Black Scarface

by Jimmy Dasaint

  Judge Marino cleared his throat and began. "Mr. Foreman, did the jury reach a final verdict?"

  "Yes we have, your Honor," the jury foreman said as he stood.

  The bailiff then leaned towards the foreman and was handed a folded piece of white paper. Every eye in the room followed that piece of paper as if it might suddenly burst into flames.

  The judge leaned to his left and took the folded page from the bailiff. Judge Marino took just the slightest glance at the sheet, its answer preordained. After a long sigh he shook his head ever so slightly, his face not betraying his thoughts. He was a man who wore a perpetually iron gaze, keeping his true emotions deeply hidden from the outside. Strangely, though, it was quite imperceptible to anyone else; a slight smile played across the corner of his mouth. He then handed back the sheet of paper and soon it was back in the hands of the jury foreman.

  Judge Marino looked over at Gloria Jones, signaling her with his eyes.

  “Mr. Smith, can you please stand up for the reading of your verdict?”

  It was a question, but he wasn’t really asking.

  Face stood up slowly carefully adjusting his jacket. Gloria stood

  beside him, resting a reassuring hand on his arm. The focus shifted to Face and his attractive lawyer. As the people looked at him, they also tried not to make eye contact. Even from behind, people did their best not to focus on his face, because he might suddenly turn and catch them staring. Or so they thought.

  Mass paranoia had infected them all. Looks of compassion and contempt, sympathy and rage, hate and disgust, all wrestled their way throughout the courtroom. People leaned forward, edging towards what seemed to be a collective huddle.

  Judge Marino nodded as he continued his instructions. "Mr. Forman, could you now read the verdict for the courtroom?” The nervous foreman could feel the sweat beading up on his forehead. Perhaps it was the gravity of the moment. Maybe it was the lights beaming down on him. It could have been that he was overweight and under-qualified to be charged with reading the verdict in the case. The Forman’s eyes darted around the courtroom, wondering what was about to happen when he read the words in front of him.

  Face was standing still, his expression calm and free of worry and emotion. Those thoughts had passed long ago. His mind was somewhere else. At that moment, with the whirlwind of excitement and anticipation crashing like tidal waves around him, his thoughts were floating far from this place. He was no longer in some stale courtroom, but in another place and time. Memories from his past danced in front of him…flashes of the good, the bad…and the ugly.

  As the jury foreman began reading the final verdict, Face was lost inside the darkness of his own world. It was a place that he had helped to create. The colors and sounds swirled around his thoughts and found theplace where it all began...

  Chapter One

  The Beginning

  Philadelphia, PA.Twenty Years Earlier...

  Lil' Norman stood just outside of his mother's bedroom door, listening to everything that was going on inside. After hearing the intense moans that escaped from beneath the tiny space below the door, all that the 8-year-oldchild could do was silently cry.

  Norman Smith, Jr., was the only child of his young mother, Pamela, who made ends meet using the world's oldest profession. Lil' Norman hadbeen introduced to a twisted world of money, sex, drugs, and violence at a very early age. It was a dark and frantic world that he feared, and yet he was strangely drawn to it. Most of the other kids his age were playing games, watching cartoons, or busy doing the typical things that kids are supposed to do while enjoying their childhood. But then again, Lil' Norman's childhood was anything but typical.

  Every day he would watch as men, young and old, tall and short, and of every race and ethnicity came by the house to see his mother. A short time later, after having disappeared into his mother's bedroom, these anonymous men would leave as fast as they had come.

  A few hundred dollars was the price they paid for the kind of satisfaction that only Pamela could give them. It was an addiction for them. And like most addictions, people were willing to pay top dollar to have their desires sated.

  Though Norman didn't understand exactly what was going on during the day, it was the nights that were the worst for him. The darkness of the night seemed to close in on him, making the sounds seem louder and morefrightening than during the daytime. The hallway he walked down becamelonger, the ceiling seeming to lower, and everything become more claustrophobic. Shadows cast by the moonlight were bent and twisted into lurking creatures that stalked him.

  Every sound echoed eerily around him as he left his mother's door and made his way back to the safety of his own room. Once inside he could take refuge in his bed as the full moon cast bright beams of light through his window. Although he felt better as the moon stared down on him there was still an emptiness that was deep inside of him; it was a confusing, darkplace deep within his soul that he did not fully recognize.

  Soon, the sounds coming from his mother's bedroom would grow louder and more grotesque until they would suddenly stop. There would be a few moments of silence, and then the bedroom door would open. The men would thank his mother as their voices grew louder and then faded asthey made their way down the stairs. The front door would open. The front door would close. Within seconds, the familiar sounds of running water would take the place of the shrieks and moans that had only recently stopped resonating throughout the house. The sink, the toilet, and even the shower all made their own distinct sounds, and Lil' Norman knew all of them. Almost every single night it was the same routine. For him, it wasn't abnormal or out of place, it just... was.

  Pamela Foster was a very beautiful woman. She had the kind of exotic features that drew attention to her wherever she went. She was a tall, attractive redbone; perfectly proportioned and exquisitely curved. Her long, silky black hair and hazel eyes could pierce deep within you as she met your gaze, and the effect of it drove men wild.

