The streets in Hobe Sound/Banner Lake were crowded with folks from every hood in Martin. It was a block party thrown for Capo’s eldest brother, Juvie, who jumped yesterday from doing a six-year bid in prison.
Like his brother Capo, Juvie was a yellow-skin nigga who grew up in the lethal streets of Palm Beach County. But he had migrated after the death of his father.
Juvie stood five eight and weighed 155 pounds, and he was always ready to put a nigga in the dirt. He was fresh in his all-black fitted jeans, timbos, and a wifebeater. Around his neck, he sported a thick Cuban link with a phat-ass Jesus charm.
“Juvie, welcome home!” a hot-ass little girl in her teens named Jada shouted to the hot commodity.
When Juvie blew her a kiss and winked at her, she blushed and then walked off with her crowd.
“Girl, you need to stop being so fast!” Jada’s sister, Dree, said to her loud enough for Juvie to hear.
When Juvie and Capo looked down the road, they saw a parade of tricked-out box Chevy Caprices, Impalas, and Crown Vics lined up coming down Date Street, beating the block with their thunderous systems.
“Who the fuck is these niggas?” Juvie asked Capo.
“Oh, they my niggas! That’s Swamp Mafia,” Capo said to Juvie, whose mind went instantly on jack boy mode. The grapevine spoke fondly of Swamp Mafia.
The first Chevy, a cream 1987 Caprice Landau coupe halted in front of Capo, who was holding a bottle of Seagram’s gin in his hand. The passenger window came down.
“What’s up, dirty?” T-Gutta said to him.
“Just holding it down with my big brah. He finally home. Hey, Juvie, check it out!” Capo called out to his brother, who stood in the background.
Juvie walked up to where Capo stood and checked out the twenty-eight-inch rims on T-Gutta’s two-door Chevy.
“Meet the nigga who helped me rise to today, brah. T-Gutta, this is Juvie, my older brother.”
“I think I remember him from when y’all use to come stay at y’all’s grandma’s house on the back street,” T-Gutta said.
“Yeah, what they do?” Juvie retorted, bumping fists with T-Gutta.
“You tell me you see money. Is you ready to get down or what?” T-Gutta asked.
“I’m 4-Life. All day, brah.”
“And we Swamp Mafia that fuck with the 4-Life heavy,” T-Gutta informed Juvie.
“Then I’m always down for the cause, brah. 4-Life!” Juvie stated, throwing up four fingers on his right hand.
“Every move we make is the cause, brah. Welcome home. Tonight when I do business with ya, lil brother, I’ma have something in there for you,” T-Gutta promised. “And, Juvie . . .”
“Yeah,”
“It’s on the house. You don’t owe me nothin’. Just be careful. If you get to sit on it, sit on it, dirty,” T-Gutta said as he put flame to a kush blunt. “Get to know the faces of your dollars. Every Benjamin ain’t Benjamin. The moment you pick the wrong face, it could be a trap. It’s too much money out here to get entrapped, feel me?”
“All day. I smell ya, brah!” Juvie said to T-Gutta.
“Well, Capo, I gotta hit it. Y’all niggas be on key and on point tonight,” T-Gutta said.
“Always, brah. Money on time,” Capo said as he gave T-Gutta dap.
Juvie watched T-Gutta pull off, and all he could think of was coming up off his dick to be on his level.
I can’t get out here movin’ fast. I got to take it slow, Juvie thought.
“Brah, look how that bitch Krystal eatin’ you up,” Capo informed Juvie about the red bitch across the street.
When Juvie looked her way, she quickly turned her head.
“Who she fuckin’ with, lil brah?” Juvie asked as he took a swig from his bottle of Remy Martin.
“As of now, nobody, which means you’re fresh meat, and she all over you, brah.”
Before Capo could do any more encouraging, Juvie walked off and made his bold introduction to Krystal.
“Damn, nigga! What took you so long?” Krystal said.
“I thought you were cross-eyed and lookin’ at another nigga,” Juvie retorted, getting a chuckle out of Krystal.
“So what made you Pee-Wee Herman tap dance over here?”
“You call that tap dancing?” Juvie inquired.
