed, and as she lowered the knife, I guided it out of her hands.
Keisha
5
“I know you ain’t wearing that shit tonight. That boy done bought you a closet full of clothes, so you ain’t wearing that shit.” My mother drilled me with her shrill voice. She snatched the outfit out of my hand and rolled her eyes at me.
I loved my mom to death, but sometimes I hated her just as much. She had a tendency to play fashion police every time she knew my son’s father was coming around.
“You know he likes for you to show off that caramel skin and those sexy-ass curves you got from me.” She was feeling herself as she switched her way over to my closet and pulled out a tight-fitting halter top and some short-shorts. “Look at this shit. These still got the damn tags on them.”
“If I put that on, he’s going to be all over me tonight and you know it.” I sucked my teeth as she waved the revealing outfit in my direction. “Whose side are you on anyway? You know he wants another baby.”
She looked at me over her sunglasses. “I’m on the side of having a roof over our heads. Besides, if I had a man that treated me as good as he treats you, I’d be working on giving him more than one baby.”
“Then why don’t you fuck him?” I shot back, tired of her being his full-time cheerleader. She smirked at me, and I knew that if he gave her even the slightest chance, she would sleep with him. My mother was only fourteen years older than me and closer to my sons’ father’s age than I was.
“Well, I certainly would treat him better than you do. You have no idea how good you got it.”
When I first met my sons’ father, I was just out of high school: young, dumb, and looking for fun. He was fine as hell and drove a Land Rover. All the girls wanted him, which, of course, made me want him even more. Well, when it was all said and done, he chose me. Back then I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted. I was just a kid who wanted to be popular, and being with him made me just that.
I can’t lie. It was fun for while, at least until my son was born. Once I got pregnant, everything changed. Now I was a grown-ass woman with a baby daddy and a child, but I wanted something more out of life. I wanted to go to college and get my degree and make something with my life, but he wasn’t having it. He didn’t want me to do anything except take care of his son and wait for him to come fuck me. I felt like a prisoner, but as far as my mother was concerned, I should be happy as long as he was giving me money.
“Let me ask you a question, Mom. Would you be kissing his ass so much if he wasn’t paying your car note and cell phone bill?” I snapped, annoyed at how many times I’d had to sit by and watch her gush over him, taking his side in every argument like he was her son—or her husband, for that matter.
“You young girls don’t know shit. You think a man like him just gonna come along again ’cause you something special? Please. It’s not going to happen. He’s the best thing that ever happened to us, and if I were you, I’d remember that before he gets sick of your ass and finds somebody new. Damn, that boy’s a great catch.”
“He’s a controlling pain in the ass.” I pouted.
“Man pays the bills, he’s got a right to say what goes on in his house. I don’t see your ass handing him the keys back.”
There wasn’t much I could say to that. Now you know why I hated her sometimes.
She placed a hand on her hip and handed me the outfit. “Now put this shit on and stop playing games.”
The doorbell rang, giving me the break I needed from my mother. I went racing from the room, not wanting the sound to wake up my son, MJ. Of course my mother followed right behind me and stood over my shoulder like this was her house as I opened the door.
“Giirrrrrlllllll, wait till you hear this!” Jasmine Peterson, my wild and ghetto fantastic girlfriend shouted when I opened the door. She was wearing one of her favorite catch-a-man outfits: a skin-tight burgundy dress with matching h
eels, hair fresh off the Asian beauty supply shop shelves, and a huge grin on her face. “Matter of fact, you need to sit down before you hear this shit.”
I glanced over at Tanya Brown, my next door neighbor, who was standing next to Jasmine with a concerned look on her face. They both stepped inside. Tanya didn’t put it out there like Jazz, mostly because she didn’t have to. Unlike Jasmine, Tanya was smart, natural, fine, and employed as a home health aide. She was thirty-five years old but looked younger than me. I liked her because she was more like a big sister than a friend. She also didn’t take any crap from my mom.