  Not only was she blessed with such a perfect body, but her mind wasdesigned to get the most out of it. She knew how to please a man in everyway. She could make a complete stranger feel as if he were making love for the first time. Pamela didn't sell sex, she sold dreams. Her body was a finely tuned instrument, and she was well practiced in her art. Other females were intimidated; men couldn't stay away from her.

  At just 24 years old, Pamela had been running the cruel streets of Philadelphia ever since she had become a teenage runaway. She was the only daughter of her biracial parents: a black father and an Italian mother. She made the decision to take her chances on the streets instead of trying to survive in the abusive environment that her parents gave her.

  Her mother was always yelling at her, saying things that no mothershould ever say to a daughter. Her father's abuse became a different kind of animal altogether.

  For Pamela, there was no choice. She had to leave. At 15 she had finally had enough. She ran from the controlled abuse and violence of her parent's home to the cruel and unforgiving streets, not knowing what to expect, but knowing that it had to be better. For her it was a cold world, a place where dreams are frequently shattered and hopes are as thin as mist,disappearing right before her eyes. It wasn't long before Pamela hooked up with a tall, handsome street hustler named Norman Smith. Five years older than her, he was a smooth talker with an irresistible charm. He offered her a place to stay - a small one-bedroom apartment in West Philly and she graciously accepted.

  Just a week later, he became the first man she ever had sex with. Slowly and skillfully, Norman made passionate love to her, teaching the young girl about her virgin body. Together they explored parts of her that she had never known existed before. His ability to please her sexually wasunlike anything she had ever felt or could have imagined. The sex was so good that she found herself becoming addicted to it. Every time they had sex, she found herself crying tears of both joy and pain, all of it pure satisfaction. And always, she craved more; begged for it.

 
; She wanted as much sex as Norman could give her. Five times a day wasn't enough for Pamela. She needed the kind of closeness that only he could give her. She didn't know if it was love, lust, or some misguided sense of loyalty that made it all so incredible, but she was sure that it completed her. It was the one thing she needed the most... the affection that she had always yearned for.

  While living with Norman, she received an education in what the streets were all about. From selling drugs, to credit card scams, she learned the ins-and-outs. She knew how to steal and how to use her beauty to set people up. Her face and those piercing eyes had lured many,and it was during this time that she saw death firsthand. Norman had convinced her that it was all part of the brutal game of survival, a place where only the strong make it. In this dog-eat-dog world, she was given the proper guidance and education. She knew that you either kill or be killed; the rest of the world won't miss a beat, no matter what the outcome. There was nothing that Pamela wouldn't do for the man who showed her how life really worked. Nothing!

  Most days they would drive around in Norman's Cadillac, plotting and scheming on their next victim. At night they would sit quietly on the edge of the bed and count the day's profits. The rush of the money combined with the danger of it all excited Pamela so much that she would find herself crawling all over Norman. They would make love wildly like hungry animals through the night. And as Pamela would lay still, lost in her thoughts of what she thought was love and passion, Norman was already planning his next hit.

  She was on cloud-9, and he was in the street searching for another victim. Together, Norman and Pamela was a perfect pair - a match made in Heaven... or perhaps somewhere else. And that is how it was for them until the one day when things didn't go as planned.

  After the setup of a local drug dealer named Hood had gone bad, Pamela sat just a few feet away in the backseat of Norman's Cadillac, watching as her perfect dream-life came to a terrifying and tragic end. Parked right outside of a neighborhood bar, she watched as Hood shot Norman three times at pointblank range. Two bullets entered his chest while the last struck him in thestomach.

  Scared, confused, and four months pregnant, she watched as Hood ran off down the dimly lit street. The wind whistled as it went past the car, and Norman's nearly lifeless body slumped even farther toward the ground.

  In what seemed like slow motion to her, Pamela jumped out of the car and ran to Norman's side. She knew nothing about medicine, but it was a certainty that soon the man she loved would be gone.

  "Baby, hold on! Please don't die like..." Her eyes paused on the wounds in his chest. His shirt was soaked with a crimson liquid. She knew that nobody could have that much blood to spare, but she was not willing to let him go. "Not like this, baby! Come on! You're stronger thanthis!"

  Just then, he twitched his body convulsing as his consciousness slipped even further from this place. She wanted to say something to fix him; the right series of words to bring back the fight in him that she knew he possessed. But the words didn't exist. She started to feel cold, and the reality started to churn deep inside of her. This was it.

  As Norman’s eyes fluttered, he managed to squeeze Pamela’s hand, forcing her attention through forming tears. His throat choked as he tried to talk. With each cough his mouth filled with blood. Somehow, between gasps, he managed the words, "I... I love you... Princess..." He coughed."Make sure that you... that you raise us a sol-" Blood started to pour from his nose mixing with Pamela's tears as they fell to his cheeks.

  "Shhhhh, baby!" she said. "I'm right here."

  He squeezed her hand again as his strength was all but gone. "Raise us a soldier." Dark, brownish, black blood made its way past his lips, slowly rolling down his chin, meeting his red soaked shirt. And then he was gone.

