by Nikki Turner
“Well, actually I’m driving, so it will take me about a day, but I should be there by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.” I then took a deep breath. “Mommy, I have some bad news to tell you before I get there. I want you to know exactly what you’re facing when I arrive.”
“What’s wrong, baby? Are you okay?”
“Mentally I’m hanging in there, but physically I’m not quite as fortunate. Mommy, I’m HIV positive. I know you told me something like this was going to happen to me but …”
She cut me off. “Baby, I’m going to buy you a plane ticket. Go to the nearest airport and give me a call. You can leave that car or have it shipped; just get on the next flight out and come home.”
“Don’t you want to talk it over with Daddy to see if he wants me to come home like this?”
Unexpectedly I heard my father’s voice. “Melissa James, you are my child and I love you. I loved you when you were healthy, and I will love you when you’re sick. Do what your mother told you to do and hurry up and come home. Come on home, my child!”
Without hesitation I drove to the Atlanta International Airport and parked my car in the parking lot. As much as me and this ride had been through together, I had no intention of ever stepping foot back inside it. I planned to leave every single thing I owned in Atlanta, because I was making a new start.
Before calling my parents, I made a couple of copies of my test results and mailed them along with a letter to some of my little “friends” who had turned on me, like Fatz and his labelmates, Jay Spinz from the radio station, a couple of club owners and promoters, and most important, Reggie and his “family.”
Dear Friend,
By the time you read this letter I will be long gone from Atlanta. I moved to this city with a dream and an open heart, and I feel that you took advantage of me. Enclosed is a copy of a recent HIV test that I took, and by the way, it came back positive; yes, you read it right: positive! I’ve come to grips with the reality of it all and have taken responsibility for my actions and I hope you do the same. A good friend once told me to play hard with the cards that you’re dealt, so I hope you play your heart out, because this is not a game. Well, I have doctors to see, medications to fill, and a lot of enemies to dodge after these letters are mailed, so I have to go now. Just remember that you can live a long and healthy life should your test results come back identical to the one enclosed. In order to live, you have to give; give your all!
Sincerely,
FFB
An hour after talking to my parents, I was in the air looking down on the city of opportunities. I couldn’t help thinking how eager I was to come here, and it was ironic, but I was even more eager to leave.
Still Shining!
Two years later. Los Angeles, California
I was standing behind the curtain waiting to go onstage as the announcer began to introduce me. To be honest, I wasn’t nervous at all; I just wanted to hit the stage and do my thing.
“Okay, you guys are in for a treat. The next lady who’s about to bless the stage is a singer, songwriter, and published author. She’s been traveling and touring for the past year and gracing many of us with that beautiful voice of hers, and now I’m glad to welcome her. She’s the founder and CEO of STAR: Stop, Think, And Reconsider. She’s been bending over backward educating and serving as a mentor to young women everywhere who want to break into the music industry. Backed by her father, the Honorable Reverend Earl T. Booker James, and his lovely wife, Sister Patricia James, we bring you a true star. Ladies and gentlemen, please stand for Ms. Melissa James.”
I made my way to the stage to face an audience of ten thousand fans. I opened the ceremony with my new single, “The Cards I Was Dealt,” which was an open door to my life’s story. So far, my single had sold over a million copies worldwide and gone platinum. My biography had also been flying off the shelves. Just as the announcer said, my parents and I had been traveling all over the world teaching parents and kids how to be successful without compromising their lives. It was too late for me to go back and make corrections, but it wasn’t too late for me to help someone else.
STAR is a nonprofit organization providing vocal, spiritual, and intellectual training for young women aged 12 to 18. We offer them resources and outlets and a strong, positive role model in their lives. Maybe if there had been a program like that when I was younger, I wouldn’t have gotten caught in the web of immorality that I crawled into and got tangled in. I teach these young ladies to think before they act. In a nutshell, stop, think, and reconsider your decisions. If it’s something that can potentially come back to haunt you later, don’t do it.
