Chapter 2
January 15, 1998
Eighteen red candles flickered on the double layered chocolate birthday cake that sat in the middle of Michelle’s dining table. Lauren Hills “X Factor” played on the stereo from the living room, filling the apartment with her heart touching lyrics. The vibe was beautiful Jahad thought looking around at his family and friends from where he stood at the head of the table. Michelle and Koran were at his sides, arms tightly around his waist making him feel an intense wave of love. Three years of being locked away taught him to appreciate the bond between his loved ones. If he could help it, that bond would never be broken again. Beside Michelle, forming a clockwise circle around the table in her small kitchen stood Latrice, Tony, Kwan, Razor, Cream, Joey, and Derrick, with guienine grins and smiles on there faces.
“C’mon jailbird, make a wish,” Tony said grinning.
Jahad gave Tony a crooked smile, and then glanced at Michelle, who was overjoyed her oldest son was finally home. During his time spent at Spofford, his friends being loyal, made sure she never fell on hard times. For this alone Jahad’s love for them went beyond words.
“You know I’m greedy, so I gotta have more than one wish.” Jahad glanced at Michelle again, “My first wish is to get Ma-Duke out these projects, that’s a promise tho’. My second wish is for my knucklehead brother here; he palmed Koran’s small head, to be the next Johnny Cochran. My third wish,” he looked at Latrice cracking a sly grin, “is for my sister to grow some hair and stop rocking those weaves.”
Although she wore other people’s hair, Latrice was quite pretty, with Michelle’s delicate features. Smooth chocolate skin, large soulful sad light brown eyes, long curly eyelashes, thick arched eyebrows, thick heart shaped lips, and a small thin nose. Actually, she and Michelle could almost pass for twins if it weren’t for the crow’s feet at the corner of Michelle’s eyes and the gray streaking through her jet-black hair. Jahad favored his father, more in looks and build, but had Michelle’s chocolate complexion and large light brown eyes, which looked almost golden when struck by the light. Jahad’s face was close to a perfect triangle; rounded at the corners and carried a strong sharp jaw line, ending at his pointed chin. He had a broad crooked nose, thanks to Wolf, and thick wide lips framed by a thin mustache. The time he spent working out in his cell at Spofford, transformed his 6’2”, 210-pound frame, into a mass of hard rock muscle. From his father he inherited his round shoulders, deep wide barrel chest, and “V” shaped torso.
“Chill Trice.” Jahad held up his hand laughing, “I’m saying, you a’ight, but what you gon’ do if they ever run outta horses?”
Latrice rolled her eyes, “For your information, this is 100% human hair,” she shook her long ponytail, “and I don’t care what you say, Tony likes it.”
Jahad shot Tony a dour glare, “What you mean Tone likes it?”
“What you think I mean?” Latrice shot back with a smug smile.
Jahad glared at Tony again.
“Whoa Jah,” Tony grimaced, “We grown now homey.”
“A’ight grown, we’ll build about that later tho’ . . . back to my wishes. My fourth wish is for all my niggas to eat love, love!”
They all nodded in agreement as Jahad blew out the candles while Michelle closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. The last thing she wanted was for Jahad to pick up from where he left off. She knew exactly what he was hinting at with his fourth wish, and had something set up in hopes of steering him towards a different path.
From the kitchen the party moved to the living room, where Jahad opened stacks of gifts, brought by his friends. The whole time Koran sat off to the side admiring his older brother. The three years Jahad had been away, Koran tried his best to assume Jahad’s role, doing petty crimes in an effort to bring money home to Michelle. Luckily Tony and the rest of Jahad’s friends kept him from getting into too much trouble. Like Jahad, Koran was highly intelligent, but surrounded by drug dealers, stick-up artist, and murders; he had one ambition, to be a thug like his brother.
Once the coming home/birthday party broke up, Jahad dressed in a pair of off black Pelle Pelle jeans, silver Timberlands, a silver black and white Pelle Pelle sweater, and a black Pelle Pelle butter soft leather jacket. A house party was being held in the next building over in his honor, at Tony’s mother’s apartment, since she was out of town. Before he could make it out the door Michelle called him back, a pensive expression showing on her round face.
“What up Ma?”
“I need to have a word with you before you leave.”
Jahad followed her to the living room and took notice of its shabbiness for the first time. The furniture was close to ten years old with patchwork done by Michelle to keep it looking halfway presentable. Knicks and scratches scarred the coffee table from years of use. Across from the couch sat a late floor model television, the knobs broken off, with a picture of his father perched on top like a shrine. The same furniture John bought years ago. It was definitely time for a makeover Jahad thought.
