AFTER BLACK SPILLED THE BEANS, THE CREW STARTED their interrogation.
“Damn, bruh! What it shake like? Kim look like she got hydraulics on that booty!” joked Dante. “How you got that ho to give it up?”
“A true pimp doesn’t give out the tools to his trade,” I joked. “One day I’ll give a handbook on pimp economics.”
We all laughed. Black and Shrimp gave daps and headed toward the avenue. Those two were always on the move. I kind of knew they were destined to end up in some deep trouble. They had that aura around them that scared the living daylight out of folks.
Then I heard someone yell my name. Well, they didn’t exactly yell my name. It sounded more like “Hey, fuck nigga! Yeah, you with the dashiki on!”
It was about that time.
I mentioned earlier that when someone moves to another hood, some resident thugs always think they should try the new kid on the block. I had a rep already. Furthermore, I came from the Beans. The projects down south were no different from those in the city and just as deadly. But, truth be told, the Beans were more well-known, so a brawl with any kid moving to Ghouls was a sounding board for any local hood star on the come-up. I had seen these dudes before. I didn’t pay them any mind the first time they gave me an unfriendly glance. They were trying to check my temperature so to speak.
In the hood softness is weakness. If someone scares easily, that someone is as good as dead. If I backed down to a challenge, this crew would kick my ass for the rest of eternity and so would everyone else. Real recognizes real. A gangster won’t go through the trouble of testing another gangster because he knows the hell that’s soon to follow. So folks prey on the weak. It could be something as simple as a guy asking to borrow money. Every time I said yes, that lets him know just how much sugar I have running through my veins. Soon I would end up paying his child support and getting extorted. Those cats in Ghouls saw my lack of response as an opening. They didn’t know I was trying to save them from me. Back then, the thoughts I had running through my mind were downright scary. I didn’t want to just fight you. I wanted to maim you. I was suffering on the inside. It carried over in my rage.
I was sent down here to escape that madness. These dudes weren’t going to let me escape. Dante clenched his fist. Tronne and Tater did the same. Just five minutes ago we were deep in conversation about the finer curves of life. Now we were staring down a pack of wolves ready to break loose.
I struck first, smashing a Heineken bottle on the guy’s head. Blood splattered everywhere. I shoved him to the ground and pounded his head into the dirt. I choked him. The more I hit him, the more I felt better. His crew scattered like they saw the devil. I figured as much from our first encounter. They looked like their hearts pumped Kool-Aid. They followed this loudmouth for confidence.
I loved beating bullies I knew couldn’t fight. I ran up close and punched them, taking away their first line of defense. It cut past all the loud talk and gibber-jabber. It’s the same fighting technique Kimbo uses. He was a head buster when we were growing up, so it’s not surprising that he’s now demolishing opponents on a worldwide level.
By now, I was really getting the best of the loudmouth. Dante grabbed the back of my shirt and pulled me off the guy, now spitting up his own blood.
“Bruh, you’re about to kill him,” warned Dante. “The shit ain’t that deep.”
“That’s what I want to do. I wanna kill him!”
My crew had to help Dante pry me off. When they did, I shrugged my shoulders and pushed Dante. I turned my back and headed toward the avenue. At that moment my crew realized that I was down for pretty much whatever those harsh streets would throw at us. Tears swelled in my eyes as I stormed up the block kicking bottles and soda cans.
I wiped my tears as soon as I saw Black running up toward me, his pistol in hand.
“Bruh, you good? Somebody messing with you? I’ll handle it right now.” Black would.
“Nah, bruh, just been arguing with my stepsister.”
“Damn, she still giving you drama, hunh? You know that girl is her mama daughter. Well, you know I always got your back.”
Black was always looking out for me. I’m sure Hollywood played a part, but Wood was the type to let me fight my own battles. He knew that at times he wouldn’t be there to chase away the demons. Black respected Wood, but Black was just a good dude. He fit into the category of folks who kept it “one hundred.” Instead of preying on the weak, Black protected the kid he felt had a good heart but a weak punch.
He did raise a serious concern though. My stepsister and I weren’t getting along. Our issues stemmed from exactly why women shouldn’t have kids from different men. Do what the Bible says. Get married and raise your kids with one mother and one father. If people followed what the good Lord commands, our lives would be a whole lot easier.
