Dante's Choice: Through the Eyes of a Menace

By David Lisenby

Damien Lawrence just finished serving twelve years for an ungrateful gang leader. Many things have changed since he was home; the world he left is but a memory, and the world doesn't operate the way it did years ago. While trying to find his place in life, he finds the one thing that hasn't changed is him, the Menace. When he is reintroduced to the streets, he finds he is plagued with resentment and retribution for the ones that have wronged him. The one thing he can change is his younger brother, Dante, who is faced with the choice to follow his older brother's blueprint or learn from the mistakes of his elders and go a new route. Dante's Choice is swayed by opportunity and peer pressure, as well as redemption and loss. Making the right choice isn't always easy, especially if it is between struggle and pain.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781645841302

Book preview

Chapter 1

Lawrence! Pack up, you’re goin’ ta intake, barks the CO at the door of his cell.

Aight, replies Damien Lawrence, a twenty-eight-year-old inmate at Concord State Penitentiary. Damn, man, feels like I been in this bitch forever, Damien says while handing a bag of miscellaneous canteen items and a blanket to his cellmate.

It’s all over now, fam, replies his cellmate. I don’t wanna see you anywhere but on the street, li’l nigga.

I look forward to it, says Damien, holding up a slip of torn paper with names and contact info of various inmates compiled over twelve years of incarceration.

Ready to go, Lawrence? inquires the CO at the door of his cell.

Yeah, it’s about that time, Damien answers, mostly to himself. Aight, fam, keep ya head up. Yo date is right around the corner, he says to his cellmate as he embraces him in a dap and hug.

All right, that’s enough. Time to go, Mr. Lawrence, interrupts the CO impatiently.

Leaving the cellblock, carrying mostly paperwork, Damien bids good riddance to a lifestyle and a place he has become far too accustomed.

The first face Damien sees upon exiting the release gate is Dove—a short Portuguese woman, about five feet and five inches, with a twenty-six-inch waist and thirty-eight-inch hips, C-cup chest, and hair that cut off just above the earlobe—who was accompanied by her brother, Bird, a close friend of Damien, who kept in contact throughout the whole ordeal.

You got fat! exclaims Bird with a wide smile as Damien approaches.

No, he didn’t, Dove says to Bird. You look good, baby, but you did put on weight…

Damien lifts his shirt to give Dove a peek at his washboard eight-pack. I coulda told you that, replies Damien. It’s been a long time… I’ma show you just how much weight I put on, finishes Damien, flashing a seductive grin at Dove before picking her up off the ground. And you shouldn’t be talking, says Damien, turning to Bird. You just as skinny as you was twelve years ago.

With that, they embrace each other and pile into a four-door Lexus. Headed toward the city, Dove looks back at Damien and smiles.

What? asks Damien.

I missed you so much. I can’t believe you’re really here, replies Dove in a misty tone.

Get used to it, baby. I don’t plan on going back, says Damien reassuringly.

You seem worried, says Dove.

Yeah? replies Damien. I don’t know… Maybe I’m anxious.

Why? prods Dove.

I haven’t heard from my family in a while. They knew my release date. I dunno, it’s just been a long time, explains Damien after a short pause.

Not that long. Most of the city is still the same. Where do you wanna go first? asks Bird.

Hmm, ponders Damien, "let’s take a joy ride and find what has changed."

You haven’t! Bird chuckles. I know I can always count on the menace for an adventure.

After reintroducing Damien to a city that forgot him—complete with rebuilt parks and covered-up tags—Bird pulls up out front of Dove’s apartment building. Time for you to relieve some tension, says Dove, pulling Damien in for a kiss.

As much as I want to join you, I gotta check in with the fam, replies Damien, handing Dove his duffel bag and kissing her gently on the cheek. I promise I’ll be back later.

Hopping into the passenger side of the Lexus, Damien exclaims, Home, Jeevs! to Bird, who’s still playing with the radio.

As you wish, sire, replies Bird with a joking British accent as he chooses Luv Dem Gun Sounds from his MP3 library.

Pulling away from the curb, Damien lowers the volume and asks, Why do you listen to this shit?

Somewhat taken aback, Bird replies, It’s a good track. I respect the homey for comin’ from nuthin, you feel me?

I dig that, but some shit you just gotta admit is noise pollution, replies Damien with a slight chuckle.

It’s not that bad, argues Bird.

It’s ignorance personified, states Damien, searching the eight-inch Double Din touch screen for a new anthem. Now this guy I can respect, exclaims Damien, choosing Threats and turning up the subs. He also came from nothing.

Just like me! says Bird.

Except…he’s successful, says Damien jokingly.

Awww, now we got jokes. You gon see my empire soon enough, D Man.

I hope so. What you been doing with yourself lately?

Li’l of this, li’l of that, says Bird evasively.

What does that mean? I know you ain’t got a job, says Damien half-jokingly. And I asked you to leave all criminal activity out of the letters cuz those crooked COs screen all my mail, so?

