Like a Boss

by Darrell King

  LIKE A BOSS

  -DARREN KING

  JANUARY 15, 1931

  6:40 am around somewhere in Orlando, Florida (USA)

  Grrrrrrr! Grrrrrr!

  The alarm buzzed. It was a frosty morning, Cyrus yawned as he squirmed between the sheets. Hethen remembered he had to rise up early that morning to go apply for vacancy at a bakery not far away from his residence; he mumbled some curses under his breath and woke up grudgingly. He sauntered to the table to switch off the alarm clock and walked to the basement to do his early morning workouts. Everywhere in his neighborhood was filled with a load of snows as the snow storm was still billowing.

  Following the fall in stock prices that began around September and became worldwide news on that fateful Black Tuesday, the Great Depression became an economic slump which sent Wall Street into panic and wiped out millions of investors. As an aftermath of the depression, millions of Americans lost their jobs, and many farmers and businesses were bankrupted.

  Cyrus Gables, a former serviceman in the U.S Army together with some other black servicemen had been flown from Panama where the president of the country was overthrown and imprisoned by a military junta to Tuskegee where they were

  court-martialed just about two months earlier along with some other black servicemen for some undisclosed reasons that had to with racial discrimination.

  got back home to see the condition of his family worsened; his dad, a broke farmer had been issued a warning over the control of his farmland by thebank industry and his mom had been diagnosed with Osteoporosis; a medical condition that affects the density of the bones in the body.

  They had no money for treatment and so, Cyrus felt it was his responsibility to help the family the best way he could and so decided he was going to look for job out there. Dressing up in his favourite double-breasted overcoats and nice sporting fedora on some boots, he stepped out in the cold with snow crunching under his feet.

  The bakery is an old structure which stood some miles away from away from Cyrus’ residence. It was said that the real owner of the bakery had died and so, the place had to be sold to a shrewd carpetbagger who is an Italian businessman;

  he had come all the way from New York to establish business down south Florida. Just yesterday, he had put up a vacancy that he needed two workers to knead dough. Cyrus was surprised when got to the bakery that morning, he found the

  place practically sold out as it was thronged by a black mob;

  they had obviously heard about the vacancy too. He felt a churning in his stomach instantly, that would be his sixth attempt of trying to apply for a job all to no avail. He looked at the mob and sighed; he knew there was no way he’d make it there today. Feeling despondent, he turned back and hailed the next taxi.

  When he got to his apartment, he met his step-sister sitting on the porch musing; she’s the only sibling he has. She wore a winter fur coat with a pair of boots; her hair was covered with fuzz.

  Cyrus looked at her from afar and wondered what news could have been so important that she had to come all the way from Tampa to his residence just to relay it.

  He looked at his watch and then started walking towards her. The moment she caught the sight of him coming, she stood up.

  When he got close to her, he could see her eyes swollen with tears, she looked forlorn.

  What could have happened? He thought

  “Hey” he said, looking concerned

  “Hey” she said, looking away

  “What’s up, baby?” he asked her, demanding to know what the problem was

  “Momma is dying, bruh” she said in between sobs

  Cyrus’ eyes shone instantly. He wasn’t expecting that, not even anytime soon. Quickly, he dashed to the door, fumbled for the keys in his pocket to stuff some of his belongings into his backpack. In a minute, he was done.

  Thirty minutes later, they were on a train to Tampa. While he seated, he thought about so many things. Financially, he has to be the one to shoulder the responsibilities of the family and he didn’t have a work yet.

  He thought about what he could sell to sustain the family through the economic succession, there was nothing he could sell as he didn’t even have a car.

  His parents were just poor sharecroppers. He wondered what he’d do. His stepsister was impregnated by some thug he knew way back then in the hood, even though he denied having anything to do with it. He felt hopeless

  In no time, they alighted from the train and got to their family house; an antiquated building in a ghetto neighborhood. Actually, almost every house in that hood looked that way. Some buildings were dilapidated.

  This was the neighborhood that Cyrus spent part of his childhood living in. It was hell living there because of the crimes committed by drug traffickers, bootleggers, pimps and some other felons. Being thoroughbred in this hood, Cyrus had watched all his childhood friends murderedor incarcerated one by one over the years over hood supremacy and drug trafficking.

  Cyrus had learnt the nitty-gritty of surviving in such places over the years and it had formed this solid, unbreakable part of him. He learnt how to be calm in face of impending danger and not be a coward; a quality that would later be of help to him later in life.

