by Tysha
The ride down to Scott Street seemed to happen in a heartbeat, much too fast for Prince. Taking a deep breath, Prince braced himself to face the unknown like a man. He had no idea what to expect, but he figured being raised in the Victories Housing Projects had groomed him for what awaited him behind those brick walls. Prince also took heed of the fact that he would not be alone. Shit, I’m tripping. Raequan will be here with me, so I ain’t got nothing to worry about, Prince said to himself. I know my boy got my back.
Chapter 10
An Honest Day’s Work
Shy was at work, watching the thin second hand on the clock slowly tick by. She had another fifteen minutes to go before quitting time. It had been a long day of dealing with the public and their nasty attitudes. Shy hated being assigned to the outpatient clinic, where people were free to verbally abuse her for no reason. For the life of her, Shy could never figure out why people would be downright evil to a person who was trying to help them. The last four patients she’d drawn blood from had gotten smart with her. One elderly man even cussed her out like she’d stolen something from him. She was grateful that her rotating schedule only placed her in the clinic twice a month.
In order to avoid drawing blood from one more asshole, Shy was hiding out in one of the stalls in the ladies’ room. Her feet, back, and head were aching. She just wanted to go home and relax.
Shy was the type of woman who never left the house with one strand of hair out of place. Never one for much makeup, Shy made sure her lips were always glossed, her eyebrows were always perfectly waxed, and her eyes were lined with a brown liner to enhance her beautiful light brown eyes. Thanks in part to possessing natural beauty and aging well, the thirty-eight-year-old queen always caught the eyes of men.
To help pass time, Shy reached inside her pocket to turn on her cell phone and check her messages. As soon as she received power the cell phone began ringing.
“Hello.”
“Mom, it’s Jayden.”
“I know ya voice, boy. Why aren’t you at practice or lifting weights or wherever it is you should be?”
“Mom, you need to get home as soon as possible,” Jayden huffed.
Shy dropped her head in despair and felt what little energy she had left seep from her body.
“Please don’t tell me it’s Prince,” said Shy, sighing. “It is Prince, isn’t it? What has your brother done this time?”
“Mom, just come home please. I don’t know how to get him out of this one.” Jayden hung up the phone before his mother could demand to know what was going on. He knew she would be upset and Jayden couldn’t have her driving and crying at the same time. Jayden took a deep breath and sat down on the couch to gather his thoughts. His heart broke into pieces each time he had to call his mother with bad news about his reckless and, at times, even selfish brother.
“I can’t believe how stupid he can be sometimes,” vented Jayden.
“You need to calm down, man,” said Quincy. “I love him too, but he makes these bad choices and he just doesn’t care how it affects you or Aunt Shy.”
“You’re right, but he is still my brother and I feel responsible for him. I just don’t know how to protect him from himself. How do you protect a person from himself?”
Jayden put his face into his hands and silently asked God to give his father a message. Lord, ask my dad to tell me what to do to save my brother, and please watch over him while he’s behind bars.
By the time Shy arrived home, all of the anger Jayden was feeling toward Prince was replaced with concern for his mother. Shy parked her car and was not pleased to see her sister, Tara, standing on the porch with Jayden and Quincy.
Just what I need on top of everything else, her know-it-all, snobby ass, thought Shy. Jayden met his mother at her 2006 white Toyota Camry and opened the driver side door for her.
“Hi, baby,” Shy said before giving her son a kiss on his cheek. “What has he done this time?” Shy held her breath and waited for Jayden’s response.
“Mom, Prince and Raequan have been accused of stealing a car and robbing an old lady on Market Street. The police caught up with them and arrested them both.”
Shy knew this day would come, she just wished it had happened sooner. With Prince being seventeen the state could decide to treat him as an adult despite the fact that he wasn’t even old enough to vote.
“Did they take him to juvenile or the county?” asked Shy.
“I don’t know, Mom. The arrogant cop wouldn’t answer any of my questions and Prince hasn’t called yet.”
“Where is Baby Girl? She wasn’t home to see them carrying her brother off in handcuffs, was she?”
The same day her husband was murdered, Shy discovered she was pregnant with the little girl she and Melvin had wanted for years. Melvin did not live long enough to even find out another baby was on the way. Shy had just left her doctor’s appointment and stopped by the Boys Club to get Jayden from basketball practice. After picking up a celebratory dinner for the family, Shy arrived home to find an abundance of police cars, ambulances, and spectators fixated on their apartment. What should have been a happy evening turned into the most traumatic event anyone could ever experience. Shy and Jayden kept Melvin alive by sharing stories of happy times with the beautiful little girl named Lilac Princess.
“No, Mom, the police arrested Prince on Market Street. I haven’t picked her up from daycare yet because I didn’t know how you were going to receive the news and I don’t want to upset her. You know how she likes to ask a million questions.”
“How did your Aunt Tara find out about this?” asked Shy. The last thing she needed was her older sister telling her how she was failing as a mother.
“Quincy called her, Mom.”
