The Bed You Make: An Urban Hood Drama

by Tamicka Higgins

  John sighed and looked out at the rolling hills that acted as a majestic background for the city of Cincinnati. “Yeah, I was thinkin’ about the same thing, man,” he said, shaking his head. “I swear. I was thinkin’ the same fuckin’ thing this mornin’. I been feelin’ so fuckin’ guilty and fucked up from this shit. I ain’t had sleep in days. It’s like…it’s like…it’s like you keep thinkin’ that you just gon’ wake up from this shit one day and our boy Judge is gon’ be hittin’ us up, try’na hang out or somethin’.”

  “Yeah,” Camron said, looking in the rearview mirror. He noticed that he knew the little faces in the car behind John. “In the car behind us is a couple, maybe three, of his kids.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that too,” John said. He didn’t want to tell Camron for some reason, but he was terrified of having the conversation at the cemetery that Charles had requested back in the parking lot outside of the church. Realizing that his life had changed so much, he figured he might as well ask Camron’s input. He couldn’t help but to look at Camron and blame him for his situation. “Man, let me ask you somethin’,” he started. “You saw how Mister Charles wanna talk to me at the cemetery when they done with the service and shit. Right?”

  “Yeah,” Camron said. “And?”

  “And, I’m try’na figure out what to fuckin’ say to him. I mean, I don’t know what to fuckin’ say to him. It was hard as fuck standin’ there when Judge’s mama asked Mister Charles what happened to their son. I was feelin’ all kinds of ways because I’m like he really don’t know it all.”

  Camron looked at John with a confused face. “What you mean he don’t know all of it?” he asked. “Nigga, I been at home gettin’ betta and shit, but I know what the fuck you be sayin’ when you call and shit. I be listenin’, nigga. And I know you told me when you called the first time that you got Judge to a hospital, called his father when he died, and told him everything that happened.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I said,” John said, “but, I mean, I was just talkin’ in general. The man was about to get the worst news of his life, so I couldn’t just tell him all of it. Shit, by the end of the night, that nigga’s family practically filled up the parking lot and everybody was cryin’. I was like I’mma wait to tell him and, well, I never exactly got around to it.”

  “Damn, nigga,” Camron said. “I knew there was some reason that dude was lookin’ at you like that. At first, I thought that I mighta just been actin’ paranoid or some shit. But then I was like naw. The Charles nigga was lookin’ at you like he got some fuckin’ questions… Like he lookin’ for some information.”

  “Word?” John asked, feeling nervous. “So, what the fuck I’mma do? It ain’t like I can just get up and be gone after everybody walk away from the grave. I mean, sooner or later he gon’ see me and wanna talk.”

  “I’m surprised the nigga ain’t came and see you yet. What bullshit story did you tell him? I know you ain’t go as far back as you gettin’ caught with that nigga Race’s chick, in his bedroom, then havin’ to walk home naked and shit.”

  “Hell naw,” John said. “I just told Mister Charles that we was up at Blue Lights when these niggas showed up on the scene shootin’.”

  “Man, I don’t know about that story,” Camron said, scuffing. “Especially since you was actually one of the niggas that showed up shootin’, for real, for real. You know they gon’ have that shit on the news, right? And what the fuck you been doin’ about the police? Did you just go up there and embarrass the fuck out of a nigga on his birthday and they ain’t came lookin’ for you?”

  “You know how that nigga Race is,” John said. “The nigga is so damn fucked up and dirty from all the charges he done caught that he prolly got his naked ass up as soon as we pulled off and made a run for it. Shit, one of his niggas, who ain’t do shit when we was there ‘cause they ain’t shit, prolly swept him away while your cousins was holdin’ the cops off.”

  Camron chuckled and shook his head. “Yeah, them niggas came to see me in the hospital. They was tellin’ me the story like they fuckin’ enjoyed the shit or somethin’. I was like damn niggas, y’all ain’t no damn SWAT team or no shit like that.”

