True to the Game II Page 7

  “Now, Gena, you can’t be scared of your own people, baby,” Gah Git told her. “You can’t never do that, you hear me? That’s what got us into this predicament in the first place. Black folks not trusting other black folks and we separated. You hear me?”

  “Gah Git, black folks can’t trust black folks ’cause white folks got all the money. If black folks had all the money like white folks, there wouldn’t be no issues and black folks would be all right.”

  “This may be true, but the white man ain’t giving up nothing, so black folks need to stick together. You youngins sure got a long hard road to travel.”

  “Yes, ma’am, that road is mighty rough too,” Gena joked. “But still why we got to be in Rich—”

  “Ain’t no but still,” Gah Git said, dismissing her with a wave of her hand. “I’m gon’ stay right here, right here where I’m at. I don’t even know why I’m wastin’ time talking this long. This is where I raised all my kids, Gena, and all my grandkids; it’s what I know. Shoot, I done raised a whole lot of other folks’ kids. Gah Git is just fine, right where she is.”

  Gena exhaled and shook her head.

  Gah Git turned back toward the sink, where her dishwasher was waiting for her.

  “Gena, don’t you go and get no big head now, just ’cause you done got a good job and all.”

  “I’m not, Gah Git,” Gena protested. “It’s just that I’m worried about you.”

  “What are you worried about me for?” Gah Git asked. “You thinking about getting outta here and moving in with that new boyfriend a yours? Don’tcha do it. Don’t you even think about it. Every time you date a man, you got to go live with ’em. I don’t understand it.”

  “No, no, I’m not ever doing that no more. Besides, I don’t want to live with Jay. Dag, I remember when Jamal threw me out and had my clothes all in the street. Gah Git, it was a mess. You just don’t know what I go through, and then Quadir, with that house we had . . .” And she stopped and looked off to the side. “But I am thinking about getting something somewhere nice. I just wish you would come with me.”

  “All right now, sugar pie, that’s what I’m talking about, girl. God bless the child that got his own,” Gah Git said, scrubbing dishes and placing them into the dishwasher. “Didn’t I tell you a man will never buy the cow if he can get the milk for free?”

  “Uh, yeah, I think you have,” said Gena, laughing at Gah Git, who was just as serious as serious could be. Gah Git had told her that line a million times now. “Hey, Gah Git, ain’t no milking going on here.”

  “’Bout time, ’cause I sure do hope so, ’cause them gypsy-ass cousins of yours is gone,” Gah Git turned toward her. “You should talk to ’em.”

  Gena lifted an eyebrow. “Who? Brianna and Bria? You think that they’re sexually active, Gah Git?”

  “Sexually active?” Gah Git placed the bowl that she was washing into the dishwasher and then placed her hand on her hip. “Girl, sexually active ain’t the word. Them girls is passing out tail like it’s government cheese.”

  Gena spat out her milk.

  “Gah Git!”

  “What? You think I don’t know what’s going on around here?” Gah Git asked.

  Wow, Gena couldn’t help but to think to herself. She really wasn’t minding them like that, dealing with the loss of Quadir and moving back home. Gena shook her head. “No, I know that you know everything that’s going on within a fifty-block radius. But still . . .”

  “But still, nothing, you should try to talk to them about it, because they keep telling me I’m too old and I don’t understand. Brianna told me, ‘Oh, Gah Git, it’s just sex.’ They not giving me no heart attack. So, I done told them girls not to be messing around and if that’s what they gonna do, then God help ’em and use a condom and protect they self. They said I’m too old to know. I know more than them.” Gah Git turned back toward her dishes. She didn’t want to talk about them no more. Bria and Brianna had hurt her feelings, but more important, the young girls shut her out because she was older, not knowing that Gah Git had answers to help guide them. But Gah Git couldn’t talk to them, just couldn’t reach them.

  “So, what’s the deal with this new man, and when can I meet him?”

  “Meet him?” Gena asked, surprised. “You want to meet him?”

  “I want to meet the man who got you out of your frumpy frowning ways,” Gah Git told her. “Baby, it’s good to see you smiling again. It’s so good to see you living again,” she said gently, holding Gena’s cheeks in her hands. “I know that you loved Quadir, but he’s gone now. And he would want you to be happy.”

