Eventually June strolled around and I along with the rest of Compton High's class of '99, proudly walked across the auditorium stage amidst the raucous cheers and flashing cameras to receive our diplomas. All seemed to be well with the hood since Baby and I fought on that Saturday morning in May. The neighborhood kids showed me a new found level of respect, which they extended toward my mother as well. No longer did the Wilder brothers disturb the quiet of the neighborhood on Saturday mornings with their booming gangsta rap. As a matter of fact, they never again waxed or washed their car outside on the streets of the neighborhood period.
Local boys who were once known to be rude, foulmouthed bullies, now greeted my mother and other elders of the hood with respect. Gang graffiti throughout our neighborhood was painted over on the strict orders of Montel himself who saw to it that the painstaking task was carried out by the local youths over the course of an entire weekend. Montel's former street creed was now paying off in a much different way. Soon miscreants such as drug dealers, pimps and prostitutes began leaving our neighborhood, realizing that their presence was no longer wanted.
Montel himself at times seemed to be wrestling with his own inner demons, unlike when he'd first arrived from prison. He felt a need to mediate and pour over the pages of the Bible and Sun Tzu's Art of the War, in addition to working out four times a week. The events of the last few weeks had pushed the limits of his composure to the breaking point. He knew better than anyone how easily it would be to re-enter the turbulent world, which he'd worked so hard to distance himself.
More often were the times that he was away than when he was at home amongst his family. And when he was at home, he was mostly there in body alone, because mentally he'd be consumed by his auto repair duties, which could easily take up most of the day. And finally, when he would finish his work with the cars, he'd simply dine, shower and retire to bed for the night, being far too tired for much else. His burning desire for self perfection was amazing to watch as he effortlessly bench pressed the heavily weighed bar several dozen times under the cool shade trees in our backyard. He'd stop for a moment's breather, take a sip of Gatorade and then direct me to add yet fifty more pound plates to the already impressive stack encircling both ends of the iron bar. He'd then hoist the weights once more.
"Man, Montel," I stated. "You've already knocked out five sets of ten repetitions. I'm gonna start training like you, so the next time when I get into a fight I can knock a fool out with just one punch."
Montel sweated through his final three reps before sitting up to face me with a sweat drenched, frowning face. "You don't train your body or your mind just to whup up on people, Cee. You do it because the body is God's temple, feel me?" Montel paused briefly to wipe the perspiration from his face and body. "These kids don't know nothing about being a gangsta. They have no idea what they're getting themselves into. So what I did was let you take on Baby who'd basically set himself up as the ring leader of his li'l weak crew. By kickin' his butt, you pretty much let everybody around here know that not only are you to be respected, but not to give any ear to any of that flack Baby and his boys be spittin'."
I simply nodded my head in silence. I had to admit that I was a little confused by my brother's conflicting rhetoric of passive aggression; however, in time I would eventually come to realize the truth of his words.
Mama and Miss Shante acted as if everything was everything whether Montel was around or not. But over the passing weeks, Miss Shante seemed to be making it a point to try and find time to be alone with my brother. He knew it also, but unlike before, he didn't try to brush her off. He even seemed to enjoy the attention that he was receiving from our flirtatious next door neighbor.
The day after Father's day, I'd just slipped into the house through the back door so as not to alert anyone to my presence. Fatz had run out of twenty dollar sized zip lock bags to package the bud with, so I had to go into my shoebox down in our basement to supply him with a dozen or so bags to work with. That's when I overheard Montel and Miss Shante talking upstairs.
Mama had gone out to dinner with Leon an hour earlier, according to Miss Shante, whose high pitched nasal-like voice chimed through the vents along the basement wall. Curiosity overcame me and I weaseled my way up the steps ever so slowly so that I might stare at them through the small crack in the basement door near the knob.
They were both sitting arm in arm on the couch facing each other while watching television.
"I want you, Montel. Can't you see that? I've wanted you ever since I laid eyes on you, baby. Why don't you want me?" Miss Shante asked, moving in so close to him that her lips were literally mere inches from his own.
"Shante, you make it real hard for me, or any man for that matter, to show an interest because you come on too strong, too soon, that's all," Montel answered. "You're a very attractive woman. Any man would love to have you, but just slow your roll a bit. Let the men come to you for a change."
"I don't want any other man, I want you, Montel Phillips. Let me be your lady. I'll be the perfect woman for you, if you'll just give me a chance."
"You're sure about all that?"
"Positive." Miss Shante ran her dainty fingers with long pink colored nails across his smooth bald head, staring into his eyes with the infatuated look of a lovesick teenager.
"Girl, you know better than to wanna be down with somebody like me, don't you? You're on some ole good girl likes bad boy type stuff. I'm here to tell you that, that ain't cool."
Before he could say another word, Miss Shante slowly and seductively pressed her thick, pouting lips against his in a sensuous kiss while draping her arms around his shoulders. The tender embrace was immediately reciprocated by Montel. When they at last broke free of their steamy lip lock, they held each other close while Montel gently caressed Miss Shante's cheek with his left hand.
"Whatever happens, Montel; don't ever leave. And I don't mean me; I mean don't ever leave period. Cee needs you, Angie needs you and God knows I need you. As a matter of fact, this whole neighborhood needs you!"
Montel stared into Miss Shante's moist eyes. I thought that I might have detected a teardrop form and slide down his ruggedly handsome face as well. Miss Shante leaned her head against Montel's chest while he ran his fingers through her long, silky hair.
"I'm glad that you're here with your family, Montel, because something's gotta be done about Leon. Leon, as you know, is a very difficult man to deal with to say the least. I'm sure that your mama didn't tell you he puts his hands on her, not to mention the numerous times he's been caught cheating on her with the neighborhood hoochies. I know that Cedrick wanted to kill him more than once. I even stepped to Leon once or twice myself about hitting on Angie because I love ya mama like a sister and I wouldn't dare let anything happen to her. I know I'm a thick woman and all, but I'm no match for that big jerk but you are."
Montel slowly raised Miss Shante's chin with his right hand so that she might look him in the eyes. He appeared to whisper something to her, which made her giggle lightly. "You're a special lady, Shante. Who knows? You might just bag me after all. But as for Leon; he ain't ever gonna disrespect my mama, Cee, or you, for that matter ever again. You can quote me on that one."
Miss Shante sighed softly as she snuggled up against Montel's chest. "Baby, I don't want you to get into any more trouble, so please be careful about how you approach Leon."
Montel kissed her on top of her head. "Quit your worry'n, 'cause ain't nothing bad gonna go down. I'm just going to talk to dude, man-to-man, awright?"
I'd seen and heard enough, besides, I didn't want to keep Fatz waiting any longer than I already had, so I eased back down the stairs and left out through the basement door. As I walked away from the house, I could only feel a sense of anxiety about the coming confrontation.