Young Savage
-by Rasheed-
-Profound Publishing-
Young Savage
©Copyright 2010
Profound Publishing
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No portion of this Book may be reproduced, stored in any electronic system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the Author. Brief quotations may be used in literary reviews.
Cover Art by S. Quanaah/Rasheed
Written/Edited by Rasheed
Rasheedcarter15@yahoo.com
Dedicated to my Mother Betty & Auntie Sharon
Printed in
December 2010
Acknowledgements
First and foremost gratitude and appreciation to the creator for blessing me with a physical body to experience life. My mother Betty (The infamous) Mozell, the greatest mom ever! One day I will pay you back all the money that I owe you, until then I love you. Lol My brothers nothing would be possible or conceivable without all of you cats. Antonio Mozell, Harrison Mozell, and Percy (Nice,) Hilson, My sisters Ann marie, held me down when I had nothing, but hopes and dreams. Alvina, My baby sister and the cutest kid sister ever. My babies. Caleb (Cool-C) Carter, Ron-C, Sariah, Ma’rya, and Ta’shya, Carter, My dad Ron (proud ass) Carter, My auntie Sharon, thanks a million for all the encouragement and reassurance, that things would get better when I felt like my shoulders would buckle beneath the pressures of change. Both of my grandmother’s, Margaret King, and Mona Lomax, Grandma I could never celebrate you enough to compensate for all the love, care, and concern you have provided for me throughout my life. My homegirl Ebony Harris, Kimberly Burnside, keeping me up all night on the phone and teaching me the true definition of long range love lol. April, gave me a place to stay when I needed it the most. Gotta, (J.C. Lowe,) Duke, Carmella, Uncle Larry, (Love you Big Dog.) Uncle Alvin, got my game from you. Auntie Ann and Uncle Arron, Savon (George) Lowe, Larry King, my cousin can’t wait to get to V.A. baby. Pookie, Mano, Ral, Chris, (keep your ass out of jail) means. Quan, and everybody on that side. Nefesha Wallace, you are so beautiful to me. All my nieces and nephews New-New, De’asia, La’nasia, and Chardeezy , crazy crazy crazy. Nuk-Nuk, Harry, with your big head ass. Dada, Muka, Ny-Ny, Dalilah, and my YaYa, my other niece forgive me I’m bad with names. Keith, Can’t forget about my baby mother’s both of them. It was each of our experiences that helped me develop the drive I needed.
My other peoples Raheem (Skeem) Booker, Mark (Ghost) Carrero, Kwame Booker, Leon Stitt, My brother from another mother. You faked a move on me kid, but love is love sucka m.c. lol. Frank Demauro, Jeffry Smith, the smartest white boy I know, his words Lol Panama, we fought, argued, challenged, and fought some more, but it only made our minds sharper. Thaxton (Malik) Hamlin, You have been a great inspiration and guide to me. I appreciate you as a mentor and brother. A special shout to Allah (Tank) Reese, you held me down I will never forget you. Too strong in the mind. Raynard (Riz) Swanns, we’ve been through a lot together and although you get on my nerves at times, I love you and appreciate the brotherhood. Dog, I’m not playing possum I’m biding my time. Lol. Sha-Sha, my girl from way back. George Stevens, Junie, you showed me the ropes when I was brand new to the East side good looking out. Officer Brian Peters, thanks to you and your terrible attitude I don’t ever want to see the inside of a prison again. Saladin, thank you for all of your wisdom, help, encouragement, brotherhood, and friendship. May our relationship flourish and continue on in spirit when and wherever brothers meet and link up for a common cause. Shout out to the meanest believer in the world Anwar, the brother who checked me every chance he got. I loved the look on your face when you said Rasheed, this book doesn’t make no damn sense. Lol. Phil Payne, my man when it counts the most. Jimmy (Black) Swanson, I love you kid and we are going to keep on living and enjoying the experience. Kourtney, (Murder) James, we’ve been through hell and back fighting from one side of town back to back until we made it home. Lavon Tabori. Cox, Time flew by and we grew in separate directions, yet the memories of our yesteryears hold the dearest moments. Javon Ridgeway, Willie Hilson, Mark Roundtree. To my peoples Matthew (Inf.) Humphry, our relationship has kept me in tune with my youth.
To anyone caught up in my madness when I ran the streets. Please forgive me a brother was truly living like a savage. Uncle Carl (Unc) Mcdonald. I appreciate you more than words could ever describe thanks a lot, for everything, and that’s all I’m saying.
R.I.P Sandy Westbrook.
Chapter 1
Beat down to the ground
Nobody ever loved him. Not in this life did he expect to get a break. Born into the wrong family, situated alongside negativity, and unjustly rewarded for being naïve and ignorant.
He never knew his father; his daddy’s identity was a mystery, something like an invisible force impregnating a young girl with the mind of a virgin. His mother was an enigma of confusion. A puzzle; layers of domestic violence heaped on top of alcoholism, mixed with drug addiction, and a mind ripe for deception easily disillusioned with reality.
Mother Nature visited him prematurely, stalked his bedroom with the intentions of a predator. Took his youth and replaced it with readiness. Stretched out his manhood until it swung heavily and hung dangerously low. The hands of times fashioned his follicles until hair covered his genitals and sprouted through the pores on his chest and gave him the appearance of a man before he could actually think like one.
The first slap took his face by surprise and viciously penetrated his face, pushing it upward. His body spiraled around and rotated just in time to meet the second slap. The one that drowned out his reasoning with a sharp pain. It rung inside his ears. He scurried for safety only to find himself trapped between a locked door and a drunken mother.