  Steam lifted off of Norman’s body as Pamela’s trembling arms did the best theycould to guard his warmth. She could hardly breathe and she knew just then - at that exact moment - a part of her was also forever dead.

  Chapter Two

  Five months after Norman had been shot and killed, his only child, Norman Smith, Jr., entered into the world. At just 16 years old, Pamela was a single black mother raising a newborn child, and she was completely alone. Norman was gone, and the money that he had left behind was quickly disappearing. Babies, as she soon figured out, are very expensive.

  She realized she had to provide for herself, and in order to do that, she would have to use the skills that Norman had taught her. Survival of the fittest; kill or be killed, it didn't matter what it took. She was going to give Norman Smith, Jr., a good life.

  She would protect her son from the monsters, no matter how far she had to go - even if it meant becoming one of the monsters, herself.

  It started with boosting clothes from high-fashion department stores like Macy's and Saks Fifth Avenue. Not bringing in enough money, it wasn’t long before she turned to dealing drugs, which she quickly realized was a man's game unless she had some backup. But she was alone.

  Then there was a moment of clarity as she studied herself in front of a department store window. She may have only been 16, but her body wasn’t. So she turned to the cruel, deadly world of prostitution. Once there, she never looked back.

  Men were willing to pay top-dollar to use her body in ways that no wife would ever allow. There were even a few women who desired her attention as well. In Pamela's young eyes, it was a means to an end…strictly business - nothing less, nothing more. On some days she could bring in over a thousand dollars and immediately, half of it was put away, only to be spent on Lil' Norman.

  She didn't hesitate to give him the world. Pamela made sure that the only thing missing from his life was his father. She spoiled her child with everything that she had never received. In a way, she grew up with him. Reading books and magazines about keeping her newborn healthy and safe, she spared no expense when it came to the best medical care and doctors for Lil' Norman. She wanted to do it right. She wanted for him all the things she never had. She was grooming a young, black king and taught him about respect, friendship, loyalty, and success. And as Lil’ Norman grew she also learned more about herself.

  After taking a hot shower, cleaning the strangers off of her body, she dried off and slid on a pair of silk panties and draped a robe around her body. She walked down the hallway and knocked gently on Lil' Norman's bedroom door, and it slowly opened. Making her way to the edge of his bed, she noticed that he had been crying. His eyes were puffy and red; hischeeks still glistening from the tears. He looked up at her and immediately threw his arms up to hug her. He clutched her tightly, as if she might disappear at any moment.

  "Baby, why ain't you next door playing with Reese?" She ran her hand through his curly black hair as he sat up.

  "I told Ms. Lilly that I wanted to come home and make sure that youwas alright," he replied, his eyes filled with innocence. "Baby, I told you that I would be fine. You don't have to worry about me."

  "But I do, Mom. I always do," he said in a somber tone.

  He looked into his mother's eyes and noticed that they were becoming moist. He watched as the tears formed and slowly fell from her cheeks. He hated to see his mother cry. Sometimes he even wondered if he was the reason that she was so sad. He thought that maybe it was his fault that she went through such pain and misery.

  The reality, as ugly as it might be, was that she was doing all of these things for him. He wished that it would all go away. He wished that he could trade the life they had for one of poverty. At least then his mother wouldn't have to be with all of these men... all these strange creatures who took with them a small piece of her soul each and every time they enteredher body.

  "Mom, please don't cry."

  She watched as his small hand delicately wiped the tears from her cheeks. She smiled and they sat quietly. As she looked into his face, she saw a smaller version of the man that had been taken away from her. Even in death, she would never love another man as she had loved Norman. No other man would ever co
mpare. Her life was for Lil' Norman; he would be all the things that his father had wanted.

  "Tomorrow," she said with a smile, "The two of us are going shopping." Lil' Norman's face lit up. "And if you want, we can go to the zoo after that."

  He sat up. "Mom, can Reese come with us?"

  "Sure. I'll ask Momma if he can come with us," she said as

  she hugged him again.

  "Thanks, Mom. I love you," he said, his arms wrapped tightly

  around

  her.

  "I love you too, baby," she said as she kissed him softly on

  the cheek. As Pamela stood to leave, Lil' Norman grabbed her

  hand, his expression was very serious. "What is it, baby?" He took a long breath and then sighed, "Mom, what is the

  differencebetween love and lust?"

  She was caught off guard for a moment, and then considered

  how to explain something like that to an eight-year-old. She then

  reached out andgrabbed both of his little hands. "Well... alright."

  She sat back down beside him and could tell that he was much

  more serious now.

  She was amazed at how much he had grown. How quickly he

  wouldbecome a young man.

  "Mom?" he asked again, still waiting for a response.

  "Baby," she started, "I want you to always remember what

  I am about to tell you. It's something that your father told me, and

  I always think about it. 'Love never fails, and it always heals. Lust

  constantly fails, and it always kills.' "

  She waited a moment as she watched her words play in his

  eyes. "Does that make sense to you?"

  "Who does it kill?"

  "Well, it kills everybody who runs after it. Lust is what

  animals do. Some people don’t believe it, but I think animals don't care