by AP Jermaine
Tamia agreed to go in with me on the club I’d always wanted. It’s the hottest club in the triangle. Nobody knows I’m involved with the club which of course is the way I like it, although I know people always wonder how me and whomever with me, can walk past a line of two, three hundred people and walk straight through the door with no more than a head nod from the door man. Well, now yall know. But on a softer note, I happened to adopt a goddaughter. Her name is Kaylia. One day as I was out strolling through the projects, smoking a Dutch of loud and just enjoying the sounds of summer, I looked up to see about seven or eight kids on bicycles speeding down the street my way. A small, thin, dark skinned little girl was running her heart out trying to keep up alongside the bicycles, which she was, until she tripped and fell in the street. The kids on the bikes stopped a few feet ahead, looking back laughing hysterically, before taking back off on their bikes. The young girl struggled her way to the curb, dropped her head between her knees and cried. I hate to see a child cry. It moves me to wanna help stop the tears. Putting the blunt out on the sidewalk, I dropped it into my back pocket, walked over and sat beside the little girl with her head between her knees, shoulders trembling as she sobbed.
“Hey there short stuff. What you crying for?” I tried to sound cheery. She looked up at me and her eyes held too much sadness for someone so young.
“They said they was gonna let me ride.” She attempted to wipe away the still flowing tears with the back of her hand.
“Where’s your bike at?”
“I aint got one.” She sniffled.
“Why not?” I asked curiously, looking down at her big toe hanging out the front of her worn out sneakers.
“I don’t have one cause my mama on drugs.” She said sadly as she hung her head again.
“That’s Jackie lil girl Banks.” Rita volunteered, as she motioned for me to come over to her. Rita is a slim, lesbian chic, with strawberry blond weave, and titty’s like Dolly Parton’s, who sells Percocets and Ex pills as her hustle, and probably gets just as much pussy as me.
“Yeah what’s good Rita?” I asked as I continued to glance back at the weeping child.
“You know that sorry ass bitch smokes up every dime of that check she gets for that girl. Sell all they food stamps too. Look how skinny that girl is. Poor baby. That lil girl aint even got descent clothes to go to school in, let alone shoes. All the kids pick on her. She a tough lil thang though. Today the first time I ever seen her cry. Guess she probably just tired.”
“What’s her name?”
“Kaylia. She real smart. Run like a cheetah too. Her mama just aint shit. Love that stem more than her own child. Damn shame.”
“Hold on a second.” I told Rita as I walked back to the curb. “Kaylia?” I touched the girls boney shoulder.
“Huh?” She looked up teary eyed.
“You know Rita right there?”
“Uh huh.”
“My name is Mr. Banks. Go sit with Rita while I go buy you a bike.”
“For real!” Kaylia jumped to her feet, eyes bright with hope.
“Yeah for real.” I smiled down at her as I looked at her ragged clothes and shoes.
“Yayyy!!!” Kaylia jumped up and pumped her tiny fist in the air before racing over to Rita. “You not a bad man, is you?” Kaylia looked at me sadly once again, as I approached Rita to tell her to get Kaylias clothes, and shoe size for me.
“No Kaylia. Mr Banks is a good man. You can trust him like you can trust me,” Rita spoke to the little girl before I got the chance. Something was telling me she’d already met some bad men in her young nine - year old life. Probably thanks to her mom.
“You gonna get me a bike for real?” Kaylia asked skeptically as tears seemed to be at the brim of her eyes once more.
“Yes Kaylia, I’m gonna get you one for real. Every kid should have a bike. Just wait with Rita and I’ll be back.” Three hours later when I pulled up in my BMW and stopped in front of Rita’s apartment, Kaylia came bursting outta Rita’s door like she was on fire! Grinning as wide as the ocean, peanut butter and jelly smeared on the side of her face.
“It this my bike!” Kaylia jumped up and down anxiously looking at the brand - new pink and white bicycle that peeked out of my trunk.
“No, it’s not yours.” Kaylia’s eyes turned sad immediately. “This Kaylia’s bike.”
“That’s me!” Kaylia beamed up at me.
“Oh. Well I guess it is yours then,” I said with a smile as I pulled the bike from my trunk and sat it in front of her.
“Thank you Mr. Banks!” Kaylia’s happiness gave me a warm feeling as she jumped on the bike ready to take off.
“Wait a minute.” I stopped Kaylia by grabbing the handle bars. I can’t let you ride the bike yet.
“Why not? Kaylia’s face showed alarm as if I would take the bike back.
“Because as fast as you run, I know you gone be flying on this bike, so you gonna need some good shoes.” I told her as I reached in the trunk and brought out the Nike shoe box opening it to reveal the pink, gray and white, girls Air Jordan’s inside.
