Once I made it to school that was the only thing people were talking about. It was so many rumors going around, I didn’t know what to believe. Some people were saying he was dead and I prayed that wasn’t true. Come to find out, one of the knife wounds punctured a main artery and damaged the nerves on the right side of Butch’s body. He was completely paralyzed on one side.
Truthfully, I didn’t feel any remorse for Butch. He got what he deserved if you ask me. The only thing that scared me was that the cops were involved. Later on that day this girl named Shareeka approached me while I was on the lunch line.
''Deon, can I speak to you for a minute?'' She asked standing with her hands placed on her hips.
I knew it had to be something important because Shareeka never even looked in my direction, let alone spoke to me. She was one of those girls my mother considered a ''fast Ass''. She was ten years old, but matured quickly. Her body looked like some of the older girls I’d see hanging on my block.
After I finished getting my lunch Shareeka motioned for me to follow her and the two girls she was with over to their table. For some strange reason it felt like the whole lunchroom was staring at me. I took a seat between her and another girl.
''Did you hear about what happened to Jay-Roc?'' She asked.
I was confused. I was hoping to see Jay-Roc at lunch today, but up until this point he was nowhere to be found. I shook my head no.
''Well, this morning on our way to school the cops picked him up,'' She stated.
''What for?'' I asked, trying to act like I didn’t know what was going on.
''What do you mean, what for? Cut it out Deon. I know everything that happened. Jay-Roc told me last night. Did the cops come to your house?''
I thought about telling her a lie, but I knew eventually she would find out the truth. I looked around and said, ''Yeah they came early this morning asking me a bunch of questions about everything, but I didn’t tell them anything.''
''That’s good,'' she said. ''If they come back do the same thing.''
''So, where’s Jay-Roc?''
''He’s in jail, stupid!'' She shouted, rolling her eyes. ''He said he would call me as soon as he could. I’ll let him know that you didn’t rat him out.''
''Rat him out?'' I asked, looking confused.
''You know...tell on him. Damn, Deon you kind of slow for a cutie,'' she said. ''I’ll be talkin’ to you later...all right.''
Shareeka and her two friends got up from the table and left. At that point I felt pretty good about myself. I hadn’t ratted out Jay-Roc and that seemed like a good thing and for the first time, a female besides my mother called me cute.
After the incident with Butch ''The Bully'', the kids at my school showed me a little more respect. I hadn’t been called any names since then and I would get an occasional wink or smile from some of the girls. Most of the time I tried to stay to myself, but my popularity was growing by the days. Jay-Roc had sent the word out that I wasn’t a rat and I could be trusted if it came down to it.
Unfortunately, Dexter, one of the two kids that were with Jay-Roc the day of the stabbing couldn’t handle the pressure from the police. He ate the cheese and blamed it all on Jay-Roc. A month or so later I received a letter in the mail and I knew who it was as soon as I saw the name and return address. It read, ‘‘Jayson Washington: 1221 Spofford Avenue”, I opened the letter and read it.
''What’s up Deon? I’m doing all right. How are you? Fine I hope. Right now they got me in Spofford Juvenile center out in the Bronx. I should be home in three or four years if I’m good. Shareeka told me that you didn’t rat me out like that punk Dexter did. That’s okay, he’ll get what’s coming to him. It’s good to know that I have a friend I can trust in you. I know things got out of hand, but I never liked that kid Butch anyway. I heard he’s paralyzed. Good for him. Well, if you want you can write me back at the address on the envelope. I’ll see you soon, Deon. Peace!''
From,
Jay-Roc
I thought to myself, Damn! Three or four years were like an eternity to me and he spoke about it like it was nothing. I couldn’t imagine being away from home for that long, but Jay-Roc was a different breed. He was cut from a different cloth. After that first letter I got from him I wrote back and we continued to correspond with each other on a regular basis.
