Sacrifices

By Eric Williams

Brock and Gabby, a young couple living in the New Orleans, Louisiana’s urban housing development, also known as the projects, find themselves in a bind when Brock is charged with a murder he didn’t commit. Sticking to the code of the streets by not snitching on the actual killer and unable to afford a lawyer, the two now face even tougher obstacles as Brock is without bond and facing thirty years to life. Backs against the wall, the two are forced to make sacrifices that ultimately pay off courtesy of their forfeitures.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Dec 8, 2020
• ISBN: 9781532097614

Eric Williams

Eric Williams (1911-1981) served as the first prime minister of independent Trinidad and Tobago beginning in 1962 until his death. Prior to entering politics, he was a professor of social and political science at Howard University.

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Copyright © 2021 Eric Williams.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-9762-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-9760-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-9761-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020920848

iUniverse rev. date: 01/19/2024

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

I would like to thank The Creator of All, Vershawn Williams, Darron Williams, Quinten Sparks, John El Catracho, Quinn Johnson, Trenton Tatum, and Dominique Guillory.

CHAPTER 1

WAKE UP, BABY! Gabrielle yelled at her boyfriend, Brock, along with a Playful strike upside his head with a pillow.

"What, bae? It’s too early, Brock mumbled in a groggy tone while stretching. Upon realizing they were out of milk and craving a bowl of cereal, Gabby whined please" in a desperate plea for Brock to walk her to the local corner store. She jumped on top of Brock to rest above him in a cowgirl position.

"Damn, girl, can’t you go by yourself? The store’s just down the street."

Come on, baby, you know it’s crazy out there. Now get up! Gabrielle added, shoving the pillow into Brock’s face and then getting off him. Sadly, the two resided in a rough neighborhood which left them occasionally encountering bad experiences. Some of which had Gabby feeling the need to be accompanied by her man for protection.

Okay, okay, I’m up. Just let me brush my teeth and then I’ll walk your crazy ass to the store.

Brock Peterson and Gabrielle Sanchez were a young lower-income couple living in the housing projects in the city of New Orleans. Brock, a tall, dark, and handsome young man with a lean athletic build. He was originally from the neighborhood who had dreams of becoming a professional basketball player. After his parents died in a car accident when he was young, Brock was left to fend for himself and was forced to quit school to get a job. Fortunately, as a hard worker, Brock was always able to keep a job, with his current occupation being a garbage truck hopper for the local trash company.

Gabrielle, on the other hand, was a Hispanic beauty with curly hair and a gorgeous face, light green eyes, and a perfect body. She had a butt that kept the dudes in the hood drooling, which is why Brock rather she be a stay-at-home girlfriend. This dime piece would tempt any man who laid eyes on her. Her Puerto Rican mom and dad moved to the area when she was just an adolescent after losing their home due to her mom’s heavy gambling and drug usage. After her parents separated and abandoned her and her younger sister, Isabelle, she hooked up with Brock, and they’d been lovers ever since—so long that they call each other husband and wife from time to time.

Why must you bring that damn thing everywhere you go? Gabby asked of Brock’s .40-caliber handgun.

Because it’s legal and it’s mine—that’s why. Now, let’s go, Brock answered, giving a love slap to Gabby’s butt on their way out the door.

So what are your plans for this nice Saturday morning? Gabrielle asked as they held hands while walking up the block.

Yo! Qué pasa, mamacita? a dude interrupted right before whistling as the two walked past a group of thugs sitting on a porch, completely distracting Brock from responding to the question.

Come on, Gab, Brock said as he pulled her close and continued walking to avoid any confrontation.

I can’t wait until we get out the hood, Gabby said, a dejected look on her face.

One day, baby. But anyway, to answer your question, I guess I’m gonna go to the park and shoot some hoops after breakfast, Brock said quickly, changing the subject as they entered the store.

I hate when you go out there. The guys are so rough, plus you’re so much better than they are. I don’t know why you even waste your time.

What don’t you hate, girl?

