by Tiana Laveen
Daddy would stand up for himself. I’mma stand up for myself, too!
He had to defend his position, even if it meant half his teeth would be on the floor soon after. He was fighting for his own damn self, so much so, he didn’t notice the small crowd gathering around. Out of the corner of his eye, he witnessed a boy dressed in black from head to toe step forward. He had a strange presence about him, but he didn’t pay him much attention until he heard the fellow stomp his Timberland-clad foot, as if getting ready to go into a choreographed dance. Hassani caught his gaze, and the two locked into one another as if they’d known each other from way back when. A skinny toothpick swiveled out the side of the guy’s mouth, while people took a few steps back from him, giving him all the room he could ever want.
Who is he? He must be somebody special…
He was bigger than most of the other kids looming around with candies wedged in between their rapidly rotating jaws and their eyes focused on the matter at hand. It was cold outside, regardless of the sun shining bright, but the son of a gun wore a long, black tank top, as if it were summer in L.A. His black jacket hung over his slightly muscular arm, his skin the color of Isis’—light gold with a natural sheen. He removed his black New York Yankees ball cap from atop his head, causing dark spirals of shiny hair to land across his shoulders. Then, he spun the hat around on his finger like a spinner top and his bright, hazel eyes glistened like jewels.
“Fredrick!” the guy barked, causing Hassani’s two new enemies to back up against the nearby mosaic wall. If fear had a smell, it must’ve been piss, because he was certain the smaller one, the cookie-headed jerk, had tinkled a bit on himself.
“What tha fuck you doin’, man?” he asked easily, slick like…smooth and graceful all at the same time. His words poured like ice flowing across a skating rink, but they held punch, like a hockey puck going hard into the goal. Coated in a thick layer of menace, with just a faint trace of a Spanish accent, the kind Hassani was accustomed to hearing back home in L.A.
“We was just welcomin’ the new guy.” Frederick laughed nervously as he shifted from one foot to another and shoved his grimy hand into his slouched jeans pocket.
The moon-faced boy didn’t look so tough anymore…
“No you weren’t, man. You were trying to shake ’im down. I come ova here to give Julio his damn lunch—he forgot it again—and I walk up and see you young bucks bullying this little ass boy. That’s fucked up.” The guy shot Hassani an all-knowing grin then winked before turning back to Fredrick and his friend.
“This little cat can’t be more than nine years old, and you are what? Twelve? What a fuckin’ disgrace! Yo’, don’t let me find you messing with him again. Get tha fuck outta here!” The two bullies reared back and disappeared like smoke from a snuffed candle, racing down the hall and not looking back.
What is going on here? What just happened?
Hassani couldn’t help but be in awe. The guy was so cool, laid back. He may have almost been cooler than Dad. Nobody said one darn word as he stood there, commanding silence by his mere presence. The crowd began to disperse as he clapped his hands, encouraging people to go back from whence they came.
“You alright, little man?” he asked, placing his hand on Hassani’s shoulder.
“Yeah, I’m alright. I coulda handled it dough.” Hassani chin checked, feeling the need to endorse his reputation. “I ain’t no punk.”
The guy burst out laughing, flicked his tongue out like a snake, then worked the toothpick from side to side. Just then Hassani noticed a wad of pink gum in his mouth, too.
He can chew gum and a toothpick at the same time?
“Yeah, I’m sure you coulda.” The guy arched a black eyebrow and smirked. “Look, you gotta be careful ’round here, okay? There are plenty more where that came from.” He pointed down the hall from where Fredrick and his little butt hair friend had disappeared. “I take it you’re new.”
Hassani nodded.
“What grade are you in? Third or fourth?”
“…Third,” Hassani mumbled as he made his way to his book bag and retrieved it. His heart beat a bit faster upon sight of all the scattered contents. He had a taste for revenge, and he was damn sure going to get it. For that moment though, he concentrated on the issue at hand, carefully placing all of his items back inside the bag.
