The next day, I made it home around six forty-five p.m. I'd made a beeline directly after school for Redrum's crib out in Crenshaw where I kicked it with the homies for a while. We played video games, smoked weed and clowned one another, as was routine for most of our adolescent get-togethers.
As I stepped off the city bus, up the street from our Inglewood digs, I saw Montel tinkering under the hood of Miss Shante's beat up Toyota Camry. She stood nearby chatting with both Montel and Mama while Montel moved effortlessly from his toolbox to the auto engine, tightening this and unscrewing that before getting the engine to rev up with relative ease.
"She's purring like a kitten now, don't ya think?" he said to Miss Shante, wiping his sweaty brow with a beefy forearm. "But ya gotta make sure you get regular oil changes and a tune up every few months or so, aiight? That way you'll avoid a whole lotta problems." Montel ran his hand on the hood of the car. "Caring for a whip is like caring for a kid. It requires a lotta TLC and attention. Some folks think that all a vehicle needs is gas and that's it, but no-you gotta put some work into your car if you want it to run well and last a while. You feel me?"
"Did you say something, Montel?" Miss Shante asked, not hearing a word Montel had spoken as she was too busy focusing on his biceps, glistening with sweat. "I'm so sorry. I just enjoy watchin' you. You look so-whew. Lord, help me." Miss Shante exclaimed, barely able to conceal her inner thoughts.
Mama glanced over at Montel with an, 'I-told-you-so' look on her face, to which he simply shrugged his wide shoulders and returned several items to his toolbox before noticing and then greeting me.
"S'up, Cee-lovah? How was school today?" he asked, catching me up in a sweaty, axle grease embrace.
I wriggled free of his musty hug, and we squared off, throwing a few playful punches at one another before making it onto the front porch and settling down onto the wicker chairs.
"Class was aiight," I replied. "Just the same ole stuff, ya know."
Montel leaned forward, slightly cracking the knuckles on his massive fists as he hung his head down briefly before raising his eyes to meet mine. I didn't know what to make of my brother's sudden serious demeanor, I, however, didn't budge, but stared right back at him, awaiting words that surprisingly never came. Instead, he just smiled weakly, reached over and brushed through my long, silky braids and stood. He then leaned across the wooden banister.
"Whatcha been puffin' on, Cee? Ganja or that homegrown smoke?" he straight out asked.
It surprised me that Montel was asking me this, but it made me feel good, because it brought back memories of the original gangsta he'd been before. Smiling, I zipped open my backpack, slowly removing a small, clear sandwich bag filled to the top with a potent strain of Cali weed.
"You musta smelled the scent of that purple haze lingerin' on me, huh?" I asked, grinning while I waved the bag of bud before him. "I copped this green kickin' it at my homeboy Redrum's spot out on Crenshaw. Dawg, you shoulda been there, 'cause we got high as a kite," I said in a voice ringing with excitement.
Montel turned away from me in order to look out at Mama, Miss Shante and her daughter, Nadia, who had just walked up to them. The three of them stood catching up on the latest neighborhood gossip, not paying myself or Montel one lick of attention.
"You need to put that away before Mama gets up here," Montel said in a whisper. "And you gotta be more careful. I could smell the stink of weed on you a mile away." He shook his head. "Cee, c'mon now, you know you gotta respect Mama's house better than that, bruh. If you smoke bud, hey it is what it is. But just be a l'il more discreet, aiight?"
"What?" I said, sucking my teeth. "Look, Black, you got it twisted. See, you been gone a long time so I gotta get you up to speed on some thangs. For one, Mama, don't trip off me smoking weed. As long as I don't spark it up in her crib, she's straight."
"So you telling me Mama is cool with you smoking weed?" Montel asked, in a tone of disbelief.
"At first, when she found my stash under my mattress while changing my bedding, she had a fit. But, hey, I get good grades and basically do everything she asks me to do, so she just quit naggin' me bout it, ya know."
"Okay, if Mama's cool with it, then so be it, but I will say this; I want you to be careful hanging out with your homies out on Crenshaw, aiight? 'Cause you know that I know what the l'il homies be doing on the Boulevard. Right?"
"Yeah, yeah," I nodded, not in the mood for him to preach away the rest of the little bit of high I had left. I stuck the bag of marijuana back down into the dark recesses of my backpack, snuggly in between textbooks and a pair of gym shorts before zipping it back up again.
