Street Tears

By Montayj

The third-generation ghetto politician, Harold, gives his heart to the street and worships everything that comes with it: hustling, nightlife, women, and the ghetto mentality. He owns this life, remaining dedicated to move up the ranks of street politician until he witnesses the murder of his girlfriend, Alicia, loses a child, and watches the self-destruction of his best friend, Chain.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jones House Publishing
• Release date: Sep 14, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370167319

Book preview

Street Tears

Copyright 2016 Montayj

Published by Montayj at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Street Tears

Published by Jones House Publishing

Copyright 2016 by Jones House Publishing

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any form, electronically or manually without written permission from Montayj and Jones House Publishing.

This story is merely fictional recreation of events that may or may have not occurred. All characters bearing similarity to real life characters are made-up and not based on anyone in particular.

Jones House Publishing

[e-mail]

www.joneshousepublishing.com

For those lost in the streets and searching for a way out; and for those in love with the streets and don’t want to find a way out.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

~~ The streets are money and money is the pusher’s only true love. ~~ Hood Proverbs

CHAPTER 1

The first lights of the day were just shining through the scarce ghetto trees onto the awaiting concrete slabs. Dopefiend Bird was hooting and shouting on her pink beach cruiser, a reliable ghetto alarm when all else failed. When she passed it became quiet around Alicia and Harold’s house, but they knew she’d most likely come again, if not her then some other fiend that the streets sent to interrupt an otherwise peaceful morning.

The kitchen had a fresh smell to it from the Hawaiian breeze automatic air freshener that went off every fifteen minutes, sometimes irritatingly. With Dopefiend Bird on another street it was an unusual calm, everything still put neatly away from the night before, sink clean, oven turned off since breakfast was made for deserving lovers only, in the beat of Piney Lakes.

Why can’t you love me? Alicia asked Harold who was already fully dressed and about to walk out of the door. Is it that hard?

I got my reasons, he said coolly.

Harold lit up a cigarette and took a long first drag. He put his hand on his crotch before taking another, equally long drag. 

What are your reasons? she continued. What possible reasons could you have to explain why, after seven years, you still can’t bring yourself to love me man? Why do you hold on to me? Just let me go if you don’t want me.

Her eyes sparkled from the strong emotions of welled up tears and blown smoke as she wondered why he kept thick chains of unspoken love around her neck. She wasn’t yet strong enough to walk away on her own. Alicia's face, though a dark brown, was turning red from anger and frustration. Harold gave her a smirk.

I don't want to talk about this shit right now. I got shit to do, he countered.

You never want to talk about it. Never. Can you at least tell me why we can’t talk? She wanted to hug him and kiss his neck and for him to hug and kiss her back, tell her with conviction that he loved her and whatever awaited him in the streets he would give it a raincheck.

Instead he retorted: Because I'm tired of repeatin’ the same thang to your ass. You don't listen. You only hear what Alicia wants to hear and if it ain’t somethin’ that goes your way or to your likin’ you tune it out and pretend it never happened. That’s why I don’t wanna talk and I got stuff to do like I said and you wastin’ time. 

I'm listening now, she challenged. 

Harold took another drag of his cigarette and blew smoke through his nostrils.

This ain't the time Alicia. I'll see you later on. He glanced at the time on his phone.

Okay Harold, whatever. It's never the time, she critiqued with a whiny voice that she used strategically when they got into disputes.

You always tryna start an argument, Harold shot at her as he blew more smoke, towards her face this time. Alicia coughed a little, which almost seemed fake but was very authentic. She couldn’t stand the smell of cigarettes and hated for Harold to smoke them in her house. She waved the smoke from her face. It’s too early for this nonsense and I don’t know why you always like to instigate arguments. Sometimes I think that’s how you get your kicks. Harold shook his right leg, something he did when he became impatient.

I don't want to argue with you. I just want you to talk to me, she pleaded in a soft, aching voice as her speech changed from the whiny type just seconds ago.

I'm talkin’ to you but you ain't sayin’ shit. He criticized her conversation on the grounds that it would make her walk away from the argument. He knew it wouldn’t work but was willing to try anything for the conversation to be over. He had business to tend to in the streets and was craving to get into them. This argument with Alicia served no purpose other than poor time management on his part that he would regret real soon. He had licks waiting and as loyal as his customers tried to be to their dealers, that habit took over their mind like a spinning tornado and made them respect the nature. If they had to they called their backup dealer and caught back up with you the next go round.

