The Trust

By Ameon Fuller

Hi, my name is Neven. I'm very attractive and come from a family that were never slaves. The family is very large and physically beautiful. Our family has always been wealthy. Once, they almost lost everything, but they came back with a vengeance, never to be without again by any means necessary. To this day, none of the elders in my family have never had to work and have been able to take care of their large families. My granny raised me and two of my older cousins. I have an amazing life that I was born in, and any problems I have ever had, for the most part, did not have to happen. I have always had very expensive things. The people in my life never knew how wealthy our family is, so they did extravagant things for me. I'm handsome, humble, and sometimes I can have a slick mouth, which they like; and if you push me, I will lose my head on you. I have very famous friends that, for the most part, don't know me. They just see the pretty picture and that I don't have to want for anything like some of them. I have more money than them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781647011550

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The Trust

Ameon Fuller

Copyright © 2019 Ameon Fuller

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2019

ISBN 978-1-64701-145-1 (pbk)

ISBN 979-8-88793-138-8 (hc)

ISBN 978-1-64701-155-0 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

In the late ’80s, early ’90s in Jacksonville, Florida, Duval County, the city was rich in history, and the largest landmass city in the United States of America. A new era had just began for poor blacks in the city: baggy pants that sag, white tees, cornrows, low fads, afros, gold teeth, oversized Gucci link necklaces with big biblical-inspired charms, big belt buckles, and being a thug or drug dealer slash hustler was what was in for young black boys ages eighteen through twenty. And for the girls, Toni Braxton haircuts, freeze curls, French roll updos (the larger, the better), and colored weaves. Daisy Dukes shorts, tennis skirts, platform shoes, door-knocker-size gold earrings, nameplates, bangle bracelets—all your jewelry had to be real, no matter the karat or weight, you might be able to get away with the brass nafateria bracelets, but they had to be clean and shiny), because the more you had, the jazzier you were—and the diamond clusters rings. The hot cars in the hood were Chevrolet Impalas or Caprice Classic 1964 on up, Honda Civics, Acura Legends, and Lexus. The more speakers you could fit in your car, the better. Limo tint, bowling ball, Peril, and two-tone paint jobs, crush velvet interior or white vinyl, deep-dish rims and tires ’30s, and Whitewalls, and hydraulics.

Rap had just started being played on the radio in Jacksonville. Former member of the 2 Live Crew Uncle Luke and the 69 Boyz reggae music had gotten popular because of Club Cool Runnings. The best nights to go on were a Friday or Saturday night. The strip of Florida Avenue near the fairgrounds or the Gator Bowl. Inside the eight-hundred-square feet of club was one wall of speakers and a small dance floor, such that if it rained outside the club, it also rained inside the club, right on the dance floor, where puddles of water would form. They didn’t have a liquor license and only sold beer, and the smoke that filled the club, it seemed like everyone was smoking marijuana out of tobacco paper better known as blunts. No A/C between the speakers, and the large fans there wasn’t room for the people, but they managed to squeeze in it what seemed like five hundred or so bodies. If the DJ played a song that you liked or if the crowd liked, you were supposed to bang on any flat surface with your hand fist or a beer bottle. Whenever the DJ stopped the music and said, Prom, prom! you were to repeat; and at 12:00 a.m., the DJ would say, I’m getting ready to ride, at the top of his voice in a Jamaican accent. That’s when the crowd would lose control when he would play whatever theme song that had been chosen for the year. They had a theme song for every occasion.

Outside, it was another club in itself. On a good summer night, you could have more fun on the strip than inside the club. The wall of speakers hit so hard and loud everyone would sing along and dance and party outside. Cars lined up and down the street. It always turned into a car show, and you always had to be cautious of stray bullets or beer bottles if a fight broke out. The smell of marijuana, fried chicken, and BBQ filled the air. Some nights, people would hang around just to get a copy of the cassette of the music and party outside the nightclub. If you had a tape, you better guard it with your life because someone was sure to steal it. If you didn’t get the tape that night, you probably wouldn’t ever get it. The tapes were priceless. The club Big Apple was another nightspot. It was a whole lot nicer; it had been a former movie theater. Two separate bars, large dance floors, a stage for entertainment, DJ booth, and glass booths for VIP, an area to tack pitchers, and they had liquor license. The drinks to have was the sex on the beach and Bahama blue. You could wear you finest clothes here unlike cool running wear. You might have to run from gun play fights or people getting so existed that they would sling their beer all over the club, drenching hairdos and clothes. The DJ would play all the hit songs of the times.

