Hear No Evil

By K.C. Thomas

Sicx Benton is on the brink of doing something that no one in his family has ever done. In a Society divided not just by race, economics and stereotypes, often the only way out is by pure God given talents- The alternatives: Death or Prison.

As fate would have it, the curse of the streets would not pass him by. he loses his way out of the projects, his chance at a bright future, and the love of his life. As his experiences transform him, he must discover what is most important to him and what loyalty really is.

Because Sicx has demons that have been buried away deep inside of him so long, when the perfect storm of events bring them out, there is only one way ever to get them back under control....FAMILY

• Language: English
• Publisher: K.C. Thomas
• Release date: Nov 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9781540151780

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Hear No Evil: From No Worries To No Remorse

©2016 Gr8 Enterprises®

All rights reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the Author or Publisher, except for in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission request, e-mail the publisher at: [e-mail]

All characters, locations, and events appearing in this work are fictitious.  Any resemblance to real places, events, or persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America

Cover Fonts

Titles in Chiller

Subtitles in Bradley Hand ITC

––––––––

Published by:

Creative Works™ an imprint of

Great Entertainment Productions™

Atlanta Georgia

Gr8 Ent™, Creative Works™, and Benton Boy™ are Trademarks of Great Enterprises.

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Pending

Dedication:

To My Family:

My Father and Mother, who have been married for over 50 years and been together since both were about 15, you have taught me that NO MATTER WHAT, a family should stick together.  Marriage is a forever thing.  Thanks for being in my corner during my struggles.  I never would have made it without you two.

My siblings, who at times were like parents and other times, were my co-conspirators in life, thank you for the lessons I’ve learned while watching you.  Not that you only showed me what NOT to do, you also showed me plenty of things that molded my mind.

Ski, Ann, and Eric thank you for inspiring Skeet, Nat, and O-No- who gave meaning to this book.

My adopted families, thank you for your contributions to my life that made me mature, love, grow, and learn to be a good man. 

David, who gave inspiration to JD...anytime, anywhere- you need me and I will be there.

To my blood relative cousins Cephas and Shomari Yella (both Benton Boys) who are both riding behind walls—hold on, change is coming!

To My Supporters:

There is no way to write words that convey what I need to say.  That’s why I will always strive to show that ACTIONS do speak louder than words.

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-Thomas

Preface

You know in the hood, when they say a nigga got heart, that shit don’t just mean that the nigga down for his or that he’s a stone cold killer.  Having Heart goes deeper. Heart can also mean that you got compassion for a mutha fucker, that you’ll ride for the nigga, die for a nigga, and even kill because of the nigga.  Naw, the True Heart in the game is NOT the shit that’s seen by many, it’s the shit that’s known by few.

Heart

True – Heart

It ain’t too many niggas that got it.

Chapter 1

1/19/1991 – West End Atlanta...

Well, here we are Ms. Benton, unit 254.  Ms. Smith, the manager of the property was an ole wide body type of lady.  Puts you in the mind of those old school, Flat Back Cadillac Sevilles.  She stood about 5’ 2 and she was 260lbs on a good day.  She wore her hair in a Jerri Curl that had long ago dried out.  She had a very pronounced gap in her front teeth and had the nerve to put some gold on them: One a martini glass, the other a smiley face.  Both together gave you the sense of what her personality was like.  She wore tight spandex that made her legs look like cottage cheese and her ass like a bowling ball with too many holes in it.  The spandex was colored as to look like blue jeans and even had the fake back pockets.  She wore a collared shirt that hung down, yellow in color and with AHA stenciled across the breast pocket.  Her shoes were the typical Keds or White Girls as they call them.  Only they were red dirt colored and slightly frayed in the back from the pressure of her oversized foot.  Building 402 and unit 254, that’s what you’ll need to remember, Ms. Smith said.  It’s one of our last three bedrooms and it’s actually in a good location.  Nobody has been killed back here in at least six months," she grinned her wide gap smile as if this were a selling point.

