3
DEMARCO
I walked out of the stifling hot apartment with Devin on my heels. Georgia had been experiencing a slight heat wave, but I had escaped most of it because the juvey center kept the air conditioner on full blast twenty-four hours a day. It was four o’clock in the afternoon and the temperatures were in the high nineties. Summers in the ghetto were brutal. Tempers were short and people who were running around in the springtime were often six feet below the earth’s surface before the summer was over.
Devin reached up for me to carry him, so I reached down and scooped him up. “Now, you’re getting too big to be carrying around, fella,” I said as I lifted him up. “But since it’s your birthday, I’ll make an exception.”
“My birthday?” Devin asked.
“Yep. You’re three years old today. Show me three fingers?”
Devin held up his fingers and smiled.
“That’s how old you are. You’re getting to be an old man.”
He smiled and his eyes lit up.
“Guess what?”
“What?”
“Today is my birthday too,” I said. “And Jasmine’s.”
“Is it the birthday for everybody?” he asked, wide-eyed. “Mommy’s too?”
“No,” I said. “Not Mommy’s. Just me, you, and Jaz’s. I know you want cake and balloons, but what else do you want to do to celebrate your day, dude?”
“Eat cake and hot dogs, then play with some balloons,” he said.
“That’s it?”
Devin nodded his head and smiled with his chubby cheeks.
“Well, I figured eating would be in there somewhere. But we’re gonna have some real fun. How about we play some video games, eat some pizza, and get a cake. We can even go to Dave and Buster’s and let you play with the rich kids.”
“What is Dave and Buster’s?”
I smiled and turned my head just in time to see my homeboy Melvin “Jolly” Harris riding up on a bike that was way too small for his wide frame. Jolly was tall and fat. He was fifteen years old and already six feet three inches tall, but he was also close to three hundred pounds. Football coaches practically begged him to play, but he was lazy and couldn’t last more than a few days of workouts.
“Hey, boy,” Jolly yelled, loud enough for the people three streets over to hear him. “You home?”
“Nah, brainiac,” I said. “It’s just your imagination.”
“You always tryna get smart with somebody, Dee. I should hop off this bike and choke you out.”
“You should hop off that bike and give those tires a rest.”
“Oh, I see you got jokes.”
We slapped hands and Jolly reached out to give Devin a high five.
“So what’s the plan now that you home?” he asked.
“Hopefully I can stay out this time. I’m tired of that crap, man.”
“Yeah,” Jolly said, having been where I just left more times than he cared to count. “Things changing round here, man. Look over there.”
Jolly pointed to a white woman who was watering some plants in the front yard of a house that was abandoned when I left the neighborhood seven months ago but was now totally renovated. The old ranch-style house used to have busted-out windows and spray paint all over the outer walls and was pretty much used as a crack house. Now the place looked like it belonged in some fancy magazine. The house sported expensive-looking windows, freshly painted walls, a big red door, and a new roof. There was a black wrought-iron fence around the house, which made it stick out like a sore thumb in our desolate community.
“That’s weird. Why would she want to buy that house in this neighborhood?” I asked as I stared at the woman.
“Don’t know, but I’ll tell you this. Nobody will touch her, bro. You try to rob that white woman and the police will be on you so fast that your head will spin. You won’t even go to jail ’cause them white boys taking you straight to the chair,” Jolly said, shaking his fat head from side to side. “We can kill each other all day long, but that one dere? No, sir. Off-limits, player.”
“I see,” I said as I looked down the block at a few more houses. All of them had FOR SALE signs in the yards and most of the signs were marked SOLD. I guess they too would soon experience a similar transformation.
“Your gear is a mess, player,” Jolly said, looking down at my too-small shoes and high-water pants. “You looking like a tatted-up Steve Urkel round here.”
“Yeah,” I said. “These shoes are killing my feet. I need to go shopping, but they are all I have for now, so I gotta deal with it.”
“And those pants are killing my eyes,” Jolly said as he leaned down and moved some imaginary dirt from his fresh pair of Air Jordans. He was wearing the biggest pair of Polo khaki shorts that I had ever seen and a Hollister T-shirt. He handed me a cell phone. “Here ya go, playboy.”