Crack had hit the street in the ’80s and had ravaged communities and destroyed families. Neighborhoods that were once nice turned into ghettos. And the ghettos turned into very horrible places, day or night. Mothers and fathers who became addicted to crack had children who were being raised by grandparents or even great-grandparents, or some children had no parents at all, leaving them no one but the streets. Babies were being born addicted to crack, and because so many of the children had no guidance, it resulted in teen pregnancy and black-on-black crime. The Ku Klux Klan put out a flyer thanking the blacks for doing the work of killing one another for them. All they had to do was sit back and watch as blacks killed one another. Many young black men were getting killed or incarcerated over the drug. Statistics showed that young black men between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five would most likely end up dead or in jail, and for the most part, the statistics was right. Young black girls were having babies at an all-time high because they thought it was cute or that’s what every other girl was doing, leaving grandparents and great-grandparents hopples. Foster homes were busting at the seams with unwanted little black babies, children, and teens. With no guidance, lots of teens never finished high school.

There also was a new silent killer: HIV or AIDS. The disease hit the black communities like sucker punch; they never knew what hit them. Statistics showed that one out of ten was infected, and half of that one out of ten didn’t even know. The disease spread like wildfire. The DL or undercover homosexuals were the ones who were blamed for spreading the dreadful disease. Some newborn babies were born with it, getting it at birth. We lived in the Springfield area of town, a couple of blocks from downtown. The neighborhood was once filled with well-to-do families, but in the late ’70s throughout the ’80s, had gone down because of drugs many of the homes had become crack houses where the junkies would go to get high, and some were trap houses where they would sell drugs from most weir was condemn and dilapidated. I must admit that the neighborhood was pretty rough. The city had deemed the aria a historic district and was giving grant money to the home owners to restore the homes. My granny’s home was in good shape. She took really good care of the place. The house was a two-story Victorian built in the 1920s. The front porch spanned the front of the house. On to the side of the house were French doors leading out to the porch. The living and dining room and a large bedroom shared one three-sided fireplace. There was the bathroom, and we eat in the kitchen with a large pantry and a back porch that housed the washer and drier. The other three bedrooms and one bath were upstairs. My bedroom, the largest of the three, had a fireplace and a balcony overlooking the backyard. The bathroom was shared with my bedroom. The other two spacious rooms were across the hall.

There is a very long line of strong black women in my family dating back to the end of slavery four generations ago. My grandmother calls the women in my family hustlerettes. I am the oldest boy in my house—or in the family, for that matter—if a boy is what you want to call me. My age is eighteen. I’m about five nine in height, one hundred and fifty pounds, bright yellow in complexion, with soft long curly hair that I haven’t cut in six years that I normally keep in corn rows. My eyebrows are thick, dark-brown eyes, narrow nose, thin mustache, pouty thin lips, chin hair. For the most part, I’m a skinny boy. My cousins always tease me about being such a pretty boy. I have masculine features but still a pretty boy. I have two cousins that are older than me, Erica and Terica. Terica is the oldest of the two. I look a lot like her. Everyone thinks that we are sister and brother because we look so much alike. She has two children: Shina, age seven; and Samonny, age two. Erica has two children: Shameica, age five, and Tameika, age six. Granny said that a change was coming because we had never had a boy born in the family or any boys born to the family, for that matter. It had all been women. Erica and Terica had left the house years ago, only coming back to have a baby so that Granny could raise them. Granny didn’t mind. She loved the children and wouldn’t have had it any other way. Erica or Terica stayed on the go so much that when they would come to town with shopping bags on top of shopping bags of things for everyone—Granny, me, and the younger children—we would have the latest fashions before anyone in the city. I had even won Best Dressed in high school.

