by U. E. Wynn
~~~~
When Brandon got home, he was pulled into a bear hug by his mother and brother. He loves the attention from his mother, but was a little distant to Malik. Malik and Gloria didn’t even notice because they were so excited to see him. Gloria had him tell her about everything and he was on cloud nine thinking he’d finally be the center of attention again.
“Baby, did you decide where you want to go to college? I hope you made some good choices,” said Gloria as she placed another piece of fried chicken on his plate.
They were sitting in the dining room of their new apartment courtesy of Malik. When he packed them up to move, he told her it was so that she would feel safer coming home from work.
Brandon felt a pang of anger at his mother’s question. He remembered the day at school when his class chose and filled out their college applications. He’d never been so disappointed and furious.
“Yeah, I did. I had to do it on my own since the staff decided they were only handing out community college applications or technical applications to the black students.”
“What! Those racist bastards!” yelled Gloria, defending her son.
“Are you sure about that. Maybe she missed placing some of the applications on your desk,” said Malik. He didn’t want to believe that Brandon was being mistreated at the school.
Brandon smiled at his mother loving the maternal feeling of her protecting him. He then looked at Malik, his smile gone. “I’m sure,” he said in a flat tone. “There’s only one other black student in my class and he received the same treatment. All the other students received applications from all the top school. It didn’t even matter to them that we are in the top ten ranking of the whole school.”
“You know what. I’m going to call the school and speak to someone. This is an outrage. How the hell can they treat kids that way?” asked Gloria upset.
“Easy. I’m a young black man, that’s bound for an ivy league school, and in the future may hold an illustrious position in a prestigious company. They’re threatened by that.”
“Well, I’m still going to call,” she said with a frown.
Malik laughed. “Ma, don’t call the school. I’m sure Brandon can stand up on his own two feet and handle this himself. All he has to do is write to the school and request an application and fill it out on his own. End of problem.”
Gloria smiled and reached out to pat Malik’s hand. “I guess you’re right,” she said and took Brands hand with her other.
Malik picked up his glass. “I mean it’s not that hard. It’s not like he cried about it or anything,” said Malik before taking a few swallows of his fruity drink.
Brandon’s body tensed. Hot humiliating anger rushed through him and his eyes narrowed. He knew there was no way that Malik knew that he had in fact went back to his room and sat in the bathroom and cried. It was tears of frustration, anger and helplessness. It didn’t mean that he was a baby or a coward. But when he thought about how Malik would have handled it, he felt like an imbecile and he hated Malik even more for making him realize it.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Malik reached into his pocket and pulled out a small envelope. “I got you something.”
“Boy, you’ve done enough Malik. Stop buying me stuff,” she said, pushing the envelope back towards him on the table.
Malik hunched his shoulder’s. “Alright then. I guess you don’t want to go see Mary Mary in concert down at NJPAC.”
“Wait, who? Boy, give me those tickets!” she said, snatching them back.
Malik laughed. “There’s two in there. I thought you might want to take Mrs. Gibbs with you.”
Gloria opened the envelope beaming at the two fourth row tickets. “Yesssss… She is gonna love this. Thank you baby!” she said, leaning over and kissing his cheek loudly.
“I got this for you little brother,” Malik said, sliding a black card over towards Brandon.
Brandon gazed down at the credit card, not touching it. “Why?”
Malik smiled, “Because I can that’s why. Besides, you deserve it. Ma shows me all of your report cards. I’m proud of you. So now you’ll have enough money to take out one of those little girls you’re always telling Ma about.”
Brandon never told his mother he had dumped his last girlfriend after finding out she only went out with him to see how black guys fuck. When he found out he made sure he fucked her brains out for the whole night before dumping her.
“Well, aren’t you going to say thank you?” asked Gloria. He’s been acting strange lately and I can’t put my finger on as to why.
“Yes, thank you, Malik,” he said with a nod.
Malik nodded back. He’s growing up. Usually he’d be all excited about receiving gifts. Now he’s all laid back, thought Malik.
“Ma, I gotta go,” said Malik standing.
“Already? Brandon just got here,” she said, putting down her glass.
“I know,” he said grinning. “I’ll be back tomorrow. He’s not going anywhere, are you?” he asked, smiling over at Brandon.
Brandon stared at him and then gave him a fake smile. I bet you would like that, wouldn’t you. “Nope. Never.”
Malik laughed. “See, Ma. I told you.” He leaned down and placed a kiss on her cheek.
“Well, what time will you be here tomorrow?” she asked curiously. “If you come in the morning I’ll make breakfast.”
“I can cook my own breakfast, you know,” said Malik teasingly.
I’m here. How come she isn’t all excited about making me breakfast? “You don’t live here anymore?” Brandon asked confused.
Malik and Gloria both looked at him like he had lost his mind.
“Brandon, I wrote to you last month and told you I got my own little spot. Didn’t you get my letter? I mean, Ma said that you’re too busy to write back because of all your classes, so I don’t always know.”
Brandon looked over at his mother. He knew he didn’t tell her that for Malik’s sake, but he didn’t say so now. “Oh yeah. I guess it slipped my mind.”