Jay-Roc’s letters read like movies. Each time I opened one I was guaranteed excitement. When he wrote me he would tell me about the fights he got into with various people. He called Spofford ''gladiator school''. I tried to tell him to calm down so he could come home, but I don’t think he listened to me. I could tell by the words he used in his letters that the place he was in was only making him angrier.
Three years passed and I was in junior high school in the 6th grade. I grew a few inches and even put on a couple pounds. I was playing basketball on the school team starting at the point guard position. I was pretty good too. Basketball was something I learned to play in order to pass the time. My mother insisted I get a hobby. She said if I had too much time on my hands I was liable to get into trouble. Since the thing with Butch, my mother became more concerned about me whenever I left out the house. She would say, ‘‘Deon, be careful out there. Don’t get into no shit and make sure you’re in this house before it gets dark.”
Growing up in Brooklyn you had to have street smarts. I started getting street smart as the days passed. On any given day my block would be flooded with hundreds of people moving about, handling their business. I began to see more and hear more, so that only led me to do more.
There was a group of guys who always stood in front of my building playing loud music and smoking marijuana. I learned the difference between cigarettes and weed the hard way.
A couple years back I snuck one of my mother’s Virginia Slim’s out the house just out of curiosity. I went up to the roof of my building to smoke like I had seen her do so many times. I almost killed myself. I thought my chest was going to explode. I promised to never again put a cigarette between my lips; but what I smelled every morning as I walked out of my building for school, was not a cigarette. In fact, it smelled kind of good to me. It was kind a warm aroma. The guys in front of my building all dressed the same as Jay-Roc did when he was home. One day I built up the courage to say something to them.
''Ant, what’s up?'' I asked, reaching my hand out to give him a pound.
''What’s up little, Deon,'' he replied, giving me a pound.
Ant was on my stoop every morning doing the same thing: smoking and listening to his little black radio.
''Let me get some of that?'' I asked, pointing to the brown cigar he held between his index and thumb fingers.
What I said surprised him because he almost choked when he heard my question.
''Get some of what, Deon?''
''That!'' I said, reaching for the cigar.
One of Ant’s friends said, ''That ain’t no cigarette boy,''
''What is it?''
''That’s herb, Deon,'' Ant replied, handing me the lit cigar.
One of the guys tried to take it from me, but Ant stopped him. ''Chill, let the little nigga get his head right.''
''For what, so he can go tell his mother that we gave him some weed?'' Ant’s friend said.
''Nah, he ain’t no snitch, that’s Jay-Roc’s little man...right, Deon?''
I nodded my head in agreement. Jay-Roc’s name held a lot of weight around these parts and since I was his homeboy they showed me the same respect.
I put the cigar to my lips and inhaled like I watched them do. The smoke filled my lungs and immediately I felt light headed. I started coughing and spitting while Ant and his boys just laughed at me.
''How you feelin’, Deon?'' Ant asked.
He took the cigar from me and they continued smoking. I was stuck in a haze. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. The inside of my mouth felt like cotton and I could not stop smiling.
''Look, Deon’s high,'' one of Ant’s friends said.
I made it to school that morning, but I wasn’t functioning too well. The day felt like it would never end and I ate so much junk food that my stomach started to hurt.
Chapter Four
If you ask me, I was the man my 7th grade year. I was the star basketball player on the team. I had all the popular girls wanting to get with me, and I was getting a little bit of money sweeping up hair in the barbershop around my way. The hunger pains were no longer a serious problem because my stomach wasn’t touching anymore. I was eating like a normal kid my age should.
The school year was coming to an end and we were getting ready for the summer. My school had a summer league team that played games three times a week in the park not too far from where I lived, and I couldn’t wait for that to start. All the fly girls went to the summer league games. Every night the park was packed to capacity with people from all over Brooklyn, not to mention a few teams from, Harlem, Queens, and the Bronx. This year we had the bomb squad and we were confident in going all the way to the championship.