A lady who spent most of her days sleeping away poverty as she waited for her welfare check. Her spare time was squandered on stoops, hanging out in front of liquor stores, lying across filthy mattresses in crack houses, turning tricks, and using her misery as an excuse to beat her son for less than nothing.
The onslaught of torture came out of the blue. Unexpected violence exploded into the boy’s face. He never saw it coming. He sat at the kitchen table spreading peanut butter across two end pieces of bread. His eyes were fixated on the bravery of the group of roaches that crawled around daring someone to mess with them.
He made his sandwich, licked one side of the butter knife clean, and prepared to do the same to the other side with his tongue.
Janet his mother and the ball of cross addicted confusion staggered into the front door. Her eyes looked around the living room surveying the area. She saw the couch that rested in the corner. The white one with the red flowers etched into the cushions. The one that was for show and not sitting because it didn’t have any springs underneath it. The cushions sat there held in place by being properly positioned against each other.
She walked further into the house and took a look at her small black and white t.v. the one with aluminum foil coiled around the antenna for better reception. Her breathing was heavy, ragged, labored, pressed between too much drinking, and mental paranoia. She looked at the walls inside her apartment.
They were tiny and dirty, they use to be white, but now they were beige, a combination of white paint stained with chunks of caked up dirt. She peered ahead taking in much of the view as her bloodshot eyes could interpret. Upon seeing Rodney her son sitting at the table with his back to her moving his head up and down she approached him. Her movements were slow, uncalculated, and clumsy. He ate peanut butter satisfying his hunger, unaware of the unsuspected danger. She attacked him.
The first slap took his face by surprise and viciously penetrated his face, pushing it upward. His body spiraled around and rotated just in time to meet the second slap. The blow that drowned out his reasoning and forced him to scurry away from his mother in search of safety. He was unable to find it. His young hands wrapped around the backdoor to the apartment, but found it locked. He reached up to unlock the door, but felt uncoordinated hands closing around his neck and dragging him down. His fingers slowly lost their grip on the brass lock. Finally they slipped from the door and ended up wherever his body was flung.
First he landed against the refrigerator. His eyes blinked rapidly wondering would this night be his last one on earth, or would this beating last as long as the others. His heart beat frantically while he held onto every thread of his life. The life his, own mother put in jeopardy whenever she felt the need to.
His body hit the floor and his mother rolled on top of him. She rested across his back. He screamed out in pain hoping to convince her to let him go, but she didn’t. She took the back of his head and rammed it forward smashing his face into the floor.
Blood crept out from where the boy lay. The stains on the floor weren’t enough to lessen the arrangements of her anger. Once she became tired she released him. His head stumbled from her hands. She stood up and over his limp body, prepared to leave, but stopped, took a step backward, and stomped her foot down into his back.
“Get your ass up off my floor and clean this shit up!” Her voice was nasty, spiteful, vindictive, and in the exact same vernacular that all drunks use when delusional. “Do you hear me! “She demanded and needed an immediate answer.
“Yes.” The boy spoke weakly and broken down.
“Now!” The wicked woman who was influenced by hard drugs, cheap booze, and a lifetime of misplaced failure yelled. She used her strength, yanked him up by his neck, and tossed his body side to side while swinging punches at him. “Get the mop, get it!” She yelled as she moved behind the crying child.
His hands quickly maneuvered around the wooden handle of the mop as he fearfully swooshed the mop across the floor. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth.
“Fix your damn face!” Another slap came from his mother.
The boy used one hand to mop and the other to wipe his face clean with his shirt.
“That’s what you get. You make me so damn sick, looking like your no good ass father.”
“I know.” The boy said hoping to prevent any more violence. He cleaned up the blood and walked off to his bedroom.
0
Chapter 2
Life for a shorty shouldn’t be so rough
Rodney stood in front of his mirror the one that was really a piece of broken play glass, which he used for a mirror. He checked his face squinting at the pain he felt when he touched his upper lip. There was a gash; one where blood oozed through the same way that liquid came out of a sponge being squeezed. He tucked his lip into his mouth and sucked on it. He sucked it gently nursing it back to normal. He felt around his teeth using his tongue as fingers feeling for damage. When he found it-it wiggled five teeth over from his front tooth.
He wiggled it around until it fell into his tongue. His eyes closed as anger translated into sadness. He spit his tooth out into his hand; blood covered the tooth, and leaked out the opening where the tooth once belonged. He looked at his face and studied it.
There was a mustache, a smooth and silky steam of hair that resembled a beard. He saw a sexy face. A mysterious look with a touch of cunningness merged together with subtle sneakiness, made him appealing. He was handsome, but still able to grow into a more beautiful creation. He was still a kid, just a kid, a ten year old kid, and built like a man. Mother Nature visited him prematurely, stalked his bedroom with the intentions of a predator. Took his youth and replaced it with readiness.
He climbed into his version of a bed. An air mattress covered with a sheet. His bedroom didn’t have the typical bedroom furniture. It only contained a few garbage bags which he kept his clothes in. It didn’t matter if they were clean or not, this was what he used for a dresser. The walls were bare, he had no curtains, and nor did he have any privacy.
He snuggled in as much as he could under his sheet and prepared to fall asleep. A short time later he tossed and turned, then became annoyed by his mother and the company that she kept. Alcoholics and drug users people like her all crowded inside the living room partying the night away.
Sleep took over him and carried him along the rhythm of a dream. In this world he was safe. He was free to be a kid and live the life of a kid. In this dream he found peace, held it in his hand, and in this place he had a mother and father. His beatings were replaced with conversations and reassurance of love. His lips smiled unconsciously. He felt the appreciation of gratitude as he hugged his imaginary father. He loved this man who guided him through life’s hardship, and taught him to stand tall and face all adversity with courage and the will to get up and try again. The man laughed, giggled like a woman, shriveled up until he shrunk into a red bunny rabbit and hopped away.
