Love/Fate

by Tracy Brown

  31

  CONSEQUENCES

  September 1998

  Born sat in Slim the barber’s chair at the barbershop on Bay Street. He had just sat down, and his cape was secured around his neck. Slim was called that for a very obvious reason. At six-foot-four and 170 pounds, he was a thin young man who ran his own shop, keeping his eyes open and his mouth shut. He cut Born’s hair to perfection every time, and for this reason he counted him as one of his regulars. He worked alongside Barnes and Kevin, two other barbers with decent followings of their own. On this day there were three other patrons in the shop besides Born. Two were young men in their twenties, as Born was. He recognized one of them as Breeze, from the Stapleton projects, while an unknown young man in a red Hilfiger shirt sat in Kevin’s chair getting his hair cut. The other customer was an older man in his fifties. Slim began the process of cutting Born’s hair into the perfect fade. The mood was calm, it being a cool September morning. The radio played in the background, and the topic changed from local gossip to current events. Soon Slim was putting the finishing touches on Born’s mustache and goatee. The older man left the shop, and the subject was hip-hop’s East Coast-West Coast beef.

  “All I’m saying is, the shit done got out of hand. It ain’t about music no more. And once it stopped being about music, I lost interest.” Slim said as he maneuvered his clippers skillfully across Born’s dome. “What do you think, Born?” he asked.

  Born pondered the question as he looked at the reflection in the mirror on the wall opposite him. He could see the street through the mirror, and he watched as cars pulled up, and people came and went. As usual, Born was on point. Although, to those who looked at him it may have appeared that he was simply having a conversation in a relaxed atmosphere, Born was in fact watching the arrival of his enemy. Looking in the mirror he could see Jamari and Wizz approaching the shop as they climbed out of Jamari’s car.

  Born sighed, wondering if it was coincidence, or if it was just his own rotten luck that he kept running into this dude. He answered the question that had been posed to him, as Jamari and Wizz entered the barbershop. He wasn’t facing the doorway, and Slim’s chair was in the back. But still, Born’s presence was obvious. “Sometimes beef starts out because niggas wanna test you,” Born explained. “And then niggas do or say something that crosses the line. Once that happens, you got a problem, because a man has to always defend his honor. Unless he’s a coward, and he has no honor. But a real man is gonna step up and call a nigga out. And when that happens, you got beef.”

  Jamari and Wizz listened, still thinking that Born didn’t know they were there. “Wassup, everybody?” Jamari said, expecting Born to look up in surprise at the sound of his voice. But Born didn’t move, nor did he respond, as the other patrons greeted Jamari and Wizz.

  The guy in the red shirt, who was getting his hair cut by Kevin, spoke once again on the topic of the rap war. “Niggas is dying, you know what I’m sayin’? Once bodies start droppin’, I think it qualifies as beef.”

  Jamari nodded in agreement, although he was coming in on the tail end of the conversation. He sat in one of the folding chairs, and said, “Beef ain’t always bodies droppin’ and bullets flyin’. Some beef simmers slowly.” His tone was suggestive, and Born met his gaze in the mirror’s reflection. Born knew there was a hidden message in what Jamari had said. Jamari grinned at Born. “Yo, what up, my nigga. I ain’t even see you sitting there,” Jamari lied. “How’s everything, man?”

  Born ignored the greeting and the question and stared at Jamari through the mirror. By now, all conversation had ceased, and this exchange was the focus of everyone present. Only the music drifting from the stereo’s speakers filled the void of silence.

  But Jamari was determined to spark a conversation with his old friend. “Yo, did you ever make back that money you lost with Chuck?” Jamari was grinning, antagonistically. He had heard about how Born had beaten Chuck within an inch of his life when Jada had been the one stealing from him all along. “You know he’s working with me and Wizz, now?”

  Born didn’t flinch. He stared back into Jamari’s cold eyes, as Slim removed the cape from Born’s neck. “Nah, I didn’t know that,” he replied. Born wanted to kill Jamari at that very moment, but there were too many witnesses present. “He’s working for you and Wizz now. What’s that supposed to be, like a step up or somethin’? You and Wizz ain’t gettin’ no money. It’s like I always told my nigga Chuck, if you hang around with nine broke niggas, you’re bound to be the tenth one. He’ll see what I meant.”