The only thing that was strange to me is how, whenever Terica or Erica would come to town, they would tell Granny to come in her downstairs bedroom, that they had a very nice pair of designer shoes that they wanted her to try on. And after, they would get in the bedroom and close the door. I could hear them laughing and whispering. No matter how hard I listened, I could never hear what was being said. I knew that they weren’t talking about no shoes because I would go into Granny’s closet, and I never saw the designer shoebox again. The fathers of the other children never came to the house, or the men who would be with them never came in the house, no matter how long they had been left sitting in the car. One day, one of the men who had brought Erica over honked his horn, and not just one time. He laid on that horn. Granny was pissed. I don’t know what Granny said to him, but I don’t think it was something nice because he sped off and left Erica. After Granny came back in the house, Erica and granny laughed so hard about that. My granny’s sisters and other family are in Alabama and New York. I have never met all of them in person, but I have talked to some of them on the phone from time to time. My mother and younger sister lives in New York City. They come to visit; they also seem a bit stuck-up. My granny took me from my mother when I was two years old, never to take me back. My little sister Natalia is eleven years old. No one ever speaks of Erica and Terica’s mother. I don’t know why. In my granny’s house, there are some things you just don’t ask about. The youngest of my granny’s children lives in New York. Also, she is on drugs really bad, and she don’t have any children. The only thing that I know about my father is that he was serving life in prison.

By the way, my name is Neven. You already know how old I am and how I look. I guess you are wondering what I meant by if a boy is what you could call me. Reason being is, I’m a hermaphrodite. Yes, I have both sex organs, male and female. I don’t have breasts, and I carry myself as a boy, a good-looking masculine one for that matter. I don’t have any kind of sexual attraction to girls and just consider myself as being gay. I don’t tell people that I’m a hermaphrodite. I have only been with one man in my life, and we are still kicking it. His name is Nicolas Banks, but his name on the streets is Red or Big Red. I met him one day after school. It was the middle of the school year. I was a senior, and I was waiting on my best friend Camisha to come out in front of the school, and he pulled up in his 1985 Bronco, the big one that sat up high like the white boys do. It had a teal-green candy cot paint job, chrome cookie-cutter rims, Mickey Thomson tires on it, limo tint, and the four fifteens in the back. The bass hit so hard it felt like the ground was trembling under my feet. All the girls that were out there danced to the music as the truck cruised the schoolyard. The boys were all saying, That Big Red, and talking about how sweet his Bronco looked. I was sitting on the hood of Camisha’s 1980 Cadillac. It was a factory navy blue, and she had put some Cragar thirty-spoke rims and white-wall tires on it. As he pulled and stopped at Camisha’s car, I couldn’t see who was driving, but I did see everyone getting closer to where I was so to be seen by the driver of the truck. He rolled down the window, and there he was, with his boyish face, low afro, and it seemed all of his teeth had gold on them. He was wearing an African collared leather jacket. I could see that he was very muscular on his upper torso with his Jamaican accent. Hey, where is Camisha? he asked.

She is coming in a minute.

What’s your name?

Neven.

So, Neven, how long have you been growing your hair?

For about six years.

Oh yeah.

Out came Camisha, three hundred pounds big and brown skin and ghetto. You could hear her coming. She was wearing a short sweater dress with spandex pants on up under it with platform shoes, which when she wore them made us the same height, blue contacts, two gold teeth, three pairs of door-knocker earrings from large to small, twenty gold bangles, four diamond clusters, long acrylic fingernails with dollar symbols painted on them in various colors, big black Donny and Burke purse, and the big updo French roll. I don’t know how she carried it all, but she did and well. Camisha got to her car with her key chain in her hand with about twelve key chains on it for about three keys. What up, Red? What brings you up to the school at this time of the day?

I was in the neighborhood, and I saw your car and asked Neven where you were. I got a package today. Tell your old man that he can come and see me, okay? Hey, Neven, here’s my pager number. Use it.

And that was how I met him. Camisha gave me the rundown on him. Bitch, do you know who that is?

No.

That is the biggest dope dealer in Duvall County, and the way he was looking at you, I don’t think that he was trying to recruit a new corner boy to serve for him. He already has the city on lock and has big money to spend. He has a wife and three children by her, but I have heard that he keeps anther chick on the side.

Camisha, clue, I’m not a chick.

You know how theses Niggas are nowadays. They will fuck anything with a howl.

Thanks for making me just a howl, Camisha.

