Black Sheep, White Wolves: (Who Am I?)

By Robert Lee Perry

This story was written to see your enemies eyes. Melvin was the typical black teen that was raised to dislike whites for his own personal reasons. He lived his life on the edge until he was forced into a world that he had never dreamed of, and now he must choose life over love of his enemies.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 13, 2012
• ISBN: 9781456839895

Robert Lee Perry

ROBERT LEE PERRY WAS BORN IN 1974 OF NOVEMBER 9 IN HOUSTON, TEXAS. HE HAS FIVE BROTHERS AND TWO SISTERS, A LONGTIME GIRLFRIEND, AND NO CHILDREN. WHEN HE WROTE THIS STORY, HE COULD NOT SEE THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL. HIS EYES WERE COVERED WITH INVISIBLE HANDS, AND LIVING WAS NOT HIS CHOICE AT THE TIME. HE WAS BLINDED WHEN HE WAS TRULY NOT BLIND. AT THAT TIME FRAME HE WAS SO ANGRY WITH THE WORLD THAT HE WROTE THIS STORY WITH AN ANGRY HEART, WITH NO CARE ABOUT OTHER FEELINGS. AND HIS INSPIRATION FOR WRITING CAME FROM THE MANY LOST SOULS THAT HE HAD GROWN UP WITH FROM HIS YOUTH OF CHILD ABUSE, FROM THE CHILDREN PROTECTION SERVICE HOMES, AND FROM HIS SEVENTEEN YEARS OF IMPRISONMENT.

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Copyright © 2011 by Robert Lee Perry.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2010919093

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4568-3988-8

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4568-3987-1

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4568-3989-5

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 permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

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CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Thanks to the following:

Those that are inside the Texas prison that told me their stories and begged for me to tell them—Gator, Tennessee, Sosa, Iceberg, Flip, and so many more that enjoyed my writing and storytelling.

Special thanks for those who helped Aunt Sissy who gave me her hardworking money when I needed it.

And Morris who took care of me when I touched down.

And baby.

I love you, honey bun.

Chapter One

Malvin James

Hello, my name is Malin James, but a lot of people, at least my momma’s friends, call me Romeo. I still don’t know why they call me that, but it fits, and I like it. I’m from Houston, Texas, and live deep in the ghetto where when they say it is time to make money, that means that someone will be in the hospital by nightfall.

I was born on September 9, 1974. I’m only fourteen, but I’m a grown man. Take that how you like. I was raised on Telephone Road, way back in the back end of a gritty and leaning sideways apartment complex.

Around here, I see people live and die for the smallest things like talking too much when they should be listening. Around here, I see women hustle like the average man, and I have even seen the man hustle the average woman. That’s another story—that I will not be the one to tell.

You ask yourself how I know so much at my young age. Well, while I sit in my forced-darkness bedroom by the window, I listen to my momma and her dope fiend friend shout and tell stories about me and other things that they have been through that day to get their daily fixes. They would say things like For a fourteen-year-old, that boy of yours is really a smart one. One of her many boyfriends had said, And fine as hell too One of the women would say day in and night out. At all times, was sure to give me the eye or try to—well, you know, touch me. Always trying to grab on my dingaling. Naw, it never bothered me much when they tried to pull on it. But when the men tried touching me, that was another issue.

In our apartment, there were only two bedrooms; and every chance I got, I tried to keep my room and my momma’s room clean. Sometimes while in my room, I would walk to her closet where a full-length mirror hung at the door. There, for hours, I would stand there and try to find the pretty boy that so many people called me.

If I am so handsome and all, why did I run my daddy away? Why do my momma use drugs? Why do I look like I got white in me? Is it some kind of punishment? Because I know as much as my momma talk bad about white people, she would never be with no white man. This was what I wished for.

