Young and Hungry

by Ms. Michel Moore

  “All right, y’all greedy assholes,” Hassan said as he grabbed his brother’s car keys off the counter before knocking potato chip crumbs off his blue jeans. “I’m gonna get three of them big baked chicken and steamed vegetable family-size platters from the restaurant, a lamb chop dinner, a grilled fish sandwich, and two turkey salads.” He laughed as he went over the food run list, which was long enough to feed a small-size army, not just four people. “Plus, I’m gonna get some fruit from Uncle Mohamed’s store when I check in on Pop and give him a firsthand account of how we holding shit down.”

  * * *

  Hassan shook his head while holding up his almost dead cell phone in the dim shadows of the store. “Now, besides the food and flashlights, is there any damn thing else y’all want? Because I’m gonna turn this motherfucker all the way off so I can get as much juice as I can from the car charger.”

  “Naw, fool. Just go get the food,” one of his twin cousins demanded from the makeshift bed he’d made out of some cardboard boxes. “If me and my brother gotta come over here and babysit y’all crybaby, scared asses all night, then at least feed us!”

  “Yo.” Mikey stepped in to defend his manhood. “That’s Pop that wanted y’all posted here. Me and Hassan was good.” He looked over at Hassan, who was making sure his gun was in his hand before having them unbolt the rear door so he could leave. “Well, I was, anyway!”

  Once he was in the car, Hassan powered off his phone, plugged it into the black coiled charger, and started the car’s engine. Having unlocked the gate, he slowly backed out of the paved lot. Adjusting the rearview mirror, he eased out of the alleyway, being overly conscious of his surroundings. Under normal circumstances he’d have the music blasting, the windows cracked, and he’d be leaning to the side, styling and profiling, but Hassan knew today definitely wasn’t a day to be seen or heard in Detroit, especially if you weren’t hood born.

  According to the breaking news report videos he watched on his cell, the mostly black residential criminals were attacking any and all Middle Easterners and Chinese shopkeepers they came in contact with, people whose only crime was trying to protect their business from being looted or set on fire. Wanting to avoid becoming a statistic himself, Hassan quickly turned onto Davison Avenue, not once allowing his foot to push all the way down on the brakes until he hit the freeway, which was, thankfully, still being patrolled by the state police.

  * * *

  Dre and his crew had put in some serious work. They’d hit close to ten unattended houses throughout the chaotic neighborhood. The fact that no police were patrolling made them feel untouchable. Feeling like they’d hit the lottery, they stopped back by Dre’s house to drop off yet another load of their ill-gotten gains.

  Disgusted that Dre was dumb enough to shit where he slept, so to speak, and risk the possibility of bringing unwanted heat to the place that she and her small son called home, Alexis gave her older brother a piece of her mind as she stood behind her car.

  “Just what in the hell do you think y’all doing?” She rolled her eyes as she tossed her duffel bag and laptop inside her trunk. “Why you keep bringing all that hot shit in this house? Is you crazy or something? Everybody can see your dumb ass!”

  “Girl, chill on all that attitude. It’s black Christmas around the city. You best recognize and get your gifts, like me!”

  “Gifts? Is that what you said? Are you serious? Boy, you need to get your life!” Alexis grabbed her purse, along with a small bag filled with her books. “You gonna mess around and get killed out here with that stealing mess. Dang, I know how they be feeling. Go get a job or do something productive!”

  “And just who is ‘they,’ Alexis? Who? Tell me that! Your nongreen card–having boyfriend and his prejudice-ass family? You need to stop burning bread on a nigga, okay? That’s real fucked up.” His rant grew more lethal with each passing word. “And what you want me to do for a job, Miss Think You So Much Better Than Everybody Else? Swing upside down butt asshole naked on a pole, like you do, begging for dollars?” Strangely, Dre found a twisted, wicked pleasure as he clowned his little sister in front of his so-called friends. “Or better yet, Alexis, maybe I should go have some half-breed baby by a rag head motherfucker that can never take your stupid nappy-headed ass home to meet his dying mama! Trust me, li’l sis, you ain’t never gonna get no family reunion T-shirt from them wannabe black motherfuckers! At the end of the day it’s us versus them. Always was and always will be, no matter how much pale dick you suck!”