  Jamari stared at Born like he wanted to say something. But he uttered not a word. Wizz stood up, and glared at Born. “Yo, what the fuck is on your mind, Born? You walk around here like you’re Superman, or some shit. You ain’t no fuckin’ body! You can bleed just like everybody else.”

  Slim stepped between the men, as Born stood up. “Don’t bring this bullshit in my shop, Wizz. Word is bond.”

  Born turned to leave, grabbing his hoodie on the way out. “Nah, don’t worry about it, Slim. I’m leaving.” He looked at Jamari and Wizz, and smiled. “Y’all niggas can’t handle the truth.” He had his ratchet with him, and he felt the steel press against his rib cage. He smiled at them provocatively, hoping that they’d give him a reason to start shooting. “You can give work to Chuck and any other lil nigga out here you choose. But you’re never gonna catch up to me. Y’all ain’t never gonna get the respect I get, the money I get, or the love I get.”

  Jamari grinned now. “But it looks like I can get the girls you get, Born. Jada said to tell you ‘hi.’” Jamari licked his lips, feeling so much hatred mixed with jealousy toward his former friend.

  Wizz laughed, but on the inside, he was beginning to wonder if Jamari’s beef with Born was more about him wanting to be Born. To Wizz, Jamari sounded like a deranged fan. In truth, Jamari was thirsty for Born’s position, and he had been since they were young kids growing up.

  Born considered murdering both of them right there. But he decided to kill ‘em softly instead. “Tell her I said hello. I knew you was fiendin’ to sample that. I could tell from the first time I brought her around. Congratulations. She got some good pussy, don’t she?” The other customers laughed, and Born continued to smile in Jamari’s face. The two other young men in the shop getting their haircuts amped up the backhanded remark. His comment illustrated how little concern he had about Jamari being with Jada. Born had already been there and done that, and he’d had her first. In his heart, though, Born was still sick without Jada, and he hated her for being with this lame. But he would never give Jamari the satisfaction of knowing that. “Stick to the script, muthafucka. Stop trying so hard to fit into my shoes, and walk in your own for once.” Born looked at Jamari with contempt. Then he looked at Wizz. “You should watch how you talk to me,” he said. “You might fuck around and piss me off.”

  Born opened the door, and walked out, laughing. Wizz and Jamari were both enraged, and Wizz began declaring war. “That’s it, my nigga. I don’t care what you say. I’ma body that muthafucka next time I see him. I’ma run up in that nigga’s spots, and all that. Watch. I don’t give a fuck what you say.” Wizz was talking recklessly, and the other customers exchanged glances.

  Jamari was seething. He hated Born, because he was a constant reminder that there was always someone better than him. Jamari remembered how he had started getting respect only when he came around his peers wearing Born’s clothes, rocking Born’s jewelry. Jamari had respect for Born, but wanted that same success—wanted those same things for himself. He always got the things he wanted, eventually. But by then Born would be two steps ahead of him, and always did shit bigger and better. Jamari remembered when he started bringing pretty, light-skinned girls around the way, and he was the man for a minute. Having a light-skinned girl with long hair was a badge of honor in the hood back then. But then Born came through with Jada. And she wasn’t even all that light-skinned. But she was bad as hell, and she shut all the other bi
tches in their circle down. Jamari got an Audi, and Born got a Benz. Jamari rented a house, and Born bought one. Jamari hated the feeling he got whenever Born was around—the feeling that he was never the best. Never quite number one, as long as Born was on the scene. Everywhere he went niggas gave him respect. But Born still treated him like a shorty, and he was a grown-ass man. The truth of Jamari’s animosity toward Born had yet to surface, and he never revealed to Wizz his true motivation for hating Born as much as he did.

  Not realizing that he was speaking aloud, as he peered out the shop windows at the passersby, Jamari said, “Fuck that nigga. I ain’t no shorty no more. Things ain’t sweet like they used to be.”