You, Gabby replied, tiptoeing to give Brock a quick smooch on the lips.

Well, I’m rough too, and basketball is something I love to do. Now come on so we can get the hell out of here, Brock said as he grabbed a gallon of milk and headed to the counter.

Is that all you need, buddy? The Arabian store owner and cashier, Ali, asked in a strong Middle Eastern accent.

Uh, let me get a pack of those Camel Non Filters too, Brock added.

That’ll be fifteen ninety-nine, Ali informed as Brock reached into his sock and pulled out a lonely twenty-dollar bill to make the payment. Have a nice day. Thank you! Come again, Ali said, sneaking a peek at Gabby as Brock sparked a cigarette, grabbed the milk, and led her out of the store.

Gabby hated it. Smoking cigarettes was a disgusting habit that Brock had picked up from one of his coworkers, claiming that they calmed the nerves caused by his unfortunate circumstances.

With those thugs being held up by the cops on their way back, the two made it home in peace, without any distractions. Having a seat at the kitchen table in their small home, Brock and Gabby ate two large bowls of cinnamon squares. Brock finished first and quickly began getting ready for the park.

Honey, have you seen my favorite basketball shorts? Brock yelled from their room.

Yeah, they’re folded in the laundry basket. I finally had the chance to wash those filthy things! Gabby called back.

Rushing out the front door with his gym bag on his shoulder, Brock stopped to grab his pistol off the end of the table before placing it in his bag.

"Brock, why don’t you just stay here and keep me company, please? We can make love all day," Gabby pleaded in a seductive tone in an attempt to change his mind.

Nah, but I will tap that ass when I get back though.

Okay then. Be safe Papi, and don’t be all day, Gabby replied. Bye

Brock said as he gave her a french kiss before jogging off.

He think he just gonna leave me here bored like this? Gabby said to herself while dialing her sister’s number.

Hello! Isabelle answered in a ghetto tone.

What’s up, Bella? What you doing? Gabby asked, mocking that same voice.

Nothing. What’s up, girl?

Just sitting here bored as hell and missing my man already. He just went to the park to play ball. I never should have woken his ass up this early in the first place. Got me in this damn house all alone, Gabby complained.

Girl, I told you, you gotta take control. Put your foot down. My man right here still sleeping like a baby.

And that’s all he ever do. I gotta good man that works hard to take care of me, these bills, and that sexy body of his, Gabby countered.

Whatever. You think your man all that because he chases garbage trucks? Baby, please, the strip club pays all these bills with ease. What you need to do is bring that banging body to the club and make some real money. Have Brock chasing you.

To each his own, girl. I love my man, and he love me. But speaking of the club, you still having problems with that ho there? Gabby asked, initiating the start of a gossiping conversation.

Isabelle, whose nickname and stage name was Bella, used to live with Brock and Gabby until she realized she was done being dependent. As soon as she turned twenty-one, she decided to use what she had to get what she wanted, and what she wanted was definitely in high demand. Similar in resemblance to her older sister with the same green eyes, Bella was a couple of inches shorter with a bigger butt because of butt shots. Gabby was the slower and more mature sister, relying on Brock to pay the bills. As she was at home cooking and cleaning, Bella, the faster sister, chose the opposite route and made the club her source of income, which enabled her to move into a nice house in an upscale part of New Orleans and put a nice class Mercedes-Benz in her driveway.

CHAPTER 2

ARRIVING AT THE park, Brock noticed his regular balling partner Max, troublemaker baller named Bo and another baller who happened to be Bo’s cousin, named Skip, just shooting around by themselves. Usually, the park would be a bit more crowded, but it was earlier than usual because of what time Gabby woke Brock up.

What’s up, Max! What’s up, fellas? Brock greeted as he tossed his bag courtside and began stringing his Jordan 1s tighter.

What’s up! they responded as a whole.

Wanna play two-on-two? Brock asked while stretching.

How much? Bo asked with a slight attitude.