I had gotten excited about the howl thing and started imagining how it could be if I had hooked up with Red. But before I could get too deep in thought, Camisha was pulling into my granny’s driveway. The four little ones were playing on the front porch. Camisha was coming in so that I could fix her hair. I had been doing hair ever since I was ten years old, and my granny taught me how to braid and corn roll. It was a was the way I would make extra money to get the things I wanted. No, we weren’t poor, and I could easily ask my granny for money, but I liked doing hair, so why not get paid for it? We walked in the house. There was my granny, sitting in the kitchen with a small black-and-white television on the kitchen table and watching the soaps and looking out the front door, keeping an eye on the children.

Hey, Granny.

Hey, my boy, how was school?

It was good.

That’s good. Camisha, you know, I could hear you coming up before I even saw you come up. Them damn earrings and bracelets make more noise than them girls out that door.

Granny was always giving Camisha a hard time about her loud jewelry. We got in my room and closed the door. Out on the balcony we went to do what homework we had and to smoke a blunt.

Neven, go and get the phone and page Red right now.

Damn, bitch, can I get my smoke on first?

Neven, you are a real weed head.

After we smoked and had done homework, I got the phone and paged Red and started fixing Camisha’s hair. A few minutes later, the phone rang, and I answered it. Hello. Yeah, somebody page Big Red.

Yeah, what’s up? It’s me, Neven.

With his thick accent, Red started talking. Oh, hey, my boy, what’s going on? I didn’t think you were going to hit me up. So what do you get into?

What do you mean?

You know. Don’t play stupid. I can see how soft you are from a mile away.

Oh yeah, I get down on the other side.

So when are you going to let me come and scoop yo’ cute young ass?

Listen to you. Come get me later on tonight at seven o’clock.

That’s cool with me. Don’t mention this to anyone.

After I hung up the phone, Camisha started in on me. So what did he say? Do that motherfucker get down. Are y’all going to hook up?

Damn, Camisha, can I get off the phone good before you start interrogating me like the feds? Yes, he is coming to get me at seven.

After I had gotten done with Camisha’s hair, she had to leave and go and get her son from the day care. Later on that night, after I had helped Granny with dinner, given the girls baths, and put them in their PJs, I paged Red to see if he was going to come and get me like he had said. The phone rang, and I answered it, Hello?

What’s up, Neven?

Nothing, just wondering if you were still coming to get me.

Hell yeah, and I have been asking around about you.

Me?

Yeah, you silly boy. I ain’t talking to anyone else. I know your cousins Erica and Terica. Them some bad bitches. I just saw them the other night in Miami, so that’s where they live now.

Yea, they come home every other weekend to see about their kids and to bring me stuff.

Oh yeah? What kind of stuff they bring you?

You know, the latest fashion clothes and shoes that the other kids in school don’t have.

Hey, Neven, I’m on your street. Come outside.

How do you know where I live?

I told you, I have been asking around about you. Come outside. I’m in my BMW.

So I told Granny I would be back, and out the door I went. The BMW was red with a chrome strip down the side that said big red and an oversize body kit on it with eighteen-inch chrome deep dish factory rims, candy-apple-red paint job, and limo tint. As I walked up to the car, I couldn’t even see in the car. The system was turned down low, and all you could hear was a light rumble coming from the trunk. I got in the car. It was an old Keith Sweat song playing: You May Be Young but You’re Ready. The sunroof was open, and the smell of man’s cologne filled the car.

So, sweet Neven, what do you want to do? The night is yours.

I don’t know. We can do whatever you want to do. I trust you, Red.

I like how you say my name. Not all gay. I’m hungry, and I know the perfect spot to go and chill, where no one will know me or see me, for that matter.

So down Talaran Road we went. I had no idea where we were going down this windy road. So you are getting ready to graduate? Red asked.

Yeah.

And what do you plan on doing after graduation?

Going to cosmetology school.

Yeah, my resources told me that you could do some hair. In fact, they say that your pretty good. You have some clientele and everything.

So what else did your resources tell you about me?

You’re seventeen. You live with your grandmomma and all your cousins’ kids. You’re really good at doing hair. You sort of laid back. You can be slick at the mouth at times, and if you have ever had a boyfriend, no one knows about him, maybe your family.

Now, how do you know these things about me?

Don’t be concerned about that, my sweet.

