by Teri Woods
Ignoring his concern for her, she didn’t want to let status slip away. Being the one Winston and his Mercedes-Benz went home with would confer royalty on her, and she wanted to be Queen Sahirah. “He’s not playing me. Why don’t you mind your own business?” she spat at him.
“Fuck this, I’m out,” said Ra, walking away from her, hoping that she would come after him. No sooner had Ra walked away, when Winston’s shiny burgundy Mercedes-Benz 300 CE circled from the lot and headed Sahirah’s way. Sahirah thought for a minute about Rasun. Perhaps she should go with him, just to play with Winston’s mind. Instead, when Winston pulled up, Sahirah got in.
“Who were you talking to?” she asked.
“Just some girls from South Philly. They were trying to get me to give them a ride home.” He made to reassure her with a pat on her thigh, but she knew he was lying because those girls were from down the bottom, not South Philly. At that moment when he lied to her she really wished she had went with Rasun.
“Why do you have to lie to me? I know every whore in the city, and they live nowhere near South Philly. They live down the bottom. I can’t believe you got to lie. That means you are trying to hide something. What, you fuck with one of them or something?” Sahirah had a serious “tell me the deal” look on her face.
Winston continued driving his car as he turned his radio louder, paying no attention to Sahirah. The only thing in his mind was whether he should just throw her a couple of dollars now or fuck her first and then throw her a couple of dollars. Either way, he was getting rid of Sahirah and quick.
A Cadillac eased up to the light beside him. The two cars were side by side waiting for the light to change, when the Cadillac’s tinted window rolled down. A guy in the passenger seat called out to Winston. Sahirah finally quieted herself since she had gotten in the car and she and Winston looked his way. For a split second Sahirah recognized Ran, and as she opened her mouth to say hello, he opened fire on Winston. The bullets came crashing through the steel, one hitting Winston in the shoulder. His body slumped forward on the steering wheel. The Cadillac sped away as shattered glass continued to fall to the ground.
Sahirah ducked down and started screaming. “Oh my God! Winston!” Looking at him, slumped over the steering wheel, moaning, she knew he’d been shot, but at the same moment, couldn’t believe it. She felt funny, kind of dizzy and lightheaded, prob’ly just from being scared, she thought.
He remained conscious and could see her, all hunched down, and wondered if his mouth still worked. “You okay?” He asked, but was more focused on the bullet that ripped through him.
He slowly pulled himself from the steering wheel and lifted Sahirah back up into a sitting position. Her hand passed in front of her eyes on the way back up, and she saw that it was covered with blood. She felt her face and looked down at her lap. Putting her hand to her chest, she could feel the ripples of blood-drenched flesh as Winston realized she’d taken a hit too.
“Omigod, Sahirah! You been shot!”
Sahirah heard him from very far away; there was a more interesting channel to watch inside her head just now. Everything was flashing in front of her. People and places that she had forgotten had come to life. All the moments in time replayed themselves as fast-moving images popped in her head. Oh, there goes me, and Gena, on the swings. “Hi, Gena.” And Mama. “Mama, I don’t want no barrettes. I want ribbons. Ribbons is prettier.” Her eyes had closed and Winston felt panic. “Sahirah! Sahirah! Talk to me!”
She tried to look up at him, whispering, “Help me, Winston, it’s burning. Please, somebody help me.” She worried that Winston’s image was fading but another, more important, occurrence flowed into her vision. So beautiful, just like Reverend Beaumont said. God was right there, shining in all his glory, waiting to receive her. He was the only one who knew she was on her way. And he’d come all the way to Broad Street, just for his Sahirah.
“Sahirah!” Winston screamed, trying to stop the flow of blood that poured from her body. “Sahirah! Come on, baby! Don’t die!” But Sahirah was already gone.
HANDLE YOUR BUSINESS
From the time they left the club, Rasun’s jaw was still set in the mad position. “You see Sahirah sweating all over Winston? I’m saying, I really like that girl, but she don’t want to act right.”
Reds’s observation was astute. “Fuck the bitch.”
Rasun put on his “women ain’t shit” act. “Man, that is what I wanted to do, but fuck it, I’m not sweating no female.”
