Crave All Lose All (5 page)

“What did she want?” I asked.

“She didn’t say. Call her back right away.”

I sighed. Even though I was dead broke and she had a job making six hundred dollars a week that bitch wanted money. She’d have to wait.

“I’ll call her back later.”

My mother turned herself away from washing dishes and noticed my face. “Ohmygod, Vincent. What happened to you?” she shrieked.

“I got into a fight last night. It ain’t nuthin’ ma,” I said.

“What do you mean, you need to be careful, Vincent. I already lost your father. I don’t wanna lose you too.”

“It was just a fight.”

“Nobody just fight anymore, Vincent. Everyone wants to shoot each other.”

“Might as well. The world’s coming to an end anyway.”

SLAP!

I didn’t see it coming. My mother caught me unexpectedly, “You watch your mouth, Vincent and stop having this negative attitude about life. You think about the Lord and He will guide you.”

“Ma, you didn’t have to hit me like that…damn, you should’ve had my back last night. It would’ve been a fair fight then.” I soothed the side of my face where she slapped me,

“Vincent, hush your mouth and eat your breakfast. I don’t want you getting into anymore fights and talking silly.”

I nodded, saying nothing.

My mother was a beautiful woman, fifty-six years old and still didn’t look a day over forty. She worked at the hospital for thirty five years and was
looking forward to her retirement. She was always there for me and I love her.

I heard the doorbell.

“I got it ma,” I said and went to see who it was. I smiled when I saw Spoon standing at the door.

“Spoon, what’s good?” I quickly opened the door and hollered.

“Came to talk to you,” he said.

Spoon did a three-year bid at Clinton after the arrest in Long Island. I owed this nigga my life, because he had taken the heat.

He got right back on them streets with Tyriq hustling after coming home. Three years didn’t stop him from becoming a paid man in the hood. He was a born to be a hustler. He was respected and feared in the streets, but we had love for each other like brothers.

“Come in,” I said.

Spoon walked in and laughed when he saw the bruises on my face.

“I heard about that thang last night,” he said chuckling.

“You should see the other guys’ faces.”

“What, they injured their knuckles?” he joked.

“Laugh, but I’m ready to get at their bitch-asses. Coming at me for a ho.”

“Calm your ass. You don’t need to get at anybody. I heard you were doing your thang, calling her trash and all,” he laughed.

“Spoon, you should’ve seen the look on her face when I dissed her, it was priceless. Like I’m supposed to kiss her ass cuz she’s fuckin’ a baller. Yo I remember back in high school when Mel and them ran a train on her in the bathroom. She’s trash fo’ real.”

“You would still fuck that thang,” Spoon said.

“Hells yeah…her body is hmm…banging.”

“C’ mon Vince, you a working man … you know her thang. I ain’t saying you ain’t classy but Sharice always been about fuckin’ niggas who doing their thang. You ain’t about to spend a dime on that bitch.”

“You right, I was a working man.”

“What happened?”

“Laid-off as of yesterday…”

“Sorry, that thang hurts my nigga.”

“Shit happens, right?”

“You’ll be back on your feet doing your thang at a new job.”

Spoon then looked around the place and his mood turned somber. “Vince, Thomas got murked last night,” Spoon sadly informed me.

“What, he got killed. Get the fuck outta here! You fo’ real, Spoon?” I asked in disbelief.

“They murdered that nigga on Supthin and Foch, shot him twice in the chest.”

“You know who did it?” I asked.

“I heard he had beef with niggas from Hollis.”

“Damn!” I muttered.

Thomas was Tyriq’s younger brother. He was only nineteen and I remembered him growing up idolizing Tyriq and Spoon.

“Yo, I’ve known him since he was six,” I said in a graved tone. “When is the funeral?”

“We don’t know yet. We want niggas to show Tyriq and his family mad support.”

“I’m definitely wit’ that,” I said hugging Spoon.

My mother came down the stairs in her blue scrubs, on her way to work. She saw Spoon in the living room and smiled. “Timothy, I haven’t seen you in a long time. How you been?” she greeted Spoon with a hug.

“I’m okay Mrs. Grey.”

