Against the Grain
Page 26
When the crowd finally stopped clapping and sat down, she thanked everyone she could think of who she had met over the years. Then she said, “And finally, before I leave, I’d like to thank my husband, because without him I wouldn’t be where I am today. I love you, honey.” The camera went to Kay, who sat in the front row.
He mouthed the words, “I love you, too.”
She continued, “And I’d like to thank our children for putting up with me when I couldn’t give them a hundred percent of myself because of my job. I love you all. This is for you.” She lifted her award in the air. Everyone clapped as she left the stage.
• • •
Sitting in a TV room full of inmates at the United States Penitentiary in Lompoc, California, serving a life sentence was Joey You. He startled the rest of the inmates when he laughed out loud uncontrollably. They all looked at him as if he were crazy. Some even got up and moved away from him. Joey didn’t care. He laughed until it hurt. When he couldn’t laugh anymore he got up and walked out of the TV room and went to his cell.
Noticing the smile on Joey’s face, his Asian cellmate asked him in their native Thai, “What are you so happy about? You got word on your appeal?”
“No not yet. The lawyers are still working on it,” Joey responded in Thai. Then he continued in English, “I was just watching this awards show and while this black girl was thanking her family the camera showed them.” He paused a moment, then he smiled and said, “Kay is her husband. I will never forget his motherfucking black face. I’m putting another million dollars on his head and a hundred thousand for each family member killed. Women and children included. I want his bloodline stopped so that he doesn’t produce any more fucking snitches.”
37
Far away in Africa, Shu-Shu lived in a huge house. She was still a beautiful woman. Her maid poured her a glass of milk and honey.
“Will that be all, Madame?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said before taking a sip of her milk. She stared at the wall across from her on which hung a big mural of Kay that she had painted from an old picture. She still loved Kay and missed him so badly that it hurt her at times. She would sometimes spend hours in this room thinking of him. She wanted to reach out to him so badly, but couldn’t risk it. Not yet anyway. She hadn’t had any contact with him since the day before the Feds came for her. She contacted the lawyer a few times because he had to move some money around for her. Warren told her that Kay had been released, but he didn’t know where Kay was. Kay came and got his cashier’s check for thirteen million dollars that the lawyer was holding and disappeared. Shu-Shu almost dropped her milk when the door flew open and a young boy ran inside and shut the door behind him. He ran to her side. The door opened again and a young African woman came in.
“Sorry, Madame, I was giving Arkadian his math lessons for the day and he just got up and ran,” the young woman said.
Shu-Shu looked at the young boy. “What did I tell you about your lessons?”
“I know, Mother, but I’m tired. Can’t I finish later?” he asked in a proper English accent.
“Promise?” she asked him.
“Promise.”
Shu-Shu said to the young woman, “That will be all for now, Sumayah.”
The young woman left.
The boy looked at the mural on the wall and asked, “When will I meet my father, Mother?”
Shu-Shu ran her fingers through his curly hair that hung down his back and said, “Soon, baby. . . . soon. I promise you.”
Acknowledgments
___________________
Dear God,
I am still drawn to the things of this world.
Despite my promises, how half-hearted,
I still am!
With all your goodness to me
I hesitate & doubt your love.
Please help me to resist
Evil and do good.
Amen.
God, my family, my friends . . . in that order.
This book is dedicated to my #1 fan, who always had my back no matter what—when I was a breakdancer, when I was a rapper, when I was a drug dealer, and now that I’m a writer—Joy Adams, my mother. Kashma, Malik, Shamiera, and Emanee (my children), Daddy loves you. E-Kie, Tess, Armanee, Arnette, Jermaine, Pooh, KaShira, my dad, Sharese, Tara, Jennifer, Jannette, DaPre’-Dion, Tina, Sonya, Greg Hipps in FCI Petersburg Low, Petey Pablo, Nickie Rochelle, Maria Williams, Kim Boxley and family, Kecia, DeRonde, Mike Boo, Josh, JD, Cube, Swing, C-Allah, Von Derrick, Tish Briggs, Da Playaz, Shannon Rogers, Nikki in Seattle, Breeze, Unique, my Staten Island family, Tymeeka Dickerson, my KMG family, Freddie (I’ma write a book about your crazy ass), Cierra and Puddin’, Curtis, all my peoples in B-more . . . couldn’t have written this book without you. My niggaz Mickey and Eric Brown . . . hold ya head up, Andre Brown, West Baltimore, East Baltimore, Aunt Liz, Sister Souljah, for writing the baddest fuckin’ book I ever read: The Coldest Winter Ever (This was my blueprint), Teri Woods, Wahida Clark (Did you think that I would forget you?), Melody Guy (We gonna sit back and laugh about this one day), everyone at One World/Ballantine who had a hand in my project . . . thank you.