A couple weeks before school let out for the summer, Jay-Roc sent me a letter. He’d be coming home in a few days. I was very excited. Finally my boy was coming home. After four long years he was getting his freedom back. In his letters Jay-Roc would always say that when he got home he was going to turn it up. I didn’t know exactly what he meant by that, but I had a good idea.
Since I had a job I was able to save up some money. I was getting paid fifty dollars a week at the job and at the end of the week I would put twenty-five in my stash, and give the remaining twenty-five to my mother. I took a lot off her shoulders by working. She no longer had to give me money out of the little bit she earned. After a whole year of saving, my stash was looking pretty good. I managed to stack up over a thousand dollars in my shoebox. I planned on surprising Jay-Roc and take him shopping. Even though my gear still wasn’t the best, I tried. I had a few pair of jeans, a couple fresh pairs of kicks and some crispy Polo shirts. I knew once Jay-Roc saw me styling he would smile.
July 3rd, 1993 was a day I waited four years for. Me, Shareeka and Asia sat on the steps in front of my building waiting for Jay-Roc to arrive. It was hot as hell. The temperature was almost at 100 degrees as sweat ran down the side of my face. I was kind of nervous. True, we kept in touch with each other the whole time, but seeing him in the flesh was something different. I had on a pair of black, Levi jean shorts, a Polo, three-button collar shirt, and some fresh new Air Max. My hair was cut to a low ceaser and I had a brand new 14-carat gold chain that I bought from the pawnshop on Broadway.
Shareeka and Asia rocked booty cut shorts, wife beaters and fifty-four-eleven Reeboks. They both wore bamboo, doorknocker earrings with their names in them.
Asia was my little honey from Nostrand and Gates. I met her at one of my basketball games. She was a fly, redbone chick with long, black hair. Her body wasn’t all that, but her smile had me from the gate. She had straight, pearly white teeth and big, brown eyes that lit up any room she walked into.
Asia and Shareeka had become best of friends after going to school together since they were kids. Asia’s father was some thugged out gangster doing a twenty-year bid for shooting a few niggas back in 86’. Her mother was recovering from a crack addiction, so she lived with her older sister and their younger brother.
Shareeka was Jay-Roc’s girl for as long as I had known her. From what I observed she wasn’t too good of a girl, but how could I tell my boy that his chick wasn’t right? After four years I never actually saw her with another dude, but the streets talk. I don’t know, she did hold Jay-Roc down since he had been away, maybe she really did love him. I’m pretty sure she knew that if he found out she was cheating on him someone was going to get hurt badly.
A black cab pulled up in front of my building and the door swung open. For the first time in four, long years I was staring at my boy Jay-Roc. He had to be at least 6ft tall, weighing close to 200 pounds. His waves sparkled in the shining sunlight and his eyes lit up when he noticed the three of us standing there waiting for him. He sported a crispy, white t-shirt, blue denim jeans, and a pair of white and red high-top Air Force Ones. Shareeka shot down the steps in a flash. She jumped into Jay-Roc’s arms and gave him kisses all over his face. Asia and I sat back smiling at their moment. Jay-Roc grabbed his bag from the backseat of the cab, paid the driver and stepped toward Asia and I. We stared at each other awkwardly for a second.
''I know that ain’t lil’ ass Deon shinin’ like that!'' He said, talking to Shareeka, but pointing at me.
''Yep, that’s him,'' she replied.
''Get the fuck outta here, c’mere my nigga...what’s good?'' He said, as a giant smile spread across his face.
I reached my hand out to give him a pound, but he pushed it away and pulled me into a bear hug and almost squeezed the life out of me. When he let me go he stepped back and gave me a look over.
''Damn son, I see you got your gear up somethin’ crazy,'' he remarked, touching my chain and tugging at my shirt. ''This nigga used to wear that thrift store shit back in the day,'' he finished saying, looking at Shareeka.
