by Love Belvin
The crowd shouted the salutation back and more. It was clearly a joyous occasion for this family.
I froze next to Rut when it hit me.
“Those numbers he put up there were unparalleled. You heard the echoes of his abilities. He broke records in the drills. I believe Rut would be a great fit for the team.”
“Yeah. But a pain in the ass for my brand.”
“Not on my watch.”
“Yeah. Let’s hope so.”
“I can guarantee it.”
“How so?”
“You know I’m familiar with his family.”
“He’s a grown ass man.”
“He’s an unbridled talent. You’ve dealt with those before.”
Rut! He was the “Rut” Eli and Azmir Jacobs were discussing back in April. I swear, I didn’t pay much attention to private conversations in Eli’s office; I’d served during so many. The name was so informal and unflattering it hadn’t dawned on me that I’d met a Rut—that Rut—the next month!
“Parker,” Paula’s raspy voice called over to me. She waved me toward her. “Come help me clean this shit up in the house.”
Immediately, I ambled over to her. She looked down at my feet while drying her eyes as we walked toward the house.
“You still got them shits on,” her vocabulary not much graduated from her son’s. Then Paula grew closer, and her voice went lower. “I could have my nephew run over to the dollar store to get you some flipflops. Just tell Rut you need twenty dollars.”
“For the dollar store?” I sputtered, trying to hold my full laughter.
“You just can’t say where,” she murmured.
I shook my head, chuckling. “I’m fine, Paula. I have flats in his truck.”
We made it inside and Annalise sat at the kitchen table, playing cards with an older woman and younger guy. She smiled my way before sipping from her red Solo cup. My mind so cluttered with questions, I headed straight to the dining room to start cleaning. Paula and I worked together to get her kitchen and dining room cleared of food, plates, cups, and pans.
Later, I stepped outside with a cup of ice water. With one hand on my neck and the other holding my cup, I looked for Rut.
“Gray!” I heard him call, and when I glanced around, I saw Rut nearing me.
He walked deliciously close, towering over me. The muscles of his eyes were relaxed, totally unlike earlier. Maybe he’d had another drink and that helped loosen him up.
“Hey,” I breathed, taking in his cologne mixed with perspiration.
“Always gotta play tough girl,” he hummed.
“How’d you figure?”
Rut’s hand went behind my back and he yanked a few strands of my hair back, causing me to wince. “You still in those heels after all these hours.”
“I made Rayna take them shits off with the twins,” another sultry baritone voice offered, walking up behind me. It was Azmir, eating from a plate of garden salad, similar to the one I’d made for Rut earlier. “Hey, Parker,” he half sang, expressing familiarity.
My brain stammered. I didn’t know whether to be turned on by the melodic bass of his vocals and undeniable good looks, or to be shocked he knew my name. Then when Rut’s chin landed on the crown of my head, I could think clearly.
“Hi,” I squeaked, teased by Rut’s touch and scent all around me. “Nice to meet—” I got stuck again and blushed in embarrassment as he chewed his food. “I’m sorry. We haven’t been formally introduced.”
“That’s because Rutledge here’s been keeping you his little love secret.” His eyes were to his plate, forking vegetables.
“Quit,” Rut growled lowly over my head.
Just as Azmir had been unperturbed with his friend Eli’s upbraids, his reaction to Rut’s nastiness was a mild chuckle. “You still have more manners than that, duke.”
“Park, this is Div—Azmir Divine Jacobs,” he corrected himself.
“I think I knew that,” I spoke to Rut, unable to meet Azmir’s regard. In so many ways, I was daunted. I had an idea of what the man grossed. “I didn’t know you two knew each other.”
Rut kissed my cheek from behind, and whispered in my ear, “He and my pops were good…friends back in the day.”
That statement seemed cryptic. Azmir’s attention was still on his plate when I found the courage to look at him again. Azmir…good friends with a convicted drug dealer from Trenton, New Jersey? It made me think about the documentary the blogs had been abuzz about since the spring. The documentary that was recanted by mid-summer. It was a laughable accusation: Azmir was friends with Eli Richardson, a legitimate businessman.