  Pulling his card, the old man in his fifties said, “Yeah, nigga. You talk all that shit now that the muthafucka’s gone. Ten minutes ago, you was quiet as a fuckin’ church mouse.”

  The shop was filled with laughter, as everyone fell out at Jamari’s expense. Wizz shook his head, as Jamari stormed out. Their laughter filled his ears as he left, and headed for Jada’s house.

  Jamari arrived at Jada’s house, and she could sense right away that he was upset about something. He seemed uptight. He sat down and explained to her that he’d just had an argument with Born at the barbershop. He told Jada that he had defended her, while Born spoke about her like she was a disease.

  Jada’s heart beat rapidly. “What did he say about me?”

  Jamari seemed not to want to tell her. But she pleaded with him until he gave in, and told her his version of the day’s events. “He said that you’re a dirty crackhead.” Jamari watched Jada’s expression change, and he continued. “He started talking about how you were wild in bed, and all the sexual things he used to do with you. He was on some real disrespectful shit. He said you were his leftovers, and that he already used you up. He called you a bitch. The nigga was talking about you like you was some ho in the street, with all them niggas in the barbershop laughing at you, and shit. I defended you, though.”

  Jamari watched Jada wipe the tears that fell from her eyes. He knew that she still had love for Born, and knew that she was holding out hope that he would take her back one day. But Jamari saw Jada as a pawn, and he manipulated her as such. He walked over toward her and wiped her eyes. He kissed her softly on her nose, and held out his hand to her. When she reached for it, there was a vial of crack in his palm. Jada snatched her hand back as if she’d just stuck her hand in some fire. She looked at Jamari, questioningly.

  “Go ahead and take it,” he said. “I’m not gonna judge you. I know you smoke. My moms smoked also. So I understand. I’m not here to pass judgment. All of us have our bad habits. I got mine, and Born got his, too. He judges you, but I don’t. Go ahead and take it. I got you.”

  Jada stared at Jamari, feeling two things. She was hurt because of Born’s cruel words against her. She had thought that Born was her soul mate, and he had spoken about her as if she was a stranger to him. That hurt. She was also wondering what kind of man Jamari was. True, she was smoking crack again. But Jada wasn’t accustomed to a man who would just give it to her and encourage her to get high. Only Mr. Charlie had done that, and he had turned out to be a snake. Still, the pain of what Born had said about her needed numbing, and Jada took the crack from Jamari. She watched his reaction, but he simply sat there and sparked a blunt filled with weed, and smoked it. Jamari got high off of hydro, while Jada got high off of crack. Jada felt relieved that she did not have to hide, and that she could let her guard down around Jamari. As her mind swirled around in a haze, Jamari reminded her over and over to be herself. He assured her that she could be who she was around him, that he didn’t want her to change like Born wanted her to.

  Jada had sex with Jamari for the first time that night. He took his time, and seemed to enjoy every moment. Jada was disconnected, and to her it felt empty. There was no emotion in it at all for her, other than sadness that Born had turned on her so viciously. She disappeared inside of herself, as she had done countless times when she was a prostitute. Jada let Jamari explore her body, and she finally accepted that it was over between her and Born. She thought that she just might find happiness with Jamari, if she gave him a real chance.

  After that day, every time he came to see her he had crack for her. She appreciated Jamari’s openness and his acceptance. She misinterpreted it as love. Jada lost some weight, but maintained her sexy curves. She had few outward signs of her addiction, other than her dwindling bank account balance. Jamari was proud to be seen with her, and the two of them went out all the time. At first she would hope to run into Born, so that he could see how well she was doing without him. But soon she heard that Born had met an unexpected twist of fate.

  32

  HIGH PRICE TO PAY

  Two days passed after Born argued with Jamari and Wizz in the barbershop. He went about his business, as usual. But he longed more than ever to talk to Dorian. He missed his boy, and was consumed with guilt. He still felt like he was the one to blame for Dorian’s death, and he wished that he could go back to the fateful moment and change his actions. He never would have taken his eyes off Raquel. Never would have let her get inside the house. Born felt responsible for Sunny not having Dorian to depend on, and for their daughter not having a father. In short, he missed his friend. He wondered where Sunny was, and he wished she was around to tell Jada to leave Jamari alone. Sunny had all but disappeared after Dorian’s death, and he hadn’t even seen his friend’s little baby girl.