No! My momma had snuck in the room behind me. Your daddy ran off ’cause he was gay. And I wasn’t going to let no sissy raise my only child. And I use drugs for my use not because you’ve done something, baby. It’s my own problem! Let me deal with it. She was about to leave, but before she shut me in her room, she pushed three kids in my bedroom as she ordered me inside with them. The two boys, Stacy Lee and Carl Big Boy Dash, were around my age. The only girl in my bedroom was a white girl named Kathi Jones. She was only five years old, but I could tell that both Stacy Lee and Big Boy took a liking at her by the way Stacy Lee made sure that she slept on the bed alone. But she made sure that she had covers covering her—my covers! And by the way Big Boy talked to me, it was as if I was scared of him.

Stay away from her. Don’t think because she’s white that you can do what you want to. She’s still just a baby. And plus, my momma told me to beat anybody up that touches her wrong. I got to mind my momma. I’so loves my momma! he had said goofily, smacking his huge fist into his hand.

I was mad and confused. Not only was Big Boy this oversized kid that looked like a baby gorilla with hair already forming up around his smiling lips, but also, he was protecting this white girl. And Big Boy wasn’t the only one protecting Kathi. The way Stacy Lee was bracing his thin body up as if I had a gun out and pointing it at her, he was acting as a shield for her. I knew what his body language meant with his fist bald tightly. Immediately, my hate for the little white girl named Kathi Jones was rich and pure.

I remember a 1ong time ago my momma told me a story about how these white men beat up this pregnant black soul sister just because the woman was young and beautiful. After my momma told me that story, she had tears in her eyes.

Baby, you my only boy, she lied, and I love you to death. I’m not sure if you love Momma, but I would never do anything to hurt you. Again, she lied to me. And I hope you won’t do anything to hurt me either.

I won’t, I lied. With a smile too.

But if you do, it won’t bother me because you Momma’s baby. She had become silent, and a frown quickly pierced her face as if I had just come back from an overnight hustle empty-handed. But I swear, she had spit out as she resumed. I will walk away from your dying bed without feelings if you dare bring a white woman my house!"

That night while sitting at my window, watching the hood live and die, I found myself wishing that I too could die. I hated myself and my life and people.

My momma has always been beautiful. Even when waking up for my first day in school, she looked like she had just come from a nightclub. In which she did.

My momma was lying on the floor of the living room with her new man lying atop of her. With both of them on the floor naked and I in my clean and ironed clothes that I did myself and bought myself from a night out hustling, I felt out of place. But I wanted to go to school.

Momma, I had barely whispered. I did this three more times before waking up all twelve people that lay naked asleep in my momma’s living room. Including Kathi’s own momma and her black boyfriend. Kathi lay on her momma stomach. Sleepy eyed, everyone stared dangerously at me. With my bottom lip shaking in fear that Momma was about to get mad, I said peacefully, School.

What! Momma asked through squinched eyes.

You said today that—sniff—that you was going to let me start school today. I don’t know why I started crying. It’s a kid thing, I think.

With her head high in the air as if she were a rattlesnake, she said drowsily, Tomorrow, baby… tomorrow… I’ll take you tomorrow. It was like she had slapped me. Tears just started down my face. I was mad. I just wanted to hurt someone. Do it then! My gut was screaming for action.

But as usual, I did not do as my gut had wanted to do. I simply whined.

But I want to go to school!

Boy, I said not today! Now get on out of my face!

I simply stood there and watched as the man that lay on top of her tried to nibble on her breast. I and the rusty-looking man shared a moment of eye screwing until he realized that I was not going anywhere. To me, I thought that he was smiling at me, as if teasing me, Ha-ha, ha-ha, I’m fucking ya momma! That was what, I swear to God, he was saying to me. Why was he doing my momma like this anyway? Why was she allowing this to be going on? My gut was screaming. I did not know what was going on inside of me, but I really wanted to hurt this person and her too. Something in me wanted to be set free.

What’s wrong with ya boy, Tracy?

