Chapter Sixteen
It’d been almost a solid month since leaving from the West Side. And sadly, to Nolan’s knowledge, not one family member showed interest in his whereabouts or well-being. Seeing as he was living a few blocks away from his grandmother’s home, you would think he’d run into a relative or two. But he didn’t. Nolan stayed in the house grinding, for the most part, sunup to sundown, trying to save the little ends he made. There were no trips to the mall with the other fellas jacking off their pay. No tricking with females. And no extra items he didn’t need to maintain his hygiene. Nolan was on a mission. The teen was determined to get Tall Rob’s foot off his neck.
Not naïve, Tall Rob saw that hunger and ambition in Nolan and tried to throw up every roadblock he could. Yet, it didn’t work. The only thing he could do to slow down or stop the teen’s hustle was to act as if he had no product or Nolan had broken a rule. Since all of the other guys living there knew their homeboy was not cut like that, Tall Rob had no other choice but to let him shine. He couldn’t run the risk of fucking up team morale and appearing to be a hater.
O. P. had briefly made up with his mother. Having been down this road before, he knew it was only a matter of time before she flipped out again. And when that occurred, O. P. would once more be tossed out in the streets to fend for himself. However, in the meantime, he’d live in the celebration. He ate all the home cooked meals his mom prepared and took plenty of hot showers. He was able to not only wash his clothes but also leave them in his room, not worried about another guy stealing or wearing them. He offered to sneak Nolan in the basement daily while his mother was gone to work and each night when she would go to bed, but Nolan declined the offer. Not because he had pride, by any means, but because he was on his hustle and could not afford to miss any paying customers.
O. P.’s temporary change in residence had enabled Nolan to make double the amount a week now. Wanting to get some fresh air, finally, he stepped out on the front porch of the spot. Stretching his arms, he then made the short hike up to the nearby gas station. As he walked by his grandmother’s street, his head didn’t turn once. As far as Nolan was concerned, the entire generation could all kick rocks. He was living for self and only self. Of course, he hoped that his little twin brothers were doing okay, but the oldest son had to trust that God would cover them both because he knew his mother was still up to no good. He’d always love his siblings, but living how he had been the last few weeks, emotions could not come into play if one wanted to succeed in the dope game. Maybe one day, when he could support himself, he could support them as well, but for now, all Nolan could offer were silent prayers.
No more than three minutes inside of the gas station, he’d grabbed a honey bun, a few bags of Better Made hot chips, and a grape juice. Before the frugal teen could think of anything else he possibly needed to get by for a couple of days, he heard the bell ring on the door signaling that someone else had entered. Nolan was in the middle of walking down the aisle, items in hand. He wanted to stop. He wanted to just drop his stuff on the floor and exit. But he didn’t. By the wayward teen’s account and all he’d been through over the past few months, he was now a grown-ass man. That meant he feared no man, not even his mentally abusive father. I swear to God if this old, played-out goofy nigga say some shit to me, I’ma nut all the way the fuck up. His best bet is just to leave me be before I test his jaw. I’m tight on all they asses over at Grandma’s.
“Well well well. Ain’t this about some shit? And where in the hell your no-good ass been at?” the father barked at his son in his usual demanding tone, bringing attention to them both. That was what he liked to do. Get loud and act as if that made him right when it was apparent to all that he was wrong.
Nolan was seemingly unbothered. He stayed focused on what he was doing. He didn’t say a word in response. Instead, he moved around his father, placing his snack items on the counter as if the boisterous man were no more than a stranger.
“Hey, little no-good bastard that probably ain’t even mine, I know you hear me talking to your simpleminded ass. Now, I said, where in the hell you been at, boy? Your damn grandmother been asking about you.” His scruffy voice grew louder, realizing he was purposely being ignored. The two other patrons inside of the gas station, as well as the attendant, all gave the animated man the stank eye for how he was carrying on. It was way too early for either of them to hear or see the next man clowning.