“I forgot all about this thing,” I said as I reached out to grab my old phone. “You just walk around with my phone?”
“Nah, fool, I saw you out of my window. A thank-you would be nice.”
“Thanks, bro.”
“I need to get me another tat. When can you hook me up?”
“Whenever you have your money right,” I said, pushing the buttons to the cell phone. “Is it still on?”
“Yep. I paid it for ya,” Jolly said with a wide-gap, toothy smile.
“How much do I owe you?”
“You straight. It wasn’t but ’bout twenty or thirty dollars a month. No big deal, playa.”
“I’ll take that off of whatever I charge you for your tattoo.”
“Man,” he said, fanning me off and pulling out a wad of money and waving it in my face. “Do I look like I’m hurting?”
“Not at all,” I said, surprised to see my best friend with so much money.
Jolly was always poorer than the rest of the kids in the area, and that wasn’t saying much because none of us ever had more than two good pennies to rub together. Now the fact that he was standing in front of me wearing fresh clothes, two-hundred dollar sneakers, and waving around wads of cash concerned me.
“Well, a’ight then,” he said, pulling out another stack from his other pocket and sniffing both rolls of money. “Aww, the sweet smell of cheese. So when can I come by?”
“Tomorrow around five. I need to go get some supplies after I come home from school,” I said, giving him a look that said I didn’t approve.
“It ain’t even that, player,” he said, reading my mind. “I got a job. A real job.”
“Doing what?”
“Painting houses with my uncle. I get paid ten dollars an hour and I’ve been working all summer, player. Selling drugs is for handicaps. I got too many skills to be getting jacked like that.”
“So why don’t you get a bank account instead of walking around with your money, showing it off. You know you can’t fight.”
“You crazy. I got them hands, boy. Fool must’ve lost his mind if he tries to take mine’s. Left the .45, but I keeps the nine,” he rapped, then held up his shirt to expose the handle of a gun.
“Looks like the tools of a painter,” I said with a chuckle. “I don’t know who you think you’re fooling with that paint lie, but that’s your choice.”
“Six feet three”—Jolly started with a makeshift mike to his mouth as he ignored me—“Sexy as can be. Girls see me, and pee pee, and beg me please. Take me to the hotel, Jolly, they say. I be like, naw not today, I’m on my way to the ...”
“Please, shut up,” I said, not even interested in hearing the latest creation of his whackness.
“Keep sleeping on the skills, player. I’ma ’bout to blow, and you gonna be the main one talking ’bout can I go on tour with you.”
“Have you seen Jasmine?” I asked, changing the subject.
Jolly, who always could be found cheesing from ear to ear, changed his facial expression immediately. He dropped his head and took a deep breath.
“Is that a yes or no?” I asked.
“That’s a yes and a no, player,” he said. “I haven’t seen the Jasmine I know in a minute now. But last night I saw her. She was riding around in a brand-new truck with them leeches she calls friends. I’m surprised all of them ain’t locked up.”
“Who? Riding around with who?” I asked, anxious for an answer.
“As a matter of fact, we were standing right where me and you standing at right now when I asked what she was doing with those leeches. She cussed me out and told me to mind my business, so that’s what I did.”
“What girls are you talking about, Jolly?” I asked with a frown.
Jolly shook his head as if what he was about to say was too much. “They call themselves the Divas. It’s three of them. Kecia and Tiny and some fat chick. They be out here hooking up with older cats and getting ’em for that paper. They hitting up stores for high-price purses and selling them to some white woman who comes through in a fancy car. Now Jaz rolling with them. She too smart for that life, bro. I always knew Jaz was gonna be the one who made it outta here. Broke my heart to see her with them clowns, player. And I ain’t seen her in school in a few days. I hope she hasn’t dropped out.”
My heart hit the ground and I had to force myself not to blow my lid. I took a couple of deep breaths to calm my nerves.
“A’ight,” I said as I reached out to tap fist. “Come see me tomorrow around five and I’ll hook that tat up for ya.”
“Cool,” Jolly said. “What y’all ’bout to do?”
“I need to run in here and pick up a few things for the house, and then I’ma take Devin to Dave and Buster’s for his birthday.”