"You referred to me as Black." Montel's eyebrows furrowed. "That means that you've somehow been influenced by the 'Reapers'; perhaps them Crenshaw Crazy Bonez, huh? Or maybe them li'l 'Inglewood Bone Thugz'? You haven't forgotten I was set leader of the Reapers before I got busted. Me, Skippie Dee, and my man Pretty T basically started the Reapers. We orches- trated the set rules, colors, gang signs and tattoos.
Black is our greeting 'cause that's our color; basically black and white or silver." Montel took a seat again in the empty wicker, keeping a watchful eye out for Mama as he spoke gang talk to me.
"I know that you're growing up, Cee, and I know how much you like hanging wit Redrum, Fatz, Baby and all the rest of the homies, and hey, that in and of itself is all good. But I know and you know that either you're already part of the gang, or you're soon gonna be. . .and, Cee, lemme tell ya something, l'il bruh, you don't wanna mess around with all that set trippin' stuff, dawg. Believe me. I know first hand."
I leaned back in the chair, taking in everything that Montel was saying to me, not fully knowing how exactly to take this sudden preachy rhetoric of his. I felt that he too seemed a little bit awkward coming at me with the scared straight spiel. After all, he'd just gotten home from doing a ten year murder bid, so he was the very last person to try and get righteous all of a sudden.
It was beginning to get dark outside now and Mama finally began walking up the walkway to the porch. Both Montel and I rose up out of our seats to meet her with hugs and kisses. As the three of us made our way into the house, Montel immediately went into the kitchen, washed his hands and began removing food from the freezer and the cabinet, placing them neatly into the countertop. He announced that he would prepare the meal this time and it would be one of his specialties.
Montel had used the latter years of his prison sentence to his advantage and had become skilled in a wide variety of activities, one of which was cooking. He relayed to us that he was taught by a former chef who supervised the kitchen facilities at Pelican Bay. This man took Montel under his wing and painstakingly educated him on every culinary secret he knew. So now it brought him great pride to finally show off his skills to his family.
Mama offered to help Montel, but was told instead to relax and enjoy television.
"Cee-lovah," he blurted out. "Help me do a li'l bit of changing and rearranging and I'm good. Trust me, it ain't gonna take long at all, pimpin'."
I reluctantly looked around the kitchen like it was a war zone or something. "Dawg, this is gonna take a long time, man. Just look around."
Montel smiled as he moved around the kitchen, rearranging pots and pans, plates and bowls from top to bottom and right to left. That's when a pair of jingling keys opened the front door. Montel turned toward the sound of the front door, as did I. We saw a pair of dusty work boots step onto the deep brown carpet of the living room. Montel went back to doing his thing in the kitchen. "That must be Mr. Leon, huh?" he asked.
"Yeah, that's him," I answered.
"I don't know why, because I don't even know this cat, but for some odd reason or another I'm not feelin' him."
I looked at my brother for a second then directed my eyes back toward the living room, snickering with a bit of anger. I'm sure that Montel had to have picked up on my sudden hostility toward our Mama's boyfriend, but I didn't care. I wanted him to know that his feelings for the man were felt by me as well, and for good reason.
Leon Guye was a tall, strapping man of around forty-two who worked for the Los Angeles County Sanitation Department. Mama had met him two and a half years ago at her church, Blesses Redeemer Baptist Temple, out in Inglewood. Originally he'd dated Miss Shante, but as fate would have it, he took a liking to Mama after his brief two week fling with Shante proved to be unsuccessful. Leon was a hard working man who made good money and an honest living as a senior sanitation worker. He was quite the handy man around the house too, attending to all of Mama's maintenance concerns whenever anything needed to be fixed. Although he was hardworking, honest and reliable on the one hand, the reserved blue collar Joe ordinary had a drinking problem. This problem brought out a mean streak in him that produced an egotistical boor at best and a hothead brute with a penchant for violence at worse.
Tonight it was clearly evident that he'd been hitting the bottle rather hard as he was hugging and groping our mother in a drunken attempt to show affection, much to Mama's disgust. She'd always been a light drinker herself, barely finishing even a single wine cooler.
"C'mon, Angie, girl. Gimme some suga, baby," Leon said, slurring badly. "I been working hard all week long. The least my woman can do for me is to gimme a kiss from them sexy lips. Can a brotha at least get that?"
Mama shoved Leon's grimy hands away from her and backed away from him. She stared at him angrily with her hands folded. "Leon, you are pissy drunk. Haven't we had enough talks about this? I told you that I didn't want you coming up into my home reeking of alcohol. You're too wasted right now for your own good. I don't find it appealing in no kind of way. So I think it's best if you just go on home, sober up, and we'll try again tomorrow.