“Hmph! You bitches always gossiping,” my mother muttered under her breath. She knew my baby daddy didn’t like my friends, so she decided she didn’t like them either. He was worried that I’d see how much fun they were having and want to join in. That wasn’t that far from the truth these days.
“Stop playing games, Jasmine, and tell me.”
Jazz kept doing some dramatic movements with her hands before she spilled the tea. “Guess who got arrested?”
“Who?” I was anxious for some dirt that didn’t include my baby’s diaper.
Jasmine started rolling her neck and looking around like she was thinking about moving in.
“Dammit, Jasmine, who?”
Tanya burst out with, “Your baby daddy!” ruining Jasmine’s big reveal.
“You lyin’!” My mother jumped in the middle of them.
“If I’m lying, I’m dying, Ms. Smalls,” Jasmine snapped. “That shit is all over the block. Majestic and Bruce got locked up for murder.”
“Wow!” I couldn’t believe it. It felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders and I had been freed from prison myself. “You know, I guess there really is a God.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” My mother snatched my arm. “Do you know what this is going to do to me—I mean us?” Suddenly all eyes were on my mother. “You need to go down to that precinct wherever they got him and see what you can do to help get him out.”
“Mommy, you must have fell and bumped your head, ’cause I ain’t going nowhere.” I gave her a look like she was smoking rocks or something. “I been with that man for six years, and the last two I’ve been completely miserable. Not that you care. This is like my get out of jail free pass.” I threw my hands up in celebration.
Tanya raised her hand to meet mine in the best high-five I’d given in what seemed like years.
Jasmine was already onto the next thing. “C’mon, girl. We need to go party.”
“Shit. You got that right. I know exactly what I’m gonna wear,” I said as I started for my closet. “My mother just picked it out. Isn’t that right, Mom?”
“Not for you to be strutting around some other man!” my mother shouted at me like she thought I was still a child she could control. “You ought to be worried about who’s gonna pay your bills.” She said it firmly, like she thought that would shut my party down.
“I’m gonna get a job, Mama. Isn’t that what normal people do?”
“I swear to God you better find some good sense and get down there and help that man get out of jail.” She kept at it, obviously worried her meal ticket was over.
I fixed my eyes on her. “Not tonight. Now that his ass is the one locked up, I’m free, and I’m going to party. And you are going to watch your grandson. This is not open to debate,” I told her as I turned and strutted toward the bedroom, with my girls following my happy dance down the hallway.
Majestic
6
I had walked up to the desk sergeant in the First Precinct and smiled like I’d won the lottery, not the least bit concerned about the decision I was making. “My name’s Majestic Moss, and I hear there’s a warrant out for my arrest.”
The man had to lift his head to get a good look at me, since I towered over him. “Majestic Moss. . . .” He looked back down and typed something into his computer. Whatever came up on the screen had him spooked, because he jumped up, whipped out his gun, and pointed it at me like I had just threatened him. Of course, his actions incited the other half dozen cops in the room to pull their weapons out and point them at Bruce and me. “Hold it right there. Don’t you move a fucking muscle.”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” I replied, raising my hands very carefully.
“What’s going on?” one of the cops asked the desk sergeant.
“These guys are both wanted for murder. Slap some cuffs on them and get ’em in the back.”
I glanced over at my man Bruce, who was usually cool, calm, and collected under the worst circumstances. Even he looked like he was having doubts about my decision to turn ourselves in. Not that I could blame him. A half dozen guns pointed at your head will put doubt in anyone’s mind, including mine.
Within seconds, Bruce and I were cuffed and escorted into the back of the precinct, where we were placed in separated interrogation rooms. I waited in that room for six hours before a salt-and-pepper-haired man in a cheap suit finally came in.
“Majestic Moss.” He gave me a self-satisfied smile as he took a seat in front of me.
“Detective Wright. Good to see you again.” I nodded my head in acknowledgment, sitting back in the small-ass chair they’d provided.
I’d known this fuck since I was a teenager, when he was a beat cop patrolling the streets of Wyandanch. He’d been trying to nail Bruce and me ever since we were kids slinging rocks for Mr. Magic and Bobby Dee. Now that we’d finally hit the big time and he was about to retire, he wanted our asses even more.