“That’s good. You’re looking good, staying out of trouble?”

“Yes ma’am. Just stop by to say hello. How’re you, Mrs. Grey?”

“I’m good, thanks for asking,” my mother said, smiling. “Well, I’m off to work.”

My mother hugged Spoon. Then she hugged me and kissed me on my cheek. “Remember, Vincent, it’ll happen in Gods’ time.”

She walked to the door. Before leaving, she looked at the both of us and said, “I will keep the both of you in my prayers.”

“Your mom’s alright, Vince. You think she knows about me and the streets?”

“I don’t know.”

I knew she suspected that he was dealing. His style of dress wasn’t as flashy but it was definitely expensive.

Spoon sported a diamond encrusted Presidential Rolex. In both ears he had huge diamond studded earrings that looked like golf balls.

“Vince, I need to be out. We’ll get up later and talk.”

“No doubt,” I said.

I watched him get into a baby blue Range Rover and drove off.

Thomas’ funeral was large. It was held at J Foster Phillips funeral home on Linden Blvd. Hundreds of folks came by and showed support for Tyriq and his family. Thomas was loved and respected. He would be missed.

I showed up in a black suit and wing-tipped shoes, looking my best for his home-going. I was alone navigating my way through the crowd that lingered around outside.

Inside, I saw Spoon standing with a group of fellows wearing black T-shirts with Thomas’ picture on the front. The picture showed Thomas with cornrows throwing up some gang signs. It was a quick memorial put together for him. Over two dozen young men were wearing the T-shirt.

Spoon nodded and I walked over to him. I hugged him and asked for Tyriq. He pointed inside. Folks were viewing the body. It was a full house.

I spotted Tyriq sitting quietly with his family staring at his brother in the casket. He was unflustered, sitting next to his mother in a three-piece suit. As I walked over to view the body, I remembered the last time I saw Thomas alive. It was six months ago at a club on Farmers Blvd. He was with his girlfriend and was happily spending money. He bought me a drink then we went our separate ways.

Lying inside a white sealer, gold cross casket surrounded by dozen of elegant, sympathy flowers and pictures, Thomas looked like he was sleeping. I glanced at Tyriq, he nodded and I went on my way. I wanted to talk but now wasn’t the time.

The funeral went on and I thought of how my own funeral would turn out. Would there be as many people?

“You out…?” Spoon asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be at the burial tomorrow morning.”

“Take care,” Spoon said giving me dap.

I stepped outside unloosening my tie and smiled when I saw two familiar faces standing on the corner. One was smoking a cigarette. It was Asia and Susan. I walked over. Asia was smiling and cheerful. She hugged me tightly. It’s been seven years since I saw them. Susan was pregnant.

“Vince, you look so good,” Asia greeted, her arms wrapped around me.

“How many months are you?” I asked Susan while still hugging Asia.

“Seven,” she replied rubbing her belly.

“Tyriq’s the father?” I asked.

She nodded.

They both looked good. Asia was wearing tight denim jeans and jacket while Susan wore a long teal dress. We talked for a moment. There were no hard feelings. Years had passed and pussy was on my mind.

I looked into Asia’s eyes and she stared back smiling. We were both thinking the same thing. Asia turned to Susan and said, “I’m gonna catch up on lost time with Vince.”

“Just make sure you don’t end up like me.” Susan smiled rubbing her belly.

I laughed.

An hour later, I had Asia stretched out in the backseat with one foot propped against the passenger headrest and the other against the backseat. I was pressed against her, sucking on her nipples, thrusting like a mad man and about to cum in her. It definitely felt like old times again.

 

The next morning, I stood quietly among the other three dozen mourners in Montefiore Cemetery and witnessed the burial of Thomas.

The pastor held a bible in his hand and proceeded with the burial. He was clad in grey suit and had a thick, white beard. He stood next to the casket and made the benediction.

“Now I have left you, for a little while. Please do not grieve and shed wild tears, and hug your sorrow to you through the years. But start out
bravely with a gallant smile; and for my sake and in my name, live and do all things the same. Feed not your loneliness on empty days. But fill each useful hour in useful ways. Reach out your hand in comfort and cheer, and I, in turn, will comfort you and cheer holding you near. Never, never be afraid to die; I am waiting for you in the sky.”

