by K'wan
Jah saw the muzzle flash, followed by an intense pain in his cheek. He saw himself as ten years old again, riding the train with his brother Paul. “Never be like me, Jahlil, always be better,” Paul said to him. For as much as his brother used to preach to him about not following in the family’s footsteps, it seemed dying young was in their blood.
Charlie Rock limped off to the cab and tossed the driver out onto the curb, then he took the wheel. He looked at his man, Sha Boogie, and felt sad at his passing, but it was the very same thing in life that carried him over into death. As Charlie Rock pulled the cab out into traffic he thought about how he would miss his friend, but more importantly, he was free from Sha Boogie’s insane quest.
Chapter 48
DENA WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING IN A CASTIRON bed. Her body felt like she had gone through twelve rounds with Mike Tyson. Mo was sitting in a chair with her feet propped, sleeping uncomfortably. She wondered how long Mo had been there, but knowing her, she was there probably ever since Dena had been admitted—whenever that was.
Dena looked around the room and saw that all of her family and friends were on deck. Her mother was in the next bed sleeping soundly, while Nadine paced just outside the door on her cell phone. Sharon was looking out the window with a genuinely worried expression on her face. Her brother Shannon was at her bedside saying prayers. When he saw that she had woken up, his eyes lit up.
“Hey lil sis!” He took her hand. “How you feeling?”
“Like shit,” Dena croaked. She hadn’t realized how raw her throat was until she tried to speak. Picking up on that, Mo grabbed a pitcher of water and filled a plastic cup for her. “How did I get here?” Dena sipped the water.
“The nurse said a white girl and her friend brought you in then disappeared. They’ve treated you for the cuts and … STDs,” Mo said sadly.
“STDs? Why the hell would they—” Then it came back to Dena. Shorty had given her the Blue Diamond, which was surely laced, and it all went downhill from there. She couldn’t remember the details, but what she did remember were the flashing faces of different men, and pain, a whole lot of pain. For the second time in less than a week someone who was supposed to love her had betrayed her. For as much as she hated to admit it, Mo was right about the pimp. Thinking of things she probably did under the influence of the drugs, Dena broke down.
“Its okay, D.” Mo rubbed her back while Shannon wasn’t quite sure what to do.
“No, its not okay, Mo,” Dena sobbed. “You were right about Ice. I gave my heart to that man and he … God, I don’t even wanna say it,” she said shamefully.
“Dena.” Mo took her hand. “You’re with family. Tell us what he did to you.”
Dena looked up at Mo through tearful eyes. Though it tasted like ash in her mouth, she shared the last few day’s turn of events with her brother and best friends. She told them about Philly, the locked-door event, she even told them about the heroin. When the tale was completed, they were in tears.
“I’m so sorry, D.” Mo hugged her.
Shannon just walked over into the corner and cried quietly. He felt like such a fuck-up, letting that happen to his little sister. He reasoned if he had spent more time watching her back than in the streets, then it wouldn’t have happened. For as much as he hated himself, he hated Ice more.
The attending physician came into the room holding her clipboard and looking at the group over her blue-rimmed glasses. She was a plump, dark-skinned woman who wore her hair in a bun. “I see you’re feeling a little better,” she said to Dena.”
“I wouldn’t say all that, but I’m awake,” Dena said, trying to make light of the situation.
“You’ve been through quite a bit, Ms. Jones, but I think you’re going to recover. Now, I have some more serious business that I need to discuss with you, in private.” She looked around the room.
“This is my family. You can talk in front of them,” Dena said nervously. Shannon held one of her hands while Mo held the other.
The doctor was skeptical at first, but after Dena insisted again she spoke freely. “Well, as you may or may not know we’ve found multiple traces of semen inside you. Initially we thought you’d been raped, but during our exam we found no signs of forced entry.”
“That’s because they drugged me. I didn’t know what I was doing!” Dena sobbed.
“Ms. Jones, calm down. From the different drugs we found in your system, I doubt if this happened willingly, regardless of what the charts say. Drug-induced or otherwise, rape is rape. But there’s a bigger issue here.”