  John shook his head. “Yeah, well,” he said. “They saved our lives, or so I thought. I swear, I don’t know who that nigga that came from around the back of the club was that was shootin’ at us. We had all the shit under control and actually did the shit quick as fuck. Did them niggas show you the camera footage?”

  Camron looked over at John as if he’d asked a stupid question. “Nigga, is you serious?” he asked. “You know the niggas showed me the fuckin’ videos. I saw the shit. Shit, after that nigga banged my fuckin’ head into a kitchen counter, I was like that’s what the fuck he get. Man, that look on his face was fuckin’ priceless. He looked like a scared little bitch who ain’t know what the fuck to do. And you ain’t have to walk him around the parking lot on a leash while y’all niggas was ridin’ in the car and shit.”

  “Hold up,” John said, thinking about the various dynamics of the situation. “Fuck, your cousins havin’ the video changes everything. The biggest advantage I had to all that shit that went down was that ain’t nobody there know who I was. And ain’t no way that Race gon’ snitch. But just make sure that the video don’t get out just yet.”

  “Why?” Camron asked, confused. “Shit, I saw that video. And it looked like he got every fuckin’ thing that he fuckin’ deserved. Lucky that it wasn’t me, cause I woulda had that shit live streamin’ on Facebook or some shit like that.”

  “Naw, naw,” John said, seeing how everything continued to changing. “I wouldn’t care if ain’t nobody die, but the police is gon’ be all over this cause not only did Judge die, but so did that other nigga that was at the back of the building. I stopped and looked at the nigga’s body and everything. That nigga was dead and shit. Fuck, I ain’t think about that shit.”

  “Trust me, man,” Camron said, pulling his phone out. “I can hit my cousins up and tell them to hold on to that fuckin’ video. I know they ain’t put it out already.”

  “Yeah, hope not. I mean, know them niggas ain’t put it out yet. Because if that fuckin’ video was out, you don’t think that we woulda heard of that shit already, man? Trust me, that shit ain’t out yet? It can’t be.”

  They pulled into the cemetery within ten minutes. Just like before the funeral, they climbed out of John’s car and looked out at a landscape of sad faces walking toward the grave. John looked over at Camron, knowing that he’d have to have the talk with Charles when it finished.

  Camron and John stood behind the side of the family as they idled around the chairs that faced the grave. The pastor gave the usual sad speech about how gun violence is affecting our people too much. The killing has to stop; he didn’t understand where so many young men were getting so much hate from to walk up into a club and shoot someone. At these words John looked over at Camron, knowing that all of this happened because of him.

  Watching the sobbing faces and listening to the begging to the Lord above for answers as to why this one was taken really got to John. There were moments during the pastor’s speaking at the grave where the guilt stirred in him. He contemplated running off to his car and acting as if he had to leave early. However, his dignity and respect for his now-dead friend kept him in his place. There was no way he could run out on Judge’s father and not answer his questions. John had already ducked and dodged the man for much of the week. Cincinnati was only so big. And with Judge’s father Charles being what many would call an O.G for some of his actions in the streets before he went into the military, somebody would eventually catch up to John. Even some of John’s older cousins and distant aunts and uncles knew Charles, and they could surely tell some stories that would make anyone think twice before crossing Charles.

  Camron told John that he would go inside for the repass and sit with the family. Just as Charles had promised, he finished up with the family at the grave then watched them walk aw
ay. Now, Charles stood at the head of the casket, which rested above the grave. He looked up, wiping the tears off of his face, and into John’s eyes. John, shook by the man’s cold stare, wanted to look away but something about Mr. Charles’ eyes told him that he’d better not if he wanted to ever have any respect from the man after he heard what really happened.

  “This is my little boy,” Charles said, shaking his head. “It’s gon’ take me so long to get over this.”

  John approached the grave and looked at the casket. Just the thought of Judge’s cold, dead body resting just on the other side of a couple inches of wood sent chills through his body. “Yeah, I’m sorry,” he said, awkwardly.

  “Let’s go walk a bit,” Charles said, “so we can have this chat. I need to ask you some things.”