  Over those two days, Born thought about how life had changed so much for him. Dorian was gone, and so was Sunny and the baby. Jada was a thing of the past, and even his childhood cronies were no longer as close to him as they’d once been. He knew that, despite the civil nature of their relationship, Martin still didn’t particularly like the fact that Born had done his own thing, and left the crew behind. In Martin’s mind, Born had been selfish, keeping all his connections to himself, while his former crew was left struggling to keep up.

  Born felt alone for the first time in his life. It really was lonely at the top. It was nice having Anisa around. But she was someone who didn’t know his story. And he didn’t have the energy to share it all with her. She didn’t know him the way that Jada had. The sex was good, and her conversation stimulated him. For these reasons alone, he kept her around, and she became the new lady in his life. Somehow, he still felt a longing in his heart for the life he once had. He had had it all. A great best friend and mentor, a lovely lady on his arm whom he loved with all his heart, and an enterprise no one could penetrate. And in the blink of an eye it had all gone away. All but his hustle, and that was what he focused on. His days were spent making moves and taking risks, trying to maintain his hold in the streets. He spent his evenings with Anisa, though his mind wandered to what used to be.

  He awoke one morning, and left Anisa at home asleep while he went to the store. He planned to drive a few blocks to the convenience store on Victory Boulevard. But as soon as he pulled out of the driveway and onto the street, he was surrounded on all sides by dark vehicles, and cops started jumping out. He knew what was up, and he put his hands up as the cops closed in and opened his car door, removing him from the vehicle. “Don’t move, Marquis!” He was amazed that they knew his government name. From that alone, he figured that they had done their homework. Either that, or they’d been tipped off. He didn’t resist, didn’t say a word as they read him his rights, and showed him the search warrant. They wasted no time searching both the house and his car. He said nothing, and neither did Anisa, as they led her out of the house in pajamas, and put her in the back of a squad car while they searched the house. Born heard them asking her where she was from and how she knew him. But she didn’t answer their questions, and they got frustrated, and left her sitting in the back of the squad car half dressed, while they searched the house with police dogs.

  Soon the cops emerged with smiles on their faces, and Born knew they had found the small amount of drugs he had stashed in the kitchen ca
nister. His suspicions were confirmed when he heard one officer say to another, “Got him! We got him!” It was only about ten bags of white powder. Not enough to hit him with twenty to life, but still enough to make his heart sink. Born had never been one to keep the bulk of his drugs where he rested his head. The few bags he had in his residence were nothing compared to what they could have caught him with. He wasn’t too concerned, but he also didn’t want to get his hopes up that things would work in his favor, when he knew it was quite possible that they might not. He watched his neighbors come out and shake their heads at him, as if they’d known all along that he was unfit for their suburban neighborhood.

  He looked through the police car window as they drove him to the precinct. He spoke not a word until he arrived and was processed. Born was booked, fingerprinted, and put in a cell. He called his mother and explained the situation. She promised to be in court in the morning to see what the deal was. Born instructed her to get in contact with Grant Keys, the attorney from Dorian’s crew. He asked her to explain what had happened and to see if there was anything Grant could do to help. Ingrid told Born not to worry, that she had everything under control. After talking to her Born felt a lot better. The police questioned him for hours that night. They wanted to charge him with conspiracy, but with no coconspirators that was impossible. For once, Born was glad that he had no partners, no team. The detectives who questioned him didn’t seem convinced that he worked alone. They kept asking him about Brooklyn—who were his connections from Brooklyn? Instantly, he thought of Jamari and wondered if he’d stooped low enough to rat him out. How else would they know as much as they did? But thankfully, they didn’t know enough. In order to prove conspiracy, they needed people to say that they worked with him. They didn’t have that, and they couldn’t get him to talk. Born was mute as they barraged him with questions, insults, and accusations.