So there you have it. I actually became a star, just not like I thought I wanted to be at first. I finally got to perform in front of a big audience, make money, and had my voice heard by thousands, and all it cost me was my life. I guess when you think about it, I was literally dying to be a star!
TYSHA
Money, Stilettos, and Disrespect
Goodbye, Mama
Beverly “Mama Bev” Woods lay at the bottom of the staircase constricted with electrical tape. Her hands and feet were swollen and bound too tight. She had taken a massive blow to the head, and she faded in and out of consciousness while strangers riffled through her worldly possessions.
“Get that flat screen out to the van. Grab the surround sound, iPod dock, and anything else worth some dough,” said the leader of the intruders.
The steady stream of tears and blood pouring from Mama Bev’s eyes added moisture to the tape around her mouth causing it to slip off. Her eyes followed three masked robbers as they destroyed the home she’d worked a lifetime to buy. She had no strength to fight back.
One tall young man kept glancing over at Mama Bev. His actions offered false hope that he might become her savior. Unlike his partners in crime, his demeanor suggested that he would pay to be anywhere else. Tramond “Rocky” Clinkscale was always impressionable. He was weak and lacked any self-assurance. His insecurity made it easy for him to lie, rob, and steal when others wanted him to. Rocky felt bad for their victim but he wouldn’t be the one to run to her aide. He wasn’t built to be a hero. Rocky diverted his eyes from Mama Bev. She continued to suffer alone.
“Bitch, where’s the money? Answer me! Where’s the money and dope?” demanded Slick. He violently shook his victim. Even if Mama Bev could have replied, the aggressive boy wouldn’t get the answers he wanted. There were no drugs or money to be found. The intruders had stormed the wrong house.
Things moved in slow motion for Mama Bev. Mama Bev faded away again with dreams of being by her daughter Aisha’s side when she gave birth to her first child. In her dream, life was as it should be: peaceful, happy, and blessed. She worried about her two adopted daughters, Kayla and Terry. They had been best friends with Aisha since they were kids. Kayla and Terry had become family and Mama Bev loved them as if they were her own. The three girls’ personalities complemented each other perfectly.
Aisha was strong-willed and, at times, stubborn. She often forgot how much inner strength she possessed but her mother never did. Terry was college educated, business-minded, and focused. Terry was sheltered as a child. She learned about the streets through her relationships with Kayla and Aisha. Mama Bev encouraged Terry to strive for success in every facet of life. Kayla grew up on the streets, hustling to survive. Her mother was addicted to drugs and her older brother was serving hard time. Kayla hustled her way to the top of the drug chain before the age of twenty. The streets knew her as Bossy, a hood legend. When she retired from the game, Kayla left her alter ego behind and preferred to be addressed by her given name. It took her loved ones some getting used to but they respected her wishes. Mama Bev knew how hard it was for Kayla to leave the streets. They often talked for hours about the pull the game had on her. Mama Bev would remind her daughter that she was the boss no matter where her lot in life took her.
She could feel herself slipping away. Her head began to spin, causing the vis
ions to fade away as her vital organs began to shut down. Mama Bev took one last breath, causing her body to tremble. Lord, forgive me of my sins. Please watch over the girls. Keep them safe and protected. I’m on my way home, Jesus, she cried. Her prayer is what she left this earth with.
“I know you got a stash up in here. Now, where is it?” yelled Slick. His anger was over the top. His victim was limp, only moving because he was shaking her.
“Hold up, dude,” said Rail. “You gon kill da bitch before we get her to talk.”
“Fuck that, man! This bitch gotta come up off that shit,” panted Slick. He kneeled over his victim, sweating like a pig.
“It’s too late. Your dumb ass already killed the bitch! Look at her man, look at her!” Rail said angrily.
The inexperienced intruders had crossed the line. Killing the home owner took them from thieves to aggravated murderers.