I don’t know, baby. Romeo, get back to your room! I had started to go back to my room; but as if a second thought, I took off, running out of the front door, grabbing the papers that my momma showed to me last night. I guessed that she was so lazy that she forgot she left them on the dinner table.

When I was out the front door, I didn’t know where I was going or what I was doing. But I remembered Stacy Lee and Big Boy talking about going to school. They mentioned a school called Robert Lee High school.

Just now making it out of the projects and into the fast-moving morning streets, I had just missed the bus that had Robert Lee High School on the side. Without hesitation, I gave chase—first, beside the bus, then, behind the bus—and finally, just like that, the bus was gone out of sight. I stood on the side of the road with tears of hurt the size of rocks falling to the ground.

I stood there as if the school bus was going to come back for me, but nothing happened. In fact, not another school bus passed. Before long, I gave up. I had turned to go back to the dope fiend–infested apartment. I knew that my momma was going to try to beat me again until I couldn’t breathe right.

Man, ain’t no way I’m going back there and invite her to beat my ass. It just ain’t no way! I said to myself as I walked in circle for a spell. With my head down, I bypassed this store where all these known hustlers were bunched up on the sidewalk of the store. Not in a rush to get the skin off my back torn by my momma, I made my way to the crowd of men.

Being so short (five feet five inches, 150 in weight), I squeezed myself between everyone. There were men on their knees, shouting, One-six matchup, baby!

Ya number is five, Nick! For a while, I was unnoticed as I watched what my momma called a snakes game. Money was everywhere. Money went there; money went here. One time there was this woman; she looked a lot better than my momma. She came up and gave some money to this man. As she turned around to walk off, the man that she had given money to told her, And get this boy away from over here. I didn’t know that the man even noticed me. I started to walk off, but he called for me.

Hey, lil man, what is ya name?

Melvin James.

Noooooo! What is your street name? The hood name?

I paused for a spell. I don’t know, I said calmly.

What! As jazzy as you is, you got to have a name, the woman said jokingly. Then I remembered. Romeo! I said with pride.

Romeo, huh? Why you not in school somewhere, Romeo? Immediately with rage starting to form up, I blinked away my tears.

Lil man, you can’t do that crying up on these corners. There some killaz up here that’s going to hurt you behind those tears. Now, what’s the deal with you? The dice game came to a halt, and everybody’s attention was on the ugly man that talked to me.

I missed my school bus.

That’s it? Aw, maaaan!

Yes, sir.

I tell you what, since nothing comes free in this beautiful world that we live in, here. He handed me a ten-dollar bill. Go inside and get me a pack of bitches and hos. I was confused. I stood there and stared at him. He smiled because he knew that I did not know what a pack of bitches and hos was.

Benson & Hedges.

Yes, sir. When I left, I heard him say something to the big-legged woman.

Be sure that he get the right ones.

When I gave him the cigarettes, he told me that the woman would take me to school, but she had to stop at the house to change clothes.

But when you get out of school, I want you to stop by here and holla at me, aight?

Yes, sir. I had started to walk off when he called for me.

Romeo, here, you worked for that. He gave me another ten-dollar bill. You work for that, pretty boy. I smiled.

Before long, I was in the passenger seat of a 1975 Cadillac. Before driving off, the woman turned to face me. For a while she only stared at me as if she were in some dreamworld. Being so young, I wasn’t supposed to, but my hormones were going crazy as my eyes traveled from her eyes to the V part of her too-short shorts. Seeing where my eyes was, she smiled and said, I just wanted to be sure that you wasn’t one of those wondering boys trying figure out what sex you is. I didn’t know what she was talking about, but I was glad that we were friends. I smiled toward her and stole another eyeful of her slightly parted thighs before she closed them completely and again smiled at her.

For a long while we rode in silence. She put on some music. I didn’t know the group’s name, but I knew it was some music that my momma listened to.