  “Hey dad” he said when he saw his dad coming from the kitchen.

  “Hi boy, what’s up?” his dad voice boomed. They bumped their fists.

  “Where’s momma?” he asked curiously

  “She be waitin’ for you in her room”, he said, looking bored

  “Just go on ahead bruh, imma make you breakfast” her sister interrupted as she headed to the kitchen

  Without a word, Cyrus walked towards his mother’s bedroom. He found her looking pale; she turned her face with caution and looked at who just walked into her room. She smiled, there he was; her boy, her pride.

  “My boy” her voice was cracked and frail. She extended her hands towards him. He walked to her and let her touch his face. He felt a wave of nostalgia running through him; this deep connection between him and her which he couldn’t explain

  “Mama!” he exclaimed, his clasping with hers. He kissed her on the forehead. He loved his mother so much; he wished he could do more for her. But here he was; an ex-soldier with nothing to show for it. He embraced her and then she caressed his face.

  “I missed you” she said

  “I’ve missed you too” he replied, caressing her forehead. He then pecked her on the cheeks. She smiled

  Cyrus woke up sweating profusely the next morning. He had slept in his childhood bedroom the previous night. What kind of nightmare that was, he wondered. He stretched on the bed and then walked lazily to the window. As he parted the drapery, rays of light seeped through the room with a laser-like focus. Beyond the window, the sun had just woken up from its slumber and was beginning to peek over its horizon. He saw a Ford Deluxe Coup swerving to pull over in front of the house. He took a close view at the car; it was a Model A, he wondered who it could be. Alighting from the car was a white man with a bald

  head who appeared to be in his late forties, he held a Cuban cigar in his right hand and rose up like a boss; his white suit reflecting in the early morning snow. Cyrus gaped, he knew who he was. Quickly, he changed his clothes and walked to the door.

  “Good morning sir” Cyrus walked to meet him

  “Where is your dad?” he asked curtly

  “He’s in, but you can also talk to me, sir”

  “Naah nigga, I have no business with you” He bellowed

  “Good morning, Mr. Diaz” it was Cyrus’ dad standing at the door of his apartment

  “Hello Mr. Gables, I need you to sign here and here” Mr. Diaz said, walking towards him and flipping out a letter. He was the Head of Banking Operations of Guaranteed Trust Bank;
a bank which had branches in parts of Florida. Due to the recession, the stock market was crashing; forcing banks to liquidate their assets. Black sharecroppers were losing their footing in southern agriculture and Mr. Gables wasn't going to be an exception.

  Mr. Gables who could neither read nor write collected the paper, surfed through the fine prints with a long drawn face. He then gave it to his son who looked at Mr. Diaz and then sighed. After going through the paper, he looked at his dad. "They

  are seizing your farmland, dad"

  Mr. Gables was dismayed. "You can't do this; I’d already told you I needed time"

  "Oh yeah nigga, I'm doing this. I can't wait that long. So right now, now all you have to do is sign on that sheet and let's call it a day" he said with a smirk on his face.

  Cyrus who had been watching the whole drama all along, folding his arms knew there was nothing his dad could do to make the banker change his mind, he sounded so resilient. "Dad?" He called out.

  Mr. Gables turned to look at him with a teary face.

  "Let it go" he said and then walked towards Mr. Gables who held out a pen. He took it and gave it to his dad to sign the paper.

  Mr. Gables paused for a while and then took the pen from his son, and signed.

  Mr. Diaz gave a smirk face "that would be all for now, adios" he said as he got into his car, screeched his tires to raise dust and then sped off, leaving Mr. Diaz coughing. He was asthmatic. In a flash, Cyrus ran into the house to get his inhaler, shook it and then used it on him. He regained back his consciousness and Cyrus was able to get him back into the house.

  The next day, Cyrus dressed up and went to see her mother. After that, he left the house to see Mr. Diaz in his office. He had proposed in his mind that he was going to beseech him to grant him a loan. When he got to the bank, it was filled up with a lot of white creditors. He asked the customer representative at his cubicle that he wanted to see Mr. Diaz. The white man looked at him in a scornful way until he brought out his ID Card.

  "Even if you're the mayor, boy. There's no way I'm allowing you to see Mr. Diaz in his office" the man said

  "But -" Cyrus paused as he saw Mr. Diaz coming out of his office; he seemed to be prepared to go out. He didn't even hesitate to follow him. And as soon as they got out of the bank, the following conversation ensued

  "Hello Sir" Cyrus said, trying as much as possible go catch up with his pace.