“Fuck! Now what do we do?” asked Rocky. He stood off to the side, trying not to look at the battered body.
“Now we do what the fuck we came here for. We tear this joint up ’til we find the dope and money. It’s here somewhere! Think, where could he have stashed it?” Slick didn’t show it, but he was as scared as his friends were.
They stayed in the house so long the sun began to rise. Slick, Rail, and Rocky collected all the jewelry they found, even prying the rings off Mama Bev’s fingers. Besides the electronics and the gold and diamond jewels, the robbery didn’t give them anything close to what they’d expected. The jewels would net them a small fortune if disposed of properly, but becoming “hood rich” remained a dream.
“Let’s go. We gotta get the fuck up out of here. Let’s go!” demanded Rail, leading the way out.
The light shining through the window landed on a framed picture hanging on the kitchen wall. Slick, Rail, and Rocky all gasped in recognition of the woman in the picture. It had been dark when they entered her house. None of them had paid any attention to the pictures placed throughout it. They’d have realized from the beginning that they’d made a terrible mistake breaking into the house. Fear and regret took immediate hold of their minds, bodies, and souls. Invading the wrong address was only their first mistake. The second mistake was killing the mother of a hood legend.
Holding On
Three weeks crawled by at a snail’s pace for Aisha, Kayla, and Terry. The sudden, cruel way Mama Bev had left this earth was proving too much for Aisha. Her weight had dropped eleven pounds. Her hair was becoming brittle, and dark circles had formed under her eyes. Crying had become her only proof of existence. She hadn’t left her mother’s home since the day of the funeral. It seemed impossible not to think about the torture her mother had endured. Aisha blamed herself for not being there when her mother had needed her the most. She had fallen so deep into a depression that her friends worried she might be suicidal, or even worse, homicidal.
Aisha sat in the middle of her bed staring at the program from Mama Bev’s service. She smiled at the thought of all the people that turned out to say their final goodbyes. The caravan behind the family limo had seemed to go on for miles. It really touched Aisha’s heart to see how many lives her mother had touched. Mama Bev’s neighbors had loved and respected her dearly. She was a positive role model who had mentored and assisted every single mother, each wayward child, and any stranger she met in need. She praised the children constantly but was quick to chastise them when warranted. When she got word of poor behavior or low grades in school, she would step right in and turn the situation around. Even the local gangs and natural-born knuckleheads respected her. No one ever bothered her. That’s what made her murder so hard to understand. No one could make any sense of it.
Tears streamed down Aisha’s face. She had never experienced so much pain in her life. Losing her mother had never crossed her mind until it became a reality. Mama Bev was her hero. Aisha didn’t know what to do without her and thinking about the agony she’d suffered before her death intensified her pain tenfold. Aisha thought her heart would never heal. Without Mama Bev around to guide and counsel her, Aisha was lost. She felt like a little girl as she curled into the fetal position and cried out for her mother. “Oh Mommy!” she sobbed. “Why’d you leave me like that? I should’ve been here for you. Please forgive me. I’m so sorry.”
She had cried herself to sleep and didn’t hear Kayla come into the house. “Aisha! It’s me,” announced Kayla. “I’ll be up in a minute.”
Aisha was dreaming that her mother was sitting beside her and they were talking. Mama Bev made Aisha promise not to let her death break her. She tried to remind Aisha that her strength was far greater than her grief and sorrow. Kayla woke Aisha at the wrong time. Her conversation with her mother wasn’t over. Aisha hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye.
Aisha dried her eyes and checked the time. It was much later in the day than she’d thought. Kayla and Terry brought her something to eat around the same time every day. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and gasped. It wasn’t like her to let herself go. Mommy, I know you’re disappointed in me right now. I promise you I’ll pull it together and do better, thought Aisha.
“Kayla!” yelled Aisha.
“What’s wrong?” asked Kayla. She was startled by Aisha’s yelling.