While at a stoplight, she had her eye closed as she sang along with the tune.

As soon as the song went off, she turned toward me and said sweetly, You can call me Betty. Where do you live?

On Telephone Road.

Where is your momma? I really didn’t want to put this Betty lady in my momma’s business, but I liked her and didn’t want to lie to her.

At home… using dope! I had a taste of rage in my tone.

Betty had these huge brown freckles on her high yellow face, nothing like my freckles that surrounded my green eyes. All her freckles seemed to have turned ugly when she became angry. Yet she said nothing.

After pulling off the crowded highway, she went down a quiet street by the name of Strawberry Rhode. The houses that sat beside one another were like castles. With my face glued hard to the window, I was amazed that black people lived in such a neighborhood. And to top it off, Betty’s home was built on bricks.

I knew that you was going to like it, she said smiling while taking her time parking the car.

The grass was well groomed, and the tree—there were so many trees, so many that I lost count.

Come on in if you want, Romeo.

Stepping to the porch, I watched as Betty’s wide hips twist as if she had no bones in her healthy and meaty body.

Inside the house, there were three bedrooms that were well furnished. The one she went to as she grabbed her clothes, I could tell that it was the master’s room by the size of the huge bed that took up most of the bedroom’s space. And plus, this room was where all the guns were. They hung high over every wall. I did not know all the guns’ names. But I knew there were big ones and small ones. And I loved the sight of them all.

Romeo, you can get something to eat if you want to while I take a shower, white boy. I looked at her strangely. Why did she call me a white boy? That question entered and exited my brain when I stood there watching her standing on only her too-small light green panties and matching bra. With a devilish grin, she turned to head toward the shower. For a spell she had me and my full attention as she made her every step a knowing one. For each step nothing seemed to move except her wide apple bottom.

Being fifteen, I know one would think that I should know what to do next. Wrong. Hey, I haven’t even had sex yet. No, it’s nothing to be proud of. That’s the truth. So I didn’t know what she was trying to do to that time. But boy, I wish I did. That was like one of those times in life that you wished that you could redo.

Not paying her or the food that she offered much attention, even though I was a bit hungry, I went into the sweet-woman-smelling bedroom that she had just exited from and simply stood before the guns as if they were my gods.

There were so many, but only one caught my eyes. It was hanging low by the head of the bedside. Under it, it read with the number and two mm’s next to it. It was a solid gray. I just wanted to touch it or maybe hold it.

Sure that Betty was in the shower, I reached for it. Just as I grazed my fingers over it, the phone rang. And it was loud too. I was sure that someone was watching me. But there was no one, only the phone and me.

Romeo, can you get that for me? And whoever it is—

Hello?

Who’s this? I immediately recognized the man’s voice, that man I just left at the store sidewalk, shooting dice.

Is this that Romeo boy?

Yes sir.

Okay! Romeo. He was excited and yelling as if I could not hear him or something. I slightly pulled the receiver from my ear so to try to understand him. He continued, I want you to listen to me. Tell Betty to get her ass out that house. Tell her that that white man, L-Jay, is on his way over there to get her. Tell her that I can’t get there because these fools done let the white boy and his people jump on me. Did you get all that, huh? Hurry up, son! Not hanging the phone up, I darted to the bathroom door.

Betty! Mrs. Betty! My fist hit the door as hard as possible and continued to call her. Finally, she came out the bathroom. I was lost for words as she stood in front of me with nothing—and I do mean nothing—on. (Man, I wish we could go back in time!) I could only stare at her heart-shaped hair box beneath her navel.

What is it, Romeo? she shouted, but I could not speak.

I… um… um… the phone. Someone want—gulp—you on the phone.

Is that all? As she angrily started to walk off, the doorbell rang. Not once but four quick times.

Get the door Romeo. Hello? In a daze of what I had just seen, I walked to the door with my head faced down. I slow-poked my way to the door. I finally opened the door, and there standing behind the screen door were two white men. Both young, the two stared at me.