My eyes bounced around his attire, his b-boy stance. The men standing around him, trying to appear casual, but were clearly standing guard.
“When I was nine, my pops got fifteen years Fed time for trafficking and distributing heroine. He don’t know I know what I’m about to tell you. My moms don’t even know I know, but I do. He worked for one of the biggest drug lords at the time. Dude came up in Brooklyn and worked his way to Chicago then Cali. My pops was one of his soldiers for years. He started out with dude and worked his way up to top dog in Trenton. Pops was making low-level millions.
“He got knocked. The Feds started down the chain in Trenton and worked their way up. When pop-dukes got his sentence, he made some kind of deal with the man at the top of the organization. Because they went way back, he asked the dude to look out for me. I wasn’t there for the conversation, but between the two of them over the years, pouring this ‘pact’ down my throat, I get the ‘General’ was supposed to keep me outta the streets.”
That documentary held a bit of truth to it. Azmir Jacobs is the General. He was a drug lord.
Suddenly, I felt winded. My hand went to my chest.
“You okay, Gray?” Rut’s hold on me tightened.
My eyes closed and I licked my lips, fortifying myself.
“Yeah,” I tweeted, anxiousness settling over me.
“Maybe it’s the pregnancy,” Azmir droned. “You’re in your second trimester. Right?”
My eyes bulged and I snapped my neck to peer up at Rut. His expression was deadpan.
“You told him?”
Rut didn’t answer, just gazed into my eyes. I’d never asked Rut who he told about the pregnancy, recognizing he was coming to terms with it himself while acclimating to the league. He also had the Emily Erceg obligation. And on top of that, his father had been released from prison—all in the same timeframe. It was a hard pill for the “prince of Trenton” to swallow: I got that. At this point, he didn’t owe me much more than he had been giving.
Since the night of Jimmy’s funeral, he’d been over a lot and had been asking questions about the baby’s development, and if I stayed at the house, which room would be the nursery. He’d even texted me pictures of nurseries he liked. He’d been showing improvement and I wouldn’t push him.
Azmir chuckled. “He better had told me or I’d’ve bust his ass.”
Rut rolled his eyes, just as unperturbed as Azmir was with his disposition. These two were very much acquainted. It had all begun to make sense, this strange, cinematographic alliance. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling of anxiousness. Something felt awfully dangerous, and not in the hood element manner. I was from Waterbury, Connecticut. My mother may have raised me above my class, but we were in the same environment as everyone else there. This was something else entirely.
“How’s he been treating you? First time pregnancies can be rough for both mother and fath—”
“So that’s what we doin’?” Kadar rounded Azmir.
I didn’t even see him coming.
Azmir didn’t speak at first, perceptively catching the bite in Kadar’s tone. It was confirmed by the glare etched into his hard face.
“Pops—” Rut tried.
Kadar’s head whipped around to him. “I knew she was pregnant! Have you lost your fuckin’ mind?” He paused as though he wanted an answer. “You wait to get to t
he league to get reckless and knock some broad up, Rut?”
“Kadar,” Paula appeared, plunging herself between Kadar and me, as Rut had been behind me. “We gonna be grandparents; it’s a blessing!” she pleaded with him.
“You knew, too?” Kadar’s eyes grew wide as saucers. Ignoring Paula, he glowered over to Azmir with betrayal in his eyes before turning back to Rut. “You tell Divine and you ain’t even tell me? So I look like a joke to you now?”
“Yo, Kadar,” Azmir took him gently at the arm. “Chill. Your tone ain’t necessary. It probably wasn’t something he wanted to hit you with so soon.”
“Don’t fuckin’ tell me to chill, man. Yo, Divine, this my fuckin’ seed! I’m home now. You ain’t got to speak for this clown.”
“Clown?” Rut barked.
“Yeah. You let some experienced puss get ya damn head open the minute you sign a deal. I ain’t never heard her name or no other female’s name come from ya mouth. But all of a sudden, you get that first whack ass endorsement, you got a baby on the way?”