“Jahad,” Michelle said drawing his attention back to her, “growing up you never really listened to me, feeling you had to do whatever it took in order to help take care of us, but you need to listen to me now and take my advice to heart. I understand you want us out of these projects, but I don’t want you doing anything that might risk your freedom again. I’ve been in these projects nearly thirty years and I’m making out just fine. Koran and Latrice are too, you . . .”
“Ma, I . . .”
“Shhh! Listen to me Jahad!” Michelle snapped, “You may not know this but Koran worships the ground you walk on, so what you do reflects on him. Do something he can be proud of Jahad, instead of having him risk going to jail or worse . . . Now you may not like this but I have a job set up for you with a friend of mine. It’s a furniture moving company and he’ll be expecting you to show up in the morning. All I ask is that you give it a try. I want you to save some money, and I’ll save some, so we can see about getting you into college. You know your father always wanted you to go to college. Will you do it?”
Jahad dropped his head and glanced at the picture of his father. Before John Copeland was murdered, college was something Jahad looked forward to, but that was then. Now he had to figure out how to accomplish his goal and keep Michelle satisfied at the same time. None of what she said went along with his plans. The first thing he wanted to do was get her out of the projects. Working and saving money for college wouldn’t get it. Still, the thought of Koran following in his footsteps opened his eyes to a bigger picture. Koran had the opportunity to be someone important, someone great, and what Jahad had planned wasn’t the example he wanted for his little brother to follow, not the beginning phase anyway. With that thought he decided to give the job a try, but in the back of his mind another plan was forming. One that could make his dreams a reality.
“A’ight Ma, I’ll take the job, but I still want you outta these projects, so lets forget about me going to college and concentrate on Koran. Can you go for that?”
“Do I have a choice, with your stubborn self.” Michelle smiled sadly, “Now don’t get in no trouble tonight and don’t get too drunk. You have to be at Joe’s moving company at eight in the morning. It’s on 161st and Calhoun Avenue, not too far from Starbucks.”
“This friend who’s giving me the job, he your boyfriend or something?” Jahad asked with a grin but his eyes were serious.
Michelle giggled, “No boy! Joe’s wife and I are friends.”
“Oh.”
“If I did have a boyfriend, what about it?” She teased.
“I don’t know. I’d probably beat him up or something. That’s if he wasn’t good enough for you.” Jahad laughed and kissed her on the cheek, “I’m about to get up outta here.”
Just as he stood to leave, Koran bounced in full of energy, “Let me go Jah.” He asked eagerly.
Michelle smacked her lips, “The only place you’re going is to bed. You know you have school tomorrow.”
“C’mon, Ma. It’s only nine o’clock”
“Only nine o’clock my butt. You have an hour before bed time.”
“I’ll be home before ten.” Koran whined looking at Jahad.
“Nah, peanut head. I’ll hang out with you tomorrow tho’.” Jahad punched him lightly on the shoulder.
Koran sighed loudly, murmuring curses under his breath as he stormed off.
“See what I’m talking about,” Michelle said looking after him shaking her head, “he’s hot headed and stubborn just like you.”
“Don’t stress it Ma. I’ll make sure he does the right thing. Now I’m out, I’ll be home in a few hours.”
“You better.”
On the way to the house party, Tony filled him in on what had been going on since he had been gone. For a while after Jahad was arrested they continued their petty crimes in Manhattan, then gradually crossed over to the drug selling. Budda, their old fencer, introduced them to Hector and Jose’, two Puerto Rican brothers known as the Coco Twins, who controlled most of the drug trade in the South Bronx. After explaining that the youngsters were trying to make some fast money, the Coco Twins had one of their lieutenants supply each of them with five hundred dollar packs of crack for a 70/30 split. Two and a half years later they were up to getting two thousand dollar packs for the same 30% split. Jahad listened without saying a word or showing any emotions, but inside he was steaming. Whoever the Coco Twins were, they were getting over on his friends big time. This didn’t matter though, because it wouldn’t be long before things changed. Jahad would make sure of that.
~~~~
The next morning, Jahad showed up at Joe’s moving company at little after eight with a slight hangover. The building sat in between an electronic store and a seamstress shop, with a advertisement sign posted in its dusty window, stating Joe’s offered the lowest rates throughout the Bronx. Stepping inside, he looked around at the dimly lit interior, which was no bigger than a small bedroom. Behind the waist high counter to his right, a black man sat paging through a Sports Illustrated magazine. On the far wall facing the counter was an orange couch dated back to the 70’s, with a small round coffee table placed in front of it.
