by Jazz Jordan
CHAPTER 8
Vertigo parked his dark blue Porsche Cayenne in his mother’s driveway. Technically, it was his driveway; he paid the mortgage on the Scarsdale mansion, but the house was in Keisha’s name. Even though her parenting skills left a lot to be desired, she was still the woman who brought him into the world, so he felt he owed her that much. She got pregnant with him at the age of fifteen, and she could have easily aborted him.
For many years, Vertigo wished he was never born. His childhood memories of his mother’s alcohol abuse and all of the random men whom she let into the house and into her bedroom were still fresh in his mind. At night, he was kept awake by the sounds of Keisha having sex, often times in exchange for money.
In his youth, he prayed that his nightmarish existence as Keisha’s son would end. He had longed to wake up in a nice home, one with a normal family that had a dog and a mom who baked cakes and never loitered in front of liquor stores. But by the time he turned twelve, he stopped asking God for favors. He questioned if God cared about him or He even existed.
Vertigo got out of his SUV and stepped onto the powdery snow with his black Timberland boots. He closed the door behind him and pressed the button on his key fob to open the trunk. He took out two giant shopping bags and closed the hatch. As he moved up the walkway, he noticed the elaborate Christmas decorations on the house next door: a big, white Santa Claus, a bunch of reindeer and giant striped candy canes. There was a speaker inside of an elf playing Dean Martin’s “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.”
But home was the last place Vertigo wanted to be on Christmas or any other day of the year. Let’s get this shit over with, he thought as he rang the doorbell. Moments later, his sister Tatianna answered the door. She was a plump, brown-skinned woman with an attractive face and a shiny, bright red weave that made her look cheap.
“Hey, big brother!” She stepped aside.
He put the bags on the floor as he walked in. The modern home featured skylight windows and hardwood floors. It was a big departure from the roach-infested, two-bedroom apartment the family once shared in the projects. Of all the questionable things Vertigo had done, at least he could go to his grave knowing that he’d done one good deed; he’d rescued his family from the ghetto.
Vertigo and Tatianna hugged each other. “What up, Tee-tee?”
“Same ole, same ole, just tryin’ to keep up with your knucklehead nephews.”
“Where they at?”
“In the basement, playin’ with that Xbox. They be lookin’ at the screen so much, I swear they gonna need glasses.”
“You gotta set time limits on that shit.”
“They don’t listen to me half the times, but I bet they’ll listen to you. They love them some Uncle V. But real talk, they do listen better to men. If I could get Sammy’s ass to act right…”
“This ain’t got shit to do with him. You they mama; they need to listen to you.”
“I know, but having a man around makes a difference. I was even reading something about how it’s something in y’all’s voices...like the um...what’s it called? The octane…”
“Octave?”
“Mmhmn, yeah, that’s it. Y’all got that bass, and y’all can scare the shit out of kids just by talking to ‘em.”
Vertigo laughed. “Tee-tee, you a trip.”
“I only speak the truth.”
Sometimes, Vertigo felt sorry for his sister. Like Keisha, she had also been a young mother. She had her first child at the age of sixteen, and two years later, her second son was born. Sammy, her baby daddy had never been interested in fatherhood. Vertigo didn’t understand it. One kid, maybe. But why have two babies by a dude like that? Then again, he was in no position to judge. Vertigo was just grateful he could bring some joy to his sister’s life.
He picked up his bags. “I’d better go put this under the Christmas tree.”
“Oohhh! What’d you get me?”
“Calm down, Tee-Tee. You worse than the kids.”
“I can’t help it. You the only one who gets me anything for Christmas or my birthday. You always look out for your little sis.”
“No doubt.” He walked toward the living room. “Where’s Keisha?”
“Upstairs.”
“Oh.” As Vertigo approached the Christmas tree, he noticed that the place was a mess. There were toys all over the floor. The beige couch was covered with a dark stain. There was a chicken bone on a greasy napkin at the edge of the coffee table. “Yo, what happened to the housekeeper?”