Rodney’s, eyes opened and blinked repeatedly as sleep subsided from his face. He stood up and walked out of his room, paused, backed up, and snuck a look at his face. The bump on his lip had increased in size and took on a disfigured color. He sighed out in disappointment and pain. He swallowed it down and moved forward until he was walking down the hallway that led into his living room.
He stood there in the living room inhaling the stench of several odors combined. The first smell the he recognized was beer, a cheap natural ice sort of beer, and the second scent to hit his nose was mackerel, a fishy odor of funk. He looked down and saw the elements responsible for making the smell.
His mother lay face down on the floor. She was completely naked. The bones in her frail body poked out showing the structure of her rib cage. Her back bones protruded out and her butt was tan and tiny to match her skinny body. The body that too much partying had, disintegrated into a smaller size of its normal look. A man, one to new to be considered her man, but the man who was with her lay beside her equally naked.
Rodney’s eyes tilted upward, he turned around and went into her bedroom, and returned carrying a ragged cloth long enough to be considered a blanket, but thin enough to be used as a sheet. He covered his mother with it and left.
Outside in front of his house he sat around watching life as reality unfolded around him. The first sign of it flew pass flapping its tiny wings as it soared higher into the sky. The second sign was two dogs running side by side with each other. They stopped at different garbage bags, sniffed at them, and took off running in opposite directions.
He began walking and looking for something to get into. He pulled his shirt off and stuffed it in his back pocket. The air was warm, soggy, and filled with humidity. His body temperature increased, sweat developed, and fell down his body; especially his armpits.
Rodney didn’t have many friends and the ones he did have weren’t friends at all. They were just people who he knew due to them living next door, across the street, and down the block.
He was a talented kid with unlimited potential. He could slide a pencil across paper and keep it in motion until shapes appeared into images of creative art. His mind was active, keen, alert, and able to retain and process information into categories of organized thoughts at a rapid pace.
The other kids nick named him Savage. They blamed the musty scent that produced under his arms, the shabby clothes that ill fit him, and looked like something that a mechanic would wear. They called his unkempt appearance pure savagery. They taunted him, teased him, made fun of him, and picked apart his sense of self-worth with thoughtless words.
He was walking down the street when he saw a group of girls. One he remembered from school. Her name was Dena She was with her friends. They all looked nice, but Dena stood out. She wore a plaid skirt with a white shirt covered with a blue sweater that matched the dominant color in her skirt. The other two girls were white and black and dressed regular. The girls were walking and talking when Dena noticed him and waved.
His eyes snapped lively then filled with spirit and amazement. He waved back quickly and maintained his gaze. One of her friends noticed his admiration and frowned at him in contempt. Her eyes bulged as she gave him a funny look, lifted her arms, pointed at her armpits, and squeezed her nose like something stunk and harmed her nostrils. The white girl looked at the black girl and giggled before shaking her head side to side.
“Karen that’s not nice.” Dena grabbed her friend playfully by the arm.
“No.” There was a pause then more words came. “He doesn’t smell nice.” Her friend responded to her and looked away like his funk began on his own body and he had to know that he smelled. The girls giggled and walked away. Dena walked away, yet continued to glance over her shoulder looking at him. One second later she disappeared with her friends.
Rodney walked along the street looking for an odd job or some other opportunity to line his pocket with a few dollars. He liked when people called him a good worker, a strong kid, and things like he had a bright future ahead of him.
He enjoyed working for Mr. Shatter gate the old man who owned the fruit wagon. He would package up the cucumbers, apples, and other fruits, and vegetables in a brown paper bag then hand them to the customers. Shattergate handled the money. He would reward the boy’s efforts with a few dollars and a sweet fruit. An orange, apple, or a half of watermelon.
He walked around looking for something to get into, but he didn’t find it so he walked around until he saw an elderly lady standing out in the hot sun. She pulled her hat off, wiped sweat from her forehead, and placed her hat back on her head.
“Excuse me Ms. I can do that for you. It will only cost one dollar.” Rodney squatted down and began scooping up the trash in her front yard. He placed it in a large bag that was lying on the ground.
“I guess I can afford it.” The lady looked over at the boy and his pauper appearance. He smiled a polite smile and kept working. In a short time he had finished and was knocking on the door.
“Are you done already?” The lady handed him a dollar. She looked around her yard feeling happy as satisfaction entered her heart. He pocketed the dollar and spoke to her using care and humility. He walked away in pursuit of more opportunities.
Rodney found twenty more odd jobs throughout the day. He earned thirty five dollars and a plate of food. On his way home he stopped by the store and brought a stick of deodorant, a loaf of bread, and three dollar’s worth of lunch meat.
Chapter 3
Fell in love with the allure
Rodney stood at the corner waiting for the light to change. He noticed a brown puppy, the light changing colors, and a chance to cross the street. He jogged through the intersection. He looked over his shoulder and noticed that the dog was following him. He opened his bag and dropped pieces of meat on the ground. The dog ate it then licked the cement. He walked away and the dog followed.
When Rodney made it home, his house was empty as usual. He picked up the puppy and carried it into the house and took it to his room. He sat on his bed playing with the puppy. He rubbed on it as it leapt around barking. The dog lowered its head toward the ground, laid its ears on the floor, and jolted forward. The boy stepped back and stepped forward causing the dog to leap around in excitement. He ran away and barked. The boy laughed and got down on his hands and knees, barked at the dog, and scooped the dog up in his arms and hugged it. The dog licked his face. Rodney smiled experiencing being loved for the first time.