  Gena smiled and lowered her head. She didn’t know if she was ready to have this conversation with Gah Git. She still wasn’t sure if she was ready to begin letting go.

  “We still here, baby,” Gah Git continued. “And we got to keep on living and keep on loving. We got to live life for those we love. We got to do things that they can’t do no more. We got to live life for them too.

  “You know I need to talk to you about something.” Gah Git wiped her hands on her apron, stopped what she was doing, and sat down at the table with Gena.

  “Why you looking so serious?” Gena asked, smiling at her grandmother.

  Gah Git didn’t know where to begin. She didn’t know where to start. How do you tell somebody that her father might not be her father? She picked up a napkin and began ruffling it through her fingers, and just when she was about to begin, Bria stormed into the house, letting Gena’s cat, Gucci, in with her.

  Gah Git quickly stood up from the table. “Mmm-mmm, I’m not sure what to say out my mouth; if it ain’t Ms. Five O’clock in the Morning! You came up in this house at five o’clock in the morning and somehow you got out of here before I could get a hold of you this morning. You know damn well that you supposed to have your butt in this house by ten o’clock at night! Where was you at?”

  “Please, Gah Git, please don’t ask me questions like that. I was over Dalvin’s house and I fell asleep. What’s the big deal?” Bria responded as she waved her hand in the air at her grandmother.

  “Who you think you talking to like that?” asked Gah Git as she wiped her hands on her apron, ready to smack the shit out of Bria. “Young lady, we have rules in this house. And you will obey those rules.”

  “Fuck rules,” Bria whispered under her breath as she huffed herself upstairs.

  “Excuse me?” Gena asked. “What did you just say?”

  “I wasn’t even talking to you,” Bria told her. “So mind your business.”

  “You are so disrespectful. It is my business if you disrespecting Gah Git!” Gena snapped back.

  “No, it ain’t none a yo business if I’m not talking to you!” Bria shouted, shaking her head. “You ain’t my mama, Gena! And you need to stop acting like it!”

  “I know that I ain’t your mama, your mama is on crack right now, that’s why you live here. So, you need to show some respect.”

  “Whatever, your mama’s dead, ’cause your daddy killed her, now!” said Bria, rolling her eyes at Gena and continuing upstairs.

  “Bria!” yelled Gah Git. “What the hell is wrong with you; come back down here, come back down here right now, ’cause if I got to come up them steps to get you, so help me God, I might hurt you, girl.”

  As she walked back down the stairs, Bria thought about what she had said, and in her heart of hearts she knew she had crossed the line. Even if she and Gena never did get along, that was still no reason for her to say what she had just said. She didn’t realize it, but Bria had just unleashed the biggest family secret, and Gah Git had reached her boiling point. She slapped Bria across the face harder than she’s ever hit anything in her life, spinning Bria around and knocking her into the wall before she fell to the floor.

  Bria looked up at her grandmother and then over to Gena, who seemed to not have heard her.

  “What did you say?” asked Gena, looking confused.

  “Nothing, baby, she ain’t say
nothing. Bria, go upstairs in your room and you stay there until I tell you different, you hear me?” Gah Git asked her, squeezing her arm.

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “I can’t hear you, what you say?” asked Gah Git, squeezing her arm harder.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “That’s what I thought you said. I wasn’t sure, I just had to make sure I was hearing you,” said Gah Git, still squeezing her arm as she led Bria over to the staircase.

  “I’ll deal with you later. You hear me, I’ma deal with you, though. You got some nerve, honey, some nerve. But I will deal with you if it kills me, you gonna learn to respect me and this house.”

  Just then Brianna flung open the door and walked in from school.

  “Dag, what’s going on in here?” Brianna asked.

  Gah Git didn’t know what to say. She looked at Gena, who seemed confused and unsure of what she had just heard.

  “Gena, you all right?” asked Brianna before hugging her grandmother.

  “Yeah, she all right, now go on upstairs for me and give me a few minutes with your cousin,” said Gah Git, pushing Brianna over to the staircase.