“She had the week off!” Tatianna called out from the kitchen.
Vertigo took his wrapped presents out of the shopping bags and placed them under the tree. Damn, I bought y’all this house; the least y’all could do is keep it clean, he thought. But he didn’t want to get confrontational on Christmas day.
“You hungry? I got chicken. I was gonna make waffles to go with it, but the milk went bad.”
“No, I’m good,” he said wondering how she could allow food to spoil. Vertigo gave Tatianna a big enough allowance to damn near afford a dairy farm. Despite his sister being miles away from the hood, she still had a ghetto mindset.
The basement door flung open, and his nephews, six-year-old Lamont and four-year-old Lamar came running toward him. “Uncle V! Uncle V!” He scooped the boys up and wrestled them to floor. They all laughed in unison.
“Quit rough housin’ them boys,” Keisha said.
Vertigo looked up and saw his mother standing at the foot of the steps, wearing a dingy robe. The whites of her eyes were red. In her youth, Keisha had been a good-looking woman with a shapely figure and a bright, dimpled smile. Now, she was as skinny as a dope fiend with an ashen face. Vertigo could smell the alcohol coming out of her pores, but she sounded sober. For all he knew, she hadn’t even had a drink yet, but since Keisha drank so much, the smell never left her body.
“We was just playin’, Keisha.”
“That’s how it starts; next thing you know, one of ‘em gets a broken arm and we all spendin’ Christmas day in the ER.” Keisha chuckled and fixed her glassy eyes on her son. “It’s good to see you, baby boy. Mama sho did miss you.”
“Well, I had to come for Christmas.”
“But we don’t wanna have to wait for the holidays to see you, ain’t that right boys?”
“Yeah, Uncle V!” Lamont smiled.
“Yeah, we wanna see you every day,” Lamar added.
“And I want the same thing, but you know your uncle is busy.” He looked at his nephews. The truth was that even if he had more free time, Keisha’s house was the last place he’d want to be.
“I know you be…a nigga on the take, settin’ bitches straight, just like you said in your song.” Lamont grinned.
“Look man, don’t say that.” Vertigo frowned. He thought about how Angelique had given him a piece of her mind about that very topic, the way his music had a negative influence on kids, the day they had lunch at B. Smith’s. At the time, he dismissed her as a sheltered chick who didn’t understand shit about the ways of the streets. But now, as Vertigo listened to his young nephew use the foul language from his latest hit song, he questioned himself a little.
Tatianna walked in from the kitchen and glared at Lamont. “What did you say boy? I ought to pop you in your mouth!”
Keisha laughed until she wheezed as she pointed at Lamont.
Lamont shrugged as he turned to Vertigo. “But that’s what you said in your song Uncle V.”
“Yeah, but I’m a grown man; that’s different.”
“What’s the big deal about sayin’ bitch and nigga? The world is full of bitches and niggas, and bitch-ass niggas,” Keisha said as she walked into the living room.
“Can we open up the presents now?” Lamar walked toward the tree.
“Yeah, Uncle V!” Lamont said. “What did you buy for us?”
“Something I think you gonna like,” Vertigo said, grateful to change the topic.
As he watched his fam
ily open up the expensive gifts he’d purchased for them, he couldn’t help but wonder if Angelique was right. But Vertigo’s career was based on his thug life persona, it was probably too late to shift gears now.
He looked down at his phone and noticed a text message from Shontay that read, “I been thinkin about u sexy. I want to pick up where we left off. Hit me back.”
Vertigo deleted the message. He knew that Shontay was probably texting him while she sat by a Christmas tree with her son and her baby daddy, PhDee. He didn’t want anything to do with her anymore. He’d gotten his rocks off once, and it wasn’t even all that. Besides, he didn’t even want to break up his rival’s happy home on Christmas day. But he didn’t want to be alone either.
