First Laugh
Books by Rahiem Brooks
FEATURING ANDRE & KAREEM BEZEL
Laugh Now
First Laugh (Prequel)
Die Later
Last Laugh
Also by Rahiem Brooks
Con Test
Murder in Germantown
Truth, Lies, and Confessions (with Kevin Woodard)
First Laugh
Rahiem Brooks
PRODIGY PUBLISHING GROUP PHILADELPHIA
Copyright (c) 2011 by Rahiem Brooks
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Prodigy Publishing Group
P.O. Box 12285
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19144-9998 www.prodigypublishinggroup.com www.rahiembrooks.com
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Editor: Jenetha McCutcheon
Graphic Designer: Gregory Goodwin
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
First Laugh (Bezel Brothers, #2)
FIRST LAUGH | Part 1 | The Beginning
SEPTEMBER | CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
PART 2 December | CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
PART 3 | April | Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
FIRST LAUGH
Part 1
The Beginning
SEPTEMBER
CHAPTER 1
Fourteen-year-old Kareem Bezel’s fingers crawled across his makeshift nightstand and hit the snooze button on his alarm clock. The first day of school had finally arrived, and for Kareem, it came too soon. The blinding sunlight crept through the curtains, and caused him to pull his sheets up over his eyes. While lying there for another minute, he wished that he didn’t have to get up.
Kareem sat up, dropped his feet to the floor with a thud before he slipped into a pair of cheap house shoes. He groggily walked to the bathroom. The bathroom floor was uneven and the drop-ceiling tile was water-stained. If that wasn’t enough, the ugly, once aqua paint that covered the plywood paneling was peeling.
He let the warm water escape into the sink, as he stared at himself in the mirror. What he saw was his chestnut-brown eyes and full lips, set on his dark-skinned face. The young girls admired his pinkish bottom lip. Conceitedly, he admired himself, and thought that he spawned the adage: The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice. He washed his lanky figure and then brushed his crooked teeth. He recalled that his aunt Renee, a dental hygienist, had urged him to get braces. Not wanting to be called “brace face” or “metal mouth,” he declined.
Kareem walked back to his room and jumped into an Adidas sweat suit, Adidas shell-tops, and fitted Sixers ball cap. Twenty minutes later, he left his room and walked downstairs to the kitchen.
Jean-Mary’s kitchen had a warm seventies feel. The old sink and counter frame, outdated washer and dryer, and icebox sat atop cracked floor tile. The same poor quality paneling from the bathroom, in brown, lined the kitchen walls, and that matched the russet curtains. What was interesting to Kareem was that the early 20th century home was better than a lot of other Philadelphia dwellings, but he hated it.
Kareem sat at the kitchen table and ate sausages, eggs scrambled and pancakes. Jean-Mary waltzed into the kitchen as bubbly as a kid in a fudge factory. She admired her grandson and then said, “Now look at my baby.”
Jean-Mary was Kareem’s paternal grandmother, whom he regarded as Mama. She sat at the table and removed her glasses, revealing brown eyes set like a chipmunk’s on her round face. She was a light hued and jovial woman in her early sixties, with salt and pepper hair in a perfect chignon. She donned navy trousers and an electric-colored blouse.
“Good morning, Mama. Thanks for breakfast,” Kareem said smiling.
Jean-Mary poured herself a mug of coffee, and beseechingly asked, “Good morning to you, too. Are you ready for your big day?”
Kareem was not ready for the question, so he chewed his food slowly to delay a response. He first had to accept that he would not be attending the neighborhood high school. As an honor-roll student for all four 8th grade marking periods, he received a voucher to attend Upper Merion Area High School in King of Prussia, a suburb of Philadelphia. He was fully aware that he could never skip class or school and that he had to be attentive while he was there. He had desired to be an attorney, for the financial reward, but he was very analytical and paid very close attention to the details like a seasoned attorney. He wanted to make a lot of money to change his world and his family situation.
“You know what, Mama. I am ready. I do not really want to go out there with all of those white people, but I know that it’s for the better,” Kareem finally responded wholeheartedly. “I’m doing this for my dad. I really wish he had not gone to jail trying to take care of me, Mama. I want to get straight A’s so that I can go to college for free.”
“Boy, you can be anything that you set out to be,” Mama replied. She was proud of his words. “You have the potential to be the first black president, so I encourage you to get everything that you can from this school. Being out there with all of those white people, as you called them, is one of the best things to happen to you this far in life,” she said and sipped her coffee. “Just do your best and I will be proud.”
Kareem listened gallantly as Jean-Mary encouraged him to showcase his academic talent, but his mind was riveted on his not being in the hood. How would he be perceived in the suburbs? The bottom line was that he was given a rare opportunity and he’d excel. “Mama, I’ll make you proud, for sure. But, president? I’ll pass,” he said and chuckled.
***
Jean-Mary drove Kareem to school that morning. They sped up the Schuylkill Express way in her charcoal-colored Lexus ES-300 and Kareem imagined the environment that he was about to enter. They exited at King of Prussia and he marveled at what he saw. Images that were only reflected on TV for him: minivan car pools transported droves of children to school, students waited at bus stops, clean streets were lined with perfect lawns, and he hadn’t seen that many men in business suits in one morning.