Harold, can you answer me one question, just one question, and I'll let you go? she finally reasoned.

Yea, Alicia, what is it? There was a strong hint of irritation in his voice. He crossed his arms preparing his defense. His leg stopped shaking.

Will you ever love me like I love you? she propounded. Them streets will never love you like I do.

See, there you go. Like, can we talk about this later? I really got somewhere I need to be. Harold was in disbelief. He unfolded his arms and forcefully tapped his fingers on the table he stood next to in order to really display his irritation with her. However, his defense mechanisms failed.

You know I’m telling the truth. She waited for his response. At that moment Harold's phone rang. He looked at it but didn’t answer. Are you going to answer that?

It ain't nobody but Chain, he lied.

Then answer it.

Harold laughed a little because he was boxed into a new situation. Alicia chill, baby. I'll see you later and we'll talk about it then.

He attempted to kiss her lips but she turned her head, so he kissed her on the cheek. 

Move. I don’t want to kiss you. You can’t even talk to me like an adult.

We'll talk about it when I get back, I promise.

Answer the phone Harold. If it isn’t anyone but Chain, call him back. Tell him I said hello. I haven’t talked to Chain in quite a while. I have a question I want to ask him anyways, she tested.

I don’t feel like talkin’ to Chain right now. I already know what he want, he stressed, hoping that some miracle would remove him from this conversation.

Um hmm. That was the expression her grandmother used when in total disbelief. Alicia sighed, having heard those same lies from him a million times. She watched Harold closely as he grabbed a small bag from on top of the refrigerator and hurried out the door.

We’ll talk about this later. I promise babe, he said.

Yea Harold. Okay.

She stood at the door, just watching as he got into the car trying his hardest not to make eye contact with her again. 

He looked at her briefly before turning his head to back up and muttered, Stupid trick, but since he was inside the car she didn't know it. She thought she saw his lips quiver but it was impossible to tell what her eyes wanted her to see through the windshield.

Alicia, after standing at the door for several minutes, thought to herself how much longer she would be able to put up with Harold. She knew why she did it: because she loved him, but how much longer she could deal with him not loving her back had been at question for quite some time. She felt like crying but tried to avoid it. She had to go to work in a little while and if she cried there was no way she could face those demons at her job without going off on someone. After six minutes of staring out into the yard she shut the door.

To hell with you Harold! she screamed as she plopped down on the couch and began to sob. You dirty son-of-a-bitch.

Several minutes passed and there was a knock at the door. Keeping her face buried in the couch, she ignored it at first, hoping whoever it was hadn’t heard her inside and that they would go away. The knock came again, this time a little harder. She stared at the door but didn’t answer. Alicia wiped her eyes with her palms.

Go away, she whispered almost inaudibly to the unknown stranger at her door.

About forty seconds passed before the third knock came so Alicia thought whoever it was had gone about their business. But that was not the case. Just as she was putting her head back into the couch the knock came one more time, with a voice behind it.

Harold, the voice called. It’s me, Smit Dogg.

By now Alicia knew that he wasn’t going to just leave after seeing her car outside so she got up.

Hold on, she called out. She straightened herself out before opening the door. What is it Smit?

Good mornin’ Alicia. Is Harold here? Smit Dogg twirled a roll of pennies in his hand before finally sticking them in his back pocket.

No. You just missed him, she informed him.

Did he leave somethin’?

Alicia sighed. What do you want Smit?

A dime.

Did you try to call him? Alicia delved.

Earlier. I told him I was comin’. He said he would be here. Did he leave somethin’? Smit Dogg lied about the conversation.

Yes, but you know I don’t like for him to do nothing here. I tell y’all that every day but no one listens to me, she protested.

I know Alicia. I’m sorry.

She knew he wasn’t sorry and that he only said that to soften her annoyance.

Hmm. No you’re not, she pointed out. Do you have the ten dollars?

Actually it’s $9 and sixty somethin’ cents. Here you go. He handed her the money that he had balled up in his pocket, keeping the roll of pennies.

Step in, she directed. If you called Harold this morning you didn’t talk to him. I know that for a fact. You don’t have to lie when you come over here either. I hate that more than anything. Are we clear on that?

Got it, he acknowledged.

Good, she said, shooting him a disapproving glare.