As children, Shy looked up to her big sister and strived to be just like her. The five-year age difference made Tara appear bigger than life to her little sister. Once Shy grew up and began making decisions about her life without consulting Tara, things between them changed. With life’s challenges and Shy receiving a bigger blessing in life than what she did, their relationship changed from sisters to mere acquaintances. Shy was tired of Tara always judging her and pointing out her mistakes. In Shy’s eyes, Tara had gone from a cool ghetto girl to a judgmental, opinionated snob overnight. It infuriated Shy that her sister acted like she had forgotten where she came from.
“Now what are you going to do?” asked Tara without greeting her sister.
“Hi, Tara, and how are you today?” Shy rolled her eyes and walked through her front door. Tara took a deep breath and followed Shy.
“Don’t just walk away from me like that. I asked you a question, Shy,” responded Tara.
“First, I’m going to sit down and drink a beer. Second, I will take a quick shower, and third, I’m going to send Jayden to pick up Baby Girl for me. On second thought, maybe I’ll send for Baby Girl first,” answered Shy with as much sarcasm as she could muster.
“Don’t get smart with me, Shy, you know what I meant. What are you going to do about Prince getting arrested?” snapped Tara.
“If you would let me finish . . .” Shy rolled her neck. “Fourth, I’ll drive downtown, find out exactly where my son is being held, and find him a lawyer. Does that meet your requirements on how I should handle this situation with my son?”
“You know what, Shy?”
Shy immediately stood up and put her hands on her hips. She had a long day and would have loved to release her stress on her opinionated sister.
“You need to let him sit down there and think about what he has done. If Prince was my son, I would—”
“See, Tara, that’s just it. Prince is not your son, he’s mine. I may not be raising the perfect child, with the perfect husband, in the perfect house, but I’m doing the best that I can. If that doesn’t meet your standards, then to hell with you and your opinion!”
“Shy, all I’m saying is . . .”
“Have I asked you for your opinion? You being a better paren
t than me in no way means you love your child any more than I love mine!” Shy stormed past Tara, purposely bumping into her before showing her to the door. She was not in the mood for unsolicited advice, and was tired of Tara and her brother-in-law looking down their noses at her. Shy held the screen door open for Tara.
“Now take your snobby ass back to your perfect suburban life and stay the hell out of my business,” demanded Shy.
“Shy, why are you always so defensive when it’s about Prince? He needs more help than you can offer him. Why can’t you see that?”
“Why do you have to be the one to make decisions on what is best for my son? Ain’t nobody else in his corner but me, so fuck you and your advice!” yelled Shy. Her head was throbbing and it was taking everything inside of her not to punch the hell out of her sister.
“You don’t even know what happened today and you already protecting him,” added Tara as she walked off the porch.
“You know why, Tara? It does not matter what he did. Prince can go out and kill an entire block and I would still have his back. Right or wrong he is still my child, my son and nothing and nobody will ever change that. Now, get the hell out!”
“Quincy, get in your car and come home. I don’t have to put up with being spoken to this way, and until your aunt apologizes to me, you are not to be over here,” Tara ranted.
Quincy did as he was told, but not before apologizing to his Aunt Shy for his mother’s behavior.
“It’s okay, baby. You have absolutely nothing to be apologizing for,” Shy assured her favorite and only nephew. “And, Tara, I’m telling you now, don’t have your perfect husband call my house trying to force his opinion down my throat, or so help me God, all hell will break loose. Do not test me.”
Shy could not believe the nerve of her sister. She had a husband at home to help raise her son. Only a man can teach a boy how to be a man and Shy understood that. What she did not understand was how Tara and her husband, Bruce, acted as if they had been perfect teenagers and never made mistakes. Shit, if it wasn’t for our mother beating the hell out of her every other day, Tara would be locked up someplace. But I guess she can’t remember all the stress and trouble she caused when we were growing up. And Bruce isn’t any better. His ass was in and out of juvenile so much they probably named a wing after his punk ass, thought Shy.
“Jayden, take my car and go pick up my baby girl. When you get back I’ll go check on your brother.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And, Jayden, you tell Quincy that his mother does not need to know my business. I’m sure you’ll talk to him before me. You got that?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’m sorry.”
Man, this just isn’t my day, thought Jayden.
Chapter 11
Mommy to the Rescue
Cherise sat in the office of her soul food restaurant and catering establishment, counting money. It was the fifteenth of the month and time for her to make a deposit into her business bank account. Frustrated that her numbers didn’t match the sales receipts, Cherise opened the bottom desk drawer and grabbed the bottle of Hennessy to help calm her nerves.
She began cooking for family and friends who needed catering services more than eight years ago. Soon thereafter, she began receiving requests from strangers to cater their special events. After a while, the requests began pouring in like rain and Cherise’s modest-sized kitchen became too cramped and confined. A Piece Of Soul Catering and Café was a profitable business that Cherise took pride in. Cherise decided to put the money back in the safe and go cook up the most profitable item not on her menu—cocaine. Turning her hobby into a business gave her the perfect tool to hide how she really made her money. She’d promised herself that once the catering turned a profit, the drug dealing would stop but no matter how hard she tried, Cherise was addicted to money.