“I’m getting in the shower. I’ll eat a little later,” said Aisha.
Kayla was happy with the response. Getting Aisha to do anything these days was a battle. Kayla and Terry shared Aisha’s pain. They felt like biological daughters of Mama Bev, especially Kayla. After her brother went to prison and her mother dedicated her life to being a crackhead, Mama Bev took on the responsibility of caring for Kayla. Mama Bev had embraced Kayla and Terry with open arms and never let them go.
Thirty minutes passed before Aisha emerged from the bathroom wrapped in an oversized towel. She found Kayla sitting on the bed thumbing through an old photo album.
“I haven’t thought about life in the jets in years,” said Kayla, smiling.
“Look at our hair! What were we thinking?” Aisha laughed and Kayla joined in.
Life during those days was rough. But looking back, they were also good times.
“Mama Bev beat us all that day,” recalled Kayla as she pointed out a picture of herself, Aisha, and Terry sitting on C-Lok’s ’79 Impala.
C-Lok was Kayla’s first love and business partner. They had formed an unbreakable bond over the years. Mama Bev, Aisha, and Terry loved C-Lok and he felt the same about them.
“How could I forget? She went off on us after she threatened those poor boys with the .22 she carried in her purse, remember?” asked Aisha.
“They ran out of the apartment with the quickness. None of them ever spoke to us again.” Kayla laughed.
The sisters went through the entire album, laughing at all the memories it held.
“Aisha, you know it’s time for you to fight this depression. I don’t want to sound like I don’t care. You know Mama Bev was the only real mother I ever had. She would hold me responsible for taking care of you. You’ve had time to feel every emotion known to man, and Mama would not want you in this state of mind for so long,” said Kayla.
“You’re right, Kayla, it’s that time. Mommy told me the same thing in a dream I was having when you woke me up. It’s time for me to show that I’m the strong woman she raised me to be.” Aisha walked over to her dresser and grabbed a bottle of lotion. Kayla could see that she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.
“I’m angry. Why would anyone pick this house to break into? Everybody knew Mommy, knows us, hell, and is afraid of you. Anybody beating the streets knew not to do this,” Aisha said.
“Word’s out and the streets will be talking very soon. C-Lok has his people on it,” Kayla said.
“Good. I should have known he’d be on it,” sniffed Aisha.
“He’ll handle things. There’s nothing to worry about. We have to decide what’s going to happen with this house,” Kayla replied, trying to steer the conversat
ion in a different direction.
“What happens when C-Lok finds out who killed Mommy?” Aisha asked.
“Never ask the when, where, how, and especially the who. I taught you that lesson years ago.”
“This is different, Kayla. They tortured my mother, our mother, in her own home. She was beaten and brutally raped. She didn’t deserve to die the way she did. I have to know what will happen when they’re caught,” Aisha explained through her tears.
“Why? What do you want to happen?”
“They should suffer a worse death than the one Mommy went through. Shooting them is a kinder death than they deserve.”
“I have to agree with that,” Kayla replied.
“Will you see if C-Lok will arrange for it to go that way?” asked Aisha with pain and hatred in her heart.
“Yes, I will.”
“I just need one more thing from C-Lok, I’m going to need your help to get it,” began Aisha.
“What is it?”
“I want to be there when it happens. I have to be witness to the slow, painful deaths of the bastards who ripped my heart from my chest. I want revenge,” Aisha cried angrily.
$ $ $
On the streets, C-Lok was a ghost, an unseen legend. People knew Cliffton “C-Lok” Boyd’s legacy on the streets. He was head of the drug game and of a family he’d created from nothing. No one made a move without his permission. That included everyone from street soldiers to his queen, Kayla. His workers never saw him. He kept his hands on a buffet of drugs and guns. Many speculated that he’d move away from the impoverished city of Youngstown, Ohio. He was a man of honor, pride, and loyalty. In his mind, he could never abandon the city that had raised him, fed him, and kept him in business.