“What? Today is lil man’s birthday?” Jolly said as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out a five-dollar bill and handed it to Devin. “Happy birthday, lil buddy. Buy yourself some candy, on me.”
“Okay,” Devin said, taking the money.
“What do you say, Devin?” I said.
“Thank you,” he replied.
“You straight,” Jolly said. “A’ight, Dee. I’ma holla at cha later. I gotta go handle a lil business.”
“Why aren’t you in school?”
“I wasn’t feeling too good this morning, so I slept in,” he said. I knew right away he was lying, and I let him know it by twisting my lip.
“For real,” he said, sticking to his lie.
“I hear ya,” I said. I had seen so many of my friends cross over into the land of drug selling and street life. When you grew up as poor as we were, more people crossed over than stayed on the straight and narrow. I wasn’t going to be one of them. I was concerned about Jolly, but I couldn’t afford to worry about him right now.
Devin and I walked into the neighborhood corner store, and the bell above the door alerted the owner of our presence.
“How you doing, Mrs. Gloria?” I said.
“Hey, baby,” the old woman said with a wide smile. Mrs. Gloria had to be at least seventy-five years old, and she had been a godsend to us ghetto children. The old lady was still pretty and vibrant. She had long white hair flowing down her back, giving away her Indian heritage. She had been running this store with her husband, Mr. Mason, for the last fifty years. “You sure that ain’t your son instead of your lil brother?”
“That would put me at thirteen years old when he was born, twelve when he was conceived, so I’m pretty sure I’m not the pappy,” I said.
“Y’all look just alike. I haven’t seen you in a while. Where you been, locked up again?”
“Yep,” I said as I picked up a handbasket and walked down an aisle.
“When are you gonna stay out of trouble long enough to help get yo momma straight? Seems to me like she’s getting worse.”
“Yeah,” I said, then tried to change the subject. “How is Mr. Mason doing?”
“He’s not doing too good. I had to put him in a care center. It broke my heart, but I couldn’t lift him up no more.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Where is he? I’ll drop by and see him.”
“He’s way out there in Conyers. That’s in Rockdale County, but save your trip. He won’t know who you are. Alzheimer’s done got the best of him,” she said, shaking her head and taking a deep breath. “It’s in God’s hands, so I just try to support him as best I can.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs. Gloria. Tell him I asked about him.”
“I’ll tell him but... ,” she said, then shook her head, but just as fast she perked back up. “You know your sister is looking real good these days, which means she doing something real bad.”
That got my attention.
Mrs. Gloria shook her head as if her mind was roaming over the many lives she saw ruined as they fell prey to the Bluff.
“So I hear,” I said. “When was the last time you seen her?”
“Last night. She came in here talking all loud, showing out for them girls she’s running around with,” Mrs. Gloria said with her lips twisted. “I had to get her straight because she must’ve lost her mind for a minute.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. One of the things that Jasmine had always taken pride in was the way she carried herself, especially around her elders.
“Go on and get what you need. Your momma ain’t been in here this month, so that means she done sold her food-stamp card. But children shouldn’t starve just ’cause they parents don’t have the sense God gave them. Go on and get what you need.”
“I have money,” I said proudly. For as long as I could remember, me and my family had always had hand-me-downs, and I hated it. I wanted to have my own, like the kids I saw on television or some of the kids at school. Once I realized how much people were paying for tattoos, I started charging, and this last stay in the juvey, I made over three hundred dollars. I could’ve quadrupled that if I was on the street.
“Did I ask you if you had your own money?” Mrs. Gloria snapped. “Save your lil money. As a matter of fact, where did you get money from? Unless they started paying folks to go to jail?”
“I work.”
“Yeah, I bet you work. Doing what?”
“Art,” I said proudly.
“Humph,” she said, fanning me off. “Anyway, I had a distributor who dropped off too much stuff and didn’t charge me for it. My books coming up off balance.”