Ten minutes later Rodney was in the bathtub washing up with his dog. He used the same washcloth to clean him and the dog. He ran his hand over the dog’s head just then it jumped from the bathtub and ran. The boy ran after him laughing as he ran in his dingy underwear chasing his new friend.
That night Rodney slept with his dog under the same blanket. His mother came home knocking things around as she held onto her new boyfriend’s hand or the guy who she was loving for the moment. Rodney got scared and pulled the blanket over his dog and went to sleep.
Early in the morning the sounds of lovemaking were still coming from behind his mother’s bedroom door. He used that time to sneak out the house with his dog. He took his dog to the flea market and brought a leash in order to take the dog for walks. He looked down at his dog with a brand new collar and named him Bam.
A few days after finding the dog the boy sat in the park training the dog. He unleashed him and taught him how to obey. While in the park he saw activity, commotion, and interactions. Hands moved swiftly, reaching for something that was kept under a bush, handing it to other people, pocketing something. They did it all day long. He kept watching the guys as they moved along. He saw different cars pull up and slow down. He saw pretty girls, groups of them, standing around, and hanging beside the guys. He noticed their natural reaction to the guys. He saw one of them grab one of the girls and pull her close to him.
Desire burned inside the boy as his eyes gravitated toward the activity. He rubbed on his dog that lay at his feet breathing hard from running around the park following the instructions that Rodney yelled to him. The boy played with his dog, yet his eyes constantly followed the activity. One boy in particular caught his attention. He sat on the park bench. He wore a blue and white shirt, a pair of navy blue shorts that were long enough to be pants, but they weren’t and a pair of blue and white sneakers. The girls seemed to pay him the most attention. The other guys appeared to submit to him. The commotion of the activity gave off the suggestion that it existed due to him being there.
The boy’s hair was shiny black with waves deeply ingrained in a circular pattern around his head. He sat back with his arms out stretched, his legs were spread apart, and he looked like nothing mattered to him, nothing at all.
“I’m saying though that thing looked delicious, bald, and all that.” His eyes fumbled around as the memory of what he was talking about lingered across his brain cells. He retold the story full of animation including each and every detail. His thoughts shifted his pupils rightward, brought a smile to his lips, and pressed on his ego until it dripped out of his mouth. “It was like –it was like.” He spoke while semi rotating his head with each phrase that he spoke. His right arm moved like he was conducting a symphony. “Yo, it was bald, neatly shaved, and looking real pretty. It had a few cute little razor bumps on it.” He tucked his lower lip into his mouth and sucked on it.
“You ate that huh?” His friend asked staring at him in mockery. His interruption silenced his words while daring him to lie his way out of the situation.
Tranquility surrounded the area, quietness covered the park, and everyone waited for his answer. A few birds that pecked at the ground nearby, stopped their movements, ruffled their feathers, and glanced in their direction giving off the impression that they understood the contents of the conversation.
“That’s how I give it up, she smelled fresh, cute little razor bumps, and I ate that off top.” The boy answered arrogantly assuming his friends shared and understood his logic.
“So you just ate up some herpes bumps?” His friend asked. He shrugged his shoulders and made a face that could have easily followed the phrase humor me. He looked at his friend with a straight face.
“Fuck out of here!” The boy’s hand waved dismissingly at his peers in disappointment.
“How do you know?” the chubby boy who was responsible for the intense questioning asked standing up and walking closer toward the boy in the red and white shirt who confessed to eating the cute little bumps. He winked his eye at the other boys and pressed down on his eyes and asked his question again.
“They wasn’t herpes bumps, just cute little razor bumps.” The boy spoke while shaking his head side to side rapidly. His frowned moved in union with his eyes as they squinted as reassurance that he was sure.
“Again my dude how do you know what kind of bumps they was?”
“I’m saying they wasn’t bleeding with pus coming out of them and all that.” His words came hurriedly and forced as he defended himself.
The boy on the bench, the dark skin one, with the wavy hair, the one who wore the long shorts that looked like pants, but weren’t; the one responsible for all the activity and noise surrounding the guys who hung out in the park. He stretched his leg out and extended it, then readjusted his body on the bench. He ran his hand smoothly over the top of his hair.
A heavy set boy borderline fat boy not the disgustingly obese sort of fat, that it made it hard for him to wipe his ass, but big enough to be chunky, somewhat stocky. He carried most of his weight in his stomach. He walked over joining in on the joke and implemented his own sense of humor.
“That’s fucked up we can’t even smoke together.” He shook his head. “Umm-mmm-mmm, oh nasty mutha fucka damn!”
Everyone laughed including Rodney, he laughed from where he kneeled down at. He was a few feet away rubbing on his dog. He was rewarding him for following instructions with affection and doggy biscuits.
“Man fuck yall!” The boy said unhappy to have been humiliated over his decisions. He looked over toward Rodney “Fuck you laughing at dirt bomb ass nigga?” he scowled at Rodney.
Rodney looked away pretending to laugh at something else a little ways off.
“Look at this nigga.” The heavy set boy said to his friends. “He wasn’t there he didn’t make you eat bumps.” The laughter continued, grew louder, came from every direction. Different vocal cords sung out creating a symphony of ha ha’s, agghs, and cah cah’s, Laughter was plentiful and everyone enjoyed a piece of it, all except Rodney He no longer laughed. The boy’s words reminded him of his lot in life.