It was a sun drenched day. Thomas cousin, Latoya was next to me and she was sobbing quietly. The dark shades she wore could not hide her tears. Clutching my hand, she stared at her cousin’s casket being lowered into the ground.

Tyriq was a statue, not moving during the entire ceremony. He wore designer shades and was gangster in a tailor-made black pin-stripe suit. His crew surrounded him and they all were dressed in black. The preacher continued.

“May Thomas Green rest in peace and find comfort in the Lord. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust, we return this body back to the dust…Amen.”

“Amen,” everyone said.

Crying and grieving was heard as the casket was lowered into the ground, with the women of his family wailing the loudest.

I kissed the rose in my hand and tossed it on the casket. Walking away, thinking death was an easy way out. I was in a fucked-up situation, out of a job and having to ask my mother for money.

I felt like a zero. Not being able to take care of my responsibilities was a hard nut to swallow. Tyriq walked over to where I was standing looking at black birds.

“Ayyite, thanks for coming, Vince. I appreciate it,” he said.

“Thomas was like a brother to me too. I’m here for you, Tyriq.” I said as we hugged.

“It’s been a minute. What you been up to?” He nodded and asked.

“Unemployed…”

“You ain’t at the airport?”

“9/11 fucked that up. I was one of the first to get cut. Goddamn Ben-Laden fucked shit up.”

“Damn man, what you planning to do?”

“I can’t call it. I’ve been job hunting. Ain’t nuthin’ happening so far.”

“I got a proposition I wanna holla at you about. Vince we family …you being here today at my younger brother’s burial mean a lot. If you need anything, get at me.”

“Cool, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Ayyite my nigga, we’ll talk,” he said hugging me and walking away.

Spoon appeared in the backdrop watching me and Tyriq. I nodded and he returned it before walking away.

After the funeral, I headed over to my baby mother’s place. It was Saturday afternoon and I missed my son. I needed his joy and spirit to uplift me. Between the lay-off and Thomas’ funeral, I was going crazy and needed to escape.

Chandra opened the door, but there was no welcome smile. She was unconcerned and distant.

“I missed you, too,” I said with attitude.

My sarcasm matched her frown. I walked into the two-bedroom apartment and closed the door. Chandra walked into the kitchen and I followed. She was looking good and I was still attracted to her. I still had love for her that burned within me when I came around her. We had been apart for a year and a half, but only stopped fucking for six months.

She cut me off from the pussy, cold turkey. I speculated it was because of someone she was fucking and got jealous but it wasn’t my business. We weren’t together.

“Where’s my son?” I asked.

“In his room sleeping,” she said brushing me off.

She was making fries and had burgers cooking on the Forman Grill. I eyed her for a short moment. She was in blue-jeans and black T-shirt. Her long hair was styled into a pony-tale. A new diamond bracelet adorned her wrist and her earrings were new. They had to be from some nigga she was fucking. And by the gleam in the jewelry, he must be stacking paper like that.

She was acting like I wasn’t there. Chandra busied herself going back and forth to the cabinets and stove. She suddenly stopped with a frustrated
looked and said, “Your son needs some sneakers. And he needs some summer clothing. He only has winter clothing and it’s like eighty degrees outside.”

“Chandra, I know that but I bought him a pair two months ago.”

“Yes, but he’s a child and he goes through them fast, always running and playing,” she said.

“Damn, Chandra, I ain’t made wit’ money. Why can’t you buy him what he needs for now? You’re making six hundred a week. I ain’t working right now.”

“You’re his father and can help out with something.”

“I do help out, so don’t come at me wit’ that shit,” I barked.

“Whatever!” she spat.

“Yeah, whatever,” I exclaimed.

“So, you ain’t found a new job yet?” she asked sounding judgmental.

“I’m trying.”

“Well you need to try harder, Vincent. You knew the Airline was going to lay you off and you should’ve been looking for another job months before. I can’t do this by myself. Your son needs a ton of shit by next week and I can’t get that for him. I just paid rent and went grocery shopping. I’m broke.”