  Mr. Diaz was about to get into his car when he halted in his tracks, turned and then faced the tall, dark and handsome black figure that stood towering above him "What is it you want?"

  “I don't know if this is the right time to ask you this as you're about to leave

  already...”

  "What do you want?" He bellowed impatiently. More people walked past them heading to the bank. Everyone seemed to have one business or the other to do there.

  "I was thinking if you could grant me a loan for the meantime. My dad has a car; we could use it as collateral you know. And -"

  Cyrus was cut short by Mr. Diaz who let out a deep laughter which seemed not to end for some seconds "loan you say?" He laughed some more

  "Boy, ain't givin' you no loan. Go out there and work your ass out” he said and he got into his car

  "Sir, I wouldn't mind if you get me a job. I promise to play by all the rules I swear” Cyrus said

  He let out a deep laugh again and then stopped almost instantly "No jobs for nigger until every white man has a job" he said and then slammed the door of his car and zoomed off leaving Cyrus exasperated

  The next day, Cyrus was outside his dad's apartment talking to an old friend when he heard someone call out his name from the house. That was his sister, what could have happened again. Without taking excuse from his friend, he ran into the apartment. Confused, he heard his name again, this time from his mother's bedroom. He barged in to see her breathing heavily. He didn't know what to do.

  "Let's take her to the hospital" the voice said. He turned back to see the friend he was talking to before he ran into the apartment. He was obviously smart enough to have run after him too. What a friend, he thought

  "We don't have the cash for the medical bill" his step-sister screamed

  "Jessie, where's pop?" He asked her step-sister

  "He's out" she said, her eyes filled with tears

  Cyrus stared at his mom as though he's just had an epiphany.Once, he made up his mind and ran off to his room. A minute later, he came back leaving them bewildered. "Let's go" he said as he got to the bed and carried his mom in his arms and walked out of the apartment. His friend, Victor ran ahead of him to open the backdoor of his car and he placed his mom to sit in the normal posture, he then sat near her. With Jessica seating in the front seat,Victor drove off to the hospital.

  The hospital was just renovated some month before the depression. There were few health workers going about their business, the air smelled etheric. The environment was serene until they rushed in

  "Nurse!Nurse!" Cyrus thundered. Her mom was breathing harder than before; her eyes closing. The receptionist and two nurses who were around there rushed towards them. One of them was with a stretcher. Cyrus quickly put his mom on it.

  "Do you have your health insurance?" The receptionist asked

  Jessica looked at her "No, but-”

  "I'm afraid madam, there's nothing we -”

  Cyrus immediately stretched out his right hand to the back of his waist and pulled out a Colt revolver, took two steps back and then aimed it first to the receptionist, and then the two nurses. There was stir in the reception hall.

  "Now!" He said slowly; clenching his teeth, but the firmness in his voice gave them warning signal about the impeding trouble. Without a word, they wheeled his mom to the emergency unit.

  The receptionist who was obviously scared stepped back carefully. "Ease up, girl. Ain't harmin' nobody" he said and then he put the revolver to the back of his waist.

  Jessica gaped. She then remembered when he rushed into his room and then came back to carry their mother in his arms before they left for the hospital. She remembered where he had kept the revolver for years.

  "You shouldn't have done that, bruh", Victor said, tapping his shoulder. Then he walked to the receptionist and said "I'll foot the bill, ma'am"

  The receptionist nodded and then forced a smile. She walked back to her stand and then started working on her typewriter. Once in a while, she'd look up to Cyrus whether he still held the revolver or not.

  Cyrus took a deep breath to calm down and then sat one of the seats close by. He looked at Jessica who had been giving him a powerful gaze all along. Cyrus smiled; he knew it meant she wanted to tell him something. In a flash, his mind strolled down the memory lane when her sister used to save her way back when they were kids.

  They had been so close and inseparable when they were young that they had learnt each other's eye contact informally. On such occasion when Cyrus injures a friend

  in a street fight and he wants to get punished for it, all he needed to do was to call Jessica as an eyewitness to that incident. A squint from him to her could mean so much and before long, she starts lying in his favour; thereby vindicating him.

  "What's up?" He asked her

  She looked all around, noticing that the few people around were now calm. She walked to where he sat “You should leave now, bruh. The po-po could be here any minute -"

  She was interrupted by the blast of siren some blocks away from the hospital.