Romeo! I heard Betty yell out for me from the back room, and she raced at top speed when she got off the phone.

As she took my hand from behind, her eyes were as big as mine. Now in her clean bra and panties, she was easing backward when the baldhead of the two spoke while still behind the locked screen door.

I believe you owe us something, like twenty thousand dollars, and no change. Letting my hand go, Betty whispered in my ear, Go and get one of those guns off the wall and bring it here. Pick one. All of them are loaded. Carefully, I eased off, but I heard Betty say, The dope that you sold us was bullshit! Now in the bedroom, I took a small chair and placed it against the wall but beside a glass lamp and table stand. Don’t ask me why, but I didn’t just want any gun. I wanted that one that read 9mm on it.

Being that it was a bit higher than most, I had to stand on top of the chair, tiptoeing too. I tried and tried but just couldn’t quite touch the gun that had my attention.

It was when I heard the screen door crash in and Betty’s loud heart-aching scream that I decided to get a little higher and step on top of the lamp stand.

Nooooo! I heard Betty cry in pain.

Get the boy, dammit! I had just grabbed hold of the gun’s handle when the other man made his way into the bedroom.

Hey, kid, come here. I got something for you. I had my back to him for a reason. I didn’t know how to use the gun yet. Momma! I thought.

Still standing on the lamp stand with my back turned, I heard the man trying to rush forward to me. I just peeped over my shoulder as I decided that pulling the trigger was the only option. In one soundless motion, with the swing of my body and the squeeze of my finger, a bullet escaped the barrel of the gun, slamming hard in the center of his head. The way his head had jerked back and the way he stood on his tiptoes, wanting to fall backward, he looked a lot like he was someone’s puppet with strings connected to his body.

Off balanced from the power of the gun, the two of us fell at same beat. He fell to the floor while I fell into everything else. First, the lamp. Then, the lamp table. Then, to the chair that of which I tried to catch hold of something to stop the plan like crashing by grabbing on to the clock radio that I did not get close to. But finally after the side of my face slapping solidly on the lamp table, I hit the floor next to the dead white man.

Blood came out of his head like a water fountain. The hole in his head, I swear I could have stuck my entire fist in it and out on the opposite side.

Betty. I thought of her as tears started to warm my eyes. On my feet, I had the gun in one hand as I went to the living room. The white man was beating Betty still and bad too. He sat on top of her and violently pounded his fist into her face.

Lady, I just want my money! he said with a smile, but it was a creepy smile that sent a bump on the back of my neck. And I want my money now! Or you going to be like that little kid in the other room—dead! Now, where is my money?

He never knew I was behind him. As close as I could get, I had the barrel of the gun directly behind his head.

Woman this is your last time. Where is my money? He drew back to hit her.

Boom went the gun.

Something inside of me was smiling as his body fell motionless on top of Betty.

After all and all, I didn’t start school until later that day. I can’t say what had happened to the bodies that were on the floor when I left because Betty’s man, whose name was Lacy Cook, came and did away with them. I don’t know where he took them, but by one thirty, Lacy Cook was driving me to school. He left Betty with some of her friends and some of his.

Lacy was cool. I truly liked him. He was very dark skinned with bearlike scars cut into his long hollow face. Slim like his face, he wore black slacks, suit shirt, and a pair of Stacy Adams.

It was when we were in the school area zone and he had to slow down because of traffic that he finally spoke, Romeo, do you know what you want to be when you grow up?

Yup, I said excitingly.

And what’s that? he asked, never taking his eyes from the slowed traffic.

A writer.

A writer?

Yeah. A writer.

Why? I paused for a while to choose my words right.

Because a writer can make his own world up. Because I can get away from my mom and her dope. He glanced at me through his shaded glasses.

She’s a smoker, huh?

Yes, sir.

