by Tracy Brown
Born stared at the two of them as they danced, feeling like Jamari was playing a dangerous game with him. Born had let his treachery slide the first time, and he hadn’t slaughtered Jamari like he should have. This time, he knew that Jamari was only using Jada as a way to get under Born’s skin. So he ignored them, and continued to enjoy the evening as if Jada was nowhere in sight. Born was so angry with himself for letting Jamari live, for letting him continue to antagonize him. He thought about something Dorian had said to him years earlier, when Born had first told him about how Jamari had deceived him: “If you let that nigga get away with it, he’s gonna cross you again. “As Born watched his nemesis dance with Jada, he sipped his champagne, and Jamari looked in Born’s direction and smiled. Born smiled right back.
Born felt that his reputation was being challenged. Jamari was calling him out. Born took that dance as a sign that war was imminent. He looked at Jamari, thinking of something his father used to tell him. It was sage advice that Born intended to take to heart from this day forward. “Strike first, and strike hard,” Leo used to say. Born smiled, hearing his old dad’s voice in his head. He intended to follow his advice to the fullest.
30
LEFTOVERS
Born knew that Anisa had gotten him by default. She was just someone he started to date when he was on the rebound. When he met Anisa, she was a breath of fresh air for him. She wasn’t from where he was from. That meant that no matter where he brought her within New York City, she was unknown to the niggas on the scene. No one could say that they’d had her or that they knew about her past. She was from Long Island, and they met while he was out there doing business. He went to a barbecue at an acquaintance’s house, and she was one of the guests. She was so stunningly attractive that he had hardly been able to concentrate on anyone else. He got her number before he left, called her the next day, and they began a relationship that blossomed into what it was today. But he knew he would never love her the way he had loved Jada.
Anisa was a very demure and soft-spoken young woman. She listened to Born tell her all about Jada, and about the way she had broken his heart. She seemed sympathetic and understanding, giving him reassurance that he had done nothing to deserve what Jada had done to him. Anisa didn’t use any drugs, didn’t smoke cigarettes, and rarely drank. She was a safe bet, he figured, and her willingness to listen to his tale of woe was a plus for him. Anisa became like his amateur therapist. She listened to him as he told her about how losing Jada to drugs had almost made him want to give up on women. But Anisa was determined to prevent that from happening. She did everything right. She was quiet when he was in an introspective mood, and she was tons of fun when Born needed to let off some steam. He found himself wanting her company more and more, and she became his good friend with benefits.
Born would never love a woman again. He wouldn’t allow himself to fall for any woman the way he had for Jada. That was too dangerous. He was afraid to have his heart broken. Even though Anisa was at times the ideal woman, he kept her at a safe distance, and never let her get too close. Anisa stubbornly played her position, hoping that somehow she could break down his resistance.
But after a while Anisa got sick of hearing about the other woman. One day in particular, Anisa had just given him two explosive orgasms, back-to-back. They had been going strong for close to five months, and she was pulling out all the stops to make sure that her position was secure. Thug lovin’ was what she’d done to him. Anisa had tied Born’s wrists up in a bandana, and sucked him off intensely. He had splashed off in her mouth, and she had devoured it all, untying his hands and smiling, satisfied, when she was done. They lay together afterward, with Anisa’s soft hands stroking his dick. He felt himself growing in her delicate hands, and she grinned at him, naughtily. Before he knew what happened, Anisa had him in her mouth again, and he was rock hard.
He beckoned her closer. “Get on that.”
Anisa happily complied, climbing on top of him and putting him inside her. He watched her wind her hips, enveloping him inside her warmest place. He held her hips as she grinded, and it wasn’t long before she got him to climax a second time—and this time she joined him in that ecstasy.
Afterward, Anisa had laid her head on Born’s chest, with her leg wrapped across his. He was on his back with his hands behind his head, and he seemed completely relaxed. They lay together in silence for a while before he looked at her, and said, “Yo, I can’t believe the bitch is fuckin’ with Jamari.” He shook his head in disbelief, as he thought about seeing Jada with Jamari, and hearing more and more that they were being seen together. “The nigga is a bum. All he do is run behind Wizz all day, trying to be somebody for a change. Jamari and Wizz think they doing something, but them niggas ain’t making no money. Them niggas ain’t seein’ no real paper out there. I shut the hill down, and them mutha-fuckas is nibbling on the crumbs that fell from my plate. Jada’s just one of my crumbs.”
Anisa stared at him, seeming to listen attentively. But in her mind, she was thinking, No, this nigga is not laying here talking about another woman when he just finished having sex with me. She wondered if he had been thinking of Jada while they were having sex. She was fed up.
“You’re sick without her. It’s so obvious.” Anisa had said it calmly, and sat up in bed. She seemed like she wasn’t mad, but she knew that his love for Jada was still haunting him, and she began searching for her clothes.
“Nah.” Born had denied it. “I ain’t sick without nobody.”
Anisa looked at him, her lips scrunched up in disbelief. “Well, then stop talking about the bitch, then. I’m getting kinda sick of hearing about her. Especially since I’m the one who just made you cum like that.”
Born smiled, and told himself that he probably was talking about Jada more than he should. He made a mental note to curb his mention of Jada’s name in Anisa’s presence from that day forward. Maybe he was slipping.
He didn’t talk about Jada much after that, but she still dominated his thoughts. Jada had no clue as to how deeply he had felt for her. Truth was, Born was brokenhearted. His mama told him that you never get over your first love. Instead, he replaced her with Anisa. She was not Jada, but she was also not a crackhead.
Born had held out hope that Jada wasn’t really dealing with Jamari like that. But the more he heard the rumors, the more he felt like Jada had been a complete waste of his time. He knew that he had taught her better than that. Born saw clearly from the beginning that Jamari was only trying to provoke him. He wondered how long it would take before the two of them bumped heads at last.
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 thi
nk, 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 Ja-mari’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 bitches 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.