Eastside (28 page)

D
ejuan pulled into the driveway, exited his big white Mercedes, and walked to the front door. He and his friends had been up all night drinking, trying to ease the pain of losing their family and friends. He rang the doorbell.

The front door swung open quickly, to reveal Lil Fade holding a massive handgun, which he had pointed at Dejuan's face.

Lil Fade smiled satanically, and placed his finger over his pale lips.

“Shhhh,” Lil Fade told him. He lifted his hand and waved for Dejuan to enter the dark house.

Dejuan stepped inside. “Where's Tangela?”

“Bitch, shut up!” Lil Fade told him. He waved his handgun to a spot across the room. “Go sit your ass on the couch.”

Dejuan slowly walked to the living room couch and sat. Travon, who had been seated in a chair across the room, rose slowly.

“Muthafucka!” he shouted, slurring his words.

Lil Fade lifted his hand. “Hold on, T.”

Dejuan shook his head. “Lil Fade, I know it's you already, so you can take off the fuckin' mask! Where's Tangela? If this is another one of your jacks, then get it over with and don't involve these people!”

“Nigga, this ain't no jack, it's a muthafuckin' multiple homicide!”

Dejuan shook his head slowly. “You better not have.”

Lil Fade stormed over to the couch where Dejuan was seated. “How in the fuck you gonna tell me what I better not do? Blood, I think you forgot who's holding the pistol.” Lil Fade struck Dejuan across the face with his gun.

“Fuck!” Dejuan cried out, grabbing his jaw.

“Get up!” Lil Fade shouted. “We taking you out to the country, so we can blow your ass away.”

Holding his jaw, Dejuan rolled his eyes at Lil Fade. “If you gonna do it, then do it here. I'm not going nowhere with you.”

“I figured you would say that. That's why Darius and Capone took that bitch Tangela out there. When we get you out there, they'll let her go.” Lil Fade nodded toward the door. “C'mon.”

“Fuck that bitch!” Dejuan shouted. “Kill her ass, for all I care.”

“I knew you was a sorry-ass ho!” Lil Fade struck him with the pistol again.

Dejuan screamed in pain, grabbed his face, and buried his head in the couch cushion.

“Get your bitch ass on the floor!” Lil Fade commanded. “Now!”

“Yeah!” Travon added. He staggered to where Dejuan was kneeling and punched him in the face. “You killed Mika!”

Dejuan looked up in surprise. “Is that what this is all about? I didn't kill her, and I didn't tell Quentin to kill her either. I swear.” He shifted his gaze from Lil Fade to Travon. “Tre, you heard me, I told him to smoke you, but that's because y'all jacked me.”

Dejuan extended his hands into the air with his palms facing Travon. “Tre, I swear, you gotta believe me.”

“Shut your whining ass up,” Lil Fade told him. “At least die with some nuts.”

Lil Fade pulled a second handgun from his waistband, which he handed to Travon. “Do this fool.”

“Do this fool!” Travon repeated. He began crying again. “That's what you said, you said, ‘D
o this muthafucka.'
And he killed Mika, he killed my Mika!” Tears streamed down his face.

“That's right!” Dejuan said excitedly, “I didn't tell Quentin to kill that girl! He did that on his own.” He pointed out of the window. “Quentin killed her, not me. And Quentin is already dead!”

“Kill him, Tre,” Lil Fade said softly. “Lil Fade gave him to you, now kill him.”

“No, Tre!” Dejuan's hands flew into the air. “I saved you! I took you to the hospital, and I stopped Quentin from killing you!”

The frown slowly drifted from Travon's face, and the gun he held to Dejuan's head slowly fell back down to his side.

“Yeah, Tre, I took you to the hospital, and I even tried to look out for you when you got out,” Dejuan told him. “You was my little homie.”

Lil Fade smiled. He was enjoying himself immensely. He walked up behind Travon and whispered softly into his ear, “He wanted to use you. He wanted to use you, like he used Too-Low.”

The frown returned, shooting across Travon's face like a bolt of lightning. “Too-Low,” Travon muttered. His tears came again.

