Gumbo

by Tiana Laveen

  “You, E.T., T.J. and Cassidy changed my life, man. You became my friends, my family… and your friendship was more than enough. You saw past my color, my race, and you just saw me. It’s ironic, ya know? Because you were what I guess some would describe as militant, definitely pro-Black. Like, you were undeniably for Black upliftment and African Americans gettin’ together, working together. I remember you talkin’ about how there needed to be more Black businesses, how all of these foreigners were movin’ into town, buying up the land; but you didn’t blame them, you blamed your own people for not doing it first. You would always say how Blacks barely owned anything, and it was crippling. You said that they were too busy shootin’ each other instead of shootin’ ideas and creating something that would last for generations. Wealth.

  “I hate to say it, but not a whole lot has changed since you passed away. You had big ideas and dreams, but sometimes, people need a leader, man—someone to show them how to fish, I guess you could say.” He checked out his work on the paper, then continued. “How’s the saying go? ‘Give a man a fish, you’ll feed him for a day. Show him how to fish, you’ll feed him for a lifetime.’ Something like that. I think that was your motto. It’s crazy, right? Over twelve years ago was the last time I heard your voice, looked into your eyes. Just days before you were murdered, we made up. I thank God for that… because if we hadn’t resolved that before what happened, I’d be so guilt ridden; I doubt I’d ever have gotten over it. You and Grandmama are gone now, two of the most influential and important people I ever knew.

  “I bet you and Grandmama talk again now, don’t you?” He smiled sadly. “I wonder if she’s cooking in Heaven? Does that happen? I don’t know how this whole Heaven and Hell thing works. You’d think I’d understand it since I was at church for Mass every week in Jersey as a little kid. My parents raised us Catholic, like them, but we stopped going after we moved to Belle Glade. Hey, check this out, Maize. Cassidy found an old handwritten cookbook from Grandmama! I know, I know, she told all of us there wasn’t one!” He chuckled. “But there was, man, and Cassidy and I have been makin’ some of the recipes. Cassidy is a great cook, you know that? She didn’t give herself enough credit. After all of those years being in that house with that woman, she soaked it all in. Guess what? You probably already know this but, uh, Cassidy and I are back together.” He began to shade, creating more depth in the picture.

  “Yeah. We’re takin’ it day by day, learning each other, but it’s surreal, ya know? Between you and me, I figured she’d shoot me down and that would be it. Things hadn’t exactly ended well. I needed to protect her and I did what I felt was best. I came back here for Grandmama’s funeral and to see her, and well, she did shoot me down.” He shook his head. “But I felt like… if I tried harder, it would be okay and I could at least be friends with her. I suppose that worked better than expected.”

  Tony’s thoughts drifted as he looked up into the cloudless sky, the light blue hue so magnificent. Palm trees swayed back and forth and the sun beamed, shining down upon the Earth. He looked back down at the paper, tore it off, and placed it against the grave.

  “That’s you and me. That’s us giving each other daps… how you’d always greet me each time we saw one another. Then you’d pull me in for a hug. You’d say, “Heeey, Montana!’” Tears budded in Tony’s eyes as he smiled proudly. “I’ve drawn a few pictures of you over the years, tried to imagine how’d you look if you’d been allowed to grow up… to reach your full potential.”

  He hung his head, the emotions too much to bear.

  The grass crunched behind him.

  He kept his head bowed and slipped his hand in his pocket.

  The world around him got smaller…

  He gripped the handle of the gun…

  He breathed in.

  He breathed out.

  His chest tightened, then released. He smelled earth, clay, and Heaven. He smelled death, life, and love.

  “Heeey, Montana…” A deep, raspy voice chortled as someone stood to his left, and another to his right.

  Tony slowly lifted his head to peer at the grave before him and the drawing he’d placed against it.

  “You drew that?” one of the men asked as he squatted close to the headstone and looked at it up close. “That’s pretty fuckin’ good, man. Maybe you can draw your way out of this problem you have on your hands, but I doubt it.” The man got back to his feet with the drawing in hand, balled it up and tossed it on the ground.