My best friend in the whole wide world, Deborah Edwards (I love you, nigga!!!), Shante, Cheryl, Chammy, Rasheem, Trabian, Tyriq, Vickie M. Stringer, for introducing me to the game. She published my first short story “Free Money.” Nikki Turner for believing in me and keeping me in the game. Now I’m the LeBron James of this shit. What else can I say? I love you, yo (smile). You did everything you said you’d do. Now let’s get it!
Shannon Holmes, you dropped jewels on me, my nigga and I picked them up. Your words didn’t fall on deaf ears.
Tara Hannum, my English teacher/friend, who inspired me to become a writer.
I’m from Greenville, N.C. . . . G-Vegas stand up! I’ma always love y’all. But Raleigh is my home for now. They welcomed me with open arms. Love is love, Raleigh, N.C.
I wrote Against The Grain while I was in prison. During those nine years I came across a few fake niggaz and a lot of real niggaz. Too many to name, so I’ma do it like this: To all my dudes from North and South Carolina, Virginia, B-more, D.C., N.Y., Ohio, Georgia, and Miami . . . love is love. And special shout-outs to all the dudes I had the pleasure to meet at FCI Butner & FCI Petersburg. Very special shout-outs to Akbar Pray, Calvin “Nasir” Palmer, Knowledge, Malik (D.C.), and Jamie Lowe . . . thanks for the love. Thanks to all the guys who read Against the Grain and gave me your honest criticism. Can’t forget all the women on lockdown . . . hold ya head up, ladies.
If you’re a black author, I’ve probably read your work. You make me step up my game. Thank you. My author friends: S.C. Dickens, Tiphani, Control, Sixx, Ed in VA, and Tonya Ridley. Steel sharpens steel!
If you feel like I should have given you a shout-out, blame my mind, not my heart. I’d like to give a shout-out to (your name here).
To my wifey: It’s 4:00 a.m. and I’m watching you sleep. So beautiful. It’s been a long, hard year. Can you believe it? We’re finally in a comfortable place. You inspire me to do better. I love you. Next year we gonna take off the y.
To my nigga Rey . . . you know what it is . . . G-Child 4 Life!!!
I leave all of you with something to marinate on: I am what I am, and all that I am not, I’m simply trying to be.
Tell me what you think of the book at:
Freeze
4501 New Bern Ave., suite 130-121
Raleigh, N.C. 27610
You can also e-mail me at freezeent@yahoo.com.
Visit me on MySpace at www.myspace.com/freezeent.
A Final Word from Nikki
____________________
The contents of this book do not necessarily reflect the ideas or viewpoints of Nikki Turner. As you’ve just read, snitching is a major plot point in Against the Grain. I, in no way, shape, or form, believe in snitching, cooperating, corroborating, or any other synonym used to justify sending someone to prison solely to avoid taking respons
ibility, because he or she got caught out there and couldn’t hold the weight. If you chose to be a part of the game, then you must be man or woman enough to accept the consequences of your actions.
Informants—what the federal government likes to call them—even have their own slimy sayings:
“Why take ten (years) when you can tell on a friend.”
“If I wanted to be a soldier, I would have joined the army.”
“Facing twenty years, tell on your friend; facing life, tell on him twice.”
How reptilian is that?
However, I’ve dedicated my career to depicting the game in the most accurate form possible and rats are a major part of the game. So no matter how much I disagree with this ideology, to quote a catchy advertising slogan: “If it’s in the game, it’s in the game!”
Thank you again for reading Nikki Turner Presents books.
About the Author
___________________
FREEZE lives in Raleigh, N.C.
This is his first novel.
Against the Grain is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A One World Books Trade Paperback Original
Copyright © 2008 by Freeze
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by One World Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
ONE WORLD is a registered trademark and the One World colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Freeze (Novelist)
Against the grain : a novel / Freeze.
p. cm.
“A One World Books trade paperback original”—T.p. verso.
1. African American men—Fiction. 2. Ex-convicts—Fiction. 3. Drug Traffic—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3606.R4476A73 2008
813′.6—dc22 2008026162
www.oneworldbooks.net
eISBN: 978-0-345-50996-3
v3.0