Mom took a casual scroll around the worn down dive of a place, taking in every damage detail she could, so that she could make sure she wouldn’t be charged for it later.  This is the best one you got? Mom said in a disappointed voice.  "The ceiling is leaking, the back porch is missing the entire screen door, and the bathtub has a ring that I hope is rust and we just gone act like we don’t see all these damn roaches, huh?"

The buffalo of a lady turned up her nose as if to take some sort of offense to this.  Well ain’t nobody said you’d get the Super 8, she said as if the Super 8 were some high dollar hotel.  All’s I know is they’re tearing down Perry Homes and you gotta move.  Now you can take this or you can get back on the waitin’ list which I know ain’t getting’ seen ‘bout for a least a year.  She said all this with just a little too much sass in her voice.

Mama, aka The Kid was not one to overlook such blatant disrespect.  She looked at the lady, her mild hazel eyes narrowing into a sinister squint.  She took two steps forward and said, I see from the tone of your voice you must be trying to make that 6 month streak come to an end!  Now, I’m not sure who you are used to dealing with but let me assure you of one thing, I don’t take no shit off nobody.  I don’t give a fuck who it is.  Especially not in my own damn house.  Now give me the keys and get the fuck out before you slip on the floor and accidentally shoot yourself in the head.

Ms. Smith looked for one moment as if she would comment further, but thought better of it and simply said, Well, you still have to come sign the leasing agreement.  She took a few steps towards the door and paused by the huge gas furnace in the middle of the space that was supposed to be the living room, dropped the keys and pointed saying, Somebody will be by to light that, a jugg of the finger pointing, and the stove and hot water heater.

That will be quite alright, my husband will take care of it, Mom said still visibly pissed.

Husband! Ms. Smith croaked. This unit is for...

This unit is for me and whoever the fuck I want up in it! Mom cut in.

Well, I don’t know how they run shit over there in Perry Homes, but ‘round here, we got rules. Ms. Smith tried to sound stern but what came out was a sound that made her seem as if she was about ready to piss her spandex jeans. 

Taking another few steps towards the door causing, Ms. Smith to waddle backwards, stumbling over nothing but air, Mom said The way they run shit ova there is by stayin’ the fuck outta my bizness.  She gripped the door while the land lady back peddled to the front porch.  ...and I suggest you follow suit!

...but the paper... was all Ms. Smith could get out before the huge heavy door slammed shut in her face.

And there it was, the first day in the place that would change shit into something none of us could have ever imagined.  Mama, who always looked good for her age, stood there eyeing the whole place as she looked at all of us.  This was going to be the last stop.  Her oldest, out on his own, left three others and three grandkids to all share this three bedroom soup can.  Mama had naturally curly hair that she most of the time wore pulled back into a ponytail.  She had the skin tone that most would consider yella and had the most gorgeous eyes, that should be considered hazel, but on some days seemed more pecan colored.  Short in stature, she had a body of a middle aged woman of 47 with four grown ass kids!  She had always lived in the city and went to school at one of the roughest high schools out there but somehow managed to graduate.  She’d met Dad, Ole Bobcat, who was a sly young man of incredible athletic talents who was a friend of her older brothers.  They’d hooked up back in the 60’s and the rest was history.  Now, after years of gambling, drugs and heavy drinking, he’d finally hit a stretch where we had to huff it in the projects.

Mama had gone to school to get her Certified Nurse’s Assistant certification but didn’t last long.  She’d worked about three months and decided that the only ole ass she’d be cleaning was her own.  She quit.  Well, at least that’s the story she told.  Skeet, the oldest of her kids always said it was Mama’s drinking, but no one ever bothered to ask.