Chapter 4
No way out
Torment and torture came suddenly, rapidly, and too got damn often. Rodney walked the streets playing with his dog until he reached his front door. The first sound to greet him was voices. Hostility roared at high volumes as his mother and her latest lover argued and degraded each other with statements of hatred.
He entered the front door with caution, easily stepping into the house as if to avoid stepping on a land mine.
“Where the fuck have you been mutha fucka!” His mother yelled at him. His eyes prickled with fear and nervousness.
“I was taking my dog for a walk.”
“Where the fuck did you get a dog from?” She walked toward him. Her presence was menacing and terrifying. He backed up slowly raising his hands to catch the blow that would eventually come. He looked at her as she walked closer toward him.
“Bitch don’t try to change the subject-who the fuck was that nigga you was all hugged up with?” A man, her latest lover asked. He stood there fuming puffing hot air through the openings on the end of his nose. He wore a pair of slacks; wool knitted cheap looking pants, and a striped shirt that looked even cheaper. His shoes resembled the gardener snake that was used to make them. His face was unattractive. A clear result of too much booze, too little sleep, and one hit too many.
“Mutha fucka I already told you that was Benny, and don’t nobody want no got damn Benny!” She shouted back at him.
“Could of fooled me, you was all hugged up with him, and drinking out of his bottle with your drunk ass!”
“All man fuck you!” Her words created the movements that followed. The man ran toward her and slapped her. Her face twirled around and stumbled in place as she attempted to shrug off the blow. The man raised his hand to hit her again, but felt the tip of her razor blade slicing across his chest and sliding down his stomach.
“Bitch are you crazy, cutting on me like that?” His voice weakened as he looked down at his body. Janet was beyond words her adrenalin mixed with her intoxication instigated the second slice, the one that cut across his face and stopped along his neck. The man backed up as she moved forward swinging her arms fluently using them to speak her mind.
Rodney watched his mother land on top of the man as he stumbled to the ground. He grabbed her wrists attempting to block her frantic behavior. Somehow the episode ended with her standing over the man as he lay on the bathroom floor.
“Bitch call a cab and take me to the hospital!” The man yelled as he pulled himself up alongside the sink. Bloody finger prints and an open palm rested on the sink. The area inside the palm print contained more blood due to him applying pressure to the sink as he pulled himself up from the ground.
“Don’t be yelling at me mutha fucka!” Janet looked over to Rodney “Call a cab!” He raced out the front door and over to his neighbor Terry’s, house.
He waited on his neighbor’s porch until the cab arrived. Once it did his mother and her latest lover came out the front door together. He limped toward the cab holding his arm around Janet,
Rodney decided to go back to the park. On his way to the park he was thinking of ways to get out of his house. He couldn’t keep living like that. It was too much pressure. The constant annoyance of being the son of Janet made him dislike being at home. He wanted to stay out in the streets and roam.
Anywhere was better than living in his house. It was at that moment that he decided he was going to make a change if he could help it.
When he got to the park he saw a few cars parked up on the grass with all four doors open. He walked closer to the activity. He saw the boy who he looked up to pressed faced down on the hood of one of the cars. A few of his buddies were also being slammed on top of cars, the grass, and some were laid out on the cement. White men in tight blue jeans, carrying hand held radios, walked around and flipped over pieces of paper, and anything else that they thought something was hid under.
“I thought you were one of the smart monkeys Pookie.” One of the cops said while squeezing his hand around the back of the neck of the boy who wore the long shorts. He spun him around to face him. “I’m watching you and keeping a close eye on you. I want you to fuck up so I can lock your ass up, send you to be with your brother.”
“Do what you do.” The boy said staring directly into the cop’s face.
“Tough guy?” the cop spun him back around and banged his head into the hood of the car. He reached inside his pocket and dug around for a short time. “Where’s the drugs. I came out here looking to lock a nigger’s ass up.” He laughed at his own joke. “By the way Pookie how are those kilos looking nowadays?”
“They still come compressed.” The boy mumbled from the hood of the car. The police tossed everyone down on the ground and sat them next to each other.
“The next time I come out here. I’m locking somebody the fuck up for loitering do you hear me?” He threw a wallet to one of the boys who sat on the ground. When the undercover officer turned to leave his drug unit followed close behind him. One cop stopped and looked at the boy who picked up his wallet.
“Next time you might not be so lucky.” He slapped his hand hard into his back then pounded into it. The cops got into their cars and pulled off and everyone stood up from the ground.
“Man fuck them sucker ass cops.” The fat boy who carried it mostly in his stomach said wiping his hand over his clothes and swiping away the dirt that had gathered on him as he lay on the grass.
“It comes with the job.” The boy who the police called Pookie said. He dusted himself off and walked back over to the bench and sat down.
Rodney walked over toward the boys and looked around then walked up to Pookie. The boy looked up at him unconcerned, who he was, or what he wanted, nor who sent him; all he knew was that this little dirty mutha fucka better had got out of his face and fast.
“What’s up?” Pookie asked staring at Rodney giving him the impression that he could and would hurt him.
“Are you alright?” Rodney’s words came unexpected, yet his concern was sincere. The compassion in his voice softened Pookie’s answer.
“Yeah I’m good, that’s what it do out here.” Pookie sat back and looked around. He noticed a few people coming up and speaking to his crew. He shook his head no and the boys turned the people away.
“My name is Rodney.” He stuck his hand out and waited for it to be shook. Pookie looked at him for a second then shook his hand.
“Pookie” He let Rodney’s hand drop out of his.
“If you want to I could clean your park up for you.” Rodney spoke without thinking. He just wanted to be away from his life at home and thought that Pookie could make that happen for him.
“What?” Pookie looked at him in disbelief.