I looked around the store for something to lessen my little brother’s hunger pangs. I knew she was lying about the distributor dropping off too much stuff, but that was Mrs. Gloria. She loved the kids of the Bluff. Word around town was that she had a huge house out in Stone Mountain or someplace, but she spent most of her time with us in the hood. I walked around the store and picked up two packs of bacon, two pounds of ground beef, a dozen eggs, a box of pancake mix, a gallon of orange juice, a loaf of bread, some cookies, one gallon of milk, a box of Cap’n Crunch cereal, some Lysol surface cleaner, and a can of Raid bug spray. I placed the items on the counter and looked down at my little brother, who had found a toy car and was down on his hands and knees zooming it around the floor. “Get up from down there, boy. That floor is dirty.”
“Let that baby play,” Mrs. Gloria snapped at me. “That floor ain’t no dirtier than the one Sophia keep at y’all house. I went over there the other day and almost passed out from the smell.”
I didn’t respond, but her words didn’t sit too well with me. I knew the old lady didn’t mean any harm by her comment, but it still stung. I placed a twenty-dollar bill on the counter.
“Didn’t I just tell you to keep your money,” she said.
I hunched my shoulders. “I’d rather pay.”
Mrs. Gloria pulled on her long ponytail, which was hanging over the front of her shoulder, and huffed. “Suit yourself,” she said and started ringing up the items. “Twenty-eight dollars and thirty-one cent.”
I went into my pockets and pulled out a ten-dollar bill and handed it to her. “How much is that car he’s playing with?”
“It’s free,” she said with a mean scowl on her face. “Just because you got a little bit of money, you think you can come up in here and offend me, boy?”
“Okay, okay, okay,” I said with my disarming smile. “Today is his birthday. Tell Mrs. Gloria thank you for the car, Devin.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Gloria,” Devin said without looking up.
“Oh, really,” she said, pushing my money back toward me. “That means it’s your birthday too. And I don’t take money on birthdays. Consider this a birthday gift to all of y’all. I don’t know how Sophia managed to have three kids on the same day.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t planned,” I said.
“Y’all go on and get out of here,” Mrs. Gloria said.
“Thank you, Mrs. Gloria,” I said as I bagged my items. “You have a good day.”
“You too, and stay your lil tail out of jail. And I’m so sad to see that you messed with God’s creation by putting them ugly drawings on your face.”
I threw my hand up and waved good-bye. We walked out of the store and back out into the heat wave. As we made our way down the street, we passed ten or fifteen older guys who were slumped over in front of the check-cashing place shooting dice. They were talking loud as they threw the little white stones against the wall.
“What’s up, Dee,” one of the guys who was looking on said.
“Wassup,” I said as we walked past.
“I need to get me a tat, boy,” another one said.
“You know where to find me.”
“How much?”
“We’ll work it out,” I said as we kept on moving down the street.
We turned the corner and the new white lady was still out in her yard working. She looked our way and smiled.
“Hi there, Mr. Devin,” she said as she walked over to her tall gate.
“Hey, Mrs. Burger,” Devin said.
The white woman smiled and shook her head. “Who are you with today, Master Devin?”
“I’m Devin’s brother, DeMarco. Nice to meet you.”
She looked at me and did a double take as if she was sizing me up as a friend or foe.
“Nice house,” I said.
“It’s nice to meet you too,” she said with a smile showing off the whitest teeth I had ever seen. She had to be in her late forties or early fifties, but her teeth looked like they belonged in the mouth of a twenty-year-old. “You know that I just absolutely adore this young man.”
Devin held up his toy car and waved it as if to say look what I have.
She leaned down and removed her gloves from her pale hands, then stuck one through the wrought-iron bars and pinched Devin on his cheek. “Aren’t you the cutest little fella.”
“Today is my birthday,” Devin said.
“Oh, really,” she said in mock surprise. “How old are you?”
“Three,” Devin said, holding up his fingers.
“Well, I will have to see if I can’t do something special for you. After all, you only turn three once.”
Devin smiled and looked up at me. He was getting used to this birthday thing.
“I’m Michelle Eichelberger,” she said, standing up and extending her hand to me.
“DeMarco Winslow,” I said, shaking her hand.
“It’s nice to meet you, DeMarco,” she said with a wide, welcoming smile. “I’m surprised that I haven’t seen you around. I see this little guy every day.”
“I just got home,” I said.