“I know that’s right.”
Ra pulled up on the block Kenny’s house was on. “Damn, what the fuck happened out here?”
“Some serious shit by the looks of it,” Reds answered.
Ra parked the car, and they both got out and walked up the block to where the police cars were angled to block traffic. A paramedic’s van was drawing attention as it made its way through the crowded, one-way street.
Ra and Reds stood on the block and watched with the rest of the neighborhood. It was unbelievable. The chaos and mayhem surrounding Kenny’s house was some real major shit. The police were every where. Ra and Reds watched as the police escorted Kenny from the house and into the back of a nearby paddy wagon. His hands were cuffed behind his back and he was calm.
“Damn, what the fuck did he do?” Reds asked, watching the paramedics push a covered body on a stretcher into the back of the ambulance.
A distraught young girl was headed their way and Reds stopped her for a moment. “What happened?”
“Kenny killed his father,” she said.
Ra went cold. Grasping the girl’s arm, frightening her with his grip, he could only get out one word. “What?”
Trying to back off, she told him, “He shot him about six or seven times, they said.”
“I told you not to give Kenny’s ass no gun. The motherfucker done killed his pops,” said Reds.
Rasun came to himself and let the girl go with an apology in his eyes. Adjusting himself to chase the chill, his quick mind speculated. “What are we going to do?”
Reds really didn’t know what the next move should be, but he tried to think. Reds and Rasun just sat there on a neighbor’s porch steps trying to put everything into perspective.
Ra was thinking of Qua’s reaction. “Man, we should’ve never gone out. That’s what Qua is going to say. We should have stayed out on the Av.”
“I know,” Reds said.
“I didn’t think he would kill his pops, though.”
“What are we gonna do?”
“What is there for us to do?”
“We can go get the money,” said Reds.
“Motherfucker, is you crazy? Five-0 all up in the house, man.” Ra could see only danger in the suggestion. “I’m not going in the house with Ola running around gathering evidence and shit.”
“Well, I know where Kenny keeps everything. I’m going to get the money,” Reds said, walking down the sidewalk to the front door. When the cops stopped him, he acted like he belonged. “That’s my aunt; let me by.” He started shouting and Ms. Parks heard the commotion. She told the police to let him pass by. She had fresh tears in her eyes, streams of water down her cheeks, and a look of hurt in her face.
Once inside, he asked her what had happened.
“I don’t know. It happened so fast. Kenny and his dad were cursing and arguing about him drinking and what not. I thought it was going to be okay ’cause Kenny went up to his room and when he came back downstairs, he kissed me on my cheek and said he was going out.” Tears tracked the lines in her face, but Reds knew they were not for the dead man.
“Who was drinking?”
She looked at Reds as if to wonder where that stupid question came from. “His father.” Wiping tears, she continued, “Anyway, when Kenny went to go outside his father told him he couldn’t go nowhere and then they started arguing again. Then, Kenny’s dad hit him and . . . ” She just sat there. “And Kenny shot him,” she said, still not believing it. She had lost a husband to a son and n
ow, possibly, a son to the system. She looked so tired, not from the drama her home had been exposed to, but tired of getting whooped on. She had taken many a beating in her day from Kenny’s father and it truly showed.
Reds asked Ms. Parks if he could use the bathroom. “Go ahead, baby,” she said. Reds went straight to Kenny’s room, opening the closet door and locating the shoebox. He grabbed it and checked the contents. The money and the caps were there, just like always. Kenny must have put the caps back after he shot his dad. Reds quickly grabbed the shit and put it in his pants pocket. Kenny fucked up, he thought. He shouldn’t have killed his pops. He heaved a great sigh and went back downstairs.
“Ms. Parks, I got to go, but I’ll be back to check on you.”
“Okay.” She was crying again.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Parks. Everything will be all right. Qua will get him out of jail.”
“I sure hope Quadir gets my son out of jail. Oh Lord, Jesus, please don’t let them put my son in jail.”
Reds could hear Ms. Parks praying to herself as he walked out on the porch and passed all the police officers. He went straight to Rasun and handed him the money and the pack of caps.
“What happened?” Ra asked, stuffing his pockets.