We pulled up to restaurant named Sea the River and went inside. The inside of the place was dimly lit with candles on each table. The hostess walked us over to a table overlooking the river, the moonlight reflecting off the calm river. Red had me sit with my back to the door facing the view, and he sat facing the door and the view. We ordered and ate, and after the meal, he asked me if I was ready to go home, me hoping something would happen. I said no.

So you want to go back to my spot?

Where is your spot?

I got a little place across the bridge.

Which bridge?

There’s that slick mouth. I laugh because I could be slick at my mouth sometimes. Do you want to go or what?"

That all right with me, Red.

Across the Mathews Bridge into the Arlington area, there was a nicer side of town; and at Pelican Bay apartments, the community was new and gated. Inside the small one-bedroom apartment was a red leather sectional black lakers and gold-trim coffee and end tables. Over the sofa hung a large African-inspired portrait of a lion. There was one lamp on the end table and a sixty-inch big-screen television with a stereo and large speakers that were on either side of the television. On top of the TV was a large wooden cutout that said big red—painted red, of course. In the bathroom were all red towels and throw rugs. The bedroom had a king-size bed. The headboard and footboard were large posts from floor to ceiling, with the matching dresser and one matching nightstand with a lamp on top of it. We got inside, and Red got behind me and put both his massive arms around me, with his six-feet-one body hovering over me, and led me to the room.

Do you drink or smoke gunja? Red asked.

I smoke. I’m not really a drinker. I sat on the bed, taking in my surroundings. Meanwhile, Red had fixed both of us a drink and pulled a sandwich bag of weed out and began liking a blunt cigar, getting it ready to bust open to fill with weed. I sipped on the Henny and Coke trying to relax because I knew what was coming next. My eyes looked around the bare room. It looked like he had just moved in. Besides the picture in the living room, the white walls were bare. The apartment did not look lived in. Red walked out the room, telling me that he was going to put on some music. I tried to figure out a way to tell him about my extra body part, wondering what he was going to think. So I took the small glass of Hennessey and Coke and took it to the head and just told him as he walked back in the room and lit the blunt.

Hey, listen, Red, I have something to tell you.

What’s up?

I have never done this before?

What, drink?

No, smartass. Have sex with a man before.

Oh shit, I have me a virgin on my hand, a virgin piece of ass. I must be the luckiest man alive to have you. I know it’s good. Look at your cousins. They have to be the baddest hoes in Duval County and look at this shit. I have their little cousin, never-been-touched Neven. Well, have you ever had a piece of pussy?

Once or twice. Listen, Red, I have something else to tell you.

What, don’t tell me that you have that shit, shit being HIV.

"What, hell no! Something else. I have a pussy."

Red looked confused as ever. What, you mean you’re a female? Man, I thought you was a pretty-ass nigger, but this just takes the cake.

No, I’m not a female per se. I have a dick and a pussy.

Get the fuck outta here. You have got to be kidding me.

No, I’m serious.

What? Let me smoke this blunt and take this shit in.

Red lit the blunt that had gone out as we talked and began smoking. After a few takes of it, he passed it over to me and poured me and himself another drink and began taking off his clothes. I watched as he took everything off, leaving on his big Gucci link chain with a cross filled with diamond stones. His body from head to toe was all massive muscle. He had one tattoo on his back that sad power in big red letters. The only hair he had on his body was his head, underarm, and pubic area. He didn’t even have facial hair. Every part of his body was smoothed and all the same complexion, even his penis, which was big and uncircumcised. I sat on the edge of the bed and smoked and drank, trying to calm myself. The more I smoked, the louder my heart got in my ears; and the more I drank, the more the room became blurred. I handed Red the blunt and removed my clothes and stood on the other side of the bed. Red watched as I stood there, looking at me with hungry eyes.

So, Neven, nothing looks out of the ordinary to me.

You have to look closely.

Man, get in the bed and let me see this shit.

Red pulled back the comforter, inviting me in the bed. I got in, lay on my back, put my hands over my face, and gap my trembling legs open so that he could get a closer look. Red moved down to see my private parts that no one had ever seen or known about, maybe except Granny, Momma, and Terica. Not even Camisha knew about my privates.

Get the fuck out of here. Look at this shit. You have a dick, balls—nice size one too—and a gotdamn pussy, and this some freaky shit here, and it’s never been touched. Thank you, God! Red shouted under his breath.

