Noble, Strong, & Black

By Agnew Smith

"I swear that one day I will be rich and famous." That was the vow three close friends made together in high school. Nine years later, those same friends, Jaylen, Zack, and Dexter, are still determined to honor that vow they made to each other. Jaylen Noble is a smart and savvy business man who works for a large Fortune 500 Compan

• Language: English
• Publisher: Book Vine Press
• Release date: Dec 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9781949574791

Agnew Smith

Agnew Smith has been writing short stories and poetry for over twenty years. He earned a Bachelor of Arts Degree in Mass Communications from Morehouse College and is a graduate of the Connecticut School of Broadcasting. Now retired from advertising and publishing, he currently resides in Marietta, Georgia.

Book preview

Copyright © 2018 by Agnew Smith.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Printed in the United States of America.

Book Vine Press

505 W. Lancaster Court

Inverness, IL 60010

Acknowledgements

Writing a novel is one of the most difficult, time-consuming, and highly rewarding experiences I could have ever imagined. It also reminded me of a very important lesson in life; everyone doesn’t always share or support your goals and dreams. My humble advice to everyone is to always believe in yourself, work hard, stay focused, and never, ever, give up on your dreams.

I would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone that has been so instrumental in helping me through this incredible journey. First and foremost, I want to praise God from whom all blessings flow. Thank you, Heavenly Father, for allowing me to share my gift of writing with others.

I’d like to recognize Paul Baron, at Book Vine Press, for his support and assistance in the publishing of this book. I’d like to send a special shout-out to Sky Walker, (yes, that’s really his name) at The Real 1100 AM radio station in Atlanta for the great interview and helping me to reach out to my fans. Also, I want to give a big thank you to the Marietta Daily Journal, and all the other media outlets that helped to promote my book.

I’m extremely grateful to Karin Lang, whose patience, understanding, and special talents, helped me create the beautiful cover for this book. You rock, Karin!

I would like to extend my deepest gratitude to all the wonderful people who buy and read my books. Your encouraging comments and constructive criticism that you share with me during my interviews and book signings are greatly appreciated. I truly hope my books have inspired and motivated you in a positive way and reinforce the truth that African American characters can be portrayed to be more than drug dealers, hustlers, pimps, ho’s and gangsters.

I want to give a very special thank you to my wonderful and talented sister, Teresa, for her love, motivation and support. I would also like to thank my sweet angel and daughter, Ashley, for her inspiration, love, and of course, her patience. Yes, Ashley, I’m finished writing and we can play video games now.

There’s no way I can forget to thank all of my family members and friends for your prayers, encouragement, and support. You know who you are and I love you, all.

Finally, I would like to thank my wonderful and loving parents, James and Bernice, for raising me to be the man that I am today. You instilled in me how to be noble, strong, and proud to be Black and I will never forget that. Even though you’re not here with me, I can feel your love radiating down from heaven. I pray that I’ve made you proud.

Maynard City Park,

Atlanta Georgia

August, 2008

It was another hot summer in Atlanta and the sound of a basketball, pounding on an asphalt court, echoed loudly in the large city park. Three teenagers seemed oblivious to the scorching sun beaming down on their sweat-drenched bodies. The only thing that mattered to them was scoring the winning basket of their competitive game of basketball.

That’s three wins in a row, rookies, Dexter said as his jump shot swished through the tattered nets of the basketball rim.

Who are you calling a rookie? Zack asked, angrily.

You and Jay are the only guys out here, Dexter responded, laughing.

Nigga, stop fooling yourself, Zack shot back. I’m five-eight, Jaylen is five-ten…

Hey, get it right, Jaylen interrupted. I’m five-ten and a half.

Whatever, nigga, Zack replied. My point is that Dexter is six-two. He ain’t that damn good. He’s just taller than us.

Hey, calm down, little guy, Dexter replied, spinning the basketball on his finger. Don’t hate me because I’ve got height and great basketball skills.

If I was as tall as your sorry ass, I’d already be playing pro ball, Zack responded.

Chill out, Zack. When I make it to the NBA, I promise to sign my jersey for you.

NBA? Man, you sound like a damn fool. Your dumb ass still thinks Kobe is better than LeBron, Zack said, laughing.

I don’t know, Zack, Jaylen chimed in. Kobe did win the league MVP this past season. Yeah, but King James won the MVP in the All-Star game, Zack fired back.