“You Jahad?” The man asked moving from around the counter. Around five eight, built like a retired wrestler with a thick neck, massive arms, and shiny bowling ball baldhead, he looked Jahad up and down frowning.
“Yeah, what up?”
“I’m Joe, your boss if I decide to keep you. And it’s twenty minutes after eight, that’s what’s up. You s’pose to be here at eight o’clock.” Joe barked, his face resembling a pitbulls. “I’ll tell you now, I know all about your past and I don’t tolerate no damn stealing. When we go in these people’s houses, don’t be fucking with their shit. You understand?”
Jahad screwed up his face. “Yeah, I understand, but since you know all about my past, let me say this. I did what I did for one reason, to feed my fam’. I ain’t no fuckin’ thief.”
Joe held Jahad’s stare, then nodded, “That’s all I wanted to hear. We have four deliveries today, two in the Bronx and two in Harlem. I pay $75.00 for each delivery. Now let’s go.”
Jahad followed Joe through a side door that opened to a large storage area, where old couches and dressers were stacked against the front wall near a small office. Two yellow moving vans were parked one behind the other, facing a garage-sized doorway.
“I won’t ask if you have a license, but can you drive?” Joe asked, walking to the lead van.
“Yeah.”
“Good . . . Hope you have a strong back.”
“Don’t worry ‘bout my back. Just have my dough when we finish this shit.” Jahad glanced around. “ Hold up man, it’s just you and me? You don’t got no more workers?”
“They quit, couldn’t handle the work. Tomorrow I got somebody else coming to help out.” Joe tossed Jahad a set of keys.
Throughout the day the conversation between the two was kept at a minimum, but Joe came to respect Jahad for his hard work. By three o’clock all their deliveries were out of the way, two hours ahead of schedule.
Impressed with his work performance, Joe gave Jahad an extra fifty dollars. Although he was tired, when Joe counted off the three crispy big-faced hundred dollar bills and a wrinkled fifty, he couldn’t help from smiling.
“Remember, eight o’clock tomorrow Jahad. We have six deliveries.”
Jahad nodded, holding back a slick remark, then jogged outside where his cab was waiting. Twenty minutes later he was dropped off on Story Avenue in front of his building. Exhausted, he half walked, half stumbled into his building with two thoughts in mind, a hot shower and his lumpy bed. On the elevator after pressing the button for the tenth floor, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, taking no notice when the young woman walked in.
“Looks like you’re working hard for the money.”
Jahad snapped his eyes opened and was jolted by the sight. Before him stood one of the prettiest women he had ever laid his eyes on. Her complexion, the color of sunrays, large almond shaped emerald green eyes, silky honey blonde hair that hung to the middle of her back, framing her oval shaped face. She wore a tan Baby Phat sweatshirt, the top hugging her melon sized breasts, the pants clinging to her round hips, and a pair of white Nike Air One’s on her small feet. Jahad took all this in while his eyes stayed glued to her face; feeling like someone had put an Energizer battery in his back.
“You just don’t know Ma, I’m working too damn hard.” He flashed his crooked grin. “What’s your name gorgeous?”
“Janet, and there’s nothing wrong with a little hard work. It’s good for a man.”
“Janet. Miss Jackson if you’re nasty, huh?”
Janet blushed.
“So I take it you be feelin’ hard working dudes?”
“Maybe. All depends on who the dude is.”
“Well my name is Jah’ gorgeous, and I been working my ass off. What other qualifications do I gotta fill?”
Janet looked him over from head to toe, liking what she saw, then held up her hand to count on her fingers, “Let me see, a hard worker, single, handsome . . .oh, no kids.”
“I’m good then.” He glanced down at his sweaty sweatshirt and scuffed Timberlands. “You can look at me and see I be bustin’ my ass. As far as being single, right now it’s just me, myself, and Jah. I’m as honest as Abe, got movie star looks although I ain’t conceited, and I definitely don’t got no seeds. So I’m good, right?”
“I don’t know yet, but you’re fitting the description. How about I give you my phone number and see where it goes from there?”
Jahad smiled so hard, his bottom lip was on the verge of splitting. “I’m with that. If you want you can write it across my teeth, since I can’t stop smiling.”
Janet laughed. “You’re funny. That’s another qualification, you have to be able to make me laugh.”