Red positioned his body over mine and moved my hands from my face. He pushed one of his legs up under mine so that the bottom of my thigh was on top of his thigh, forcing my leg to bend as I moved the other leg over so that I could feel his pelvis against mine. He put his face right into my shoulder blade and neck, and one of his arms went up under my shoulder with his hand on top of my head. The other arm and hand was opening a lubricant and putting it on my privates.

Are you ready? he asked me.

I could feel his warm, moist breath on my neck. I nodded yes as he pushed his way inside of me slowly. The initial pan arched my spine up word, and my eyes popped almost out my head. My mouth opened as I inhaled a rush of air.

Yeah, I got you in the right position, he said, whispering in my ear as he slowly pushed in and out of me until he was all the way in me. After he was all the way inside, I could feel his pelvis up against my privates, and his throbbing penis pulsated in my fragile private. This is what you wanted, sweet Neven, ain’t it? So stop fighting me. Relax and breathe before you pass out.

Red continued to whisper softly in my ear as he ground round and round, in and out, back and forth. I turned my head away from his as I panted for air and as the tears rolled down my face, both of my hands holding on to his powerful shoulder, digging my fingernails into his skin. Baby boy, I know it hurts right now, and I don’t care if you hurt me to, he whispered to me nonstop, pumping faster and faster. The more I dug my nails into his skin, the faster he went. At one point, I even tried to pull away, but he put one hand on my forehead and the other wrapping the ends of my corn roll into his fist. I was immobilized by his strength and the pain Red inflicted on my virgin private. As Red pounded in and out of me faster and faster, I could feel him tensing up, and he started going really fast. His Jamaican dialect grew stronger, speaking in Batwa as he whispered to me, It’s so tight. It’s so good, sweet Neven, over and over. I could feel the warm man juice exploding in me as his back arched into a curl, as he pushed every inch of his penis inside of me. As I yelled at the top of my lungs, he covered my mouth, whispering to me, Sshhhh, I’m sorry I could not help myself. I needed you to feel all of my power. I could feel him collapse on top of me. He was huffing and puffing as he rolled off me, pulling himself out of me. It felt like he was pulling my insides out. I curled up in a ball with my hands holding my privates.

Man, that’s some good pompom you got there. Yo mamma should be proud of you.

That’s how I lost my virginity for the second time. Red dropped me off in front of my house. There was a big Mercedes AMG 500E class in the driveway parked next to Granny’s Mercedes station wagon. It probably was Erica or Terica with that Dade County plates. I got in the house at about three in the morning. Granny had gone to bed. Shina was up watching TV.

Hey, Shina, what are you doing up? I asked her.

I was waiting on you.

Ain’t that sweet. Whose car is outside?

That’s my mommy car.

Where is she?

She is in your room, sleeping.

What you should be doing, little girl. Come on up these stairs and get in the bed.

I turn off the TV and followed Shina up the stairs. As we said good-night to each other, I walked in my room. Terica was sleeping curled up in a recliner in front of the TV that I had in my room. I quietly grabbed some night clothes and went into the bathroom to take me a hot long sit-down bath to try to ease my throbbing, aching private. After I had run my bathwater and gotten undressed, I examined my privates. Oh shit, I thought to myself as I looked at my privates. What have I done? Oh shit. It was swollen. It look like it was inside out. I was so scared, but I didn’t want to tell anyone what had just happened earlier that night. I got in the bathtub holding my privates from the pain, trying not to make a sound so I didn’t wake Terica. I had gotten comfortable and relaxed and thought about Red and if he really liked me, or if he thought I was some kind of freak of nature or something like that.

The next morning, I awoke to screaming. Neven, are you alive? oh my god, neven! Terica screamed. The only thing I could do was open my eyes and look down in fear. My shorts and bedsheets were covered in blood. I shushed for Terica to be quiet. What the fuck you mean, Neven? Look at you.

"I know what happened as I could move a lot faster than the night before. I got up and went to the bathroom to hurry and clean myself up. Terica fooled me, with concern on her face and fear in her voice.

What in the hell is going on, Neven?

I had sex last night.

With who…or with what, for that matter?

I started to cry from fear. Please don’t tell Granny. The waterworks started.