Suddenly, the sound of a car driving by the basketball court temporarily ended the three teenager’s debate. The car stopped at a stop light, giving the three teens a chance to admire the expensive looking vehicle.

Hey, guys, check out that ride! Jaylen said, excitedly.

Wow, that car is so sweet. Is that a BMW? Dexter asked.

Naw, nigga, that’s a Jaguar, Zack responded. It looks like that XJ8 model.

I bet that guy is a famous rapper or a professional athlete to afford a ride like that, Jaylen said.

As the stop light turned green, the teenagers continued to admire the car as it slowly drove away.

I ain’t never seen an all gold car like that before, Dexter said, in amazement.

Did you see the rims on that ride? Jaylen asked.

Man, I was too busy checking out that sexy ass female on the passenger side, Zack replied. Damn, she was fine.

When I make it to the NBA, I’m gonna drive around in an expensive car like that, Dexter said, confidently.

Zack looked at Dexter with a smirk on his face. Nigga, please. I told you already. You ain’t making it to the NBA.

I guess you think you’re gonna be some kind of famous rapper just because you lucked up and won a little talent show at school, Dexter replied.

Lucked up? Zack responded, raising his voice. I can sing, dance, rap, and play the piano, which is more than I can say for your average, basketball playing ass.

Calm down, guys, Jaylen interjected. When I become the CEO of my own company, I’ll hire both of you, and then you lazy bums can work for me.

What the hell is a CEO? Dexter asked.

Chief Executive Officer; the top guy, the big boss, Jaylen replied.

In other words, you’ll be the H.N.I.C.; Head Nigga In Charge, Zack said, laughing. Get real, Jay. These rich white folks ain’t going to let your black ass become the CEO of your own company.

Knowledge is the key, my brother, Jaylen replied, confidently.

Nigga, just because you’re an honor roll nerd doesn’t make you better than me, Zack fired back.

Being an honor roll student doesn’t make me better than you, just smarter, Jaylen replied, causing Dexter to laugh.

Oh, you two niggas think that’s funny? Zack asked, sounding annoyed. We’ll see whose laughing when I drive up to your little ass apartments in the projects in my brand new Ferrari.

Bro, why do you have to keep calling us niggas? Jaylen asked. Show us some respect.

Stop being so sensitive, Jay, Zack replied. Black folks can call each other niggas. It’s another way of calling each other a friend.

Jaylen started shaking his head in disbelief at Zack’s comments. See, that’s the kind of dumbass mentality that’s going to keep you broke and in the ghetto.

Broke? Man, after I become an entertainer, I’m going to be filthy rich, Zack shot back.

I already know I’m gonna be rich once I make it to the NBA, Dexter chimed in. I’ve already got colleges offering me scholarships to play ball.

Hey, guys, why are we arguing about this? Jaylen asked. In a few years, Zack will be a famous entertainer, Dexter will be an NBA star, and I’ll be the CEO of my own company. We can all be rich.

Yeah, and the first thing I’m gonna do when I get rich is buy new rims, backboards, and nets for all the basketball courts in this park, Dexter said, taking a shot at the basketball goal.

When I get rich, I’m going to buy all the kids in the neighborhood brand new sneakers, Jaylen added.

Man, fuck that, Zack said, arrogantly. I don’t care anything about that give back to the community bullshit. I ain’t wasting my millions on this old ass basketball court or these bad-ass kids in this neighborhood.

Damn, Zack. Stop tryin’ to act all hard. We know you have a little kindness in that cold heart of yours, Dexter said, causing everyone to laugh.

I don’t know about you guys, but I swear I’m going be rich and famous one day. Are you two with me? Jaylen said, extending his hand.

I’m with you, Jay, Dexter said, as he reached out and placed his hand on top of Jaylen’s. No matter what it takes, I’m gonna be rich, too,

I already know I’m going to be rich and famous, Zack said, defiantly. I don’t need to join any alliance with you two chumps.

Come on, Zack. Put your sweaty little hand on top of ours so we can make it official, Jaylen said as he and Dexter extended their hands toward Zack.

Yeah, whatever, Zack said, grudgingly, as walked over to his two friends. As Zack placed his hand on top of his two friends, the Get Rich pact was born.