  The other readjusted his stance.

  “Who are you and what do you want?” Tony asked grimly, still staring at Maize’s grave. “One of Street’s family members? Some shit like that? You think if you kill me, it’ll bring him back?”

  “Nah.” The guy laughed, a loud, vulgar sound. “I don’t even know who the fuck Street is… but I know you killed him. Anyway, I’m here to collect a debt, my nigga.”

  “I don’t have any debts, and if I did, I don’t have any extra money lyin’ around to pay it.”

  “Sly said you always knew how to talk your way out of shit, but most importantly, how to make money. In fact, he said you made him the most money outta anyone he ever had in such a short amount of time. He missed you when you got locked up, was gonna try ’nd get you back, maybe have you work for him while in California with your girlfriend. He even tried to bribe some people in the system to let you out but it didn’t work. That was strange to him. White folks don’t like seein’ other White folks locked up in prison. Yet, still, they wouldn’t budge.”

  “So Sly sent you?”

  “Naw, nigga!” The man chuckled. “Sly’s dead… been dead for about five years. I took over his business. He kept great notes… had a whole file on yo’ ass. You was with him for such a short amount of time and managed to run circles around those otha mothafuckas. He even told me he wanted you to be his successor, but uh, he said you left to California, well, planned to, wit’ ya girlfriend, then ended up locked up. He was going to give you time to get settled then make you an offer he knows you wouldn’t have refused.”

  “I don’t deal anymore. That was temporary. I got my brother out of a jam, helped some friends and my family out, then it was over.”

  “Well see, mothafucka, here’s the thing: once you’re in this lifestyle, you’re always in it. Now, here’s what I need for you to do. Pay off this debt you owe Sly, for all the favors ’nd shit he did for you behind bars.”

  “I told you I don’t have any money.”

  “Don’t try to play me, mothafucka. You have access to millions. Get some money from that rich bitch you fuckin’… the cute nerd you’ve gotten with again. She graduated from Berkeley. Damn! Now that’s some good ass brain.” The two men cackled.

  Tony took a deep breath and gripped his gun tighter.

  “I don’t respond well to bullying, man. Did Sly tell ya that, too? If not, he should have. Also, I don’t owe Sly any money. I paid it all back so whatever shit you’re trying to pull, I’m not falling for it.”

  “Yeah well, see, Montana, here’s the thing. While you were in prison, he sent money to yo’ mama so she could afford to move back to Jersey. He also paid for yo’ bitch’s books a couple semesters when all the money you gave her had run out. He had a soft spot for you. It was kinda strange, actually. Said you were admirable; he didn’t trust White people, but he trusted you. He made sure that old Black lady, yo’ ol’ lady’s grandmother, ain’t nevah want for nothin’. Money was always in her bank account. Now, he ain’t never say it was him, and he understood that you were helping the best you could, but that wasn’t enough. He did this shit out the kindness of his heart; it was an investment in hopes that when you came out that son of a bitch prison you were held up in, you’d be ready to go big time wit’ him.”

  “You said Sly is dead. What happened?”

  “Sly moved out of the hood and got him a nice fuckin’ spot in Miami. Someone played him. Someone shot him up. Now, I ain’t as nice as Sly, but I know he was a businessm
an, had a good head on his shoulders, and he taught me everything I know. So, Montana, I’m taking the reins from here on out. How you like me so far?” The man snorted.

  “Is breathing on the phone like a fucking pervert part of the plan? How’d that work out for you?” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the guy smile.

  “Just tryna make sure you was still in town is all. That wasn’t me by the way; just one of my people. Anyway, so I hope we understand each other. Pay that money back that he gave to yo’ girl, her grandmama, yo’ little White mommy with the dopehead son, and we’ll be good.”

  “How much are we talking?” Tony winked at Maize’s grave.

  You hear this shit, Maize? He’s tryna shake me down…

  “$65,000, man.”

  Tony burst out laughing.

  “Sly may have helped or you could be lying, I have no idea, but I know for a damn fact he didn’t give out $65,000 dollars.”