Harris Homes sits close to the West End Mall and right across the street from Morehouse Stadium, near the AUC.  This place had its share of thugs, hoodlums, and wanna-be gangsters, although it was only about 1/8 the size of Perry Homes, or even some of the other projects in the City.  Being so close to I-20 and to the AUC, there was always something going on and where there was something going on, there was two things that was sure to be there: Niggas and trouble.

Since Dad hadn’t moved in with us yet and Skeet had his own place by the airport, O-No was the oldest male in the house. That nigga was born a hell-raiser. I think the boy must have been locked up in juvenile at least 20 times and by the time we moved in ’91, he’d done a bid for a robbery.  19 years old and already a hardened criminal, it didn’t take long before he met that nigga Knuck from across the way.  Now O-No, named for the expression used whenever you see him coming, was a smart and talented dude.  He stood about 6’ 2" bare footed and was about 180 pounds of skin and muscles.  He’d been very talented too, taking heavily of the genes of his parents.  The avid basketball player, he could run the court with the best of them.  If only the fool could’ve stayed his ass in school.

Now Knuck was a local legend of his own right. He had a mouth full of gold and tended to smile at everything just to show them off.  He’d once been a football standout at Booker T. Washington, before the street life took him.  During his junior year of school, he’d sold his first quarter key.  Only problem is that it was to an undercover cop.  He ended up wagging on the charge and only got a 10 do 2 after his football Coach spoke highly of him in court. About 6’ 0" even and 215 pounds, he was quick as lightning on the football field, but he wasn’t fast enough the day he sold to the undercover.

It didn’t take very long for O-No and Knuck to hook up after one day Knuck spotted O-No on the porch with a basketball in his hands.  Things moved quickly from ballin’ on the court to ballin’ on the block.  They started out with dime weed bags and small bags of crack to pounds of chronic and kilos of near pure powder.  Those two niggas had the block sewed up.  There wasn’t any action between I-20 and Simpson Rd. that they didn’t at least get a part of.

The youngest of them all, 15, I was seen as the ticket outta the projects.  Though I’d inherited Mama’s height, I got my fair share of athletic talents from both of my parents.  All-City, All-Metro and 2nd team All-State as a sophomore, I was on every major college’s watch list in football and track.  But being in that area, you tend to covet what you see.  The fast life, easy money, and plush living were what everybody in the hood wanted:  Instant gratification.  The only problem was, I couldn’t get on.

What’s up little nigga, Bird, one of the local street peddlers, called out.

Shit, chillin’.  You seen O-No? I asked.

You know that nigga be in and out. I think he ran up to the Gulf to catch up to that nigga Tony or some shit.

How long he been gone? I asked seeming irritated.

Nigga, does it look like I got tabs on that nigga?  He pays me.  Bird said, as he blew out a steady stream of chronic smoke into the air. You wanna hit this shit, shawty? Bird asked.

Just then, another worker, Yay spoke up. Nigga, you bet not let ‘O dem find you offering that little nigga weed.  You know how dey is bout him with dat shit.

Nigga shut the fuck up, this nigga old enough to know if he wanna smoke or not.  What the fuck can he do anyway?  Once it’s smoked, it’s smoked. Bird tried to sound confident but in the back of his mind, he knew what was up.

Well, just don’t put my name in the shit. Yay announced.

Nigga, you scared or some shit. Ova there shivering like some kinda bitch.

Yay stood up, I tell you what mutha fucka, how ‘bout I handle this shit myself if you think it’s some bitch in me.

The scene was escalating pretty fast and I tried to get a word in.

Y’all niggas trippin’. I ain’t even say if I was gone hit the shit yet.  The fuck y’all going through all this shit fo’?  Chill the fuck out.

Yeah, Bird said, You need to chill the fuck out before your ass get into some shit you can’t get out of.