“You want me to do my Bernie Mac impersonation? Shit, I’ll take it back and hit you with the Bill Cosby.”
Janet laughed again, holding a hand over her mouth. “No, no. You can save the impersonations for another time.” She said as the elevator stopped on the tenth floor.
“You live in this building?”
“No, I live in 1760. I’m over here to visit a girlfriend, she lives on the twelfth floor.”
Building 1760 was the next building over, Tony’s building.
Once they exchanged numbers, Jahad strutted off feeling rejuvenated. His day was turning out to be pretty good he thought as he entered his apartment and the smell of garlic bread and tomato sauce filtered through his nose, making his mouth water. Following the aroma to the kitchen he found Latrice standing over the stove, dropping spaghetti noodles into a pot of boiling water.
“What you burning?” He asked sitting at the dining table.
“Your dinner so shut up before I burn it for real.” Latrice answered looking over her shoulder. “How was your day?”
“PSSS! That nigga Joe had me lifting all types of couches and dressers. He hit me off tho’. I made three fifty.”
Latrice gave him a sweet smile, “Let your big sis’ hold something. I’ll pay you back.”
“Yeah right.” Jahad snorted. “ You know damn well you ain’t gon’ pay me back, but here,” he peeled of the wrinkled fifty, “I expect a hot meal everyday when I get off work.”
Koran walked in with his book bag hanging off his shoulder, just as Jahad passed Latrice the money. “Where’s mine Jah?” He asked holding out his hand.
“Damn, I’m getting stuck up without a gun. You’ll have to wait until I get some change and I’ll hit you with twenty dollars, but when I need something ironed, that’s you. Now let me go wash my ass before I get robbed for all my dough.”
“Tony stopped by earlier, he wants you to meet him in the park.”
Jahad nodded. He needed to see Tony too. “What’s up with you and Tone?”
“That’s her boyfriend.” Koran blurted out, cutting his eyes at Latrice.
“Mind your business Koran, don’t you have some homework or something to do.”
“Don’t worry about my homework, answer Jah’s question.”
Latrice wrinkled her face at Koran before answering, “We been going out for about a year now.”
“Why nobody ever told me? Before I got sent up, ya’ll couldn’t stand each other.”
She gave him a wicked smile, “Times have changed.”
“So I see . . .Ayo, you know a chick named Janet, who lives in Tone’s building?”
Latrice took a second to think, “Janet . . . I think I know who you’re talking about. Light skinned girl with green eyes and long hair?”
“Yeah, and a bangin’ ass body.”
She rolled her eyes, “I don’t really know her like that, but I be seeing her around. Why?”
“None of your business. You ain’t tell me what was up with you and Tone. Now get my food ready. O-yeah, you better not use that dough I gave you to cop some horse hair.” He laughed walking out the kitchen with Koran on his heels.
Michelle was home from her nursing job by the time Jahad finished showering and dressing. The same job she held since he was a kid. She sat at the kitchen table massaging her feet, a glass of wine in front of her when he walked in.
“What’s good Ma-Duke?” He kissed her on the forehead before taking a seat. “They worked your ass off today too, huh?”
“Did they. I’ve been on my feet all day. How was your day?” She asked with a tired smile, taking a sip of her wine.
“Joe worked the hell outta me, but he paid me a’ight.” Jahad reached in his pocket and gave her two hundred dollars. “Put that up for whatever . . . Check it Ma, I’m a try this out for a while, but I ain’t gon’ be working like a slave forever.”
“You won’t have to if you take your butt to college. It’s not too late Jahad. You have the mind to be anything you want to be. You know this too.”
Jahad shook his head, “We already talked about this Ma. My first obligation is to get you outta these projects. That’ll solve the problem with Koran too. From there, I’m a do me. I’ll be careful tho’.”
“Jahad, don’t . . . “
“C’mon Ma, work with me.” He said quickly, “Trust me, I know what I’m doing. I thought it all out, plus I won’t be mixed up in what I plan on doing for too long.”
Michelle gave him a grave look, “I see that look in your eyes, so I know there’s no talking you out of whatever you have in mind. I want you to remember this though; you’re not the only one who’s at stake. If it wasn’t for Tony and the rest of your friends, I don’t know what I would’ve done with Koran. Keep that in mind.”
Jahad nodded as Latrice and Koran walked in preparing to serve dinner. With what he had planned, Koran would never know what he was up too. He could set a good example and still do what he had to do on the side.