Soon enough I found myself spending less time at home after getting into a huge fight with my stepsister. We fought daily. Being an outsider was becoming second nature to me. By now I had already spent most of my early life drifting with nowhere to go.
I slept at Dante’s house some nights to make it easier on Lynn. He lived right next door with his grandmother. So I hung out all day, then Dante snuck me in when his grandmother went to bed.
All those factors just increased my anger. I was spiraling out of control, but my behavior earned street credibility. People started fearing me. I wasn’t the hardest because my punch was like Mayweather’s but because I had the biggest heart. That in itself is misleading. I cared less for my own well-being than anybody else did for his in my neighborhood. I felt I had nothing to lose. Fighting a person who doesn’t care about his own preservation is suicide. You won’t win. Fear is the only thing that keeps people in check. Some among us are truly goodwilled, but the majority would do most anything if they could get away with it.
Back then, I couldn’t think of someone who’d miss me if I died so I didn’t give a damn. I was headed off a cliff with my eyes wide-open. Death would be a bonus. It would have taken me away from all this bullshit.
Still, Fudge’s lessons followed me to that first day of school. I wanted to see if I could be that “prince” he always called me and the other boys at Project Lee. Why not try to live out the legacy of my royal ancestry and act accordingly?
I looked fresh the weekend after the fight at Ghoul’s Park. Hollywood lent me his nugget, diamond-encrusted bracelet after I bugged him all week to let me wear it. He even dropped me off in his Mercedes. Southridge Senior’s entrance was like any other high school’s. It’s where the popular kids congregated to be seen. The school entrance was like a catwalk. Everyone showcased their stuff. Girls gathered to see whose hot ride their friends were being dropped off in. The boys dropped off by the hustlers gained automatic notoriety. So my cruising in Wood’s Mercedes-Benz made the girls stare. My gear was tight. I was the freshest kid at Southridge. The girls showed their appreciation. “Hey, sexy!” they hollered from the courtyard.
This was around the time when sisters weren’t showing dark-skinned brothers love. They were more infatuated with Al B. Sure and Chico DeBarge. A dark-skinned brother like me rocking a shaved bald head and getting love from the ladies made me hot stuff. I was a rebel of sorts.
Kim came running up to me. “Are we gonna hook up for lunch?” she whined.
Only if you let me tap that fat ass beyond the bleachers by the baseball field.
“I gotta see what my partners are up to first, lil mama,” I answered.
The ladies dug me. I caught Kiesha out of the corner of my eye yapping with the evening-news crew. Every high school has that group of girls, gossiping about everybody. They know who the quarterback is giving it to as well as who came down with crabs. I didn’t feel like being bothered.
“Maurice! We over here!” I heard someone yelling.
My crew was posted up by the water fountain near the courtyard. Construction crews were adding another classroom to the east wing of campus adjacent to the football field. The construction confined all the students to the courtyard and main hallway before classes started. This forced different crews who didn’t particularly like one other to mingle in close quarters. That was an oversight on the part of school officials. Sure enough, I managed to bump into the boys I beefed with from Ghoul’s Park. Lady Drama had a major crush on me. “What’s up now, chump?!” the dude yelled. Folks called him T.
This guy couldn’t be serious. His left eye was still swollen shut from the beating I gave him. The knot the Heineken bottle left on his forehead looked like a ripe tomato. I had to give it to this dude; he wasn’t letting me off the hook that easy.
I shook my head. “You wanna die this time? Bruh, you lucky my partners pulled me off of you the first go-around. Don’t let your pride get you killed.” I meant it.
He pushed me. Our crews started throwing punches, and the school erupted in mayhem. Now I was pissed. It wasn’t enough for this guy to pick a fight with me without provocation on a cool weekend in the park. He had the nerve to ruin my first week of high school and the audacity to interrupt me while I was about to get my mack down! I gazed at the stack of plywood laid out where construction was taking place.
“What are you doing? Hey, are you crazy?” yelled one of the workers running behind me. Before he could grab me, T was laid out unconscious in the courtyard. I hit him so hard with that block of wood it cracked.
“Oh, shit!”
In minutes I was in a paddy wagon.