“I can clean this for you.” He turned around toward the park.
“This aint my park.” He smirked realizing what was happening. “Sit down, it don’t take all of that to talk to me.” Rodney walked toward the bench feeling embarrassed. He sat down beside Pookie who scooted down and looked at him with a look of displeasure.
“Thank you.” Rodney said doing his best not to offend him.
“How old are you?” Pookie looked over at him while he looked away then back over to him.
“I’m eleven.” Rodney lied assuming that the one year difference gave him more credibility. The boy laughed at him.
“What are you doing out here this late?”
“It’s not late.” Rodney answered.
“Where are you from?”
“I’m from here.” Rodney rubbed away his nervousness by stroking his dog’s ears.
“From here huh?” Pookie thought for a second then looked ahead as he spoke. “I see you out here every day playing with your dog at least pretending to, but your real focus is watching what’s going on around here.” Rodney’s eyes came alive as guilt crawled up his small intestines and cradled up in his chest. “What are you up too?”
“I was.” Pookie held up his hand and held it before his face.
“Don’t bullshit me. Come correct or don’t come at all.” He looked at Rodney and maintained his glare.
“I wanted to see what you do out here.” Rodney spoke truthfully.
“Why?”
“Because
I like you. Your cool and people don’t mess with you.” His eyes
shifted toward the ground. “Like they do me.” His words were low
enough to be ignored by an ant, but Pookie heard him. He didn’t
respond to him he just looked at him.
“How do they mess with
you?”
They call me Savage tell me that I stink smell like funky draws, and they don’t talk to me unless.” He fell silent. He was afraid to repeat his reality out of fear that it would remain that way for the remainder of his life.
“And what did you learn from being out here watching us?” Pookie changed the subject being that he understood Rodney’s history. He shared a troubled past along with him. Growing up he was in a special education class, his mother was really his aunt, his maternal mother’s older sister. She was twelve when she had him and didn’t know what to do with him so she gave him to her sister. His father was as much of part of his life as the man on his back getting a piggy back ride, and there wasn’t a man on his back. The only thing he got from his father was an older brother. He also was a dirty little kid who grew up and started selling drugs.
“I know that you sell stuff and you use those other guys to sell it.” He pointed over to the fat boy with the stomach weight. “Antwon is the one who looks out for the police.” He swerved his arm right and pointed at a dark skin kid, who talked on a cell phone. “Juice and those other three boys stand over there waiting to do something.” He looked over at him then pointed at the rest of the boys. “They run around selling stuff, they take the money up in that building right there.” Pookie, grabbed his arm and pulled it down.
“Where is your mother?”
“I don’t have a mother.” Rodney told him.
“Oh I didn’t know that. I thought that you were Janet’s son the little boy from over there.” He pointed across the park and over a few buildings where Rodney’s street was. “But now I see that’s not you, you’re not the same Rodney who goes around doing odd jobs and charging people a dollar here and there, always helping out with the fruit cart, but I guess I was wrong because that’s not you.” Pookie sat back on the bench and looked around. Rodney didn’t say anything either he eased back on the bench.
“Do you want me to do something for you? I could work for you if you wanted me to.” Rodney said.
“Do what?”
“I don’t know anything.” Rodney’s eyes beamed with optimism. Pookie reached into his pocket and dug around until he had some money in his hand. He pulled it out and held it in front of Rodney.
“If you want, you’ll get, and I’ll be watching.” Pookie handed him the money and shook his hand. He stood up and walked away. He yelled for his friends and they all walked away and got into a few different cars and pulled off.
Rodney walked away feeling good. He kept saying over and over if you want it, you’ll get it, and I’ll be watching. He walked up the street playing with his dog. He counted his money and saw that it was eighty eight dollars. He smiled to himself. He looked at his dog and took off running. The puppy ran behind him barking a tiny puppy growl.
When he got home his mother and her latest lover the one she cut from asshole to appetite, were sitting on the couch snuggled up with each other. They were toasting, tapping their glasses against each other’s, and kissing, acting like the incident earlier in the day didn’t happen. He walked in his room as his puppy followed behind him.
In his room he sat on the edge of his bed looking around playing with his dog. He lowered down on the ground and sat in front of his dog.
Chapter 5
So you want to be a Gangster
Feet slashed against puddles bringing rain drops upward from the ground and soaking his socks as he ran. Pookie was running, running hard as he could. He ran through a yard, hopped a fence, he kept running, his arms swung wide and voraciously.
The police car sped in pursuit. The driver drove across the surface of the street. The tires rotated round and round keeping the tip of the car aimed at his back. The officer spoke into his radio. He gave the description of Pookie
Rodney pushed a lawn mower along the sidewalk looking for a way to earn a few dollars. His dog jogged behind. His tongue hung out of his partially opened mouth as he let out sounds that resembled a winded runner after sprinting for one hundred yards.
Pookie spotted him and ran toward him.
“Put this in your pocket and keep walking.” Pookie spoke loud as a tired man could. Two police cars turned the corner as he turned away from Rodney the boy kept pushing his lawn mower. He looked over his shoulder staring at the excitement. The look the older boy gave him was enough to convince him to keep walking.
“On the ground asshole!” A cop yelled mid-way through the process of jumping out of a moving car, tackling the boy down to the ground, and handcuffing him. Another cop drove the car up on the curb and almost ran over Pookie.
“What kind of shit is that?” A lady wearing a pair of shorts that stopped beneath her front pockets said. Her chest stood upright aiming at the sky. They were tightly contained inside her fitted t-shirt.
“Get his ass up here.” The cop who almost ran him over said. His partner lifted Pookie up from the ground and slammed his unprotected face into the hood of the squad car.