Malik laughed. “I guess they really are working your butt off then, huh?”
Malik walked over to the wall unit and pulled down a silver box. After lifting the lid, he pulled a large roll of money from his pocket and dropped it inside.
Brandon ignored Malik’s comment. He watched as he put the money in the box and returned it to the shelf. “You still a drug dealer?” he said without trying to hide his disgust.
“Brandon!” Gloria snapped.
Malik’s smile dropped for a brief second, but he managed to keep it in place. “Aren’t you still in that fancy school I pay for? Don’t you still have college to get through?” When Brandon responded with silence, Malik nodded. “Well, there you go. See you tomorrow Ma. Little brother.”
Malik left, closing the door behind him. He walked down the stairs trying to figure out if his brother had just tried to play him. Suddenly, he smiled and shook it off. I’m reading too much into it. That’s my little man.
CHAPTER 4
Brandon woke up that morning with a splitting headache blurring his vision for a second. What the fuck even happened last night? Short scenes flashed before his eyes, as he rubbed them in his attempt to soothe the pain. He saw himself and a couple of girls grinding on the dance floor. He then saw one of them pulling him upstairs and undressing him. The rest was a blur, but he got a pleasant feeling from it so it must’ve been good.
He remembered a couple of guys from the neighborhood he used to hang with inviting him to a party. Ecstatic that they even wanted him around, he quickly accepted. Although he only could remember bits and pieces of his time there, he was glad that he went.
Brandon drew in a deep breath trying to let the after effects of his wild night ease from his body. Feeling the burning irritation of a scratchy, dry throat, he reached for the glass of water on the nightstand and gulped the liquid down within a matter of seconds. After his pain soothed a bit, he got dressed and headed towards the kitchen.
He could hear voices from below and knew Malik was there. His brother’s peals of laughter could be heard clearly even through closed doors. He felt disgusted. Why did he always have to be so happy? He was fuckin’ scum. A drug dealer. He should be lying in a corner and hating himself for what he did to people, not spending his time in the kitchen, laughing with their mother as if he was some kind of saint.
“Morning, sunshine,” his mother joked when he strolled into the kitchen. “Wild party last night, huh?”
He stared at her in confusion.
“He don’t know shit, Ma,” Malik laughed. “I went there as soon as they got snitched on.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Brandon frowning.
He was genuinely confused. He forgot about the hatred towards his brother only for a second as he tried to understand. Maybe he’d find out what actually happened that made his head hurt like shit.
“Some of your homies got their party favors from me,” Malik explained, sipping on his coffee. “Someone snitched and the cops busted the party, but I got you out of there before you got caught. The funny thing is, you didn’t take no drugs,” he chuckled. “You were just drunk as fuck.”
Malik’s last words were filled with an odd kind of pride. Sure, he didn’t agree with his little brother drinking his brains out, but despite being surrounded by drugs at the party, he hadn’t touched any. None.
Brandon didn’t hear pride, though. All he could hear was his older brother ‘the fucking drug dealer’ making fun of him. He had the nerve to be applauding him for not succumbing to that disgusting plague that he helped spread. When Malik reached up and patted the top of his head, he moved back, an annoyed look on his face. He headed to the fridge and pulled out some cold pancakes. He started to munch on them as he made his way to the table and sat down.
“Hey, I ain’t judging,” Malik told him, not aware of the true reason of Brandon’s indignation. “Last day of school. Last party night with your boys. It’s all good. I get it.”
“It’s not all good from my point of view,” Gloria suddenly spoke, prompting startled jumps from her sons. They had forgotten they weren’t alone. “You still drank so much you forgot your own name. And if it wasn’t for your brother who got you out of there, we’d have to get your ass out of jail. You should thank him instead of giving him attitude.”
Brandon felt the rage building inside him stronger and hotter than before. He felt the embarrassment mixed with anger burning him down to the bone. Malik. It was always Malik. No matter what he or someone else did, his mother would always have to sneak a little ‘Malik-praising’ into the conversation.
Why couldn’t she do that for him? Couldn’t she see that everything his older brother was doing was completely wrong? Why did she keep praising him as if he was some fucking Hollywood star? All he did was drink and have a little fun, like any guy his age would’ve. And yet, he was still the one getting scolded.
That’s it, he thought. He needed to get out. He needed to clear his mind and somehow calm himself down.
“I’m going out,” he announced abruptly as he left the kitchen. Moments later, Malik and Gloria heard the front door slam as he left.
Fuck. He slammed his fist against the hard concrete wall he passed. Fuck, fuck, fuck! He walked down the street without a destination in mind. He just needed to get away from the house.
A blast of heated thoughts moved through his head as he continued to move aimlessly down the street. Brandon looked up twenty minutes later not knowing how he got to Hopkins Street. He looked around him at the wilted neighborhood and only saw depression and hopelessness.
Kids were running around playing in a lot next to an abandoned building. On the corner a few guys were standing around waiting for their next sale. A bunch of men was lined up against the wall of the liquor store sipping on their bottles and swapping the same old stories.