“Do you know how long we’ve been looking for you?”
He didn’t sound pleased, and that made me laugh. The cops just didn’t get it. This was my town. No way was I going to get found if I didn’t want to.
“You must have not been looking very hard, Wright, because, as you can see, I’m a pretty big guy. I’m not hard to miss.”
He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “Well, it doesn’t really matter, does it? I’m going to be able to find you any time I want for the next twenty years.” He started laughing, as if he knew something I didn’t.
Little did he know, the joke was on him.
“It’s not every day a wanted felon turns himself in and saves us the trouble and manpower of finding him,”
“Well, I think the felon part is a little premature. I’m an innocent man until I’m proven guilty, remember? Why else would I turn myself in? I’m sure once my lawyer gets here, I’ll be going home.”
He leaned back further in his chair, the smile still plastered on his face. “You ain’t going anywhere. I got your ass dead to rights on two murders, and by the time my partner gets finished listening to Bruce sing in there, I’m sure we’ll have you on multiple counts.”
“Really? And exactly what murders did I do?” I leaned forward and chuckled.
“More than I wanna think about, but we got you dead to rights on the Willie and Lamar Johnson murders. You and Bruce shot them in cold blood, right over there by the landfill in West Babylon.”
Damn, I thought, it was a good thing we hadn’t left those bodies in that landfill.
“Hmmm, that doesn’t ring a bell. I don’t even know a Willie or Lamar Johnson, and neither does Bruce. Do you have a body or a murder weapon, or perhaps . . . an eye witness to collaborate this fabrication? ’Cause this sounds like a setup to me.” I tipped my chair back to lean against the wall.
“Oh, we’ve got a witness all right. We’ve got one hell of a witness.”
“You sure about that? When was the last time you spoke to that witness? Maybe they’ve recanted their story.”
Wright was not a stupid man. He read between the lines, and his eyes narrowed to angry slits as he glared at me. “Have you messed with my witness, you piece of shit?”
“I’m just saying you can’t always rely on the word of a man like Lydell Washington.”
“You fuck!” He jumped up, his chair clattering to the floor. “I never mentioned Lydell Washington’s name
.”
“Oh, really?” I said with a smirk. “That’s interesting. Maybe I was just thinking of all the piece-of-shit people who would lie on me. You do realize that Lydell’s at the top of that list, don’t you?”
Wright’s face was bright red as he leaned over the table, looking ready to spit fire.
“Come on, Wright. Do it. Throw that pension of yours down the drain,” I taunted.
I was sure he wanted to smack the shit out of me, but he resisted when I gestured toward the camera in the upper corner of the room.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so, ’cause if you touch me, I’ll own Suffolk County literally and not just figuratively.”
He pointed a crooked finger at me. “This isn’t over, Majestic. This isn’t over by a long shot.”
As he turned to walk out of the room, I said, “It is if I say it is, detective.”
Willie
7
Niles and I walked into Sugar’s, a small local bar and grill on the West Babylon side of Straight Path, after spending most of the day getting my sister out of police custody and into South Oaks Hospital in Amityville. Neither of us had eaten more than a candy bar, and I for one was starved, not to mention the fact that I could use a stiff drink after all that damn stress.
“What can I get for you gents?” the waitress, a short dark-skinned woman with huge tits, asked.
“Gimme a burger, fries, and a double shot of Henny on the rocks,” I replied, taking in the ample view. “Oh, and make sure they don’t put no cheese on my burger. I’m lactose intolerant like a motherfucker. I’ll be farting all night.”
Niles laughed. “Make that a burger and Heineken for me. I’ll take cheese on mine.”
I gave him a pat on the shoulder. “It’s good to have you back, nephew. From an ex-Marine, I just want you to know I’m proud of you. Your mama is too.”
“Thanks, Unc. If it wasn’t for you coming home when you did, I wouldn’t have been able to leave. I appreciate you taking care of Ma all these years.”