“That's right, Too-Low!” Dejuan jabbed a finger toward Travon. “Too-Low was my homeboy. He was like a brother to me. I looked out for Too-Low.”

Dejuan crossed his index and middle fingers and held up his hand. “Me and him was always together, remember that? I used to always go over to your house with Too-Low.”

Lil Fade frowned. He leaned forward and whispered into Travon's ear again. “He's not Too-Low's friend. He tried to kill Too-Low's little brother. He tried to kill you, Tre. He made you leave the Courts. You can't even go back over there to see your mother. They didn't help pay for Too-Low's funeral. They just used Too-Low to kill. Dejuan made Too-Low kill.” Lil Fade smiled. “He hurt Too-Low.”

Anger spread across Travon's face, and once again, the gun rose to Dejuan's head.

“No!” Dejuan exclaimed. “Don't listen to him, Tre. Whatever he tells you, don't listen!” Dejuan jabbed his thumb toward himself. “Too-Low was my friend. We served the East Terrace after they killed Too-Low.”

Being heavily inebriated, Travon blurted out the first name that came to him upon hearing East Terrace. “Re-Re,” he said, slurring.

Dejuan did not know who Re-Re was, so he provided another name. The correct name. “Slow Poke did it. It was C-Low, Jermaine, Turtle, and Slow Poke. Slow Poke is the one who pulled the trigger.”

Although intoxicated, it was a name Travon easily recognized. It was the name of the boy whose life he saved after the concert. It was too much for him. Travon broke down into tears, and the gun fell back down to his side.

Lil Fade shook his head and frowned. He placed his left arm over Travon's left shoulder, resting his hand upon Travon's chest and making a Blood sign. His right hand glided down Travon's right arm until it came to rest upon Travon's right hand. Lil Fade slowly lifted the gun back up until it was once again pointed at Dejuan's face. He slid his finger into the trigger guard with Travon's, and then slowly squeezed until the pressure built, and the gun popped, releasing its energy.

Together, they repeated the process over and over again. Squeeze and release. Squeeze and release. It was sensual, sexual, powerful, and rhythmic. Together they squeezed and released, consummating their relationship with Dejuan's blood. When finally they tired, Lil Fade walked to Dejuan's body, and took his money, jewelry, and car keys.

Lil Fade and Travon exited the house and walked to the big, beautiful Mercedes; they climbed inside and drove away. Inside of the home, they left Dejuan, Mrs. Collins, and her two daughters. Their only sin being that one of them had been a mistress to Dejuan.

Inside the car, Lil Fade turned to Travon.

“Tre, who kills for you?” he asked softly.

“You do,” Travon slurred.

Next Day
Aunt Vera's House

“Tre,” Aunt Vera called out to him. “Tre, get up!”

“Huh?” Travon rolled over, opened his eyes, and tried to focus.

“Get your ass up and clean off this porch!” she commanded.

Slowly, Travon sat up. His Aunt Vera stood over him, glowering at him.

Vera pointed at the floorboards of the front porch. “I want this mess cleaned up by the time I get back! No, change that. I want it cleaned up now!” She stepped around Travon and stormed off to her car.

Travon quickly deduced that he was on his aunt's front porch, but how he came to be there, he could not recall. In fact, he could recall little from the previous night. Slowly, he braced himself and stood.

Both the front of his shirt and the white, wooden floorboards of the porch were covered with vomit, and he felt as if he were toting a thousand-pound anvil on top of his head. He staggered out into the front yard, where the sun's fresh beams slapped him across his face. The brightness caused him to reel, lift his arm and cover his face. Clumsily, he made his way over to the garden hose.

Travon turned on the water, then leaned forward and twisted the nozzle on the hose, which sent water gushing out from the end of it. He inhaled deeply, and then lowered his head into the stream of water, rejoicing in its cleansing effects. He quickly removed his shirt, doused it with water, and then proceeded to the front porch, where he cleaned off the result of the previous night's excesses. When this was done, he returned the hose to its holder, turned off the faucet, and headed inside. With his head still pounding, he ascended the creaking stairs to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, rejuvenated himself with a quick shower and some fresh clothing, and then headed to his bed for some much-needed sleep.