Cherise walked over to her state-of-the-art sound system and turned up the tunes of Mary J. Blige. Cherise put fire to a Black & Mild before she got to work, only to be interrupted by her ringing cell phone.
“Ma, they trippin’ and got me down here shackled in chains like I’m a mass murderer and shit,” complained Raequan before Cherise could even greet him with a hello.
“What in the hell are you talking about, boy?” Cherise sighed.
“They arrested me and Prince for no reason, Ma. You gotta come down here and get me out. Come on, Ma,” fumed Raequan impatiently.
“Where you at boy? I know them stupid-ass cops ain’t got you in that fuckin’ county,” yelled Cherise. “Where they got you at, Raequan?”
“I’m at juvie, Ma. Please come and get me out of here.”
“I’m on my way.”
Cherise ended the call, grabbed her purse and car keys, and ran out the front door of her restaurant. Cherise was so intent on getting her son out of handcuffs that she forgot to lock up the establishment. She was two blocks away before it occurred to her. After quickly backtracking, she was on her way to Shy’s house, who, for some reason, was not answering her cell or house phone.
Cherise hightailed it over to Shy’s house to find out if she knew of their sons being arrested. When Raequan called from a strange phone number, Cherise knew something was terribly wrong.
One second after dialing the last digit of Cherise’s cell phone, Shy heard tires screeching and knew it was her.
“Shy, where you at? Shy!”
“Quit screaming like that, girl; you’re going to have the neighbors all in my business. Come on in here.”
Cherise was short of breath and excited as she jogged into Shy’s house. Shy knew without a doubt that her friend would make a federal case out of the boys being arrested before she even knew what the circumstances were. Intent on not allowing Cherise to stress her out, Shy lit a cigarette and relaxed her back against the oversized pillows thrown on her couch.
“Cherise, please calm down before we go down there. You’re all hyper and I am not in the mood to get locked up because you can’t control your temper.”
“Fuck you! Do you know Raequan and Prince got arrested for no damn reason?”
“How do you know that?” asked Shy.
“Know what?”
“How do you know they got arrested for no reason?”
“Because when I talked to Raequan he said—” began Cherise.
“See, there you go again, jumping to conclusions before you get the whole story about what led up to them getting arrested. It took me awhile to accept it but not everything those boys tell us is gospel,” explained Shy with a smirk.
“Whatever, bitch, give me one of them Newports,” said Cherise.
Knowing Shy was right, Cherise decided to regain her composure before going down to the Martin P. Joyce Juvenile Justice Center. The last thing she needed was to get locked up for showing her ass and assaulting a cop.
Shy was sure that Raequan’s version of the arrest would have a boatload of holes in it. That boy was born a liar. A trait inherited from his sorry-ass father.
“All right, Shy, I’m going to smoke this cancer stick, down a can of beer, and try to think logically, but should one of them pompous police officers try to keep me from seeing my baby, I cannot be held responsible for what might go down,” promised Cherise.
“If they keep us from seeing our boys, I’ll act a fool right along with you,” said Shy, giggling.
In the thirty years Shy and Cherise had been friends, not one day passed that they hadn’t spoken with each other. No matter if the weather called for sun, rain, sleet, snow, or they were happy, angry, passive, or pissed, you could put money on Shy and Cherise communicating with each other. The two were as close as any sisters from different parents could possibly be.
Shy was born five years after her sister and she was truly a spoiled little poor girl. Tara and Shy’s parents were considered the working poor, only managing to earn a little over the national minimum wage, but they sacrificed and made due. The sisters shared their father with an older half-brother from his first marriag
e but C-Lok lived with his mother and only visited on holidays and summer breaks from school. Growing up, Shy had no idea that her family was poor because they had a nice house, clothes on their backs, and food on the table every night. As Shy grew older, she began to take notice of how hard her parents worked without complaint. Shy began working at age fourteen to help relieve some of the financial burden on her parents.
Shy and Cherise were two peas in a pod. Their preadolescent years were filled with jump ropes, hopscotch, tag, and roller skating in the middle of the streets, little league cheerleading, and weekend sleepovers.
Their teenage years consisted of basement parties, union hall jams, Sunday night Skate Connection, basketball games, South High School variety shows, and, most importantly, wide hips, C-cup breasts, plump, round asses, and lost virginity.
It was after seven o’clock when Shy and Cherise walked through the doors of the juvenile detention center to see their sons. Despite the sign notifying visitors of visiting hours, the two mothers stormed toward the front desk on a mission.
Shy and Cherise looked around at their surroundings, and memories of their own stay behind the brick walls came flooding back to them.
“Shit, they have cleaned this place up since the times we used to be arrested for fighting,” said Cherise.
“Yeah, girl, I know. The updates make it look like a friendly place. Look, they even have artwork on the walls and plants all over the place,” noted Shy.
The counselor manning the front desk looked up from his paperwork when he heard the sound of clicking heels growing closer and closer. One look at the women’s faces and he knew they were ready to do battle. After another glance, William Beldon recognized the women and braced himself to do battle.