Jaylen Noble

Ever since I was a little kid, my parents always told me I was going to be the first person in our family to go to college. I never understood how my parents were going to afford to pay for my college tuition on their meager incomes, but they were determined to find a way. We weren’t poor, but we were far from being comfortable. When I was younger, we lived in a lower income neighborhood, but my parents instilled in me that we were a proud and respectable family. My parents were good, hard-working people who tried their best to provide for me and my younger brother, Martin. My mother was a school teacher who taught at the middle and high school level for fourteen years. My father drove a bus for the city for nearly sixteen years before he retired because of health reasons. Even though my parents didn’t make a lot of money, we always had a roof over our heads, food to eat and decent clothes to wear. I don’t ever remember a night that my brother and I went to bed hungry. To make extra money, my mother took on a second job cleaning other people’s homes and my father worked as a part-time security guard at night. My parents would always tell me their second jobs were just to have a little extra spending money, but I was pretty sure they were putting that money aside for my college tuition. After a lot of hard work and sacrifices, my parents eventually moved us into a nice little home in a better area of town.

I appreciated how much my parents did for me and my brother and I tried to show my appreciation by being a good son. After watching my father come home tired every night from driving that bus all day and seeing my mother worn down from cleaning other people’s houses, I was determined to help them out for all of their hard work and sacrifices. I put aside all other extra-curricular activities to focus solely on my education. It was extremely frustrating for me to watch my friends at school playing basketball, football, and baseball, while I stayed at home and studied. Since I didn’t play any sports, I was perceived as a non-athletic nerd and I had to endure getting bullied by a lot of the guys at school. That all changed when I was in the eighth grade. I got beat up by this bully at school and I came home with a black eye. My mother was very upset, but my dad just looked at me and said it was time for me to learn how to defend myself. For the next six months, my dad would take me to this old, broken-down, boxing gym in the roughest part of town. Every weekend at this gym, my dad taught me how to defend myself by teaching me the sweet science of boxing, which he learned while in the military. The next time that bully who gave me the black eye picked on me, I kicked his ass. Once word got around my school and in the neighborhood that I could fight, I didn’t have any more problems getting bullied. By the time I got to the tenth grade, I had earned a reputation as the nerdy, smart guy that could kick ass.

Anyway, all of my years of studying, hard work and sacrifices paid off. I became an honor roll student with a 3.8 GPA and I received a 1570 on my SAT score. This enabled me to receive a full academic scholarship to Vanderbilt University. It was a great feeling knowing my parents didn’t have to spend all of their hard earned money sending me to college. With the money my parent’s had put aside for my college tuition, they were able to buy me a slightly used Ford Mustang, so I could get around Nashville and drive home to Atlanta during the semester breaks from school. Even with my full scholarship, I still needed money for other things such as clothes, shoes, and gas for my car. Somehow, my parent’s found a way to wire me money when I needed it the most. The four years at college seemed to go by very quickly and before I knew it, I was walking across a stage accepting my BS Degree in Accounting and Business Management. I’ll never forget how proud my parents and my younger brother looked as I waved at them from that stage, holding my degree. I’m not going to front, I felt very proud of myself. Two months later, I was offered a position with Dominion Financial Services, one of the largest Fortune 500 companies in the world. Even though I was ecstatic about working for a large, successful company, I was assigned to the branch office in Columbus, Ohio. I lived near Murfield Village, an upscale golf-oriented community in the suburbs. Because of my father’s health issues, I didn’t like working so far away from my family, but the money was good and it gave me a chance to improve my golf game. I dreaded those long eight-hour drives from Columbus to Atlanta to visit my family, but I saved a lot of money avoiding those expensive commercial flights. My goal was to work hard and establish myself within the company, then after a few years, I would transfer from Columbus to the main office in downtown Atlanta. Not only would it be great to come back home to my family and friends, but my salary would increase by nine percent. During those four long years, I worked hard, stayed out of trouble and learned as much as I could at my job. I couldn’t even remember how many times I was passed over for promotions that I knew I deserved. I went through years of frustration dealing with incompetent supervisors and back-stabbing co-workers until I finally made it to my current position as a Private Equity Analyst. I was constantly being told by my managers that I was smart and motivated, but I still felt unappreciated. It might sound like I was being ungrateful, but I honestly felt I should’ve been making more than ninety-two thousand dollars a year. Case in point; in the last three years, I had helped generate over $1.6 million dollars into the company. I honestly didn’t feel like I was being presumptuous to think I deserved a little piece of that pie. Anyway, when I was finally selected to participate in Dominion’s Management Training Program, I felt like all of my hard work and sacrifices had finally come to fruition. After successfully completing the program, my salary would increase and I would be making a little over $100,000 a year. When the upper level managers discover what an asset I’ll be to the company, I’m hoping I’ll be promoted to an executive position in the next three years. In the next seven years, I could easily be making over two hundred-fifty thousand a year. A quarter of a million dollars; I definitely like the way that sounds. It took a while, but it finally looked like I was on my way to the top.