Later That Day

Travon woke, stretched, and glanced at the clock. Two o'clock. He slowly climbed from his bed, where he ventured into the bathroom and freshened himself. He was still tired, and still aching, but more than anything he was hungry. He left his room, struggled down the stairs, and headed for the kitchen. While passing through the living room, he heard voices coming from the front porch. Curiosity defeated hunger, and Travon turned to see who had gathered this early in the day. It was Marcus, Darius, Romeo, Capone, Lil Fade, and a stranger. Darius interrupted the stranger and introduced him.

“Say, Taariq, this is my cousin Tre,” Darius said, waving toward a disheveled Travon. “Tre, this is my homie Taariq. Me and Taariq used to be untouchable back in the day. We used to get into all kinds of shit.”

“Yeah, Spook was downer than a muthafucka,” Lil Fade added.

Travon nodded at Taariq. “What's up, Blood?”

“What's up, my brother?” Taariq greeted.

“So, that's yo hustle now?” Lil Fade asked Taariq.

Taariq shook his head in disappointment and stared at Lil Fade. “If you wanna call it that. In fact, it's the greatest hustle of all, young blood. It's the hustle that saved my life. It's the
only
hustle that can save us all.”

“Can it save me?” Lil Fade asked cynically.

“He can save anybody, you just have to believe,” Taariq told him.

“Man, after all the shit we been through, it's a trip to hear you talking like this,” Darius told Taariq. “You was the shit. It was me and you, baby!”

“I'm still the same, but different,” Taariq told them. “It's hard to explain. I've been through the belly of the beast, and I saw what it likes to eat. It likes to eat us, Darius. It likes to eat young brothers like ourselves. I fell with the attitude,
I'm gonna do my bid, get out, and then get my hustle on.
But as time passed by, I got to thinking. If it's one thing prison does, it gives a person time to think. My eyes opened, D, and I saw us. I saw what was happening to us. Bloods, Crips, and everybody else. We all die alike. We all human, and we all in this together.”

Taariq waved his hand through the air in a grand sweeping gesture, pointing out the neighborhood around them. “Our women are being strung out on crack and made to sell their bodies in the streets for it. While we, all of the young brothers, are killing each other. We sell that poison to our people, and then wonder why our mothers and sisters are on it.
We
doing it to them! Sure, them folks is bringing it over here by the shipload, but that don't mean we got to fuck with it. They bring that shit, and guns, and weed, and a whole lot of other shit that's bad for us, over here by the shipload. They also bring oil, cars, and consumer electronics over here by the shipload, but do you think they are letting us get as much of that shit as we want?”

Lil Fade shook his head. “Man, what in the fuck is you talkin' 'bout?”

“It's a conspiracy, and it's controlled from the highest levels!” Taariq told them. “Give them dope, string out the women, and lock up the men. They give us astronomical release dates, and then take our women. They put food on the table by given our women food stamps. They put a roof over their head, by giving them housing. And then they pay all of their bills by giving them welfare. They are trying to take the place of the black man.”

Taariq leaned forward and tapped Darius on his knee. “Peep it, they strung out our pops in the seventies, and made sure that we grew up without dads. Now they locking us up in the nineties, and making sure our kids grow up without dads! They are afraid! If our kids grow up right, with moms and pops in the house, they'll become lawyers, doctors, and scientists. They'll take jobs away from they kids. More importantly, our kids will look around and realize that they can be doctors, lawyers, and scientists too. The stereotypes and claims of mental inferiority will be shattered. The playing fields will be level, and they know they can't play on the same field with us.”

Taariq lifted his hand and gave Darius a high-five. “Every time we concentrate on something, and are determined to excel at something, we dominate. They let us on the baseball field, and there goes Jackie Robinson. They let us on the basketball courts, and there goes Kareem and Mike. The list goes on and on. Now imagine, if instead of our kids wanting to be the next Mike, they all wanted to be the next Charles Drew, or Benjamin Banneker. We'd blow up, baby! But you know what, that'll never happen, because we killin' each other. How many future leaders have we shot dead in the streets over a color? We need to stop. The same guns they are puttin' in our community and the same kids they are turning into battle-hardened soldiers, need to stop killin' each other and start using those guns to protect our women. Let our mothers and sisters and grandmothers feel safe enough to walk down the streets at night again. They need to become soldiers in the right war, and fight the right fight.”