  “Interest, man.” The guy leaned in close, his breath smelling like alcohol and weed. “I suggest you get it taken care of, my nigga… or we gonna fuck yo’ whole existence up. For starters, we’ll kidnap yo’ woman, torture her, then kill ’er real, fuckin’ slow… Will get yo’ mama too. She ain’t nothin’ but a plane ride away. I’ve always wanted to visit New Jersey. We. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck. This a new world order, Tony!”

  Tony clicked his gun in his pocket, turned in a whirlwind motion and pointed it at the bastard.

  The man’s eyes were dark and dead, his mouth full of gold. His attire was flashy, the diamond rings in his ears sparkling in the sunlight. All of this was a shell, something housing a black hole, a soullessness, a hate-filled entity that pretended to be a man. They glared at one another, then Tony smiled.

  “What chew gone do wit’ that gun, mothafucka? ’Cause there’s one pointed right at yo’ fuckin’ back right now.” The man sneered. “Sly was good to you, but now it’s time for you be good to me, too. I’m next in command. I run the fuckin’ show. You got twenty-one days to get me that money, or I’m comin’ after that bitch with the magazine company, ya mama, ya brotha, then you.”

  The two men walked out of the cemetery until they were out of sight. Tony stood there for a while, then faced Maize’s grave again.

  “Well.” He tossed up his hands then slid his gun back into his pocket. “You hear all of that, brother? You warned me, didn’t you? You told me way back then that once I got my hands dirty in this shit, they’d never get clean again. Sly was, for the most part, decent to me, despite his threatening to kill my brother… but there are always repercussions, aren’t there, Maize?”

  He picked up the crumpled drawing from the ground, smoothed it out the best he could, and placed it back against the tombstone.

  “You know what’s funny though?” His eyes narrowed in disgust and a taste for blood welled within him. “Prison didn’t reform me, Maize. There was nothing to reform. I acted out; it was a one-time thing. But when you spend ten years around criminally insane men, it changes you. There was no problem with me when I went in, but there was one when I got out. I met some of the most cunning criminals in there, man. They taught me things… and funny, Sly used to send me money sometimes, but he let me know it was him. Nothing like what this guy described.

  “Of course I knew at the time that Sly saw me as an investment… so he didn’t help because he was such a wonderful person. He wanted me back, understandably. But he never sent me an invoice. I didn’t even know he was sending money to Cass, my mom, and Grandmama, Maize… but I don’t doubt it. The issue though is that when you have someone like that—a bad person with a heart—get replaced by someone who is bleak, dead on the inside… well, then, my friend, you have a problem. This has nothing to do with race. In prison, I met all kinds of guys of all races who had some of the most diabolical minds you could ever imagine. Serial rapists, arsonists, mass murderers, you name it…

  “But this is just it. I won’t be able to let this go. Ya see, I’m really pissed right now, Maize. I came out here to see one of my best friends, and the experience was ruined. You know I don’t respond well to bullying, Maize… and I admitted to Cassidy that I’m not sorry I killed Street; I’m only sorry I got caught. And that’s the truth. Period. Fact of the matter is, people grow up. They are not the same as they were in their teenage years. I’m a lot smarter now. I’m certain you understand the situation, brother, because you predicted it long before you died. Now I have to come up with a plan, keep my baby safe, and have business go on as usual. The goal is to take care of this problem, and do so quickly and properly. Are you going to help me Maize?” Tony dropped to his knees and ran his hand along the tombstone. He could feel the warmth radiating from it. “I knew you would…”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Just Another Day at the Office

  Settling on a Perspex chair in Cassidy’s office, Tony removed his black and white Yankees baseball cap and placed it on her glass desk, which had the appearance of floating in mid-air, with clear wires and cables running through it. The huge room sat in a back corner of the spacious magazine headquarters.

  He checked out the incredible view from her window. They’d flown in to California overnight due to her having some pressing business matters to address and planned to return in two days to Florida to finish taking care of things. After leaving the airport, they came right over to her office, didn’t waste not one minute. There was too much that needed to be done.

  This trip was bittersweet.