They pulled in front of the high school and Kareem looked around. The two-story high school was built with tan bricks. At 7:05 a.m. the sun radiantly beamed off the one-way glass windows that spanned each floor. The entrance doors that he could see were painted blue. Kareem wanted to roam the inside of the school, but there were equally interesting props outside the school. A football field was surrounded by a track and bleachers on both sides, with a field house. More fascinating was the school’s regulation baseball field, volley ball field arena and multi-purpose field for field hockey and soccer. He wanted to try those sports, as they weren’t offered in his city high school.
Jean-Mary looked at the scene and was equally impressed. The school boasted sports programs that would have college scouts throwing scholarships at students. She could not find a reason for the disparities between their neighborhood, Germantown High School, and Upper Merion High School. Despite that,
she hoped the Kareem took interest in one of the sports in order to improve his admittance into an ivy-league university.
She had thought back to when she enrolled her baby into the school. The guidance counselor, Johanson Chabrier, attempted to place Kareem into track-four classes. The school had five tracks and four was next to the lowest level. That was where they warehoused the black students, but Jean-Mary vehemently opposed that placement. She wanted Kareem challenged and the Advance Placement courses were necessary for excellent college placement. That left the counselor with no choice but to test Kareem. After the test, Kareem was placed in AP Algebra and AP World Civilizations. All honors courses filled the remainder of his roster. The AP courses would prepare him for SAT II tests, which would be awarded as college credits and shave time off him earning a degree.
She leaned over and gave Kareem an encouraging hug and kiss. “I love you, and be good.”
“I love you, too,” he told her and hopped out the car. He disappeared into the crowd of students and Jean-Mary pulled off.
She prayed that Kareem made more out of life than her son, James. James served a LIFE sentence at Allenwood Federal Penitentiary for violating drug trafficking laws and the murder of a fellow dealer. Mama had no choice but to forgo her retirement and take care of Kareem. Kareem had been trapped in a household where he didn’t quite fit into the puzzle, which affected his school work. His mother, Delores, verbally and mentally abused him, and he occasionally suffered ass- whippings brought on by his mother’s drinking problem. The abuse was so severe and obvious that Delores’s sister had anonymously reported it to the Department of Human Services. But the authorities could not proceed, because Kareem denied any abuse.
A trip to the hospital for stitches in the knee after trying to escape an ass beating, being called names and told that he should have been aborted were hardly any reasons to deny abuse. Despite that, Kareem did not rat out his mother, which would have landed her in jail, and worse, place him and his older brother Andre into foster care. On top of the alcoholism, Delores married Eli, and left James in jail to rot; an act that Kareem had never forgiven her for. How could she leave his father? Was she insane? Was Eli having sex with his mother? That was answered when Delores became pregnant with Dawn, Kareem’s younger sister.
To the public, it seemed that Delores, Eli and Dawn were the perfect family, and Andre and Kareem were adopted. Delores appeared to loathe her boys because they were dark- mocha hued and resembled James. Dawn was light-skinned. Kareem was an obstacle in Delores’ marriage, and nothing would stand in her way of happiness.
Despite all of the turmoil, attending Upper Merion was Kareem’s big break. Nothing could prevent him from overcoming that drama and moving on in his life.
CHAPTER 2
Andre Bezel awoke to a light knock on his bedroom door. He rolled over and looked at his alarm clock. It was 7:30 a.m. What does she want this damn early? he thought. Can’t a fifteen-year-old brotha enjoy the last two weeks of summer vacation? Damn!
Without waiting for Dre to acknowledge her, Delores barged into her son’s room dressed in a fuchsia smock and white nursing clogs. “Dre, I’m leaving for work,” she screamed as if he was mute. “Your sister is still in there sleeping. When she gets up, wash her up and be sure she brushes her teeth. She can eat cereal for breakfast and you can both have sandwiches for lunch,” Delores said, and walked toward the door. Before she exited, she said, “And clean this hell hole. It’s a whole mess in here.”
Whatever, Delores, just get out. I’m not trying to hear all of that. Dawn will be in pajamas when you get home and she’ll eat cereal, ice cream and cake all day. Good bye, Dre thought mockingly. “Ok, mother, but if this was clean it wouldn’t be a hell hole. I’ll dust, mow the lawn, and clean the grill.”
“Who’re you getting smart with?” she asked as her petite frame walked to his bedroom window. She pulled back the curtains and let in the sunlight. She turned off the TV, and asked, “What have I told you about sleeping with the TV on?”
“Mom, would you please. Eli pays the bills.”
“Mom, my ass. Clean this junkyard before I get home!” She barked and then left his room.