“Kadar,” Azmir snorted, but I caught the authoritative ring in his tenor. “Easy. You talking to a grown ass man, not a nine-year-old kid. You don’t know shit about their circumstances.”
“Yo!” Kadar shouted so hard my ears stung. Around us, I could see a crowd drawing. “Divine, step the fuck off. This here between me and my son. You don’t need to get involved in this. You been too involved. You probably the reason he on this sucka shit: not being the first draft pick, signing to fluke ass Kings, being the token nigga who signed to Ase Garb! You ain’t see TB, The Flash or…StentRo fuckin’ signing to a deal with them!”
Azmir raised his free hand in the air. “Cut every phone and camera out here!” One of his guys grabbed the plate from his hand. “If I see a second of this shit on the Innanet ever, you won’t have a restful night until you see me,” his voice dripped with viciousness to the guests.
“Oh, shit!” Paula cried out in a panic.
Azmir finally settled his eyes on Kadar, who in response, widened his stance.
“Fuck you ‘bout to do?” Kadar challenged him.
People began to scatter all around, taking off for safety.
“Oh, shit!” Paula groaned this time. “Stop, Kadar! You just got home!”
There were several people who hadn’t run for cover, still around echoing that same sentiment.
“Don’t do it, Amare,” Azmir warned.
His guys stepped closer to him. And in direct response, two men behind Kadar shifted to his side. One kicked out a blade with the flick of his wrist. My bladder nearly failed me when guns were drawn and cocked. The one most visible was Uncle Tone-Tone, striding out in front Azmir, pointing his pistol directly to Kadar.
My body was tossed defensively behind Rut’s big frame. I peered around him, stunned into silence.
Divine shook his head. His eyes shooting bullets into my pops.
“We really about to do this? For what, Kadar?” He cocked his head to the side. “Haven’t I held up my end of the bargain?”
“Seem to me you done a lil’ too much, god.”
“Too much? Like sticking by your only child, making sure your dreams came true?”
“I ain’t ask you to do all that. That was your own ‘better than everybody else’ selfish way of doing shit. You ain’t man enough to stand next to me. You ain’t god-body. You ain’t even worthy enough to call Allah the one and only messiah. You bow down to a blond-hair, blue-eyed devil. How the fuck you gone lead my family when you don’t know who you are? Where you at, black man?” Kadar taunted. “Ase Garb’s black owned. So fuckin’ what. My son bigger than that. He could go bigger than wearing a shoe for another man.”
Whoa…
“Because Rut is designing a shoe. An un-fuckin’-precedented move in the history of their company. And they’re paying him a shit load of guap to do it. Now, let me educate your ignorant ass on some other shit. That deal was made by his sports agency. Rut’s engaged and particular about the brand he’s building. He’s the one who opted for the design deal and not just the traditional ‘I’ll wear your clothes for a few bucks’ which were the deals those other cats you just name did. My guy is an astute businessman in his own right.”
He inched closer to Kadar and so did the men behind him. Divine raised his hand again. “Stand down.”
And I let out a long quiet breath when the guns were dropped. Tone was the last to do it, and I would bet his pulling out on my pops was the biggest slap in the face. It reminded him of Divine’s power. Tone and my father knew each other as kids. They didn’t meet Divine until they were grown ass men.
But Tone dropped his pistol, and I was happy. I couldn’t believe this shit was going down in front of Parker. I couldn’t fuck with my father anymore. This solidified it.
“And as far as my beliefs go: my choices ain’t got shit to do with me fulfilling my obligations to you and your family. For the record, I don’t bow down to no man, especially none with those features. If you think that’s what the Messiah looks like, you ain’t been up on ya reading and can’t call me out on shit. Rut is his own man. I haven’t tried to convert him. That’s not my role. He’s what you made him.”
“I’m what I’ve made me,” I had to make clear. My pops’ eyes were hard on me. And it hit me in that moment: he was just another man. He wasn’t bigger, stronger, and obviously not wiser. He looked…angry. Mad. Just like he sounded when we talked on the phone over the years. The past few days I’d been stressing about this day. He’d said some shit after the game two days ago that made me feel he had a chip on his shoulders. He was just an angry man, and by the strains around his eyes, I believed I knew why.