“What the fuck could be bigger than my lil sister getting raped?” Shannon barked. He didn’t mean to be hostile with the doctor, but he didn’t know any other way to be at that point.
The doctor looked at him sadly. From her facial expression you could tell she wanted to cry. This was the part of her job she hated. “Ms. Jones, we’ve run tests on the different fluids found inside you and found that you’ve been infected with chlamydia, which we can treat, but we’ve also found traces of the HIV virus in one of the semen samples. So far you haven’t tested reactive for the virus, but you’ll have to come back every six months for testing. I’m sorry.”
Shannon threw himself onto the floor, crying like a baby. Mo embraced her friend and shed heavy tears of her own. Nadine stopped talking on her phone and poked her head in the room to see what all the commotion was about.
“Ms. Jones, though you’ve been exposed it doesn’t mean that you’ve contracted the virus. You may very well have dodged the bullet, but it’s too soon to be certain.” The doctor adjusted her glasses. “Even if it does show up later on this diagnosis is not the end of the world. Technology is so advanced these days that you could still live a healthy and normal life. There are—”
The doctor kept talking but Dena didn’t listen. At that moment the whole world stopped moving. For all the bullshit the doctor was trying to tell her, it still didn’t change the fact that she had loved a man and for this there was a good possibility that she was going to die. Dena had dreams of going to college and having kids one day, but one fuckup had changed all that.
No one had even noticed that Dena’s mother was awake until they heard the sobbing coming from just off to their left. She had climbed out of the bed and had been listening as the doctor broke the news to her youngest child. Tears ran freely down her face and her legs began to tremble uncontrollably. Had it not been for Nadine holding her by the arm she’d have probably collapsed from the shock of what she’d heard. No parent wanted to entertain the thought of outliving their children, but it was suddenly a very real possibility for Ms. Jones.
Shannon managed to compose himself enough to get off the floor and moved to his sister’s bedside. He tried to console her, but the words escaped him. What do you tell someone to soothe them when they’d just been handed a potential death sentence? Shannon knew that there were no words he could offer his little sister, but he had never been good with words anyhow. Shannon had always been a man of actions and his deeds would speak for him. For as much as he wanted to escape to the streets, as he was known to do, his family needed him at that moment so the streets would have to wait for their due. One thing he promised himself though was that they wouldn’t have to wait long. Soothing his beast with promises of carnage and revenge, Shannon joined his family and friends as they prayed for Dena.
Acknowledgments
I’d really like to thank God for two very important reasons: one, for blessing me with this gift; and two, for allowing me to hold my head when I wanna jump out the window and do something stupid. It’s an uphill climb, but nothing worth having comes easy.
I would also like to thank my mother, Brenda M. Foye, who left before I got signed to Triple Crown back in the day. Though you may not agree with some of the things I do and have done, you know my heart is always in the right place. I cherish this gift you have given me and will continue to use it to enlighten and uplift those I can.
Before we get into
all the traditional things that go into the acknowledgment pages I would like to take this time to acknowledge Ms. Kia “Caramel Diva” Smith, a young life that was taken far too early. No one can say for sure why God takes the young and innocent and leaves the old and scornful, but I believe there is a method to His madness and would never question it. I am just very glad to have met Ms. Smith at the Harlem Book Fair in 2006. She was by far the most dedicated supporter of my work I have ever met and I was honored to be able to thank her in person. Have a safe journey, Kia.
To Ni Jaa, Alexandria, and Star-Quan. The world is a cold and unforgiving place and by the time you reach adulthood it will probably be worse. Watch, learn, and understand what and why I do so that you will be better prepared for what’s coming your way. Keep your hands close to your chests and always remember that just because someone smiles it doesn’t mean that they are your friends.
My wife, Charlotte … Thank you so very much for being the sanity to my madness and the calm to my rage. It takes a hell of a woman to be married to someone who can at times be emotionally unavailable, or just plain out of touch with the world at large because he’s so consumed with his work, and still stick around. I knew there were a few good women left in the world and I was lucky enough to get the best one out of the lot … wink.