It seemed like only yesterday, me and my best friends, Dexter and Zack, were bragging about becoming rich and famous one day. For a short while, it looked like Dexter had reached that goal when he signed his NBA contract a few years ago. Damn, I use to envy him. Dex was able to showcase his talents in front of packed sports arenas, not to mention the millions that watched him on TV. He was living out his dream until that horrible night he tore up his knee. His knee injury cost him his contract money, future commercial endorsements, and a lot of his pride. Then, a year later, his mother tragically passed away. It was difficult to watch my close friend go through all of that tragedy, but Dexter was always a fighter and I knew he would get through all of that personal turmoil. I hadn’t seen much of Dexter since he moved to Charlotte, but I was hoping everything was going well for him and his family. I don’t even know what’s been going on with my other buddy, Zack. The last time I talked to him, he told me he was doing well and performing at some night club in Brooklyn, New York. I was so happy for him. When Zack lost his mom, it took a lot out of him and he definitely deserved some good fortune in his life. I haven’t talked to him in almost two years, but I’m hoping he’s having great success with his musical career. As far as my career, my future at Dominion Financial Services is looking so bright; I’m going to need to wear some dark shades to protect my eyes. It definitely looked like my ascension in the corporate world was progressing as I planned. After all of those years of hard work and sacrifices, I was finally heading down that road to success and making money… a whole lot of money.

Zachary Strong

I don’t like to brag, but I’m a very talented muthafucka. It’s not like I’m tooting my own horn because others have told me the same thing. I started singing and dancing when I was five years old, so I’ve had several years of experience to get me where I’m at today. I can also play the piano, tenor saxophone and I’m a damn good rapper. I won the talent show at my high school two years in a row. Okay, to be honest, I did finish in second place in the tenth grade behind some lame ass band called Infinite Noise, but other than that, I was the best. I’ll never forget how excited I was during my senior year when I was auditioning for the American Idol show. My singing was good enough to get me through the early preliminaries and I was confident I was going to hear those judges say, Zack, you’re going to Hollywood. Unfortunately, life had other plans for me.