Smit Dogg stepped into the house. Thank you, he called out as Alicia walked towards the back bedroom without responding. He waited on her impatiently, tempted to tell her to hurry but reasoned that it wasn’t wise based on his predicament. He scanned the front room and spotted a fifty-dollar bill sitting on the coffee table. He could probably grab it and stuff it in his pocket, get his drugs and leave before Alicia figured it out. There were plenty of other people who sold drugs he could buy from until the heat blew over if there was any, and that fifty dollars would save him the rest of the day of hustling and scrounging. He took a few steps in the direction but Alicia walked back into the front room simultaneously.

Next time at least call my phone instead of just stopping by unannounced, she called as she walked down the hall. If Harold don’t answer then that means he’s probably not doing anything.

Okay. He stopped in his tracks, steaming on the inside. The money was almost his. He wondered if he could still grab it and pretend he was looking at the pictures on the wall.

Because I don’t really like going in his stash when he’s not here and I don’t like dealing with this stuff period, she asserted, entering the front room again.

I know. Thank you for this, he commented with a desperate voice.

Here you go. She handed him a nice sized piece of crack cocaine, not pure like in the 1980s but stepped on multiple times, but still effective for the temporary purpose it served.

Oh yea, he said happy at seeing the size. He almost wanted to ask Alicia to front him another piece until later but decided against it. He took one last look at the fifty dollars just sitting there begging to be stolen before leaving.

I’ll see you Alicia and thank you again. Tell Harold to get at me.

You’re welcome Smit Dogg. I don’t mean to snap at you but it’s just not safe for fiends to be coming here, especially in the daytime. This is where I lay my head and I don’t think Harold thinks about that. You know how the city is always waiting to take away someone’s property for selling drugs, and I’ll shut everyone down before I lose my family’s land, she nagged.

I understand Alicia. I’ll call next time. Give me your number. He pulled out his cell phone. What is it?

She hesitated. It’s 738-236-9909.

Got it. Holla at ya. Tell Harold I’ll get with him. He reached out his hand to shake and bowed gracefully as he chunked her the deuce sign.

Alicia smiled, nearly bursting into a laugh, but didn’t say anything as Smit Dogg high stepped out of the yard. He was a funny man she had to admit. She’d known him almost her entire life. He hadn’t changed much in over fourteen years. He was the same man that used to ask her and her sister for fifty cents at the bus stop in the mornings when they were younger. Then, he was mostly a wine-o.

With Smit Dogg gone and her cry-time interrupted it wasn’t anything left for her to do but get ready for work. It was now 7:46 am.

She put her hair in two puffs. Alicia stared in the bathroom mirror and noticed her eyes seemed a little puffy from crying. Her phone rang. She ignored it at first but answered the second time the unknown called because the early morning ringing was loud and annoying.

Hey Journey, what’s going on? she answered unenthusiastically.

Her sister was screaming on the other end. What did you say to mama? She called me this morning talking about she gone take me out of her will!

Stop screaming. What in the hell are you talking about?

Don’t play stupid. That’s real messed up. You’re supposed to be my older sister but it just seems like you’re jealous of me, Journey stormed. You always been.

Journey, I don’t have time for this. I’m having a rough morning and I don’t need this extra BS, Alicia indicated.

Journey got louder. Why would you do that? I can’t believe this shit. My own motherfucking sister throwing shade about me to my mama.

Journey. Journey. Stop screaming.

For what? So you can lie your way out?

If you be quiet and let me talk I will tell you the conversation me and mama had, and you’ll know that I was on your side, Alicia petitioned.

Bullshit Alicia. That’s bullshit and you know it, Journey spat out.

Journey. Stop screaming and stop cursing me.

Screw you Alicia. You ain’t no good for doing that shit. You and Harold are some dirty motherfuckers, her sister roared.

Harold has nothing to do with this. You don’t even know what you’re talking about. Alicia’s cool tone aggravated Journey.

Harold ain’t shit and neither are you, she blasted. The fuck you gone do with a drug dealer but lose all of mama’s property? The city probably watching your dumb asses anyway.

Alicia hung the phone up. Journey called her back about ten times, only able to leave scathing voice messages because Alicia would not answer. Then she sent a few text messages that came through back to back cursing her out. Alicia just cut her phone off, peeved at her morning.

What a start to my day.

She was now behind schedule and had to hurry so she wouldn’t be late for work. She thought about calling Harold with the hopes of him being in a better mood. Even though he was to blame for her shaky beginning his voice alone could fix her already broken morning. Harold’s phone, however, went straight to voicemail.

CHAPTER 2

Harold was ignoring the calls coming through his Samsung Galaxy as he blocked through the hood.

"I’m about to cut this back