Damn…they got my lunch money…
“You got lucky. Most people wouldn’t have stepped in to help. These mothafuckas are scared of Fredrick. He can fight, ’specially for a sixth grader. They’d just watch you get your little ass beat is all and then determine if they can take you on too, get in on the action. Then before you know it, you’d be extorted for all ya damn money…end up stealing from your own mama to keep from getting your lips busted. By the way, my name is Angel Diaz.”
Hassani looked at the guy for a moment, studying him.
Why is he being so nice to me? What does he want?
He began to fill up with suspicion like a cup. Shaking the paranoid feelings away, he picked the rest of his stuff up and huffed out a stiff response.
“My name is Hassani.”
“What’s your last name?”
“Aknaten.”
“Aknaten, huh? That’s a different last name. Never heard that before. What’s that?”
Hassani raised a brow in bewilderment. Angel laughed lightly and placed his hat back on his head. Their conversation was cut short when the bell rang, slicing through the pivotal moment. “Oh, never mind, man. You better hurry to your class before you’re counted as late. I’d hate for that to happen on your first day. Look, I’m two floors up. I’m in the eighth grade.” He pointed towards the ceiling as if it were heaven. “My little brother, Julio, is in the fourth grade here. He is always forgettin’ something, so,” he shrugged, “I’ve gotten to know some of the younger kids down here. Anyway, I’m going to watch out for you, okay?”
Hassani grumbled and made his way to his classroom.
“You don’t have to do nothin’ like that. I can handle it.” He kept his back turned as he walked, feeling a bit embarrassed and a whole lot angry about the entire incident. When he heard the guy laugh lightly, he paused and looked at him from over his shoulder.
“Oh really?” Angel grinned, his sparkling white teeth seemingly a bit brighter than before.
“Yes, really.” Hassani found himself growing rather annoyed at his newfound hero. Problem was, he really didn’t want to be saved. Not because he didn’t need it, but now, he felt like a darn fool.
Just ’cause he older don’t mean he better than me!
He hated that he admired the guy all the same, despite everything.
“Be easy, man.” Angel laughed as he casually zipped his jacket up. “Don’t get mad. Look, I’m just tryna help. You betta wise up though. Ain’t no such thing as a coincidence, son.”
That’s exactly what Mommy always says…
“I ain’t just wander over here out the damn blue, fall out the sky and land in front of your classroom like Mary fuckin’ Poppins. Yeah, my little bro forgot his lunch, but I still have that shit in my pocket, ain’t seen his ass yet because I stumbled across some real shit. I know greatness when I see it.” He winked at him. “I’m tryna be on your team, man.” He made the short jaunt up to Hassani and patted his back before turning and walking away.
“What do you mean by that?” Hassani called out as the teacher approached him to usher him inside the room. She placed her small hands around his shoulders, drawing him towards her, but all he wanted to do was follow behind the heels of this unbelievable person, the guy that had just saved him from further humiliation.
Angel stopped and turned back towards him. “We’re one and the same. You wavy, son! Wait until you turn thirty-five, yo! You’re gonna be a baaaaad mothafucka!” He cackled, waved and disappeared up the hall without another word…
*
Chapter Twelve
“Dakarai had a great day at school!” Xenia exclaimed a
s she bustled through the doors with Isis in tow. “He about talked my ear off in the car.” She chuckled as she set his red book bag and finger-paint art projects down on the kitchen counter along with a few bags of groceries. Saint leaned back in his leather booth-like seat at the galley table and ran his fingers across his forehead, slowly closing his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Xenia asked, the rustling of the brown paper bags finally settled as her movements diminished.
“Daaaaddy!” Isis exclaimed, forcing him to look up once more through fatigued eyes. The young girl raced towards him.
“Heeeey, princess,” he said wearily before he kissed her forehead, picked her up in his arms, and rocked her against his chest. “Xenia, I’m glad Dakarai had a good day. Unfortunately, I can’t say the same about Hassani. It was not pleasant, to say the least.” He sighed as he reflected—not even his wife’s honey lemonade could make the boy feel better.
“Oh no…where is he?” She looked out the kitchen towards the steps, her body already in motion to take off in flight and find her baby boy.