A few months before my high school graduation, my mother died. My mom was only thirty-six years old, but all of those years of drinking and drugs had finally caught up to her. Growing up, I remember my mom being a happy and energetic woman. Her laugh was so contagious and she loved to sing and dance to her R&B and Jazz music. That all ended on a hot summer night in July when my father was shot and killed. I was only thirteen years old, but I still remember how crushed my mom felt when the police came to our apartment and informed us they found his body in a dark alley on Peterson Street. I had heard rumors before his death that he was involved in a lot of criminal activity, so I’m sure that shit finally caught up with him. I’m not going to lie and say my father’s death was a painful episode in my life because, honestly, it wasn’t. It’s hard to feel sad for someone who was barely in your life. My dad was always in the streets drinking, getting high or hustling for money. No matter how much my mom yelled and threatened him, he usually came home late smelling like weed and cheap liquor. He never helped me with my homework, took me to a ballgame, or came to any of my talent shows at school. When I found out he was killed, the only sadness I felt was for my mom. I knew how much she loved my dad, even though he didn’t deserve it. After his death, she was never the same happy and caring person I knew growing up. My mom was a good woman who was always there for me. She was the one who helped me with my homework, came to all of my talent shows at school and encouraged me to stay focused on my future goals in life. I guess she tried to make up for my sorry ass dad not being there when I needed him the most. No, I didn’t feel any sadness when my dad was killed. Let’s keep it real. Why would I give a damn about someone who didn’t give a damn about me? Fuck that nigga. His sorry ass didn’t deserve my sympathy. You know what was really fucked up? When my dad died, I think something inside my mother died, too. I noticed my mom became withdrawn and started drinking a lot. At first, she wouldn’t drink in front of me, but I noticed all of the empty beer cans and bottles of cheap liquor on the nightstand in her room. Finally, it got to the point that she didn’t care anymore and she would drink all day and night. I guess it was her way of dealing with the pain of my dad’s death. There were so many times I would come home from school and find my mom passed out on the living room sofa from drinking all day. As time went on, I guess the alcohol wasn’t easing her pain anymore, so she started doing drugs. First, she was just smoking weed, then pain pills and finally she started shooting up heroin. I would get sick to my stomach every time I saw the bruises and scars on her arms from all of those needles she would use to shoot that poison in her veins. I tried to help her, but her addiction had gotten out of control. I still remember that day I found out she was hiding her heroin under her mattress. I took the heroin and hid it from her, hoping she would find the strength to fight her addiction. She was so angry that I took her drugs that she slapped me and cursed me out. I didn’t care how much she yelled or hit me; I was determined to keep that heroin away from her. For several hours, she yelled, cried and begged me to return her drugs. I eventually gave in to her and returned the heroin because I couldn’t stand watching her go through the withdrawals anymore. I just stood there as she snatched the drugs from my hand, ran to her bedroom and locked the door. Later that night, she came out of her room acting like nothing had ever happened. My mom needed help and I didn’t know what to do. My only other family members were my grandparents, but they lived in New York and I damn sure wasn’t going to tell any of my friends. I was just too embarrassed to tell my homeboys that my mom was a drug addict. I was just a teenager at the time, but I wasn’t going to watch my mother waste her life away. I was determined to save my mom from her addiction and making money in the entertainment business was my way to do it. I had a great singing voice and I was already making a little money performing at weddings, birthday parties and other special events. I kept telling myself it was just a matter of time before I got my big break into the music industry. I was going to become a rich and famous performer like Michael Jackson, Usher or Chris Brown. After I became rich, I could get my mother some professional help for her addiction, buy her a big house and make her happy again. I guess I was the one hooked on drugs thinking all that shit was going to happen for me. All of my hopes and dreams ended that day I came home from school and found my mom lying on the bathroom floor with a dirty ass syringe still stuck in her arm. I yelled, screamed and cried, but she never moved and never opened her eyes. She was dead. As I sat next to her, looking at her lifeless body, I felt more anger than sorrow. How could she do this to me? I kept asking myself. She knew I had nobody else in my life. She was the only person that gave a shit about me. My whole world was fucked up. I was hurt, sad, and full of anger. When she died, all of my dreams of becoming an entertainer died with her. I was all alone with no way to support myself and no one I could turn to. Or so I thought. I was always somewhat of a loner, but I did have two guys I considered my friends. Dexter and Jaylen were there when I needed them the most. I stayed with Dexter and his mom for a few weeks, then Jaylen and his parents opened their home to me and I stayed with them until I graduated from high school. I really didn’t give a shit about getting my diploma, but I knew it would benefit me when it was time for me to get a good paying job.

During the time I lived with the Noble family, I was so jealous of my buddy, Jaylen. He had everything I always wanted in my life. Jaylen was smart, he had great parents, and he was on his way to a major college on a four-year scholarship. I appreciated Jaylen and his parents for taking me in, but they weren’t my family and I needed to get out on my own. I eventually moved to New York and stayed with my grandparents until I could decide what I wanted to do with my life. That turned out to be a big mistake on my part. Everything was cool with me and my grandmother, but my grandfather made it very clear that he didn’t like me. Maybe it was because I reminded him of my dad, who he never liked. When I was younger, my mom and I went to New York to visit my grandparents a few times, but my dad never came with us. I guess my grandfather resented my dad for getting his daughter pregnant at seventeen and convincing her to move with him to Atlanta. Whatever his reasons, I knew I couldn’t continue to live in the same house with that grumpy-ass old bastard. I had to grow up, become a man and get my own place. One thing I learned at an early age is that money rules everything. In a big city like New York, I learned very quickly that I had to have the right mindset if I was going to become successful. I kept my eyes and ears open and learned how to make money on the streets. I would hang out in nightclubs, bars, and on the street corners, making connections and learning as much as I could about hustling and selling illegal drugs. After a few years, I had established myself as a new player in the drug game. Selling drugs was like any other business. Supply and demand will always dictate how successful your business will be. I sold weed, crack, ecstasy or any other drugs that were in demand. To keep myself out of trouble, I would pay a few young niggas a few hundred dollars a week to sell my merchandise. If any of them got busted by the cops, I would just find new niggas to sell my drugs for me. After a couple years, things began to take off and I was pulling in about twelve grand a month. I’ll admit I got too cocky and over confident and started making some dumbass mistakes that cost me a lot of money and eventually my freedom. Yeah, I eventually got