Just about then O-No and Knuck rolled up in ‘O’s brand new Jaguar XJ8.  It was the sports edition, Emerald Green with the Peanut Butter colored seats and matching convertible top.  The paint shined like a Jolly Rancher stick and the tires and rims were bright as the sun.  2Pac gave his rendition of "Thug Life" as they pulled up to the curb of the trap house which was right around the corner from the Gulf. I knew by the look in O’s eyes that he didn’t like the fact that I was up there and liked even less that all this shit was happening in front of his money spot. ‘O got out and Knuck circled around the passenger side of the car and stood beside him.

Fuck all this noise about? ‘O barked. Y’all out here fuckin’ up my spot. Blowin’ up this shit is fucking with my money.

Man, I was just out here burnin’ one down and this clown ass nigga starts with all this tough nigga talk like some kinda gorilla or some shit. So I was about to show this nigga I stay turned up.

Pussy nigga, fuck you! Yay shouted taking a few steps towards him.  I’ll show your ass what a gorilla is, ‘ole bitch ass nigga. 

They both stood there with their bodies tense and looking as if they would explode and launch at one another at any second.

For niggas smokin’, y’all niggas are sho nuff on some rah-rah shit. Knuck said, as he walked toward the door of the trap house. Y’all need to finish the blunt and shut the fuck up.

Bird said, That’s what I was trying to do when this nigga started all that crazy shit.

Yeah, but I bet you ain’t gone pass it like you were before are you nigga?  Talkin’ good tough guy—be bad now and pass Sicx the blunt.  Yay said, eyeing O-No.

Knuck stopped in his tracks and turned around. I know I just didn’t hear what the fuck I thought I heard. What the fuck you say, Yay? 

I said... Yay started

It sounded like he said this nigga offered my mutha fuckin brother some weed. That’s what the fuck it sounded like he said O’ said.

I started to say something but the ice cold stare O’ gave me let me know it wasn’t the time. Still, I spoke anyway.

I didn’t take the shit so why y’all trippin.

Nigga it ain’t about dat, it’s about respect. They ain’t got no business tryin' to fuck up your future like they shit is. Everybody knows that shit, Bird especially, O’ said walking over towards Bird.

What the fuck could have been going through your mind to do some disrespectful shit like that?

Man it wasn’t even like dat. All I did was...  Those were the last words Bird spoke that day or any other day for that matter. ‘O drew his black .45 from the small of his back and sent one flying into Birds left eye before Bird could even blink it shut. Bone and hair particles flew as a hole the size of a grapefruit appeared in the back of Bird’s head. He was dead before he hit the ground and I could feel his brain matter on the side of my face.

I don’t take being disrespected. ‘O said this with the calm demeanor of a veteran Poker player and as casual as someone discussing the weather. Never fuck with my brother again.

Hell fool, he ain’t fuckin’, with nobody again, Knuck yelled. That nigga ova with!

And you nigga, ‘O said looking at Yay, stop dry snitching. Another boom of thunder clapped and Yay fell to the ground holding his leg at the knee. Clean this shit up and get me my fucking money, ‘O roared to Tony who’d just walked up.

Ever since then, two things were known in the hood. One, you never offer Sicx no fuck shit and two, O-No was a stone cold fool with his shit. All that night and really for the next several weeks, all I could think about was the sound of the thunder clap of that 4-5th and the smell of burnt flesh and gun powder; the look of that nigga Bird when he hit the ground and how quickly the streets flooded with his blood.

As in most hoods, the Police came but nobody saw nothing and knew better than to talk even if they did. If Yay could be shot while holding a pistol in his hand then nobody was really capable of causing O-No to not pop somebody’s top off. Word got around quickly that that wasn’t the first body O-No was responsible for. Hell, it supposedly wasn’t even the first one of that day! I looked at my brother through a different set of eyes from that day forth. Gone was the silly nigga I used to ‘Nigga Knock’ on people’s doors and egg folks house with. The same nigga that I’d played in the creek with and caught crawfish and frogs – had been replaced with a nigga with a heart as cold and hard as steel. Never before had I admired him more than I did after that day. The day all innocence was lost.