My grandmother Ethel and my aunt Quintella, whom I love so very much. Thank you for being the strengths of the Foye clan and for trying to hold it together for everyone. You’ve lived most of your lives for everybody else and now its time to start living for you!
Now for as much as I love my aunt and uncles, Darryl, Frankie, and Leslie, I gotta take this time to shout out my uncle Eric, aka Uncle Elroy. For as much as I mess up, which has been a lot lately, you’ve always got my back and I not only thank you but love you for it, real talk!
Ramona Holder, oh you thought you was gonna slip through the cracks, huh? There has never been a time you haven’t come through in a clutch and did whatever was needed with or without being asked. Charlotte is blessed to have a friend like you, now stay y’all asses out the club … ha ha.
Ms. Tabitha Hamilton, you know I couldn’t forget you. You make the seemingly impossible possible and I’m glad to see you enjoying life again.
To the Staff at St. Martin’s Press: Monique Patterson, you are a super editor and always cool under pressure. It went to the wire on this one, but you know I’d never turn in a book that I felt was half ass. I pride myself on quality material, even if we dance on the fine line getting it turned in. Abbye Simkowitz, you’re a beast, kid. I need to hit at least fifty to sixty signings with this one, and that’s just in the first few months. I’ll rest when I’m dead. Kia DuPree, who catches hell when I drag my feet but always takes it on the chin. No more missed deadlines. Matthew Shear, thanks for always giving me the ball in the clutch. This year I’m going for the MVP award!
A’ight, now on to the shout-outs: I’ve said it before and I’m gonna keep saying it until somebody starts paying attention; FREE Tony and Tyrone Council, Albert Javier, Ramon Pequero, and Michael Wilson! It’s one thing to convict a man based on guilt, but when you can lock somebody up for damn near the rest of their natural lives based on the words of drug addicts, liars, and cowards, it really makes you take a long, hard look at the judicial system.
I’d also like to thank my loving in-laws, Valroy and Ralph Milan (I didn’t miss you this time), Cousin Koo-Koo (who isn’t the best navigator but a damn good drinking partner), Honey Wagon Mike, Val Castro (the official ambassador of Bedstuy), Party Tyme (Stunt 101), Mark the Shark, Cousin Shae, Page, my baby mama Denise (even if she don’t read my stuff no more), my pops, Tommy “Tom-Ice” Greene, Sharif Jackson (Congrats, kid), Jermaine and Elan Brown (It was good to have the old crew back together. Delta Force Posse was in the building!), Aunt Cookie & Uncle Robert (don’t sit at a card table with these two unless you’re ready to play), the Johnsons, Councils, Wilders, 7K (thanks for the memories), the whole 70 west, the whole Douglass Projects (where champions are born and alcoholics are made).
For the Game: I’ve met so many people since I’ve been published in’02 that I hope I catch everybody, but if I don’t, my fault. Nakeya Murray of As the Page Turns and the Literary Consultant Group. When the time came we took it back to the streets and burnt the Turnpike up. Thanks for helping to make Hood Rat #1. My Dude Erick S. Gray (keep pushing fam, they’ll get it right sooner or later). Derek Vitatoe (Though we didn’t do heavy numbers I’m still confident that you will go on to have a successful career in this. Keep doing you kid!). My folk J. M. Benjamin (Real recognize), Al Sadiq Banks (The mayor of Newark), Mark Anthony (Q-Boro), Anthony and Jay from Augustus Publishing (y’all know I don’t claim many, but we’re always gonna put it in the air), K. Elliott, Brandon McCalla, Thomas Long (you were the first one to see your work on the screen and one of the few who never changed up on me), Treasure E. Blue (we’re bringing Harlem back), Tu-Shonda Whitaker, Tracy Brown, Kashamba Williams, Keisha Erivn, Shannon Holmes, Vickie Stringer, Nikki Turner, Caleb Alexander (this kid is gonna be a problem), Teri Woods (it was a pleasure to finally meet you at the BEA), my brother from D.C. Darrell King (you still can’t see me in Madden), Brittani Williams, Anna J., Coast2coast readers (y’all been down since forever), Joe-Joe, Meja Books in Delaware, Source of Knowledge in Newark, all the magazines, bookstores, vendors, and online groups that have stood behind me over the last few years that I might have missed, and most importantly the readers. Without you guys the majority of us will still be on the streets trying to get by and praying to see tomorrow—at least I would. You will always be my first thought when I write a novel.