''Yeah, man...those days are over. I’m trying to get fly like you.''
Jay-Roc laughed. ''And who is this?'' He asked, pointing to Asia.
''That’s my shorty...her name is Asia. Asia, this is my boy, Jay-Roc,'' I said, introducing the two of them.
''Get the fuck outta here...this nigga, Deon got a girl now too. I know I been gone a long time. How you doing, Asia?'' He said, reaching his hand out to shake hers. ''I don’t believe this shit, little Deon is getting some skins!''
At that point I started blushing. I was kind of embarrassed. Asia and I looked at each other and smiled. Honestly, I hadn’t gotten any skins yet. I was still a virgin. Asia and I kissed a couple times and once she even let me put my finger in it, but that was the highlight of my sex life up until this point. We both had been thinking about it, but it hadn’t happened yet. And here Jay-Roc was putting me on the spot.
''Stop it, Jayson...'' Shareeka said. ''Leave them alone. Don’t they look so cute together?''
''Glad to have you back home Jay-Roc,'' I interrupted, pulling a knot of cash from my pocket and showing it to him. ''Let’s go shopping!''
Jay-Roc’s eyes widened at the sight of the money, but then his look of excitement turned to disappointment.
''I know you ain’t out here hustlin’ nigga?'' he questioned.
''Hell no,'' I answered. ''I got a job at the barbershop over on Gates Ave. They pay me every week and I saved this up so that when you got home we could go spend it.''
''Oh, all right...well lets go do it.'' He said, flagging down a cab.
We all got into the cab and headed downtown to Fulton Avenue. It felt good having my friend back home. We had a lot of catching up to do. In one of his letters he wrote that he needed to talk to me about something very important but he didn’t want to put it on paper he wanted to discuss it in person. I was curious about what it was.
Chapter Five
A few weeks passed and Jay-Roc and I were catching up on some of the time we missed out on. He finally let me in on his little secret. Jay-Roc told me that while he was away at Spofford he got involved in a gang called the Bloods. I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about until he broke it down for me.
He told me one day while he was gone that these three kids tried to jump him in the bathroom, when another kid named Lou helped him out. Later on he found out that Lou was a member of the Blood gang. He explained that being in the detention center and not being affiliated with one of the gangs meant that you were all by yourself. Nobody wanted to be by themselves in that type of environment and by joining the Bloods he had guaranteed protection from anyone who tried to bring harm his way. I knew Jay-Roc was tough enough to handle himself, but I also understood where he was coming from.
Jay-Roc told me that there weren’t many Bloods in New York City, but it was spreading quickly. I only heard about those
gangs being on the West Coast. I guess I was wrong.
Sometimes when Jay-Roc would talk to me it was hard for me to understand everything he was trying to say. I was still learning the lingo. He would often get frustrated when I would ask him to explain what he was talking about.
Although his gang affiliation was something that I didn’t agree with, it was his life and none of it mattered to me as long as it didn’t come between our friendship. He promised me it wouldn’t and I believed him.
Things were different now that Jay-Roc was back home. I noticed the guys that used to hang out in front of my building were no longer there. I also found out what the Roc part of his name stood for.
One day Jay-Roc and I sat on the steps in front of my building and I watched speechless as he counted over two-thousand dollars in front of me.
''Jay-Roc, I didn’t know you had a job?'' I said, as I marveled at all the twenty-dollar bills in his hand.
''Oh yeah...well, it’s not the type of job you think it is, Deon,'' he replied.
''What type of job is it? Looks like they pay you good.''
''You know somethin’, Deon...you ask a lot of mother-fuckin’ questions. If you wasn’t my boy I would swear you was the police.'' He said, laughing.
He pulled a small, brown paper bag from the inside of his sweat pants and dumped the contents right there on the concrete. About a hundred little clear vials with red caps covered the step.
''What’s this?'' I asked, picking one of the vials up. Inside I could see two little, white rocks.
King Page 3