  Alexis was enraged at her brother’s impromptu outburst. It showed all over her face. “Listen, boy, from this point on, you dead to me! Don’t ask me for shit when times get tight. Don’t think I’m dropping you off at your probation officer no more. I ain’t cooking no more food for you and your dirt ball homeboys.” She angrily waved her hand in the direction they were standing, giggling like little schoolgirls. “And, oh yeah, since you got so much rotten-ass stuff to say about Hassan and his peoples, stop running up there begging him for shit every damn day, expecting me to pay for it with this pussy!”

  “Oh yeah?” Dre dumbly replied.

  “Yeah, dummy! All Hassan ever did was try to help ya short bus–riding self, and you out here disrespecting him and me and my son.” Giving just as good as she got, Alexis was going straight ham on Dre, and justifiably so. “Now, fuck your ‘good being broke’ ass twice. Oh, and P.S., all that stolen bullshit you dragging in the house ain’t gonna last forever. You and the rest of these ‘follow the leader’ morons gonna be back on craps by next week. Watch! And when y’all are broke as fuck as usual, don’t expect my good pole-swinging ass to help you out! When I finish this semester and get my degree, I’m outta here!”

  Dre smiled, acting as if arguing with his blood didn’t make him feel some sort of way. Knowing he and his boys had more homes to violate, he wisely ended the argument before he and his sister came to actual blows. “Look, girl, just go where you going and do you. I’m tight on all the rest of that chatter you blowing out your mouth!”

  “Fuck you, Dre!”

  “I swear, little sis, one day that smart mouth of yours gonna get your ass handed to you, and when it do, don’t call me!”

  Alexis sucked her teeth before jumping inside her car, then quickly pulled off. As she backed out of the driveway, she just missed running into a triple white Benz truck with the driver slouched over toward his driver’s window, trying, apparently, to keep his face low key. Still mad at her brother, Alexis took it out on the driver by flipping him the bird and laying down hard on her horn. After stopping at a stop sign, she waited for a small group of teenagers pushing a shopping cart filled with what looked like miscellaneous items from a beauty supply to cross the intersection. Since she had a look of disgust on her face, the teens decided not to ask her if she was interested in buying what they were selling. Seeing her people run from corner to corner, house to house with this and that made her ashamed to be black.

  After dialing Hassan’s number three times and getting his voice mail, she finally left a message before turning up into the alley located behind the store. “Hey, babe. I’m here. Where you at?” After parking her candy apple–red Honda Accord inside the open gate, next to a strange vehicle, she slowly strolled to the huge black metal door covered with graffiti. With her phone in one hand, she balled up her other fist, then knocked several times before calling Hassan once more. “Hey, pick up your phone, boy! Where your silly ass at? I’m here!”

  “Who the fuck is it?” a voice finally yelled out. “We closed!”

  “Hassan? Is that you?”

  “Naw. He ain’t here,” the person on the other side replied, his words seeming muffled.

  “Hey, it’s me, Alexis.” She knocked again, this time with her palm. “Open the door, crazy!”

  * * *

  “Hey, Mikey, some loudmouthed female knocking on this door. She claims she’s looking for Hassan.”

  “Well, who is it?” Mikey asked, coming out of t
he bathroom, knowing nine out of ten times he already knew the answer.

  “How in the fuck he know who the fuck she is?” the other twin crudely answered for his brother.

  “Damn. Y’all two getting on my last nerve. I ain’t bullshitting!” Mikey argued, drying his hands with a piece of paper towel from a roll he’d just opened. No sooner than he finished his sentence there was another knock. “That ain’t nobody but probably Alexis.”

  “Alexis?” said the twin at the door.

  “Yeah, dude. Alexis,” Mikey nonchalantly repeated. “She this female from around the way Hassan hangs out with sometimes.”

  “A hood chick?” The twin standing at the door looked back over his shoulder.

  “You mean to tell me Hassan scary ass banging out some black cat?” His brother cosigned as usual.