Dre could not wait to turn eighteen to move out of Delores’s home. Her house and her rules were too much for him to handle as a grown man. Dre often thought of joining Kareem at Jean-Mary’s, but who’d protect his mother from hurt or pain? He certainly wasn’t going to rely on Eli. Especially when Eli could be a problem. Matter-of-factly, had both of her sons left her, Delores would internally be hurt, although, she’d act like there was nothing wrong. She had mastered how to come off uncaring, but the brothers knew that her bark was louder than her bite.
Dre rolled out of bed and turned on the radio. He pushed play on the CD player and Spaz-O’s voice filled the air. He pumped up the volume as the underground music awoke him.
In the modern bathroom, Dre showered, brushed his teeth and combed his hair. Back in his room, he put lotion on his cocoa-brown skin and greased his close cropped hair. He looked in the full-length mirror and made his pecs jump. He had been working out at the YMCA, so that he could bulk up for football season. Besides that, he loved the way girls adored his physique.
Dre walked downstairs to the living room in basketball shorts and a tank top with his Xbox and his PlayStation in his hands. He had brought Tekken and Madden, his two favorite games. He connected the equipment to his mother’s plasma screen TV. He knew that he was dead wrong, because he’d be dead if Delores found out that his game was hooked to her TV. However, when the cat was away, he played.
Dre went to the kitchen and searched the chrome refrigerator for something to snack on. He didn’t find a thing that he wanted, but he settled on a bowl of Honey Nut Cherrios. As soon as he was about to put the milk away, Dawn came into the kitchen and hopped into a seat at the glass- topped table. She stared at the yellow and white painted walls and bright yellow curtains before she demanded a bowl of cereal. She knew that she was the boss. Dre whipped together breakfast for her and then went into the living room.
He plopped on a misty-gray cashmere sofa and grabbed a controller to play Madden. Within minutes, he was so into the game that he hadn’t noticed Dawn come into the living room with a glass of orange juice, which dripped along the ivory carpet.
Dre jumped and screamed, “What the hell are you doing? You know you can’t drink in here.”
Dawn was so startled that the glass slipped through her tiny hands. Dre could not believe his eyes. He snatched the tank top off his back to soak up the pool of orange juice. Dawn giggled as if she had done it on purpose. Dre was pissed.
Eli and Delores had moved the family to the neat Andorra section of Philadelphia. They had put a lot of money into their home. Dre knew that they would be pissed at the mess that Dawn caused and ultimately blame him for not watching her. He found the cleaner to clean the floor. As he sprayed the spots and patted them with a damp cloth, Dawn tried to help, but he told her to go to the bathroom to clean up.
After Dre cleaned the floor, he went to the bathroom. He made sure that Dawn was washed up and brushed her teeth properly. In her pink and white room filled with toys, Dre dressed her and brought to light the prettiest little girl. There was no need for her to be all dolled up and in the house. He sat on her Barbie convertible bed and thought how he’d fix that. He looked at her clock and then knew exactly where to go.
He went to his room and called his aunt Renee. He told her that he would be there in an hour. And then told Dawn, “Let me get dressed and then we are going on a field trip.” Taking her to 17th and Jefferson Street, one of the roughest Philadelphia ghettos was hardly a field trip. It was more like being deployed to Iraq.
CHAPTER 3
With no recollection of moving, vexed by the situation, Kareem walked down the pathway and felt out of place. It seemed as if all eyes were on him. All the way to the entrance doors, Kareem had not encountered any black people. Where had his grandmother left him?
Was he in some sort of cruel nightmare, and he really started school the following week with the rest of the Philadelphia students?
As he made his way through the graffiti free corridors to his advisory, he was in awe. There were no broken or dim lights, and all of the lockers were about 5’6, Kareem’s height. None of them were stacked, so there would be no traffic jams while changing classes. In fact, students were not allowed to stop at their lockers between classes, which left no room for lateness. At his previous school, lateness and absence was as common as a lion living in the jungle.
Outside of room 214, Kareem found a cluster of black students. Boy, was he relieved. He kept his cool and smoothly walked toward them as he discreetly sized up the bunch. He walked by them and felt like the new guy. One of the girls tapped another girl’s shoulder.
The bell rang, and in the classroom, a short portly teacher introduced himself as Mr. Burns. Mr. Burns handed each student their roster, and Kareem learned that Mr. Burns was also his AP English teacher. After 16 minutes of perfunctory “Hi, my name is..,” the school bell rang. Kareem mentally heard, “And they’re off.” And his first day of school had officially begun.
***
Dre arrived at Aunt Renee’s neighborhood and shook hands with the corner boys. They accepted Dre on their block despite his being from Uptown.
Aunt Renee had a bachelor’s degree in dental hygiene and a bad crack habit. Her behavior was highly irresponsible and harshly criticized by her family and friends, but that didn’t stop her from stealing to buy her high. Her two children, Rhonda and Quaron, had accepted that their mother stole their things to sell, lost job after job, and lost her motherly appeal. Rhonda was eighteen and took up her mother’s slack, raised Quaron, and worked hard to be sure that they didn’t fall victim to selling drugs or doing them. Rhonda loathed her mother’s life style and worked to shelter her brother from her misdeeds.
First Laugh Page 1