“Were you away on a summer vacation?”
“I guess you can say that,” I said with a smile. “Is your last name German?”
She nodded her head and looked at me as if she was surprised I recognized her country of origin. “It is. I moved to this country five years ago.”
“How do you like it so far?”
She held her hand out and wiggled it from side to side. “So-so. It has its good and bad, but it’s home now.”
The group of guys who were shooting dice in front of the check-cashing place got rowdy and started arguing. Then someone pulled out a gun and let off a shot, sending the crowd scrambling in every direction.
The white woman jumped back and almost stumbled trying to get back into her house. Devin and I didn’t even flinch.
“Well, let me get these groceries in the house. It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Eichelberger,” I said casually.
“Oh my goodness,” she said as she turned around and ran up her steps.
I wanted to laugh at the woman’s panic because I was sure she didn’t count on midday gunshots when she purchased her house. Devin and I continued on our way down the street to our apartment.
I could hear the yelling before we could even make it to the door. Sophia and Jasmine were standing in the living room screaming at each other at the top of their lungs.
“I ain’t giving you jack,” Jasmine said. “You better get your little liquor however you been getting it, and get out of my face.”
“Who you think you’re talking to?” Sophia pointed her finger at Jasmine, who was already a few inches taller than her.
“You,” Jasmine said, standing her ground.
I looked at my sister as I walked between them. She looked like a grown woman. Her hair was cut short like the singer Rihanna and her face was covered with makeup.
“Oh yeah?” Sophia said, still wearing her dirty T-shirt and hole-filled underwear. “I’ll tell you what. Since you wanna talk all disrespectful, you can get your lil narrow tail out of my house. I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, girl, but I don’t tolerate no back talk.”
I walked into the kitchen and placed the bags on the counter. I ignored both of them and pulled out the can of bug spray. I started spraying the roaches and watched them die.
“Well, good afternoon to you too,” Sophia said to me. “You can’t speak either?”
“Hello,” I said as I stopped spraying long enough to open the window.
“Hey, Dee,” Jasmine said with a smile. “When you get home?”
“Not too long ago,” I said, trying my best to give her the silent treatment.
“Okay,” she said, trying to read my lack of communication with her. “That’s what’s up.”
I continued spraying and she gave me a strange look, then walked into her bedroom and closed the door.
“Who signed you out?” Sophia asked me.
I ignored her and continued spraying the insects. I coughed a few times as the fumes got to be too much.
“Oh, so you done lost your hearing. This one lost her mind and you done lost your hearing. Where you get money for groceries?”
I stopped spraying and stared at the shell of a woman who stood before me. The hate I once felt was rising up again, so I took a deep breath and went back to what I was doing.
Sophia sucked her teeth and walked into the kitchen.
“Whatchu got in here to eat?”
I still didn’t respond.
“You got a few dollars you can lend me until the first?”
“Nope,” I said.
“Nope,” she repeated as if I had better change the answer. “Whatchu mean, nope? I guess you spent all of your money on this food, huh?”
I opened up the cabinets and started spraying inside of them. There was a fan hanging from the middle of the ceiling and I pulled the string.
“What done got into you? You wanna be an exterminator now?” Sophia asked.
I ignored her once again and started putting away the groceries.
“Boy,” she said, walking close to me. “You sure have gotten tall. How tall are you now?”
I was six feet two inches tall and had dark chocolate skin; Jasmine was almost six feet tall with the same complexion, but Sophia and Devin had light complexions.
“Can I have a hug?” she said with a raggedy smile that was in desperate need of a dentist. “I haven’t seen you in a long time.”
I stopped what I was doing and looked down at my mother. She looked pathetic. Life had really done a number on her. I leaned down and hugged her. She felt like a skeleton within my embrace and I immediately drew back.
She smiled. “I was gonna come and get you today, but I see they went on and let you out.”
“Yep,” I said.
“I’m going to take a nap. You need to talk to your sister ’bout that big mouth of hers. She gonna mess around and get the taste slapped out of it. And that ain’t no lie.”
Once again I ignored her.
Sophia turned and walked back into her bedroom.
After I put away the groceries, I walked to Jasmine’s bedroom door and knocked.