  Mikey had never dated an African American girl. Sure, most were shapelier than the females that he went out with, but that was beside the point. Black girls, especially those who lived in the neighborhood around the store, were much too wild and over the top for him and his tamed taste. Although, unlike his father, Mikey didn’t totally despise African Americans, Negroes, blacks, niggas, or whatever they wanted to call themselves this year, but he damn straight wasn’t trying to hang out with them, either. He wasn’t all off into that “everybody is the same” crap as his little brother, Hassan, but he still showed Alexis respect on the humble, just in case her baby was ever proven to be his nephew. Of course, he would never allow the boy to play with his own kids, blood kin or not, but he would at least make sure the child didn’t go hungry, if need be. “Damn, y’all two idiots. Fall back on all that. I’m about to let her in so she can wait on Hassan. He should be on his way back shortly.”

  Seconds later Mikey, gun in hand, opened the door cautiously, then peeked out, like his brother had also done before leaving on the food run.

  * * *

  Not more than five minutes had passed in the darkly lit corner of the store before the taller twin cut off into Alexis. “So, you giving our little cousin all that fat ass you got back there, huh? You sucking his dick too?”

  “Excuse you? Say what?” Accustomed to being belittled and disrespected nightly in the strip club, Alexis normally didn’t take offense to paying customers having their say, but these strangers were out of order and so very random with the attack on her character that she couldn’t believe it. “Just who in the fuck you talking to like that!” Alexis fired back, rolling her contact lens–covered eyes. “You got me messed up! Show some damn respect with ya belligerent ass!”

  “Respect? Bitch, you better get on with all that!”

  “Bitch? Bitch?” Alexis, infuriated, stood to her feet, ready to storm out. “Your sister a damn bitch!”

  “Our sister a bitch?” The other twin stepped in, taking his turn at degrading black women, namely Alexis. “Our sister and no other female in our family could ever be considered or called a bitch. See that fucked-up ‘nigga state of mind’ bullshit you and your people embrace ain’t apart of our makeup!”

  “Yeah, it ain’t in our DNA,” the taller twin shouted, jumping back into the tag team verbal assault. “You see, in our culture, we’d kill our women first before we let them run around here in tight-ass skirts, showing off what’s meant only for their husbands, talking all crazy to their men, fucking and sucking every dick they see!” He was now also on his feet and towered over Alexis, who was still standing her ground. “Our women have boundaries. They know their place and know better than to go outside of their race and fuck with an abeed! They need to do more than turn off the lights in this tramp-infested city. They need to burn all you blacks or put y’all on a big-ass cruise ship and sail y’all skin-burnt monkeys back to Africa to get retrained in Slavery one-oh-one!”

  “Damn. What in the fuck!” Mikey stood in between his brother’s girl, possibly the mother of his nephew, and his two blood-bonded cousins. “Y’all need to chill on all this bullshit. Why y’all tripping on this girl like this? Y’all going too far, and for no good reason!”

  The twins had the same reply, as if it was rehearsed, and that was that if these little black females with no morals wanted to run around dressing and acting like sluts, then that was exactly how they was gonna treat them, like sluts. That if they called themselves bitches and hoes, and dudes wanted to call themselves niggas, then so the fuck they flat-out were!

  Alexis had heard just about enough from the over-the-top, racist twin brothers she’d never laid eyes on before today. I guess some of what Dre said is true. This is crazy. Where is Hassan? She was still infuriated from the argument earlier with her brother, and her always present, but seldom seen “thot on a mission” disposition came to the surface. “Look, I ain’t feeling y’all or that bullshit y’all talking. I don’t know who in the name of sweet baby Jesus you two punk-ass, ‘talking out the side of y’all’s neck,’ stankin’ bullies think you fucking with, but you best ask ya peoples Mikey what’s really good in this hood. Y’all better fall all the way back, before shit get real hectic for y’all real quick, fast, and in a hurry!”

  “Yeah? Is that right, Ebony, Shawntay, Shaniqua, Shakeisha, Mercedes, or whatever dumb ghetto-ass name ya mammy came up with while she was smoking crack?” Things were getting more and more heated as the seconds dragged by. “Well, don’t get mad at us because silly little cum Dumpsters like you get off on getting a bag of chips, a pop, and a loosie in return for a king like me getting my dick wet in that huge lip-covered mouth of yours! You black skanks is for entertainment for us, and nothing damn else!”