Taariq began tapping at his fingers, as he ticked off the things that he felt needed to be done. “The fight to save our people from welfare, food stamps, drugs, poverty, and illiteracy. Being shot at by bullets ain't nothing compared to being bombarded by that shit. An old man told me in prison that the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world. That's why crack cocaine has nearly destroyed us. It puts our women in the streets, it takes them away from their jobs as mothers, and makes them turn out crack babies. We men can't do a damn thing about it, because we are either dead or in prison. You know who it's going to take to stop this shit?” Taariq asked.

“Us,” he answered himself. “Darius, you said it yourself, it's me and you, baby. It's up to us to stop this, it's up to us to put down the guns and the crack. It's gonna take some generals like us to stop this war. If not, then who? Nobody else cares, and you know why? Because dead men and convicted felons can't vote. So we gotta grab our little knuckleheads and stop them. You know the saying: ‘Each one, teach one.'”

Taariq lifted his arm and stared at the watch on his wrist. “Dang, I'm late. I didn't mean to preach to you brothers, but I ain't told y'all nothing wrong. There's something else I want y'all brothers to think about too. There is something that falls in between Michael Jordan and being the neighborhood drug dealer. There is honor in being a plumber, a carpenter, an electrician, stuff like that. Ain't nothing wrong with getting a trade and working with your hands to take care of your family. Pick up them shorties with your big, dirty, rough hands and teach them how to be a man. Y'all come on down to the mosque and hear the imam speak. A Salaam a laikum.”

Taariq waved to them as he left the porch and headed for his vehicle. Just as he reached his car, Poison and Peaches pulled up. Poison rolled down her window.

“Hey, Spook!” she shouted.

Taariq stopped and smiled.

Peaches parked, and Poison leapt out of the vehicle, ran to where Taariq was standing, and jumped into his arms.

“When did you get out?” she asked.

“A couple a days ago,” he told her. “What have you been doing with yourself?”

“Going to school,” she told him. “Have you talked to Preference yet?”

Taariq shook his head. “Naw, she didn't ride with me the whole bid. The truth be told, she only rode with me a year before she broke bad.” Taariq glanced at his watch again. “Say, I'm a give you my number so you can call me tonight and we can finish talking.”

“Okay.” Poison stood and waited, while Taariq opened his car door, climbed inside, and scribbled down his telephone number.

Travon, who had overheard the conversation, was fuming with jealousy. He rose from the porch, walked to where Poison was standing, and wrapped his arm around her.

Poison accepted Taariq's number, and then turned toward Travon. “What's up, baby?” She kissed him on his cheek. “Why didn't you tell me you was gonna leave last night?”

“I really didn't know myself at the time, it just kinda came up.”

Taariq honked his horn and pulled away.

“So what's up?” Travon asked Poison. “What brought y'all out here?”

Poison wrapped her arms around Travon and pulled him close. “We gonna go and wash this girl's car.”

“Who, you?” Travon shook his head. “Uh-uh, you're pregnant. Hell, let Lil Fade do it, that's her man.”

Poison smacked her lips and frowned. “You know Lil Fade ain't gonna do nothing for her but jump up and down on top of her and eat up her food.”

Travon lifted his arms into the air. “Then what the hell is she fuckin' with him for?”

Poison folded her arms and shifted her weight to one side.

After a few moments of silence, Travon exhaled and relented. “I'll go with y'all and wash it for you.”

Poison smiled and hugged him. Together, they walked over to the small red Geo Metro and climbed inside.

Lil Fade, who was talking to Peaches, opened the opposite rear door and joined Travon in the back. Peaches closed the door and pulled away.

“They sure are getting mighty close lately,” observed Marcus from his seat on the front porch.

“I know,” Darius agreed. “I wonder what that's about.”

“Better him than me,” Romeo added.