  In another life, he was supposed to have been there with her from the start, grow with her and help them both succeed, and then they’d eventually get married and have children. Shoving the thoughts out of his mind, he stood to his feet, trying to burn off excess energy. He walked around the space, taking it all in… the clear walls, the tidy cubicles with computers, gadgets, stacks of paper and iPads. Everywhere he turned, things looked well put together, but something was missing.

  “Hey baby, just an observation. The art in here is too sterile.” He pointed to the blown up black and white pictures of piano keys, escalators, and gushing waterfalls bursting out of mountains. “It doesn’t give off the right vibe for your magazine. See.” He pointed to one of the overpowering pieces. “This denotes fashion or high class living, yet your magazine is geared towards business-minded African Americans who enjoy a little celebrity gossip and musical nostalgia on the side. Most of your readers, I’d venture to say, are college educated or at least interested in furthering their education, right? It’s an intelligent magazine with a bit of fun thrown in… These photographs, though quite nice, don’t work in here.”

  “Well, but my readers aren’t in here. We are, baby.”

  “You are your readers though. You reflect them, and vice versa…”

  After a slight hesitation, she nodded. “Point taken.”

  “Let me redo this for you. Some custom pieces, Cass.”

  “I’ll think about it.” She smirked as she rounded her desk and tossed her jacket over her white leather desk chair. “I think you just want to take over my company.” She winked at him.

  “How can I take over your company by putting a few paintings on the wall, babe?” He threw up his hands, though he knew what she meant. He was a control hog… a proud one at that.

  “It starts with the small stuff. I know how you operate. In all seriousness though, it just so happens that I was considering changing the art in here not too long ago, so you’re on. It’s all yours.”

  “Perfect. I’ll just do some measurements before we leave then. So, do you outsource your printing? Where do you create the printed magazines?”

  “No outsourcing, all in-house. The printing area is downstairs.” She sat down and turned on her computer. “I’ll give you a tour after lunch so you can see everything in motion.”

  The woman looked like a million dollars in a pale blue skirt with matching jacket. Her hair was gelled back and pinned in a thick, wavy bun. Small blue pearl earrings decorated her lob
es and a white pearl pendant graced her neck. She was walking sophistication. Class. Sexual seduction paired with style and refinement.

  The type of woman he loved to love, and loved to fuck.

  This lady is out of my league. She’s always been, even when we were kids, but I don’t care. I’m keeping her anyway. He laughed to himself as he looked about her area again. A small chandelier hung from the ceiling of her office and in the far-right corner sat a white marble planter with a large perennial growing out of it.

  Just then, he heard a door open somewhere close by. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw two Black men walking in. One looked over in their direction.

  “She’s here!” the guy exclaimed excitedly, making a beeline towards Cassidy’s office. Cassidy immediately got to her feet, pulled her skirt down, and rushed into the man’s arms, the other guy not too far behind. “Good to see you, Cass!”

  “Good to see you too, Ethan!” She then gave the other guy a hug. “Hi, Hakeem! I missed you guys!” Hakeem wore a black and red striped vest and loose jeans. His designer glasses were black and thick-rimmed, and his thick, curly hair was cut in a short mohawk. He regarded Tony a time or two. Tony offered a smile and a lazy two-finger wave.

  “Oh, guys, this is Tony… my boyfriend.”

  “Nice to meet you, Hakeem and Ethan.” Tony reached for a crystal bowl of pistachios on her desk and helped himself while the two ogled him. He figured, if he was going to be treated like some attraction at the zoo, he may as well put on a show.

  “Uh, nice to meet you, too,” Ethan stated as he shot a look at Cassidy, then Tony. “I had no idea you had a boyfriend, Cass! You’ve been keeping secrets!” The man chuckled nervously.

  “Yes, well, it’s a long story. Anyway, I’m glad you two are here. The Onyx new edition final materials are due in three days. After seeing all of the emails about the construction zone article and the death of Barry Summers, I think we need to quickly feature him, make a nice spread. There’s also a local news article regarding the Oakland Museum that needs addressing. Can you two handle that?”