I was now heading into my junior year of school at BTW and had every college and every girl in the City on my jock. Through all of the crazy shit that happened on the regular on my block, I’d managed to stay clear of most of that shit and focused on football and school. Well, there was a third thing, the thing that flipped my small world up-side-down. Angel Issenberg-Angel ISS (eyes) to everyone who she’d meet.

Angel was a true thoroughbred. She’d moved to the city from some place down south where the only thing that was more abundant than country ass niggas, was red neck ass white folks. Some small little dot on the map whose biggest asset was the chicken manufacturing plant that all the Good folk got jobs at. Well Angel’s Mom split from her Dad and she moved to the city when her Mom got hired as a lab tech at the CDC headquarters downtown. Angel had a brother named JD, who was a year and a half older than she was and who’d come out to play football.

Now when I first laid eyes on her, I was struck by her eyes. Shit! Those were the type of eyes that could ruin a nigga because they were the kind you could never say ‘no’ to. They were the softest shade of Hazel Brown I’d ever seen other than on my mother and I slick thought that that was the reason I found them so mesmerizing, like some sort of Oedipus Syndrome or something. She was short, every bit of 5’0" tall and 110lbs with the weight settled into all the right places. She had this thing that old folks talk about, an ‘aura’ of sorts. When she walked by niggas, hoes, even the punks had to turn and check her out. She was more woman that most chicks would ever be and more than most niggas would ever get. I had to have her.

Chapter 2

One day I finally got the courage to step to Angel at her locker. Yo, what’s up, Ma, my name is Sicx, I said in the manliest voice I could muster.

I know, She replied, with an olive oil type voice that was so smooth and sweet I could taste it.

So I see you are... I started only to realize that I was now talking to the back of her head as she slammed the locker shut and headed toward the Gym. Dejected, I stared after her lost for words.

Don’t look so sad, a young girl said, as I stood there gawking at the finest piece of ass ever created.

I never even acknowledged the girl standin' there; I just headed towards the gym to see if I could put my face back together after the dis I’d just suffered. I left the girl standing there just like Angel ISS had left me.

After making it into the gym and getting ready for workouts, I went into the weight room and started my warm-ups. Now in this Jungle, I was king and unless you were wearing a whistle and answered to the title Coach, you did what the fuck I said, when and how I said it.

Y’all niggas stop that bullshit ova there and come get these sets in, I ain’t trying to be in here all day, I said. I was visibly pissed and thus, not in a mood to be fucked with.  Bench Press, Power cleans, and Squats-3 sets of 10 each and don’t be bull shitin’. Let’s Go! I said this with the authority and confidence of a veteran field general and everyone moved without question. Well, everyone except one.

What the fuck’s wrong with you? Didn’t you hear what he said, Tramaine yelled at the only nigga not moving.

The nigga just sat there and looked at Tramaine without a word.

This nigga must be retarded or something, Tramaine teased. You some kinda SPED or sum nigga? Do you understand what the fuck is going on dummy?

Well, apparently that was the wrong thing to say. The nigga was up and had run through Tramaine like a stop sign before anyone could even react. They went tumbling to the floor landing on loose weights and equipment sending it all in a scatter. Before we know it, rights and lefts were being connected to Tramaine’s jaw. Well, that shit didn’t last long because Tramaine was the starting QB and all the lineman felt a certain kind of way about seeing him get beat down like that. They tossed the new nigga from one side of the weight room to the other. After a while, I had to step in.

Chill the fuck out! I ordered, Y’all niggas leave the nigga alone...Now!

Hell Naw, Hell Naw! Tramaine yelled, while trying to get to the dude again. Imma beat that nigga ass. He snuck me man, that nigga snuck me.

Ha, ha, ha, naw nigga, that nigga liked to split your damn spine, I laughed. I ain’t seen you get hit that hard since that nigga from Doug sacked ‘yo ass 4th Quarter of the last game of the playoffs last year. ‘Yo ass fumbled and cost us the game. Naw, you good my nigga. Let him go. I stared at Tramaine.