“Fuck you!” Pookie kicked his leg backward just missing the cop by a few inches.
“Did he hit you?” His partner asked walking around the car. The guy shook his head no, but his partner responded as if he said yes. He punched Pookie in the face, then he did it again, and three more times.
“Fuck the police!” A single voice yelled out of the developing crowd.
“Fuck you too!” A cop with a short temper yelled at the crowd.
“Punk ass mutha fucking white boy!” A big black guy wearing a black do rag with the strings hanging down the sides of his face yelled. The cop pulled out his gun and cocked it. He aimed at the man. His eyes revealed hatred, racism, and the thought give me a reason.
“Shut your black ass up and step the fuck back!” The cop said aiming his weapon. A moment later two more squad cars came cruising up the street. When the cars stopped six more officers hopped out of the cars.
“Did you find the dope?” The blond haired over muscled cop asked.
“Not yet, you know how these jigs are into hiding shit up their asses.” The cop who held Pookie’s head in place against the car responded.
“Why did you run Pookie” A black cop asked expecting an answer. When it didn’t come he opened the backdoor to the squad car and assisted the other cop in forcing the boy into the backseat of the car.
Rodney pushed his lawn mower up the street. His heart beat against his chest like a bully’s fist. The shape of the package of cocaine in his pocket bulged outward, noticeably visible. Every time his leg rose and fell the package switched angles and protruded outward. He walked until he reached his front door. He hurried inside his house and rushed to his bedroom.
Along the way he heard his mother’s bed bouncing as a few giggles and some short grunts escaped through the wall. He shut his bedroom door. In his excitement he left his puppy outside in the hallway. The small bark startled him. He turned around and let the dog inside the bedroom.
The boy sat down and pulled the package out of his pocket. He looked at it. Huge pieces of a tan substance glittered and shone brighter than crystal.
“Oh shit.” Rodney mumbled softly. The dog barked like he had something to say. The boy stuffed the drugs deeper into his pocket and barricaded his bedroom door shut using his dresser as re-enforcements. He sat down on the bed and waited on Pookie to come and pick up his drugs.
One hour later Rodney stepped from behind his bedroom door. He peeked out searching the hallway for a sign of his mother. When he didn’t see any he crept out of his room. Bam his puppy lifted his head up as his ears perked up. The dog stood and followed behind the boy.
Out in the hallway he walked carefully down the hallway. He stopped short of his mother’s bedroom door. A bright light shone out of her open door. He sighed in disappointment before taking a few more steps down the hallway.
On the way pass his mother’s open door he paused, he had to, something caught his attention. A man, a different one form the one she slashed up lay across her bed completely naked. His puny body rested across her bed his curl dripped dried activator and sweat. Tiny balls of hair napped up in the center of his chest. The boy’s eyes followed the length of his body where they stopped. A pair of dark brown dress socks ran up his ankles and stopped just below his calf muscles. The man motioned his hand in a half circle giving the boy a friendly wave. Rodney walked away ignoring him.
He walked until he reached the bathroom where he saw his mother. She was half way cocked over the tub. Her hands held her shirt by the sides as she kept them out of the way while she peed in the tub.
“Where are you going mutha fucka!” Her voice was sharp and direct.
“I was going to go out for a walk and get my dog some fresh air.” He looked at her hoping she didn’t read in between his lie.
“You got some money?” she asked looking at him while she relieved herself.
“Not really.”
“Well how much money is not really?” Her eyes focused on his hands as if money would grow out of them.
“I got about three dollars.”
“Broke ass mutha fucka. What are you good for?” She lifted up from the side of the tub.
“Nothing.” He lowered his head to add meaning to his words.
“Got damn right.” She walked pass him, stopped, stared at him, then finally passed him. Her t-shirt was small and did a poor job of covering her nudity. He walked until he reached the front door then left through it.
Outside he walked with his dog. The two of them moved along in silence. The sounds of people speaking to each other rolled through the air as he passed a front porch. Loud music blared out of cars that waited at a stop sign for other cars to go, and faded out when the cars disappeared further up the street.
When the boy approached the park he saw the usual faces standing around. He walked up carefully, paranoid that others knew about the package secretly tucked in his front pocket.
“Did anybody see Pookie?” Rodney asked fearfully.
“What do you want with Pookie?” The boy with the beer keg belly asked standing in front of him.
He..I…well.” His mind raced as he considered telling the boy about the stuff inside his pocket. Then he thought against it, what if the boy took it from him and said that he never came back with it. “He was supposed to take me to get a haircut today.” Rodney spoke quickly defending what he was entrusted with.
“He’s in jail.” The boy looked down at Rodney he maintained a firm appearance as he waited for him to respond.
“Dang.” He said pretending to be saddened by the misfortune. He looked around with droopy eyes. “I’m never going to get a haircut.” Rodney spoke slowly allowing disappointment to roll of his tongue.
“That’s fucked up, but hey shit happens.” The bigger boy turned his back and walked away from him. Rodney turned around and walked a few feet and played with his dog. He ran alongside his dog, then stopped, faked a kick at the puppy, and ran. The dog jumped forward and kept snapping at his foot.
Rodney walked with his dog while witnessing a man walk up wearing a tight blue jean jacket. The coat flapped opened because it didn’t have any buttons on it. He had on a green shirt that advertised a brand of cigarettes, a pair of gray sweat pants, and a yellow hat that looked like it belong to a person riding a ten speed bicycle in a marathon. The hat was drawn down over his eyes. The man walked up to the boy who sat on the bench talking on his cell phone.