How you plan on making your living, you know? Money? I had never thought of that before. I’ve done some stealing for Momma, but I’ve never done anything to make money.

Ha!

What’s funny?

You! You gonna be just like ya ma’me.

No, I ain’t!

Always remember that ‘ain’t’ is not a word. He took a time out to light a cigarette, then said with a fog of smoke exiting his wide lips, We’re even kid.

Huh?

You saved my ol’ lady, and I’m going to take you to school. I thought, I should ask him to bring me to school every day.

But, he resumed, I want to make a deal with you. I want you to work for me.

Doing what?

We’ll discuss it later. But I promise you you’re going to have enough money to have your own home. But remember, you owe me a favor, kid.

Okay was all I said as I stepped out of the now-parked car.

Going to his side of the window, he said, I’ll be back to pick you up in about two hours. When I do, I’m going to give you your first work. Can you handle it?

I simply gave him a nod of my head and was heading for the school’s front doors.

Chapter Two

Friday, August 1, 1994, 5:11 p.m.

(The Writer)

Tammy Jones was what most neighborhood families would call a wiggah. A white nigga. No, she never thought of herself as this way or she ever tried to act black. In fact, she did not like being on Telephone Road, but it was the only way the twenty-four-year-old dark-haired woman could be next to her daughter’s father.

Eight years ago, Tammy Jones was ready for college after her high school years. Her life was easy and simple. She went to school, ran track, played basketball, and lived off her family riches that would have given her everything she had ever wanted. All that ended the day she met the real wiggah of the ghetto; and to top it off, not only did he mess her life and gave her a child and smoked crack, but she also loved him.

But she was fed up with him and his ghetto.

Standing outside by the pay phone waiting for the phone to ring, Tammy, holding on to Kathi Jones’s young hand, kept her attention on the young boy that sat at his project window. This was an everyday thing for him. She knew him well. Just by his young and handsome face and deep dark green eyes. His name was Romeo. Real young, she thought to herself.

But very strange.

By the way his hair waved up, Tammy felt that he was mixed with something.

Most likely white. she knew his mother too well. Her place was where her boyfriend was smoking up all their working money. She had thoughts to go to the filthy apartment to retrieve her purse, but she knew going after her purse would only cause problems between her and him. So to avoid any problems, Tammy Jones would leave him, the purse, and all the ghetto problems behind.

The phone’s loud ringing caught her daydreaming in the fifteen-year-old boy’s green eyes.

Yes? she answered excitedly. A deep tone came over the phone. No one that she knew.

Put green-eyes Romeo on the phone.

I’m sorry, but I am waiting on a phone call.

I don’t give a hot shit if you was waiting on God’s second return. Put Romeo on the damn phone, he growled with a giggle. A giggle that told her that she might be dealing with a crazy man.

With an angry mumble of something, she called for Romeo.

Like a grasshopper, he leaped from his one-floored window. Only in his Spider-man underwear, Romeo made sure that his mother was nowhere around before making his way to the pay phone. As the night fell on the ghetto of Telephone Road, he had the receiver in hand.

Hello?

You sold anything yet?

No.

No? Come on, lil man. I gave you those three packages of powder almost three hours ago. Listen, all I want you to do is sell one package for twenty-five dollars, and you can have the other two packages. Now, handle your business, or we going to have to find you another money maker. Can you handle it?

Yeah was all Romeo could say to Lacy before placing the receiver down a bit more angrily.

Yes, Tammy stood there and listened to the entire conversation. And she also watched Romeo leave the phone with his chin touching his chest. She felt sorry for him, but she too was trying to escape the ghetto life that was forced on her.

She watched him climb back into his window with ease. The phone rang once more. After the second ring, Tammy answered, Yes?

I was beeped earlier at this number.

Father, she just whispered. Not a word came from the other end. The silence was so deafening that she blinked away her tear that she had been holding back for years.

She spoke again, only now her voice seemed as if it