And you bet not do shit, I said.

Silence.

Yo, what’s your name?

J. D. He replied.

I’m Sicx, I said, with a slap at his hand. What position you play?

Whatever needs playing.

Well the way you just laid that nigga out, we need you on defense with me.

They say it’s better to give than receive, He said, with a smirk.

What the hell y'all doing up here grab Ass-in? Get y’all sorry asses out of here and get dressed out, now!  You betta be on da field by 4:30- move!! Coach Kev’s voice boomed seemingly from out of nowhere and the whole weight room scattered like roaches.

Aye, Coach, this here is J.D.  He just came to school here and wants to try out.

Nigga, you think I don’t know what’s going on in my own school? Take the nigga to the locker room and help him get his shit together. Give him a blue jersey.

Blue Jersey? J.D. inquired questioningly.

Yeah defense. I replied, Welcome to Death Valley.

Me and J.D were of similar size only, of course, I was way more cut up than he was because I lifted weights and he’d been lifting cows or some shit. Hell, but outside of me, that nigga was ‘bout as real as it got out there. A regular Bobby Boshay like on Water Boy

We were like thunder and lightning out there and he and Tramaine never did really get along. But hell, it was fine by him because Defensive niggas really never did care too much for them pretty boy type mutha fuckers that play offense. Nah, we were cut from a different cloth and J.D’s. rag was extra grimy.

After practice that day, J.D. and I went over to the mall that was right down the way and sat in the food court and talked shit to one another and to every female that walked by. After a while he said, Yo, I gotta go pick up my lil sister from practice. I’ll catch you later.

You drive nigga? I asked

Yeah, I usually use Mom’s car cause she’s always at work.

Well, drop a nigga off at the train station.

Aight, but lets go get my sister, I know she’s been waitin cause she got outta practice bout an hour ago. She’s prolly pissed but she’ll be ok. He said, grinning.

We pulled up at the back side of the school and sure enough, the only two people left out there were one girl and her Coach. As we rolled the car to a stop, J.D. said, Damn! I knew it.

Coach Lowery stood at the door looking something like a retarded vulture. She might have been in her 40’s but looked every day of 75 and had features that befitted the most Gruesome monster in a horror movie. Oddly, when we arrived, she didn’t even say anything. She just turned and walked off.

Whew J.D. said, relieved and honking his horn to hurry his lil sister along.

When she turned around, my breath caught in my throat and I had to do a double take. Nigga, that’s your sister? I asked in disbelief.

Yeah, but why the fuck you say it like that, he said

Let’s just say I ain’t notice the family resemblance, I laughed, while opening the passenger door on the banana colored coupe.

Um hum. I been fightin' niggas all my life bout that girl. Niggas always on some fuck shit and I don’t play the radio when it comes to my family.

Just then, Angel approached, steam coming out of her ears. Nigga, where the world you been?  She started in as I held the door and lifted the seat up, giving access to the back seat.  ...and what the fuck you think you doing?  She hissed looking at me.  I ain’t getting in no back seat.  This is my fucking car!  She exclaimed.

Hell, I couldn’t argue. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I was still caught up looking at her beautiful eyes.  I smiled my playa smile and slid into the back.  They drove me to the train station and I got out and gave JD some dap.

Preciate my nigga. Good lookin’ out.  I said.

No problem man.  He retorted.

See you later, Angel.  I said, as smooth as I knew how.  All I got was a view of the same ponytail I saw last time I’d tried to get at her.  JD and I both laughed and they drove away.

From then on, JD and I were thick as thieves.  If you saw one, you saw the other.  Even though he was older, he kinda looked up to me and he was like the brother closer to my own age that I’d always wanted.  Nothing against O-No, but that nigga on some other shit.