The boy looked up at the man, frowned, then stuck his finger forcefully to his right, and went back to talking on his phone. He never looked up again. The boy with the biggest stomach looked around scanning the entire area before taking the money from the man. The guy handed over his money, walked a few feet over to another boy who handed him something and walked away. He walked up to a couple of the guys and continued to have the conversation that he was having before the fat boy flipped up four fingers two times.
Rodney watched and waited. Hours went by before a shadow of a man came walking down a side street that led directly into the park. The person walked smoothly through the street holding his hands in his pockets. He walked up until he ended up in the park.
Upon his arrival all the movement ceased. The boys turned their attention toward him, and closed in on the area where he stood. Rodney sat back focusing his eyes to see who the face belonged to. The boy sat down on the bench and spread his legs and rested his arms along the back of the bench.
“Yo, what the fuck happened?” A light skin boy with curly hair, but bad skin asked.
I got rolled on.” Pookie sniffed through his nostrils. “They didn’t get shit, took me down town for obstruction of governmental administration and resisting arrest.
“I know they mad, thought they had one, and came up empty handed.” The boy said rubbing his hands together excitedly. “Faggot mutha fuckas.” He added the insult to prove his loyalty to Pookie.
“What’s up?” Rodney walked up appearing to be one of the crew members. He stuck his hand out and nodded his head up and down. His hand stood in mid-air extended waiting for it to be acknowledged.
“Look at this little mutha fucka right here.” The boy with all the stomach mass said.
“Chill that’s my dude right there.” Pookie leaned back against the bench. Rodney lit up with thrill and delight. He thought over the words he had just heard and felt happiness dripping down his insides. He wanted to run, jump, shout, and say hell yeah. Pookie extended his hand and embraced Rodney’s
“I still.” He looked at Pookie wondering if he should speak in front of everybody. Pookie waved his hand forward. Rodney looked around before digging into his pocket.
“What the fuck?” The boy with the bulge in front of his body reached into his jacket.
“It’s good that’s my dude.” Pookie said calming the situation down. The boy eased back as Rodney pulled a huge bag of cocaine out of his pocket. He attempted to hand it to Pookie
“Loop.” Pookie said never once reaching out for the package. The boy with the fat stomach took it from Rodney’s hand. The younger boy jumped forward assuming he was being tested. Laughter followed his movements.
“Loop you saw that little man was about to do you dirty.” The boy with bad skin spoke, instigating the situation. He laughed.
“Main shut the fuck up.” Loop, said walking away. He handed the stuff to a boy who was about Rodney’s age and told him to tell Tiffany to bag that up. The boy ran across the street and disappeared in between two buildings.
Rodney sat down on the bench beside Pookie the boy looked over at Rodney and slid down. Everybody stood around watching his interaction with Rodney.
“What’s up coke sell itself now?” Pookie spoke to no one in particular, but everyone responded like his words were directed specifically for their ears. People walked back to their posts and continued to work the way they were prior to Pookie showing up.
“Good looking out I needed that earlier today.”
“I got you.” Rodney said trying to impress Pookie.
“You got me?” Pookie broke out into a roaring laugh that rippled out of his mouth like it comforted some unseen ache that needed soothing. “That’s peace. I appreciate that.” He laughed again. “My man Rodney.” He paused and took another look at the boy. “Or Savage which one do you like?”
“Which one is the coolest one?” Rodney said trying to look cool. He slumped on the bench the way he saw Pookie sit countless times.
“Savage is hot that sound like a nigga is about his business and he’s going to do any and everything to get that paper.”
“That’s what I thought too. You can call me Savage.” Rodney nodded his head up and down.
“Game tight huh.” Pookie laughed some more. He looked over at the boy one more time.
Rodney became a regular around the park. He sat around watching everything and ran a few errands for Pookie who just sent him on meaningless tasks. He could have easily done the things himself, but he wanted an excuse to give the boy some money. Pookie didn’t mind giving it to him because the boy used it to buy clothes and sneakers. Since hanging around Pookie the boy took pride in his appearance. He brushed his hair, his teeth, and washed up every day, well the best he could, his mother didn’t always have hot water.
Tiffany came out from in between the buildings switching and swaying her hips side to side. Her movements defied gravity she barely touched the ground when she walked, nor did her hips stop shaking and rolling while she moved forward. She crossed the street and walked into the park and walked up in front of Pookie.
“He’s here.” She smiled then turned and waved to a few more people and smiled some more. She stood around for a split second before turning around and walking toward the buildings she just came out of.
Rodney sat a few feet away staring at Tiffany his eyes stretched upward, sideways, and downward all at the same time. His eyes concentrated on her picking up every detail of her facial design. She was brown skin, long hair that wrapped around into a huge bun in the back of her head. Her body was squiggly and wiggled around into a sculpted frame of irresistible beefiness. Rodney looked at her unable to breath. His air maintained its position inside his mouth and refused to move.
His eyes turned with her head as she looked to the side and waved He followed the length of her arm down to her finger tips that were neatly manicured. He followed the skin around her mouth as it went backward and sunk into her cheeks where dimples formed in her face. The sound of her voice giggling drowned out his senses and impaired his hearing. He watched her walk across the street focusing on her nimbleness. The grace that she moved with lured his attention and kept it attached to her until she disappeared from his eyesight.
When his mind returned to its natural state he noticed that Pookie was no longer in the park. None of his boys were around. Rodney was all alone with his dog he reached down and rubbed on it and thought about Tiffany.
Chapter 6
It’s about to get ugly.
Rodney was at the park when it happened. The commotion was constant. The incident that created the atmosphere for the boy to get shot in the face. It happened right in front of him.