“Next,” the Middle Eastern cashier waited for Nolan to place his items in the turntable portion of the bulletproof partition. He’d been working there for a few years and easily recognized both father and son. He’d always known Nolan to behave just as he was, quiet and with respect. And as for the elder of the two, Nolan’s father was in true character as well, being loud, obnoxious, and a troublemaker.
“Hey, my main man, young Nolan. Good morning.” Despite the obvious, the cashier still greeted his young customer with a smile, wishing he could eliminate what was going down on the other side of the bulletproof glass.
“Hey, Sam, how you doing?” Nolan nodded patiently, waiting for the price he owed for his early-morning snacks.
That pleasant exchange between the two pushed Nolan’s egotistical father far over the edge. Not only was he embarrassed that his son had ignored his questions, but the surly in nature man was also pissed he’d done it in front of Sam. “Oh, so you can open that mouth of yours and speak, huh? I thought you had just lost your mind altogether. But, naw, you just being a stupid ass like that tramp mother of yours. I heard through the grapevine she knocked up with another baby, crazy-minded, pill-popping bitch.”
Taking a few deep breaths of the crisp morning air, it took everything in Nolan not to swing on his pops for the scandalizing remarks he was saying. But at this point, it was not only fuck him but also fuck his mother too, so, whatever. Nolan wisely fell back. He’d been around his father long enough to know that was just what his old dude wanted . . . attention. And there was no need to give him that satisfaction. He didn’t deserve that much effort.
Being homeless had not only made the teen have to man up, but it also made him realize that his father was no more than a gloried bully that no one respected. The man was all bark and no bite. But now was not the time for Nolan to pull his old man’s card. He’d let him do all the mouthing off. He wanted to ease his own guilt. Besides, the dedicated hustler had to get back on the block. Nolan knew there were always midmorning customers sliding by to grab a bag or two of trees before heading to work. And he needed every penny he could make to add to his come-up stash.
Paying Sam for his snacks, Nolan took the plastic bag and headed out of the door. Not ready to just let it go, his father followed behind, yelling obscenities. He loudly called his son every vile name he could think of, proudly announcing to his firstborn that he was disowned from the family. Nolan didn’t bother to turn around. Why would he? His father had humiliated him for the last time when he was forced to take the bus home in the rain, so whatever he said mattered none.
Not slowing his pace, Nolan did slightly smirk, elated that he was disowned. Fuck’em all had been his mind-set for months. Yet, the vile-tongued father was not done. When his harsh words didn’t work, he would not be content until he got a reaction. Using both hands, he shoved Nolan in the center of his back, resulting in him dropping his bag. When the bag hit the pavement, it was quickly apparent that the glass bottle of juice inside shattered. The purple liquid filled the plastic. It was easy to see the grape-flavored juice had the chips and honey bun coverings soaked. It was then that Nolan’s true tolerance level was tested. It took every inch of discipline he could muster. His jaw clenched, holding back his words. He knew if he turned around, the outcome would be nothing that his verbally out-of-control father expected or would see coming.
Aggravated, his father was heated that he’d not succeeded in provoking Nolan to react. He got louder and louder as traffic sped down Mt. Elliot heading toward the freeway. “You think ’cause you out here running these streets that you can be disrespectful to me? You think you can act like you too grown to answer questions about where in the hell you been? One day, you gonna regret this, you little motherfucker. One day, I’ma show you a thing or two about thinking you grown. You gonna need me one day. Then we’ll see how big and tough you are, you li’l bastard!”
Naw naw naw. Don’t turn around. Don’t do it. ’Cause if you do, you gonna break this old fake-ass nigga’s jaw or stump him the fuck out in the middle of this lot. Nolan didn’t give in. It was as if his hands were tied. He remained strong and didn’t even bother to pick up his bag and check if the other items were salvageable. Instead, the underage teen kept his head held high, never giving his father the face-to-face confrontation the immature man desired. Nolan picked up his pace, heading back to the house he now considered his temporary home.