  John gulped and walked alongside Charles, away from the grave. His palms were sweaty, and he rubbed them on his pants, trying to calm himself down.

  “John, I wanna know what really happened up at Blue Lights,” Charles said, his hands in his pocket. “Somethin’ just ain’t quite addin’ up. You told me that some nigga ran up in there shootin’, which is kinda like what the news said, but it seem like the shit is more complicated…it seems. What do you have to say about that, John? I just have this strange feeling that I’m not hearing the entire story. The news made it seem like some planned ambush shit went down and was targetin’ a certain nigga that they can’t find right now or whatever after some sort of fuckin’ display—or whatever they said—out in the parking lot.”

  A breeze whipped by as John looked over at the trees that hugged the edges of the cemetery. He turned to Charles and said, “Mister Charles, I just wanted to say that I never wanted any of this to happen. I really am sorry and will never forgive myself for it.”

  If there was anything Charles hated in life, it was a man who couldn’t get to the point because he was trying to hide something. “Yeah, we will miss Judge,” he said. “I can’t believe he’s gone, but you know a man is not going to have any kind of closure unless he finds out what really happened. And, just so you know, I’m not gonna be mad at you or whatever. At this point, I can’t really be.” The man wiped his tearing eyes again. “But ain’t nothin’ we can do to bring him back. Was he targeted, John? Could there be somebody else that’s gonna be a victim next that we need to be tellin’? That’s what I wanna know, John. I know Judge wasn’t always livin’ straight, but he certainly wasn’t out here try’na kill nobody or no shit like this. Now, John, do you know who did this to my son?”

  What sucked the most about having to explain the situation to Charles was multi-layered. Having to start the story off by saying that you were in bed with another man’s chick certainly wasn’t good. It only got worse—judging by the look on Charles’ face—when he talked about he, Camron, and Judge going back up to Race’s apartment building and having a shootout out on the street in front. Working through the part of the story where they planned the ambush at the club as a means of revenge was practically the nail in the coffin.

  While Charles was certainly furious over what he’d heard, he remembered his younger days. He remembered showing up to a dude’s job and beating the breaks off of him in the lobby for trying to get with his girl; he remembered he and a buddy of his going to shoot up a house in Louisville. All Charles could do at this point was look back at his youth and wonder why in the hell he’d done some of the stupid things he’d done.

  “All right,” Charles said, trying to hide his disgust. Since this was Judge’s best friend, and they were at the cemetery where he’d be buried, Charles wasn’t going to do what he felt like doing; which was knocking John out for getting his son caught up in something so sill,; something that started all over a woman. And, like John had thought, the man still didn’t wind up with the answer he wanted. Charles still didn’t know who had taken his son’s life. “I understand,” he said, in response to having heard the entire story.

  John nodded, surprised that Mr. Charles was so calm and composed after hearing the story. At the same time, he could feel the man’s eyes barreling down on him. And, without a doubt, the man certainly didn’t look at what had happened in a positive way. “I’m so sorry, Mister Charles,” John said. “I really am. I mean, we ain’t plan for nobody to get killed. I was just goin’ there to get the nigga back on his birthday.”

  “Yeah, I understand that,” Charles said, shaking his head. “I understand that.” The man let out a deep sigh, thinking about how if he hadn’t quit smoking some years back, he’d go and have a cigarette in peace and quiet. “So, now what? You on the run or somethin’? I’m surprised the cops ain’t caught up with y’all niggas yet. I mean, two people got shot and killed up at that club that night. I know they got some cameras and shit. It’s two-thousand-sixteen. Who the fuck don’t have no cameras outside of they building?”

  “They prolly do,” John said, wondering himself when and if the police would come walking up to arrest him. “I mean, I got Judge out of there when he got shot so don’t nobody know who he is and that he was there like that. He coulda just been one of the people that was in the club when it all went down. And it’s so dark around that club that I doubt the cameras saw somethin’ even if they was there. The dude Race that we was there to get prolly ain’t gon’ say nothin’ to the police. Not after what happened to him.”