Ha, you know I ain’t changed, bro! Bird says admittingly. Same game, just a higher pay grade.

I thought so, replies Damien, faking disappointment. I ain’t mad at you, fam. In fact, I’m kinda glad you stepped ya game up.

I’ve come a long way from stealing bikes, D, says Bird as he turns a corner onto Hosmer Street, Damien’s mother’s street, at a cruising pace.

I know that much… The hood ain’t changed. My mom’s still in the same spot.

Yeah, same apartment. Me and Dante made sure she kept the lights on.

I appreciate that, my nigga, explains Damien. Damn, Dante been handling all that responsibility, huh?

Yeah, he stumbled right into yo shoes, replies Bird.

What’s that mean? asks Damien.

Well, I’ll put it like this, Bird says with a sigh, Li’l dude ain’t hungry, and Moms don’t want for nothing.

Put it like that, huh?

Look, I’ll pick you up later. You got a homecoming to attend, says Bird, offering his hand to Damien. Hit me up whenever you’re ready.

Aight, fam, says Damien, dapping up his homey before exiting the Lexus.

As Damien climbs the steps to his mother’s Mattapan apartment building, he looks up and down his old street. The midday bustle of people hasn’t changed—men and women walking about, hanging out on porches and stoops, kids skipping school to do nothing—but it still feels like a lifetime has passed. Making his way up the hallway stairwell, the corridor reminds him of his youth and mistakes from the past. Standing on the third floor landing, Damien stares at the doorway of which behind he doesn’t know what to expect. After a few moments of anticipation, Damien hears a familiar voice from behind.

Damien? calls a weak voice from the top of the stairs.

Damien turns to see a skeleton of his mother her tiny frame draped by a T-shirt and slim fit jeans that are only held up by the over cinched belt she pierced a few new holes in. Mom? gasps Damien, barely recognizing the woman that raised him.

My baby! cries Carol. It’s been so long. Look how much you’ve grown!

Yeah, whispers Damien, still shocked by the appearance of his mother.

Lookin’ like a grown man… Come give ya mama a hug, she says, embracing Damien.

You’ve lost weight…, utters Damien, holding his mother’s frail abdomen.

Yeah. Good exercise will do that, she says dismissively. I see you been working out, Mr. Brawny.

Yeah, I beefed up a li’l bit, tryna keep myself busy, says Damien with a chuckle.

Come on inside, says Carol after an exchange of smiles. You have to excuse the mess. I wasn’t expecting any company today.

It’s all right, I’m just glad to be home, says Damien as Carol struggles with the deadbolt.

Once the door cracks open, the familiar smell of fried food and a crisper drawer in need of cleaning wafts into his nose. Inside Damien is already feeling the regret of past wrongs. As he feasts his eyes on the squalor and filth inside his family residence, his contrition grows. As he enters the apartment hallway, he can see the stained living room couch torn apart from an ill-trained dog, along with the carpet stains underneath a chipped and water-warped coffee table. Damien can tell that his mother has long given up.

Make yourself comfortable, says Carol as Damien switches his gaze to the fifteen and twenty-year-old photos on the wall of a happy family and two young children without a care in the world. I’ll be right back. I think I left my phone in my bedroom.

As she reaches the end of the hall, Damien begins to follow at a melancholy pace. With her door left ajar, Damien notices his mother dig into her pocket and drop a small package on her vanity dresser. After she does this, she pauses, staring down at the ball of foil on the dresser. She then picks it up and drops it into the top drawer. At that point, Damien opens a bedroom door to his left to see a somewhat clean room with more of an untouched feel to it—the bed unmade, a towel and socks in the middle of the carpeted room but otherwise tidy. Posters on the walls display video vixens in bikinis and luxury cars probably torn from a Rides or Lowrider magazine.

You know, he reminds me of you, says Carol, almost startling Damien.

How so? I’ve been gone for so long, asks Damien, knowing the answer already.

You know, he idolized you, says Carol, misty-eyed. You were like his hero. Damien shut the door to Dante’s room.

Are you hungry? asks Carol, moving toward the kitchen. I was thawing out some pork chops before I went out.

Damien cracks a smile. If I wasn’t hungry, I’d eat your cooking anyway. Damien is greeted by a stiff staleness as he enters the kitchen. He then notices the caked grease on the stove top, which appears a deep murky yellow color but is white in Damien’s memory. You need some help? asks Damien, rolling his sleeves up, not waiting for an answer.

That would be nice, replies Carol, clearing the table of various wrappers, empty canisters, and miscellaneous crumbs. Seeing the massive pile of dishes and cookware on, in, and around the sink gives Damien a sinking feeling in his stomach. So…where is Dante now?

Oh, I don’t know. He’s never in the house for long, replies Carol, pulling the trash bag tight to tie a knot in it. He’s been like that for the past few years. Once he turned seventeen, he was hard to keep track of, Carol continues in a somber tone.