“Air Jordans! These mines!” Kaylia asked as she reached in the box taking once out.
“Only if you can fit em!” I teased. Kaylia quickly laced the shoes up, put em on and ran back and forth up the sidewalk as if testing them out for grip. All the while laughing and beaming with joy. Inside the car, I also had two hundred dollars’ worth of clothes, a pair of UGZ boots, and three hundred dollars’ worth of groceries. All for Kaylia. “Before you get ghost on your bike we need to take the rest of your stuff in your house.” I told Kaylia as she looked at all the things with glee. Rita just stood on the porch smiling from ear to ear. “Where you and yo mama stay at?” Suddenly Kaylia hung her head again.
“They stay right there, next door Banks,” said Rita.
“Oh okay. Come on Kaylia so I can meet your mama.”
“Please Mr. Banks. Can we take my stuff somewhere else? My mama just gone sell it.” A tear ran down her young face.
“No she won’t. I bought this stuff for you and it’s yours. Go over there with Rita for a couple minutes while I let your mama know not to sell none of your stuff.” Walking over to apartment 44-B I knocked once and then opened the front door. The smell of burning crack immediately hit my nose as I stared at the one piece of furniture in the living room. A dirty, cigarette burn riddled couch. No pictures, no television, no life.
“Who is that? Kaylia go on back outside. I done told you I aint got nothing to eat!” A rage that I haven’t felt since Monique died instantly shot through me! Walking into the kitchen I saw three people sitting on milk crates with stems in their hands. Two men and one woman. The woman was dark with dirty jeans, and an even dirtier gray t-shirt. A blue scarf was tied loosely on her head, with nappy black hair peeking from underneath. “Who is you? You trying to do something? I’m on my period so I can’t give you nothing but some head. If you paying right, I might let you get some ass.” The sight of the trey pound that I whipped out, caused all three sets of eyes to stretch even bigger than they already were!
“We aint got no money!” One of the men yelled out in fear, as I raised the gun and pointed it at him and his partner.
“You two get out. Don’t come back. If I see you again you’re dead. Get out!” I yelled as they ran out the door so fast I didn’t even see them open it. Jackie sat trembling in fear yet still didn’t drop her crack pipe.
“Please Mr. I aint got nothing. Please don’t hurt me.” Her voice trembled as tears started to run down her face. Keeping the pistol pointed at her head I opened the refrigerator, and was shocked to find out, that the only thing in it was about a half a jug of water! “Please sir. I’ll do anythi… WHAM!!! My hand was around her throat and I’d slammed the back of her head into the wall before I even realized I’d done it! “Please. Please don’t kill me!”
“Shut the fuck up!” I told her squeezing tightly as tears rushed down her face. “I’m only gonna say this
one time so you better listen good. If you want to throw your life away, then that’s on you. But you aint got no right to throw Kaylia’s away too. Where’s her daddy at!” I screamed viciously!
“He…I don’t know who her daddy is.” She croaked out.
“Well I tell you what. From now on, I’m gonna be taking up that responsibility. She’s gonna have the chance to be a child. Anything I give or buy her, is hers. If you touch anything I give her, be it clothes, food, money whatever, I’m gone hunt yo worthless ass down, drag you to the highest bridge I can find, and toss yo funky ass off. Matter of fact. I might as well kill your worthless ass right now.” I growled as I mashed the barrel of the pistol into the side of her head.
“No please! She cried out. I won’t touch her stuff! Please don’t!” she bawled as if she were at a funeral! Releasing her neck from my grip, she fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes, struggling and gasping for air!
“My number is 519-8187. I’m in these projects every day, so I’m gonna be watching you. The check you get on the first is yours. The food stamps you can have em. I’ll take care of Kaylia as far as that’s concerned. If you ever get the urge to fuck wit her stuff, you call me and I’ll make sure you get high. Because if you touch anything of hers; you are one dead bitch. Understand me?”
“Ye… Yes!”
“You need to get off this shit so you can raise your daughter.” With that said, I threw a one hundred - dollar bill on the floor, and walked out. As soon as I got outside Kaylia dashed over to me.
“Is everything okay Mr. Banks?” She aint gone sell my stuff?”
“Everything’s fine Kaylia. She ain’t gone mess with none of your stuff.” And then Kaylia took me totally by surprise, when she jumped up, threw her arms around my neck, and hugged me so tight I almost couldn’t breathe!
“Thank you Mr. Banks,” she said with tears in her voice.
“You’re welcome Kaylia.” I told her with tears in mine too.
After moving all her stuff from my car to the apartment, Kaylia was overjoyed as she came out, jumped on her new bike and took off in line with the bike riding crew, eventually leaving them all in her dust.