“What you call it?”
“I call it, put our fronts to the side for one day. I been gone fo’ six years. You know what it was before I left and used to come down here. So let’s stop playin’ games,” Juvie said to Krystal, who was burning in ecstasy every moment she stood in his presence.
Something inside made her want to run like a little girl, but they weren’t young anymore. She had turned into a gorgeous pecan five foot five, 130-pound twenty-four-year-old who was in college working hard on her master’s. And although Juvie had grown just an inch, he was a man.
“I feel that, Juvie, but I’m not one of them easy-to-get hos. I’d rather you go hang out and we just be friends. All that hitting me in one night ain’t gonna cut it with me,” Krystal explained.
“I can respect that, beautiful. Just don’t take your word back, feel me?” Juvie asked.
“Yeah, I feel you,” Krystal spoke, praying that she didn’t blow her chances with Juvie by turning him down.
* * *
“Damn, brah. I hate that you goin’ in at this stage of the game. You gonna miss the club opening,” Real said to Shamoney, who was due to turn himself over to the authorities to serve his forty-eight-month sentence.
It was the least amount of time his lawyer could get the state down to from the original sentence of ten years. So, he was grateful for the time. He just hated leaving his wife and kids behind. Chantele had brought him two twin girls who were beautiful just like her.
Allowing Gina to stay in one of the guest rooms was a hard nail to pull off at first; however, Chantele saw that she was no threat. She also felt bad for her, since she had lost her hearing and the doctors couldn’t find out why. Her story about seeing Black made her sound insane, and no one believed her.
“Yeah, I hate it too, brah, but I gotta do what I gotta do. The sooner, the better. I just want to make it back home to see my kids grow,” Shamoney said to his brother.
They were lounging out back by Shamoney’s pool, enjoying the delicious food cooked by Chantele that consisted of curried goat, chicken, yellow rice, cabbage, and sweet cornbread. It was Shamoney’s last meal, cooked from the soul.
“Don’t worry, lil brah. I’ma be here every day and every step of the way for you and with you, brah. You not gonna miss nothing, because you gonna be there also,” Real told his brother.
“There you niggas go!” Johnny said as he walked out the back sliding door with Su’Rabbit.
They were both holding bottles of vodka in their hands.
“What’s up, Chyna Man?” Shamoney spoke.
“I couldn’t miss my second eldest brother’s going-away party. Shit ’bout to turn up.”
“Chyna Man, this ain’t no party,” Shamoney corrected.
“Shit! I know that. Ain’t no babies out in the pool or Boosie playing from the speakers. Of course, this ain’t no party!” Johnny said.
“What’s up, Su’Rabbit?” Shamoney asked.
“Listen, I’m sure ya brother Real done gave you the game already. Don’t drop the soap,” Su’ said, getting a chuckling going.
“Fuck you two clowns!”
“Swamp Mafia, baby!” Real exclaimed.
“Damn! I’ma miss y’all niggas,” Shamoney said.
“Don’t worry. We gonna hold you down, brah!” Johnny said, giving his brother Shamoney a hug.
Shamoney wasn’t due to turn himself over to the authorities until sunrise. As the night neared, everyone came and wished him well. At 10:00 p.m., Chantele came downstairs and stole Shamoney away from his friends, and the party subsequently dissipated, and everyone went about their way.
Chantele and Shamoney made love like never before until the sun came up, and it was time for him to depart. The hardest part was leaving his kids and a burdensome Gina behind. Shamoney had paid for an instructor to teach Gina body and sign language, as well as a personal psychologist to help her overcome her increasing dementia-like state.
Neither Shamoney nor anyone else was buying her story that Black had placed voodoo on her, which caused her to go deaf. Yet the doctors still could not discover what made her suddenly lose her hearing.
Gina’s three girls were in good hands with Pat’s mother, who lived in Miami. Pat’s mother had full custody and was battling to keep them, against Gina’s protests. Before Pat retaliated on her for cheating, he had filed for divorce and claimed that during her infidelity, she would have sex in front of the kids. A dead man’s allegations seemed to hold more weight against a deaf woman’s word. Gina was miserable, and each day it seemed as if she only got worse.