  “Mikey, just let me out and tell Hassan I came by, before your people get some act right on they rude asses and be traveling back to your fucking desert-ass country in a wooden box!” Alexis vowed with certainty, knowing her brother didn’t play.

  “Hold up, girl. Hassan gonna be back with the food soon,” said the more aggressive of the twins as he blocked the door. “You ain’t gonna stay and break bread with us? It’s like that?”

  “Yeah, bitch, it’s just like that,” she replied loudly, with enough attitude and neck rolling for ten people.

  Before Alexis knew what was happening, she felt two pairs of strong hands simultaneously yanking her down onto the filthy concrete floor. After taking one blow across her jawline and another to her ribs, she started to get dizzy. Hearing Mikey’s panicked voice demanding the two of them stop, Alexis was short of breath but still managed to yell for assistance. “Help me, Mikey! Help me please!” With one twin’s hand wrapped around her throat, the distraught mother felt the reeking moisture from his lips on her ear as he whispered that if she screamed out once more, he’d kill her. Seconds later she was being dragged behind the juice and meat walk-in coolers.

  “Guess what, slut bucket? I thought you’d like some dick back here.” Antagonizing her with his words, he laughed as he unzipped his pants and then allowed them to drop to his ankles. “I mean, all you cheap fucking black bitches like it back here, don’t you?”

  Disoriented but relentless in spirit, Alexis tried to fight him off but was cruelly met with a painful combination of three more open-hand slaps to the face. Blood was now dripping from the right corner of her busted lip. The room was spinning. It was almost pitch black, and she couldn’t focus. In a final attempt to get him to stop, she called out once more to Mikey. Obviously getting no help or mercy from Hassan’s brother, she continued struggling to break free from the twin’s strong arm hold. Overpowered and exhausted, she finally gave in when the other twin brutally snatched her panties off, exposing her private area. The last thing Alexis saw before passing out cold was the other twin dropping his pants, as well, and Mikey walking away.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Li’l Ronnie had driven clear across town, still hell-bent on revenge. What his uncle had said to him mattered not at all. His threats, his promises, and his downplaying of what had taken place at Detroit Live were irrelevant. Ronald James Harvard was his own man and was ready to prove just that. Ful
l of pure hatred, he was done taking losses at the hand of Ethan, as well as others. With his mind made up that the world was truly designed to just fuck him over, Li’l Ronnie was on the hunt.

  Deep in thought, he followed the GPS on his cell and turned right, as instructed, then left. Only slowing down for kids darting out in the middle of the street or crackheads in search of their next rock, Li’l Ronnie quickly realized the west side of town was more out of control than the east. Hearing that he was only three short blocks away from his typed-in destination, Black Tone’s crib, the soon-to-be murderer felt his adrenaline at an all-time high. The radio was turned up, and he was blasting his favorite rap song through the custom speakers. He was motivated. He was hyped. He was focused. He was even unbothered as some random female suddenly backed out of a driveway, not paying attention. The fact that she cursed him out and gave him the middle finger meant nothing. Li’l Ronnie thought he recognized one of the guys that she was also going ham on, but he was too far off in his murder-minded zone to even care. He had something to prove, not only to himself, but to his uncle as well.

  That ho-ass nigga telling me to play my position before I don’t have a position to play, like I’m some half-assed gangsta. Who in the fuck he think he is? First, he take Sable while I’m sitting down in lockup, and then he wanna strip me of all my pride as a man. Fuck him. Matter of fact, after I body Black Tone, he next!

  Li’l Ronnie slowly drove down Black Tone’s nearly deserted block. After looking over to the left side of the street, followed by the right, he saw the black metal numbers posted on the side of the door. After lifting his gun off the passenger seat, he grabbed the paper with the address written on it. So as not to draw any unwanted attention to himself, he turned the music down. He saw no signs of the truck he’d found out Black Tone drove, but that didn’t discourage him. He’d lie in wait for him, if need be.