“Man, the shit is fucked up. Ms. Parks said Kenny and his pops was fighting and arguing and Kenny’s dad told him he couldn’t go outside and when Kenny tried to leave the house, his pops hit him and that’s when Kenny killed him.”
Rasun stood there looking at his friend. He was trying to understand what Kenny had been thinking. He knew Kenny was an abused child. He knew Kenny had it hard because his pops was a drunk, but he never thought it was that bad for Kenny, that Kenny had to take the man’s life.
“Ra, listen to me. You should’ve seen the house, blood was everywhere. Ms. Parks was all beat the fuck up and shit. It was chaotic. Kenny really killed his pops in that motherfucker,” said Reds as he stood there shaking his head in disbelief.
Rasun’s head went up, eyes working back and forth. “Ms. Parks was all beat up?”
“Man, you know Mr. Parks beat her ass every night he got home.”
“Damn, Kenny’s dad on some bullshit, ’cause he wouldn’t been hitting the fuck on me,” said Ra.
“If you was a visitor in that motherfucker, you would get your ass kicked just like everybody else. That’s why I never went inside there when Mr. Parks was home.”
“We got to tell Qua.”
“I know. He’s not gonna like this,” Reds observed. “What you think he’s gonna do.”
“Pay his bail, get him out of jail.” Ra was thinking how this kind of news could ruin Quadir’s vacation and decided it would be best not to burden Quadir until he knew what the bail was.
The next morning, Rasun woke up around 11:30. He sent his little brother to the corner store to get a newspaper. He wanted to read about Kenny.
“Reds, you sleep?” he asked, eventually waking up Reds. Reds was sleeping comfortably in Ra’s little brother’s bed.
Poor Rafik, they treated him so rough. When they came in last night Reds put him right on the floor, didn’t even give him his pillow or a blanket.
Rafik walked in the bedroom door and surprised his brother with a rolled up newspaper in the face. “Nigga, I’m gonna kick your little ass.”
“I’m a kick your ass,” said Rafik, slamming the bedroom door.
As Ra scoured the newspaper, Reds observed, “Man, your little brother is bad. If he was my little brother, I would fuck him up.” Pausing he then asked, “Is Kenny in there?”
“Wait a minute.” Rasun quickly turned the pages. As he smelled an unpleasant odor, he looked at his friend. “Reds, why you fart in this motherfucker?”
He stopped turning pages and uttered, “Oh, shit.”
“What?” Reds asked, laying in the bed, trying to figure out why he woke up with a limp dick. Rasun sat there reading the newspaper article, not believing it.
“What?” he asked again, smelling his hands.
“You’re not gonna believe it.” Ra was in a state of disbelief.
Reds picked the gun up off the floor and pointed it at Rasun. “Man, what does the motherfucker say?”
“Winston was shot and Sahirah is dead.” Rasun dropped the newspaper, forgetting Kenny, and ignoring the fact that Reds pulled the gun on him like he always did. Reds promised his dick he’d get back to it.
“What? The boy Winston? Who woulda figured that simple motherfucker would take a hit and live?” said Reds shaking his head reaching for the newspaper Rasun had dropped. He picked it up and started reading the article out loud.
Nineteen-year-old Sahirah Bowden was pronounced dead on arrival at Temple University Hospital this morning at approximately 3:47 AM. Bowden suffered a fatal gunshot wound to the chest area from a semiautomatic weapon. Bowden was a passenger in a vehicle being operated by Winston Trimber, age twenty-six. Trimber suffered a gunshot wound to the left rotator cuff. Police believe Trimber was giving Bowden a ride home from a nightclub when the incident occurred. There are no suspects and no witnesses.
“What the fuck is a rotator cuff?” asked Reds.
“It’s your shoulder,” Ra answered in a soft voice.
Reds thought to himself for a minute and decided he wanted to know all the parts of the body. “I’m going back to school.”
“You need to, if you don’t know what a rotator cuff is.”
“Fuck you,” said Reds.
Ra couldn’t contain his frustration. “Damn, Sahirah would be alive if she had come with us. I tried to tell her to come on. I tried to tell her. You know I did, right?”