  “Okay, wait . . . hold up, Gah Git, can I just get some juice?” asked Brianna, who was trying to avoid being pushed away.

  “No! Juice ain’t no good for you, it’s loaded with sugar. Just go on upstairs like I said now.”

  “Dag, okay, let me get my book bag, Gah Git,” said Brianna, as Gah Git continued to push her.

  “Gah Git, okay, I’m going on upstairs. You squeezing my arm, Gah Git, I didn’t even do nothing,” said Brianna, trying to get free. “Dag, Gah Git, why you hurting me? I didn’t do nothing,” she added, not wanting to go upstairs but running out of reasons to procrastinate.

  Brianna folded her arms and smacked her lips at Gah Git.

  “Okay, I’ll see y’all later, since I’m being forced to go upstairs.”

  “Bye, good riddance, go!” said Gah Git. She turned and walked over to Gena. “Hey, see, I was trying to talk to you, but Bria came in and I forgot what I was about to say,” said Gah Git, not sure what to say.

  “I got to go,” said Gena, looking as if she had just been hit by a softball in the back of the head. She ran upstairs to her room and began to pack a carrying bag.

  “Go where?” said Gah Git, following Gena through the house, standing in her doorway.

  “I don’t know, Gah Git, just away from here. Just to myself, please let me be.”

  “Awww, baby, don’t be that way. You know I love you.”

  “Love has nothing to do with my mother not being here.”

  Gena looked at her grandmother with eyes of ice. Gah Git said no more after she gave her that look, and silence grew thick in the air as she stood back and watched Gena rush past her and down the stairs. She heard the front door slam closed and she knew that she should have told Gena the truth a long time ago. She had raised Gena to live a lie. Even though it was a lie to protect her, all in all, it was still a lie. She walked into her room and sat on the edge of her bed. Gah Git looked over to her tabletop at the various pictures of her children and her husband. So many memories. Some were good and some were bad. She picked up the phone and dialed her youngest son, Michael. It was time, time to tell the truth, and time for Michael to come back home. She would have him come home right away, if for nothing else, for the sake of Gena.

  ANOTHER DAY IN THE TRENCHES

  Mont rode his Suzuki GSXR 1300 Hayabusa to his brother’s bike shop. The bike was brand new to the market, and not many of them were out on the streets yet. It was the latest toy, his pride and joy, and he had already spent more than fifteen thousand dollars in modifications on it.

  The Hayabusa had been painted money green, with hundred-dollar bills painted all over the bike. The frame had been chromed, as had all of the bike’s other metal parts. The bike had been modified with a rear extended swing arm that had been chromed out, along with a rear fat boy rim and tire. The bike’s engine had been juiced up with a newly installed power commander, a Garrett turbocharger, and nitros system. It was, without a doubt, the fastest street bike in all of Philly. And because of its custom paint job and custom hand-painted graphics and artwork, it was also the nicest.

  Mont pulled the bike up to the garage door and climbed off it. He strode over to the garage, bent, and unlocked the massive steel sliding doors. He was fortunate to have an older brother with his own garage. It had been he and his brother who did all of the bike’s conversions and modifications. But today, there was some tweaking that he had to do before heading to the racetrack to embarrass all of them fools on their Ninjas and Yamahas.

  Mont climbed back onto his motorcycle and pulled into the garage. The door closed behind him.

  “What the fuck?” Mont turned back toward the door and quickly climbed off his bike. A dark figure emerged from the shadows. “Jerrell!”

  Jerrell smiled. “Who’d you think it was? The tooth fairy?”

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Mont asked, surprised. “How in the fuck did you get into the garage?”

  “Ancient Chinese secret,” Jerrell told him.

  Mont’s eyes shifted toward the object that Jerrell held in his hand. “Damn, homie! What’s up with the pistol?”

  “This?” Jerrell held the black Glock up and examined it. “This is for you.”

  “For me?” Mont asked nervously. “Why for me? Why you drawin’, homie?”

  “This is a present for you,” Jerrell told him. “I want to show you how much I appreciate everything that you did for me while I was locked up.”