This was the hood. The ghetto. And it all belonged to Malik. He ran it all. Damn, why didn’t I think to sell drugs too. I’m way smarter than Malik. If I would’ve thought of it first, this would all belong to me. I would’ve been the king of the streets now and I would be the one receiving all their mothers love and attention.
Brandon felt the sting of tears and hastily blinked them away. This could still be mine. It would just take some planning. Suddenly, a strange, sick little smile played across his face. It was time to steal the so called king’s crown.
~~~~
“So what are ya gonna do now?” Jaymes asked, dragging one last pull from his cigarette before throwing it in the small puddle in front of him much to Brandon’s joy. He had never smelled anything worse than cigarette smoke.
“I’m gonna…” he paused. He didn’t like what he was going to say at all. “I’m gonna be like him.” The last three words hurt him more than any knife or gun would have. Be like him. It still echoed in his head, driving him mad with anger.
“You’re crazy,” the other boy said, seemingly careless. “You’ve heard the stories and ya know better than anyone what he can do. Haven’t ya heard what he did to old man Carter?”
Brandon’s ears perked up. That was new.
“What?”
“He refused to pay for his tab,” Jaymes smirked. “For a long time too. Apparently, he was going to leave the city yesterday, but your bro got to him first.”
“What did he do to him?” Brandon asked, hating himself for the sincere curiosity he displayed.
“Let’s just say old man Carter has nothing to run with now.” With yet another smirk, Jaymes pointed to his legs, his lips mimicking the sound of a gunshot. Pop! Pop!
Brandon stifled a shudder. He knew what his brother could do and he even heard Malik himself talking about it a few times with their mother, but he couldn’t quite accept it yet. In fact, he wasn’t sure he was ever going to.
“Still wanna join the gang?” asked Jaymes.
“Yeah. I’m not scared. I want to see for myself.”
“Then I guess we gotta find us some connections.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Brandon assured his friend. “With my brother’s rep, I’m pretty sure we're not going to have any problems with that.”
~~~~
Two days later...
Luckily for Brandon, the evening’s gloom did a great job at hiding his nervousness. He was leading his friends into a gang he heard his brother talking about the other night. Apparently, that was the place one of the hustlas did his business.
Jaymes was confident as usual, unlike the other guy, Dominik, who chose to only stare at the concrete while he walked. It kind of annoyed Brandon, to be honest. He felt like Dominiks’ fear would drag him down and ultimately, it would end up getting them all in trouble. He was starting to regret bringing him. Jaymes alone would’ve been perfect.
They found Vice in a small bar that was used by the dealers as a meeting spot. He knew he was probably making a very big mistake walking in there as if he owned the place, but that was the only way he could earn some respect from his first try. And if that didn’t work, he could always say that he was there on his brother’s behalf, as much as he despised the idea.
The man in question stood at a table in a darker corner of the bar, a dirty glass filled with a dark brown liquid in front of him. He gulped it down when he saw the young boys. He glared at them in a mix of curiosity and irritation as they sat down in front of him.
“I ain’t got nothing for your bro,” Vice spat. “I paid him last week, so y’all can get the fuck outta my face.”
Brandon had no idea what he was talking about. But luckily, he knew how to play his part.
“I know that,” he spoke calmly, fixing Vice with an icy look. “We came for work.”
“What?”
“Ya heard me right,” Brandon said, trying to adopt Jaymes way of talking. His ivy league school education was pushed to the back burner as he tried to sound hood. “We wanna work for you, and it ain't got nothing to do with my brother either.”
> Vice’s face cracked into a grin, his yellow teeth making Brandon want to gag. He stared at the three young boys sitting before him and knew he could use them as runners. The police wouldn’t look at them twice because of their innocent faces.
“A’ight,” he finally said after he’d carefully thought over his plan. “I got a special delivery tonight for one of the big boys down on Wilbur Avenue. Y’all sure about this?”
“Mad sure,” Brandon replied, his words emphasized by his boys nodding their heads. “We’ll do it.”
“A’ight then. But if you fuck this up, I’ll put two in each of you. Ya feel me?” The boys nodded and Vice continued, pulling a small white package from an inner pocket of his coat and sliding it to Brandon. “Ya know where the mayor lives?”
Brandon drew his hand back from the package scowling. “You want me to take that to the mayor? He’s gonna get us fucking locked up!”
Vice laughed at the fear on his face. “Nah…Ol’ Jameson’s one of us,” he said leaning back. “He’s havin’ a pretty big party tonight and he wants his shit right away. My main running ain’t get back yet, so you can make this one.” He shoved the package closer to him. “Now go and don’t come back until you have my money.”
With nothing else left to be said, Brandon took the package and shoved it in the book bag he was carrying. When he stood up, the other boys followed and they quickly left the bar. No one paid them any attention as they walked out carrying five thousand dollars worth of Molly’s. Either they didn’t notice or they didn’t care.
“Ya think it would be better if only one of us delivered this shit?” Dominik asked, casting nervous glances at the book bag. Brandon had been expecting this question from him and surprisingly, he was glad he asked.