Yeah? questions Damien.

He’s just like you in that way. He reminded me of your father when he was young, but some days I barely recognize him, finishes Carol dejectedly as a tear rolls down her face.

Damien finishes scrubbing a frying pan quietly, dries his hands, and sits next to his mother. Holding her heavy and calloused hands, he asks, What happened?

We just grew apart, cries Carol. I didn’t wanna blame you, but I couldn’t keep writing. I just needed…I needed a break, explains Carol with tears streaming from her eyes.

Damien pulls his mother in close for a hug. I’m not mad, he whispers into her ear. I’m not mad at you, says Damien, repeating himself a little louder. Damien wipes her eyes as they separate.

Carol smiles as she stares at her oldest child. Let me get started, she says, ending their embrace to find the pork chops in the fridge.

Placing the cutting board on the table, Damien goes to the cabinet to search for seasonings and flour.

After feasting upon fried pork chops, corn, applesauce, and peas, Damien looks at the clock on the wall and decides it’s time to call Bird. Could I use the phone, Ma? asks Damien.

Of course, replies Carol, handing Damien her cell phone.

Leaving the room, Damien pulls the piece of paper with Bird’s number scrawled on it. As he dials the area code and prefix, the recent calls on the phone fills in the last four digits. Not thinking too much of it, Damien presses the call button and waits for the tone.

Moms? answers Bird.

Not quite, but I like it when you call me Big Poppa. Damien laughs. Where you at, kid? I’m tryna freshen up before the party.

I’m close by. I’ll be there in, like, ten, replies Bird.

Aight, one, says Damien.

One, says Bird, ending the call.

Shortly after their call, Bird pulls up, and Damien tells his mother he’ll see her soon.

Whassup, kid! greets Bird as Damien takes a seat on the passenger side.

Why ain’t you tell me she living like that, fam? asks Damien.

What chu mean? I ain’t been up there in years, dog. I just come runnin’ whenever she needs help, explains Bird.

"She needs help now, man. My mom shouldn’t be living like that! explodes Damien. I know it’s been twelve years, but this time’s been worse on her than me."

I know, says Bird. I just…

You just what! Never mind, I’m not going back to jail tonight, exclaims Damien.

Aight, bro…aight. Another time, says Bird, relieved.

I needa freshen up. I ain’t took a shower since I was on the unit, says Damien.

Freshen up? Nah, we ’bouta get fresh! says Bird, pulling away from the curb. I’m ’bouta take you to a few of my favorite spots.

After a short drive, Bird pulls into a small strip plaza and parks by a clothing store. Let’s do it, says Damien.

Time to ditch the state’s finest rags for something up to date.

Walking through the aisles and around the racks, Damien notices that the styles have changed quite drastically since he’s been down. Heavy jeans and jerseys have been replaced by skinny jeans and designer tops. The mannequins no longer wear TIMS and fitted caps but snapbacks and Jordan’s.

Wow… Prince made a comeback or what? quips Damien.

Nah, fam, you know how trends do, replies Bird, smiling at the humor. The hottest shit changes as fast as the music do.

It’s either get with it or get lost, huh? Damien laughs as he pulls a Celtics jersey off the wall. Paul Pierce is still in style, right?

Yeah, but let’s save that for court side, replies Bird, walking toward a wall of graphic tees. Check these out… Find one that matches this button-up and a pair of jeans, then we’ll work on the shoe game. After picking a few outfits and shoe combos, they head toward Bird’s house to pregame.

Chapter 2

In an attempt to forget about the drama he has returned to, Damien prepares his mind for a night of carelessness, something he hasn’t had in a while. Once dressed in gray TIMS, gunmetal Roc jeans, a black tee and gradient-striped button-up, Damien is ready for a night on the town.

I got some shit for you! says Bird, unfurling a freezer bag of lime green and orange-manicured nuggets.

Mmph, grunts Damien, smelling the herb before the seal is cracked on the bag.

Weed has come a long way since you been down, fam, says Bird, dropping a few nuggets into a grinder and twisting.

I see, says Damien.

This shit is even decriminalized. I can walk around with just under an ounce and see no jail time, explains Bird.

Word? asks Damien, surprised. I heard something about that, but I was dealing with my own troubles for a while. You gotta be careful in the belly, can’t get too caught up in the TV, you know? further explains Damien.

I feel it, but that’s all over now, fam… Hit this, says Bird, passing Damien some sour wrapped in a fronto leaf.

Damien looks at the well-rolled blunt and says to Bird, You got better.

As Damien pulls on the blunt, Bird says, Twelve years will do that to you.

Damien exhales with a throat-clearing cough that causes his chest to heave. It’ll do that too! says Bird, breaking out in laughter.

As Damien’s lungs acclimatize to the high-grade weed, they finish the blunt, reminiscing on old times.

At about nine