  “What makes you say that, John?” Charles asked. “I mean, why the fuck would a nigga not say shit about somebody comin’ up into his birthday party and gettin’ his ass wore out in the parking lot?”

  “It was pretty bad, Mister Charles,” John said. “I mean, we humiliated that dude bad. Since he wanted to have me walk all the way home without no clothes that night, we made the dude take his clothes off in the club then we walked him outside.”

  “And Judge was taking part in all of this?” Charles asked. Up until this point in Judge’s life, he’d been rather restrained. He might sell something here and there and he was possibly gaming the welfare system, especially when one of his children’s mothers would cooperate and let him use the child on his taxes. Hearing that Judge had run up into a club, armed, and taken part in a rather elaborate plan to get this Race guy back was just a little too hard to swallow.

  “Yeah,” John answered, hating that one of his best friends had ever been pulled into this mess. “He was the one that got the dude at the door against the bar so I could run up in there. You know how Judge is—well, was—about sports. And you know them bouncers be at the doors at clubs…old football players and stuff. All he had to do was get the guy to open up a little bit about sports or some shit while some honeys was walkin’ through the door and everything was good from there. He was the one drivin’ the car when we walked that dude Race around the parking lot.”

  “Walked him around the parking lot?” Charles asked. He’d never heard anything like this—anything that sounded this damn ridiculous. “You had the nigga walk around the parking lot in front of everybody?”

  John gulped again, hating how this story sounded in retrospect. Knowing that Judge’s grave was only about fifty feet away from him made the heartache and sorrow poke at his soul and puncture it in a way neither ever had before. He explained how he’d attached a leash to Race’s neck and walked him around the parking lot, at gunpoint, as they drove the car slowly in circles. He made sure to reiterate that they’d never planned on anyone being killed, not even Race. Embarrassing Race had been his only goal.

  “Nigga, I’mma keep it one hundred with you,” Charles said. “I don’t think I need to be standin’ next to you, nigga. You shouldn’t have gone as far as you did. And, of course, with this new generation, y’all think it’s a good idea to sit up and put everythin’ online. I know people taped that. And when it gets out, it’s gon’ make that nigga Race—or whatever you said his name is—come after you. I mean, for real, John. You fucked up pretty bad. I know you said to me a couple minutes ago that you ain’t know that the chick had a dude because she said she ain’t, b
ut you can’t be trustin’ these hoes you don’t know.”

  “Yeah, I know,” John said, looking around. “I wasn’t thinkin’ like that.”

  “You was fuckin’ his chick then he went too far by havin’ you walk home without your clothes and shit,” Charles said. “Even though, I gotta say, that you wouldn’t be the first nigga I heard of havin’ to do some shit like that. I knew a nigga once who the girls used to get on cause his dick was little and shit. Nigga wound up gettin’ some pussy from this one chick that had a body that would make any man jealous… Next thing you know, all the niggas in the hood talkin’ about how the chick’s nigga came home and beat the dude’s ass so bad that he went runnin’ out the house without no clothes on.”

  “Yeah, that’s how I felt,” John said. “I just wanted to get that nigga Race back for what he did. And then having Camron beat up on top of that.”

  Charles shook his head and started walking off slowly. He stopped and looked back. “Nigga, I’m tellin’ you,” he said. “You not welcome at my house from this point on ‘cause I don’t know who the fuck you might be bringin’ with you and shit. If anything happen to me or my family because of this nigga Race you done got into it with, I’m holdin’ you personally responsible. You betta fuckin’ do some diplomatic shit to make this go away. But, just so you know, nigga, it’s gon’ be harder than you think. I’m tellin’ you. Wait till the video hit the streets and that nigga find out. I’m surprised it ain’t already, if you know or not, though. But just wait. You do some shit like that to a man, and in front of everyone, he gon’ fuckin’ come after you until he get you. I hate to tell you, John, but you just might be a dead nigga walkin’.”