Well, I was thinking we could just play for fun, but I think I got about fifty bucks. Not much but it’s something, Brock replied.

I got fifty too, Max added.

Alright then, we’re gonna play for one hundred dollars and ten is game. Shoot for takeout, chump, Bo said as he threw Brock a hard chest pass.

Quickly passing Max the ball inbounds Brock, having fresh legs and full of energy, easily dodged his defender to catch an open pass for an easy jumper.

Swish! Max yelled as Brock shot hit nothing but net to score the first point of the game.

Check nigga! Bo said to Brock as he hit him with another aggressive chest pass.

Passing the ball in, Brock blew by Bo yet again. Max, closely eyeing Brock in full stride to the goal, tossed him a clean pass for an alley-oop.

Booyah! Brock boasted as he looked back at Bo with a mean mug.

Yeah, whatever, nigga. Bet y’all can’t do it again, Bo said as Brock shook him to score another dunk.

Hey, man! We got money on the line. Don’t let them niggas get you out your game, bro! Skip yelled at Bo.

Shut up, fool. I got this, Bo replied while completely distracted as Max passed the ball in for Brock to score a smooth step-back three-pointer.

That’s six zip! Brock shouted, wiping sweat from his face with his hands.

I know what the score is, nigga, Bo said to Brock in a frustrated voice. With Max now signaling for a pick-and-roll and Brock stepping up for the block before rolling, Max passed him the ball to ultimately get Brock’s layup blocked by Skip.

Oohhh! Max joked, teasing Brock for the rare occurrence.

Check, Brock said with a serious look on his face as he tossed Bo the ball. Usually, Brock would be all over the court helping, but needing to make up for getting his shot blocked, he focused solely on Bo, who couldn’t help dishing the ball off to Skip, already on the move for a quick layup on Max.

Oohhh! Brock mocked Max as the opponents scored their first point on him. Having been playing for some time, the score was now nine to three.

The score was now nine to three, Brock and Max’s way, and Brock chose to show off by shooting and making an all-net three-pointer for the win.

Give me my money, Max told his opponents, causing Bo to get mad and kick the ball over the fence.

What money? Bo said as he balled up his fists and braced up to Max in a fighting stance.

Hey, hey, y’all chill! Brock yelled as he quickly stepped in between the two, palming them both in their chests. Although a strong man himself, trying to stop the fight alone wasn’t an option.

Shoving Brock aside, Bo punched Max in the face for the start of a brief scuffle. Running back to break the two up now with the help of Skip, they were able to stop the fight before it got out of control—or at least that’s what they thought.

I got something for you, Bo grumbled as he pointed his hand in the shape of a gun as if he were shooting Max in the face before walking toward his bag on the bleachers.

Knowing Brock kept a pistol in his bag courtside for easy access because of how wild things could get at the park, Max ran over and began rummaging through Brock’s bag, ultimately pulling out his loaded .40-caliber pistol.

"Max, no!" Brock yelled as Max ran up to Bo and let off three shots into his back as he was digging in his bag, leaving him slumped over the bleachers. Because the neighborhood was small, not to mention that it was a high-crime area, the cops were never too far and must have heard the shots. Immediately following the shots were the sounds of sirens approaching louder and louder.

Max! What the fuck? What were you thinking? Brock asked, panicking.

I don’t know, man. I just … Max paused, as he was distracted by Skip taking off running.

What are we going to do, man? Cops about to be all over this bitch! Brock yelled.

Not saying another word, Max glanced at Bo’s body, dropped Brock’s gun on the ground, and then took off running. Just as Max got out of sight, two patrol units pulled up to the scene before hopping out and drawing their weapons. Get on the ground now! the first responder yelled from behind his car door with his pistol pointed at Brock.

I didn’t do nothing! Brock yelled in a discombobulated voice while still standing with his hands in the air.

"I said get on the ground—now!" the officer shouted again.

But I’m innocent! Brock yelled as he slowly took one knee before lying flat on the ground.

Someone secure that weapon! the officer yelled to his partners.