Saint raised his hand and nodded. “Just give him a minute, baby. He wants to be alone. He’s in his bedroom. Basically, two little fuc…I mean,” he looked down at Isis and caught himself, “two little knuckleheads tried to shake him down for his mooga.”
“Huh?” A look of disgust covered Xenia’s face, but it was actually bewilderment.
“Money, his money…sorry, it’s a New York thing. They didn’t get much, but he didn’t get to eat lunch. Anyway, this morning I had him hide it in a side flap of his shirt. It’s an old trick. I remembered that shit—”
“…Saint.”
“Stuff, my bad…” He looked down at Isis who was smiling up in his face, seemingly enjoying the curse words that rolled out of his mouth. “So as I was saying, Bomb had taught me how to keep my money on me because I used to get jumped in school and would come running to him complaining one time too many. Only difference was, Bomb taught me to fight back, too, but we can’t have Hassani swingin’ on people.”
At least not just yet…
“The good news is they didn’t find anything of value and he only has a little bruise on his lower back.” He thought surely, that would ease her concerns, but instead, just the opposite occurred.
“What tha hell?! No uh, I’m going to go check on my baby! They better not have hurt my child!” Xenia ignored Saint’s warnings, tossed down a bunch of carrots, and marched out of the kitchen as if riding a large flame, ignited by the words that tumbled out of her husband’s mouth.
“Xenia!” Saint rose from his seat, holding Isis a bit tighter. “Baby, don’t!” He shook his head and gave her a stern expression. “I know you want to mother on him, protect him, but he needs a minute alone… Please, just trust me on this.”
She paused, her back towards him. He could see the woman wanted to ignore him, to keep on her way to comfort her baby and hold him tight in her arms. At last, though, she turned back towards him, shoulders slumped, her face wrought with worry. She more than likely felt a bit defeated. Hassani was growing up, and these were growing pains. It came with the territory.
“Come ’ere, baby,” he motioned.
He hurt for their son as much as she did, knew this deep within him. But that still didn’t matter to the Queen that birthed that baby, felt him moving inside of her, growing bigger day by day until finally, he left her body and clung to her breasts for nourishment. He didn’t try to compare the two, but he was Hassani’s father, and he loved him long and hard, too. It killed him to have to leave the boy alone, but it was obvious from the little guy’s face that he needed precious time to sort his thoughts, and not for Daddy or Mommy to make it all right.
Xenia walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He kissed the top of her head while Isis clung to him a bit tighter and giggled, as if some funny scene from a Pixar movie had played out before her eyes.
“Where’s Dakarai?” he asked after a few moments. “Shouldn’t he be in the house by now?”
“He’s sorting out some bins in the garage. There’s some color game they’re doing in school and he asked to use those canisters I had in storage, you know, the ones in all the different colors that we used to keep Isis’ little toy parts in. Can you believe they already have homework? He’s in kindergarten for goodness’ sake.”
“Yeah, remember how they did Hassani, Xenia? Things are different from when we were kids. I didn’t start getting homework until like the fourth grade, and that was nothing major. Now it takes kids hours just to do one assignment. I don’t agree with it, not to mention, their overall standardized test scores haven’t improved from all this extra stuff. I wish kids could just be kids, not scholastic achievements for these damn schools to hang their hats on.” He exhaled and kissed Isis’ cheek.
Xenia nodded in agreement.
“Isn’t that the truth?” She shook her head. “Anyway, he’ll be up in a minute… Let me get dinner on.” She sighed and went to the stove, but not before throwing another glance at the hallway, towards the steps. Her heart was breaking. But what could she do? What could they both do?
“You’re starting the radio show soon. Are you excited, baby?” he asked, deciding to change the topic to help ease her worry. He sat back down and opened up a bag of dried fruit sitting on the table for Isis to snack on. The little girl grabbed the piece of pineapple from his grip and popped it into her mouth with fine-tuned dexterity, as well as a big, proud smile on her face. He kissed her nose.