Leon huffed, simultaneously stomping his foot in frustration. "Woman, ain't nobody drunk," Leon retaliated. "Me and the fellas just had a couple of beers downtown after work. It was just a few rounds. Now, quit all of that fussin', girl, and come on here."
"Look here, Leon, don't make me have to tell you twice to take your drunken behind home," Mama said bluntly. "You've got a drinking problem that needs to be taken care of ASAP. I care a lot about you, but I'm not going to let you keep disrespecting my home by stepping up in here drunk all the time. Now please, go home."
Leon had fully reached his boiling point now and rage had twisted his calm features with hateful ugliness. "I ain't going nowhere. I done so much work in this house that I practically co-own it," he growled, moving up closer to Mama as she instinctively backed away.
"Leon, now I'm not going to say it again; get outta my house now before I call the police on you," she insisted. "I don't want to do that, but if you think you're gonna bring your drunken self up in here, you got another thing coming." Mama yelled back at her worked up boyfriend.
Leon's thick hands clenched into massive fists as he drew even closer to Mama in the dimly lit living room. "Go ahead, Angie, call the police. I ain't scared of no pigs, woman."
I'd seen and heard enough, so I headed out into the living room to go have my mother's back. Upon making my way to Mama, Montel blocked my path with his arm, turning to me simultaneously to assure me that he'd take care of the situation.
Strolling slowly into the living room, Montel gently took Mama by the hand and moved her behind him as he stepped directly in front of the menacing garbage man. "Listen, Leon, I know we haven't met yet, but I don't want no trouble and neither does my Mama. So I'll tell ya what; go home, sober up, and come by tomorrow, man, 'cause you don't wanna do nothing stupid that'll get you in trouble. And trust me, I don't either."
"Oh, you must be Angie's oldest boy, Montel." Leon squinted his beady little eyes and squared his wide shoulders as he stared at Montel from top to bottom, sneering wickedly as he did so. "You ain't got a thing to do with this, boy. You need to learn some respect and stay in your place before you get ya self knocked out!" he barked at Montel with breath tart with the stench of cheap booze.
Montel stood his ground, calmly staring at the raging Leon without so much as blinking an eye. "Look, man, I don't wanna fight you, but you will leave this house tonight fa sho." Montel stood in between Mama and Leon with his arms folded across his chest.
"Angela!" Leon looked past Montel and shouted. "You gonna stand there and let this ill-mannered punk talk crap to me?"
"Well, for starters, neither one of my kids are punks and they never will be," Mama told him matter of factly. "Now for the last time, Leon, leave my home."
Leon gritted his teeth angrily, with his gaze shifting back and forth from Montel to Mama. Leon was now worked up, resulting in a shouting match between him and Mama.
Without saying a word, Montel puffed out his chest and stood toe to toe, and nose to nose with the older man. It was as if the Montel of old had suddenly reappeared. For several tense seconds, the two men stood staring each other down with fists clenched, nostrils flaring, and jaws taut. Each one daring the other to react.
Mama moved around the tense face off between her eldest child and her man, quickly throwing the front door wide open while standing against it. "You've been standing here long enough, Leon. Goodnight." Mama stood in the open doorway impatiently tapping her foot as she closed her eyes in mounting frustration.
Leon looked at her in disbelief. "Aiight. You got it, baby. If it's like that, I'm outta here." Leon slowly backed away from Montel and turned toward the open door. He shot my brother one last sinister glare before exiting.
I joined Montel and Mama on the porch where together we watched an inebriated Leon stagger slightly in route to his van. He mumbled angrily and kicked a can or two along the sidewalk as he went. We watched Leon get in his car. The twinkle of his rear lights grew dimmer and dimmer until they disappeared altogether, enveloped by the cool California night. Before long, Mama and I were back in the living room listening to the sound of sizzling pans accompanied by the mouth watering aroma of slow cooked seafood being prepared by Montel.
Tonight had proven to me that although Montel no longer considered himself an active gang banger, he still could go there if he needed to. I liked to see him like that, because in our neighborhood, a person had to prove that they were hard. I was glad to see my brother stand up like a true "G" and not let Leon punk him. I knew that Mama felt good about that too. She would never admit to it, but she liked the fact that Montel had come to her aid when she most needed it. She knew that I would've mashed on that fool a long time ago or either my homies would've given him a beat down for me, but Mama was hard on me about fighting and hooking up with any of my homies because she knew that almost all of them were a part of the local Reaper or Crip sets. For that reason, I had to grin and bear it. Most times Leon acted stupid around Mama. But I guess even though Montel had changed for the better, she still felt a sense of safety having him around, and so did I.