“Man, I know you tried to get her to go with you, ’cause you liked the girl, and you wanted to fuck her. But she had a choice. Sahirah made the wrong one. It’s not your fault. That’s the only way I see it. She fucked up. She made the wrong choice, and it cost her, for real. She dissed you, so how could it be your fault?”
“Now Kenny is different,” Reds continued, “Because I told you not to put no gun in the boy’s hand. Shit, I was worried he was still upset about that girl. I thought the motherfucker was gonna shoot my ass, and you up there telling me to hand the nigga a gun, knowing I fucked his young jawn.”
“Kenny wouldn’t shoot you.”
“You don’t know how Kenny is when he thinks you’re not his friend. You don’t count no more to him. That’s Kenny, man.”
“Kenny is not my fault,” Ra argued. “I gave him the gat ’cause he was gonna be out there without us,” Ra said.
“What are you talking about?” They hadn’t seen Rasun’s mother walk in.
“Nothing, mom.”
“What’s a gat and who’d you give one to?” she asked frowning her eyebrows.
“Mom, it’s nothing mom, really.”
“I hope you didn’t give Kenny no gun. He killed his father, you know,” she said.
“I know,” he admitted.
“That’s why you sent your brother to the corner store to get that newspaper. I told you Rafik is only nine; he is not allowed outside by himself, and you keep sending him out there. You better start thinking, Rasun, about what you’re doing. You too, Reds,” she said.
“Yes ma’am,” Reds said.
“You boys need jobs. You’re gonna get a job, Rasun.”
“I don’t want no job. Mom, please don’t make me work for the white man,” said Rasun begging his mother not to pressure him.
“Dammit, a paycheck is a paycheck. You don’t want to work for a white man, then work for a black man, but you’re gonna get a job, Rasun.”
She was righteous. Wasn’t nobody in her house gonna lay around collecting dirty money, taking chances with her baby son, Rafik. “You too, Reds. I want both of you to get jobs.”
All Reds needed was a hat in his hand. “Yes ma’am. I been looking for a job, Ms. Clair.”
“That’s good, Reds, but when you gonna get one?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think nobody is
gonna give me a chance.”
Rasun couldn’t get over Reds, kicking it to his mom.
“Well, Reds, you got to keep trying,” she advised. “And take him with you.”
“Mom, I been working with Quadir. He’s letting me help fix up his apartment building, so I can get my winter clothes.”
“Well, I know Quadir is a good person. I know his mother, but you don’t need to be giving people no gats or whatever you said. Shit, I don’t even know what you’re talking about, but I know it don’t sound right.”
Ms. Clair was finally at the bedroom door, closing it behind her, leaving Rasun and Reds looking stupefied.
“Oh, and Rasun,” she said opening the door back up, “your father said don’t think about leaving this house without cleaning up this bedroom,” she said, closing the door again.
“Don’t kill your pops, man, let’s just clean up the room,” joked Reds.
“Man, my moms be bugging. She been on me about getting a job for the longest.”
“Man, I don’t know why you don’t go to college or something. Look at you, moms and pops still together. You got a nice crib. Your moms talks to you real nice. Your pops does shit for you. You never been in no trouble. You never stole ’cause your dad always gave you money. He use to give me money, too,” Reds said, thinking back to when they were little and life was easy. “I’m saying, if I had all the advantages you had, I wouldn’t be out here hustling.”
“Man, shut the fuck up with your bullshit. See me after you get a high school diploma. I’ll be done with college by then,” Rasun said.
“You know what? Fuck you and your attitude. All I’m saying is I wish I could have grown up with you ’cause you got a real nice family. I really dig your moms,” said Reds.
Ra thought about what he had, and what Reds never had, which was a mother or a father. Reds was a foster child at the age of five up until his aunt adopted him when he was twelve. “Man, I’m fucked up. You’re right, ’cause it’s my fault about Kenny and Sahirah.”
“No, it’s not. I didn’t mean it. I really didn’t. You gave Kenny the gun because Kenny needed the gun out there on the Av. He wasn’t suppose to shoot nobody with the gun, just protect himself. If his pops hadn’t beat on him all his life, he wouldn’t have killed him. Nothing is your fault, especially Sahirah.”