“I get it. You just came home and you’re overwhelmed by the success you didn’t have a hand in. You did a heavy bid while life went on, on the outside with your input but not your work. Then when little things didn’t go your way, you got mad.” I snorted. “I got mad respect for you, pops, but this life coach shit gotta stop. I’m good.”
This is what my therapist tried to warn me about. My father couldn’t grasp my world enough to help guide me through it.
“You good—we good!” I tried to get him to see the big picture. “You’re home. You gotta crib that’s paid for. You gotta son, who could let you rest easy for the rest of your life. You ain’t gotta worry about a job or how you’re going to get on your feet. How many of your cellies got shit so sweet set up for them when they were released? You need to just chill. I don’t get why you can’t see that.”
“You damn right, you don’t, Rut. You don’t get what it’s like walking a mile in my shoes. I been up for fifteen fuckin’ years! I leave my son out on these streets and have to depend on some other man, who could change like a flip of a coin on me, to raise my only son. You damn right, I’m mad! From a jail cell I had to play co-fuckin’-captain to my only seed. I tried to teach you what I could about the god-body in you since you was a pup. I gave you all I could, not knowing if I was gonna die or catch a long ass sentence. Lucky for me, it was just prison.”
“And shit was taken care of. It was handled!” Why couldn’t he see that.
“I can’t tell. You out here raw-doggin and doing crazy shit! My lil’ time with you wasn’t enough. All those hours I spent feeding you knowledge and you still on some savage shit.” That shit hurt. “I bet you ain’t been keeping up with ya 120 Lesson…ain’t been out here building to grow either.”
I shook my head, wrapping my arm around Parker’s waist so we could go. I was a self-made man with the guidance of Divine. I had nothing to prove to him. “You don’t know what I’ve been doing.”
“Then what’s today’s mathematics?”
I froze. What the fuck was this? He was testing me? Putting me on blast in front everybody. I looked over at Divine who had been watching. Then my eyes went to all the god-bodies around. There were at least fifteen of them—old heads, too. I could just walk away, but it would mean he was right. And pops was wr
ong as fuck.
“Kadar, this ain’t necessary,” my mother cut in. “We here to have a good time.”
I took a deep breath. This wasn’t hard and I’d even do him one better: the month and date. “Born equality.”
“Oh. We fancy, huhn? And?” he pushed for more.
This motherfucker…
Fuck it. I could play the game; my name was Rutledge Amare. Nobody pushed me into a fucking corner, and I wouldn’t tuck my tail for no man. “Born is to be brought into existence physically, as well as, mentally. Physically through the mother’s womb—like my unborn child—and mentally through Allah’s mathematics.”
“Yeah, and Born is going from being a slave of a mental power and death to the light of realization about self, too,” he argued. “That only happens through the teachings of a true and living god. Born is also knowledge and understanding being manifested through god’s wisdom. It’s the completion of all things in existence.” He gripped his chin, nodding with sarcasm. “But I’ll give you that. Continue.”
I shook my head. He wanted war. I’d fuck with him. “Equality is being equal in all things in existence like knowledge, wisdom and understanding. It’s being equal in everything. It’s the father’s ability to deal equal with the life nourishing. It’s truth and righteousness that is the father’s teaching. Equality’s the nature of the black woman.”
He backed up and dropped his chin.
Yeah, nigga.…
“Because that is her limitation. You’re twisting it, son! You gotta come again.” He laughed. “See, when you share your knowledge through wisdom, and bring forth an understanding, it only shows and proves equality. Knowledge, wisdom, and understanding: they’re all being born to equality. She can’t exceed it. She can only be elevated by god—you—to her fullest quality. And that happens by her uniting with god—you—to bring forth the understanding of the culture which that baby is.”
He pointed behind me to Parker. That shit pissed me the fuck off. It was time to end this little game. I’d had enough. I pulled Parker into me by the shoulder and turned to walk off.