After being around me so much, Angel started to open up gradually.  Soon we were able to string together enough words in a row to actually call it a conversation.  We talked more and more all the way from the first few weeks of our junior year until November.  That’s when things started to heat up.

The very beginning of when I knew I had her was after the homecoming game.  The school had a dance up at Morris Brown College’s gym and I took this cheerleader Chari.  She was thick, but not the type of thick that was one meal away from being fat but the type of thick that meant nice C-cup breast, an apple-type ass, and thighs that brought all that shit together perfectly in a way that drew attention to the gap between them.  She might have been one of the cutest girls in the city and had a bright smile full of braces and dimples that added just the perfect touch to her near perfect face.  She also just happened to be the captain of the cheerleading squad which didn’t hurt much either.

Man, when we walked into the spot together, it was like even the air stood still.  Every nigga there wanted to be me and every bitch wished she could be her.  With one glance at Angel, I could tell this was the case with her as well. The night went on with intervals of slow grinding with Chari and kickin’ it with the fellas.  Every so often, I’d look up and notice Angel staring at me from across the room.  She’d come with some nigga named Jim.  What kinda name is that for a nigga?  Well, the more I showed love to Chari, the more Angel acted like she was into this Jim nigga.

The night ended and since I still didn’t have my license so I could drive, I was forced to let Chari ride home with me and JD... Oh and Angel.  When I walked Chari to her front door, we stood there for a moment and talked gazing in each other’s eyes.  I could feel a set of eyes burning a hole in the side of my head but I ignored it. Soon, I gave Chari one of the deepest, longest, most passionate kisses I could— The type that could rival a soap opera kiss.  We said our good-nights and I came back to the car.  Only this time, the door wouldn’t open.

Hey, open the door, girl.  Quit playing, I said, with a grin.

Nall, take your ass ova to JD side and get in. Angel said.

Stop playing and open the door, girl. All that did was get the window rolled up.  I went over and got in behind JD.

JD said, Damn, what’s that all about?  Looking at his sister with a puzzled look.

I just didn’t feel like being bothered, was Angel’s answer.

Damn, did I do something?  If I did...  My sentence was cut short by the fiery gaze that Angel shot at me before rolling her eyes and turning her head.

We rode all the way back to JD’s house in silence.  We were dropping Angel off and going to an after party.

Where y’all niggas going? Angel asked.

Now you getting into grown folks business, JD said, with his serious face on.

Well actually I don’t give a damn. Take the nigga back to that ho’s house.  I don’t give a fuck anyway.

JD and I sat there stunned as Angel slammed the door shut and stomped her way into the house slamming another door in the process.

Damn, Jay, fuck’s that all about?  I asked.

Nigga how the fuck am I supposed to know.  You know how dem chicks be wit all dat drama.  You have to be a mind reader to figure the shit out.

Well, all I know is there’s a house full of bitches waiting to get at me and we sittin' here like some fools missing out.

Say no more, JD said, as he threw the car into reverse and mashed out in the direction of the party.

I have to admit that Angel had my head fucked up all the rest of the night.  Now even though on the outside 9 ½ niggas outta 10 would choose Chari over Angel because of the total package, Angel was a dime in her own right. But it was that aura I’d seen that made me feel she was the one.

When we got back to school that Monday, things with Angel had regressed back to the way they were when we first met.  Sensing that I was blowing my chances with Angel because of Chari, I started to cool things down on that end.  They say a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, but I thought that didn’t apply to me because the bird I wanted was an Angel.

One Friday, I called JD to see what was up for the night.  Angel answered the phone and seemed like she was playing games about putting JD on.

JD don’t live here, she said.

Ha-ha-ha. I faked laughed, You got jokes I see.  Where that nigga at?

He’s busy.  What you want?  Why you always calling here for him anyway?  She said with a hint of a lil sumthing in her voice.

Feeling I’d heard an emphasis on for him, I played along. What you mean by that, shawty?  I said in my mack voice.

"You know what I mean