“Yes.” Saint could hear the smile in his wife’s voice even though her back was turned towards him. “I’m definitely looking forward to it, but the nanny hunt is still not going well.”
“It’s the great Nanny-Gate!” he joked, causing her to chuckle.
“Nanny-Gate!” Isis repeated, giggling too, even though she didn’t have a clue as to what they were discussing.
“I think it’s me, Saint. No one is good enough for some reason. I’m being perverse. It’s almost like I’m stalling, but, I really do want to do this.”
“You’ll find someone soon, I can feel it.” He handed Isis a dried blueberry and decided to snack on one himself. “You need help with anything?” he asked between chews as he switched the girl to his other knee.
Xenia reached for a large silver pot from a lower cabinet and looked at him from over her shoulder before rising back up and placing it on the stove.
“No…just for everyone here to be happy.” She grabbed the big bottle of olive oil. “I guess that’s too much to ask, huh?” She chuckled woefully.
“Nah, not really, but everyone has got to pay their dues, I suppose.”
“Yeah well,” She opened the refrigerator door and retrieved an unopened bag of fresh spinach. “It seems some people’s dues are a lot cheaper for more bull they’ve caused, while the rest of us have to work five and six jobs just to keep up with a bill we don’t even recall receiving, let alone owing. No one ever said life was fair…but damn, sometimes I wish it could pretend to be…”
*
Saint puffed on his cigar like an angry chimney. Thick smoke curled out the side of his mouth in thick folds, fogging up the car despite the rolled down window.
“What the fuck is goin’ on?” he questioned, a raspy tone coating his vocal chords. He gave a small smile and glanced at Xenia from the corner of his eye. “Fuuuuck! Ohhh yeeeeah! I don’t know what station this is, but they’ve been jammin’ all day.” He chortled as the Jones Girls sang, ‘You Gone Make Me Love Somebody Else.’ He turned it up a bit, causing his wife to bob about in her seat as if she were some Soul Train dancer.
“What? No rap music? Who are you trying to charm this evening?” Xenia giggled like a schoolgirl. She leaned back on the leather car seat, her fingers snapping to the old school beat.
“Yeah, yeah, make fun, but I’m trying to get you in the mood.”
“For what? Some hole in the wall pizza place?” She placed her hand on her hip, trying to send
him an attitude wrapped up tightly in a Xenia package.
He turned the corner onto Greenpoint Avenue in Brooklyn, approaching their destination.
“Look, you asked me where I liked to get my pizza from, and there are a lot of places, but Paulie Gee’s is fuckin’ delicious. I was here a couple times on my last visit. You want some Brooklyn Pizza, this is a good place to go…and it isn’t a hole in the wall. You L.A. women are so snobby, little snooty ass,” he teased.
Xenia grimaced, rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, pretending to be offended.
“You asked me out on a date…”
“I did.”
“And you take me to a pizza joint.” She smirked, trying to get him going again.
“I can’t win for losing!” He laughed, then took another puff of his cigar and let his arm hang leisurely out the window, dropping ashes along the way. “You said you wanted pizza. I got us a babysitter since Nanny-Gate is still—”
“Don’t make fun of me! I better not hear that ‘Nanny-Gate’ comment again.” She chuckled, her bottom lip quivering just so.
“I will make fun…of you…all…night…long!” He flicked his tongue at her nastily, causing her to blush in a becoming way. “Anyway, here it is.” He put his cigar again to his lips, inhaled and extinguished it in the car ashtray before taking a deep breath. He opened the Lamborghini suicide door; it flew up like a bird wing, leaving room for him to step out like a head mothafucka in charge. Adjusting his jacket, he shrugged his shoulders like a gangster and took in the cool night air, inhaling deeply. So invigorating, it seized his body with an icy kiss. The chill got even sharper when he rounded his car and helped Xenia step away from the door. He pulled his black leather coat tighter around his body, then, like a perfect gentleman, he took her by the elbow and helped her out. Her glass heel sparkled against the concrete as the street lights grabbed hold of it, making it look as if it were made of crushed diamonds.