  Mont swallowed hard. “What . . . what are you talking about?”

  “Here.” Jerrell tossed Mont the gun.

  Mont caught the pistol. “Man, what are you doing?”

  Jerrell pulled his shirt over his head. “Here, you want my shirt? You can have the shirt off of my back, Mont.” He tossed the shirt to Mont.

  Mont caught Jerrell’s shirt and held it up. “J, man . . . what are you doing? What are you tripping on?”

  “I’m not tripping,” Jerrell explained. “I’m just showing you how much love I have for you. I’m just showing how down I am for my niggas.”

  “We down for you too, J. Junior Mafia forever,” Mont replied.

  “Oh, yeah?” Jerrell asked. He slowly walked around a metal oil drum with a wrench sitting on top. “Y’all down for me, huh?”

  Mont nodded. “Yeah.”

  “So, where’s my fucking money then, Mont?” Jerrell shouted. He lifted the wrench off the drum and threw it at Mont.

  “J!” Mont shouted, dodging the wrench. “What the fuck, man?”

  “Where’s my fucking money, nigga!” Jerrell asked again.

  Mont lifted his hands in a calming motion. “J, I got you! Just calm down, I gotcha, baby!”

  Jerrell seated himself on the oil drum. “Then where is it?”

  “I got it close by,” Mont explained. “We can go and get it before I go to the track.”

  “You sure about that?” Jerrell asked with a smile. He waved his hand around the garage. “Are you sure that you didn’t spend it helping your brother get all this?”

  Mont swallowed hard and nodded. “Okay. I did go in with my brother on this shop, Jerrell. But I still got some of your money. I didn’t use it all. I just needed to borrow some of it to get this place started. But I can give you what I got, and then I can make payments on the rest. This shop thing is sweet, J! We gonna be making big bucks in here soon.”

  “So, I gotta wait for my money, ’cause you wanna open up a motorcycle shop?” Jerrell asked. “I gotta wait for my dreams, so that you can take my money and follow yours.”

  Mont shifted his gaze to the ground.

  Jerrell rose from the old rusty oil drum. “What were the rules, Mont? What were the rules about my money?”

  Mont lifted his hands again. “J, I . . .”

  “I get mines first, and then you can go and spend your shit on whatever you w
ant to!” Jerrell shouted. “You don’t go shopping with my shit! You don’t buy nothing without paying me first!”

  “J, you were locked up!” Mont shouted. “I just figured that I could hit this quick lick, pay you back, and then we would both be cool.”

  “Why didn’t you ask me if you could do that?” Jerrell asked. “Oh, that’s right. You couldn’t ask me, because you never came to see me. How much money did you say you sent me when I was locked up?”

  Mont shook his head.

  “And yet, you want to borrow my money without asking and use it to come up?” Jerrell shook his head. “That’s a violation of the rules, Mont.”

  “I’m sorry, J.” Mont lifted his shoulders and turned his hands up. “What do you want me to say?”

  Jerrell shook his head. “There’s nothing left for us to say.”

  “Just calm down, Jay,” Mont said nervously, realizing how shit was going to go down.

  Jerrell began walking toward Mont.

  “Go on with that bullshit, Jerrell,” Mont told him nervously. He lifted the weapon that Jerrell had tossed him. “Stay back, nigga!”

  Jerrell laughed and continued his slow walk toward Mont. Mont squeezed the trigger on the Glock and the weapon clicked. He quickly pulled back the slide and released it, and then pulled the trigger again. Nothing happened.

  “Nigga, I gave you that gun,” Jerrell told him. “Do you think that I’m going to give you a loaded gun to kill me with? Nigga, even I ain’t that crazy.”

  “Man, J, quit tripping!” Mont told him.

  “Quit tripping? Nigga, you just tried to do me in!” Jerrell told him. He pulled another weapon from the small of his back and aimed carefully at Mont’s right knee.

  “No!” Mont shouted.

  Jerrell squeezed the trigger and his weapon popped. Mont fell to the ground screaming and holding his knee. Jerrell climbed on top of Mont’s motorcycle, turned the ignition, and started the bike up.