In parting I’d like to say this for those who whisper behind closed doors and take petty jabs at my character; nine joints in five years and I haven’t run out of gas yet. Can you say HEADACHE?!
Contact info:
Black Dawn, Inc.
c/o K’wan
P.O. Box 1728 Lincolnton Station
New York, N.Y. 10037
e-mail: [email protected]
ALSO BY K’WAN
Gangsta
Road Dawgz
Street Dreams
Hoodlum
Eve
Hood Rat
ANTHOLOGIES
The Game
Blow (with 50 Cent)
Flexin & Sexin
It’s All a Part of the Game
IT SEEMED LIKE THERE WAS A DARK CLOUD hovering over Harlem that Sunday morning. The temperature had dropped almost twelve degrees lower from what it had been the whole week. Bitter winds whipped through the streets, pulling trash behind it like a game of Follow the Leader. The celebrity basketball game was still played in the park on 115th Street, the King Dome, for those not familiar, but it was a grim event.
The Big Dawg squad all wore black strips on their jerseys in honor of True and Jah. The celebration of the Don B and Stacks collabo turned into a celebration of True’s life. His album would go on to sell more than five hundred thousand copies in its first week, partially due to the media coverage of his gruesome murder. Don B took little joy in the success. Though he had been hard on True, he only wanted to see him do well. When you’re young, Black, and on top of your game, they’ll always be people in the wings who want you to fall.
When the two squads took the floor, Don B had a sinking feeling about what the results of the game would be. Stacks’s big secret was that he not only had the best all-around players from Texas on his team, but two of his starters played for the Houston Rockets. The ballers from Big Dawg put up a good fight, but in the end they were routed by twenty-five.
Lazy played horribly that afternoon. Cooter abused him on the court, going for a hot twenty to Lazy’s six. He had been out all night stressing over the impending baby, and what he had done to his relationship. So, when game time rolled around he had neither the stamina nor willpower to put up any kind of real effort. To make matters worse, he ended up tearing the ligaments in his knee in the third quarter, ruining
any dreams he had of being recruited to a top-ten school. Though college was still an option, his game would never be the same. Michelle was heartbroken by the prospect of her being an NBA wife flying out the window, but she would still have her man, even if Lazy did refuse to quit cheating on her.
When the Big Dawg took the floor it wasn’t Billy at the helm. For as much as she looked forward to coaching in the highly publicized game, she was needed elsewhere. Yoshi was so broken up by Jah’s murder that she was inconsolable. The doctors had given her something to make her sleep, but it did nothing for grief. Everybody feared that she was going to do something to herself, so Billy and Reese took turns sitting with her. Billy understood just what Yoshi was going through because she and the same kind of grief had walked hand in hand when Sol was killed.
From the moment Jah felt the rush of his first lick, life had dictated that the streets would claim him. Yoshi had believed that she could change what fate had written. And truth be told, she almost did. Though it was only for a short time, she had found happiness for herself and was able to pass it on to someone else. Jah was gone from this world, but never from her heart. At the end of their chapter he had died how he lived, with a gun in his hand.
Black Ice was beyond upset to lose his twenty-five thousand dollars. Over the course of the weekend he had lost three whores and a good chunk of his change. The morning after the locked-door, Wendy had stolen fifteen thousand dollars from his safe and disappeared with only the clothes on her back. Ice was mad as hell, but figured, with the eighteen-year-old beauty he had copped from an all-night diner, he would make three times that once he broke her in. Unfortunately he would never have a chance to see if she was built like that.