Okay, wait, let me calm down, Neven. I can see that you are terrified. I’m not making it any better. Let’s get you cleaned up. Let me help you.

No, Terica.

Come on, Neven. I’m sure it’s nothing that I haven’t seen before. Remember, I know about your private part, as you call it. Come on, baby boy, let me help you.

I was crying uncontrollably with one hand over my mouth, and with the other hand, I pulled down my blood-soiled boxers and ball shorts with Terica’s help.

Oh my god, Neven, who did this to you?

I had to fight back tears just to get it out. Big Red.

Terica’s fear and concern quickly turned into anger. Nicolas Banks, that motherfucker is almost old enough to be your father. I knew he like men, and they say that Jamaicans despise gay men.

Well, Terica, really, he’s not gay.

Neven, did he know that you had a pussy when he initially met you?

No.

Stop trying to defend him. If you didn’t have a pussy, he would have fucked you in your ass. He got to pay and will pay for this.

No, Terica, I let him.

Are you sure you let him? Why would anyone let someone inflict this kind of damage to them?

It’s not that bad.

Not that bad? Neven, look at your private. It looks like he drove a bus through it.

It looks and feels better than it did last night. Besides the blood, I think that I’ll be fine.

After a little convincing, Terica calmed down. I had to take a shower this time just to get the sticky blood off me. Terica changed the linen on the bed and threw out the old ones because they were ruined. I had my shower and came out the bathroom. Terica was out on the balcony sitting in one of the lounge chairs. Hey, Neven, come out here with me. I need to talk to you.

It was sunny outside; a brisk chill was in the morning air.

So did you enjoy yourself?

No, not really. I mean, his dick was so big I thought he was being gentle at first. But once he got all the way in, he didn’t hold back. I really like him. I know that I can’t tell anyone about this—okay, maybe Camisha.

Well, Neven, you just started your period.

What!

Yeah, go figure. After you got in the shower, I had taken off the sheets and realize what kind of blood it was on them. I don’t know why it started so late, but it is what it is. I had to think back to the first time I had sex. The same thing happened to my pussy. It takes a couple tries before you can really get it right. You’re a bad boy, Neven. You pulled the biggest and baddest in Duval County. I hope you can keep him, but you shouldn’t have any problems with my help. I want to talk to Big Red, page him.

Why?

Didn’t I tell you that he was going to pay, and I meant every word of it.

Terica, what are you going to do?

Trust me, li’l cousin. But first things first, I need to teach you how and what kind of products to get for your private and how to use them. Come Monday, you have to go and see a doctor to see if everything is okay with your private. But first, I need to take a shower.

Terica was a beautiful lady. She took her time and prepared herself. She really took pride in being a young lady. All of her clothes were designer. She had made the bed and placed everything that she was going to wear on it: dark-red Yves Saint Laurent pantsuit, Chanel shoes and handbag. On the dresser, she had placed all of her jewelry out. I picked up one of her rings up, and the diamonds sparkled like a star. Inside was a stamp, Cartier Inc. I looked at all the jewelry. Then to my surprise, all of it had the same stamp, and everything was full of big diamonds, plus the Rolex watch with a diamond band and bezel. Terica remind me of some rich lady that you see on the soaps. She was all dressed for the occasion. Later on that day, Terica had shown me what and how to use the products.

We were leaving the mall after a bit of shopping for a new kind of underwear for me because I could no longer just wear boxers. I had to start wearing boy shorts. I could have worn boxer briefs, but I like how the boy shorts fit me, and I put the boxers over them to make me feel more like a boy. We got in the car, and Terica told me to page Red from her mobile phone.

Neven, don’t forget, do not tell him you are with me. Tell him I let you hold the car.

I got really excited. I had been wanting to talk to him all day to find out if he had enjoyed himself. I paged Red and put in my code so that he would know that it was me, and he called right back.

Hey, sweet, what number are you calling me from?

I have Terica’s car.

Oh shit, she let you hold the big body Benz?

Yeah. So what took you so long to page me? I have been waiting all day for you to page me. I didn’t go home last night hoping I could see you first thing this morning.

I’m sorry. I got up late, and I had some errands to run for my granny and Terica. But I’m free now. Where are you?

I’m at the apartment.

I thought you said that you didn’t go home.

I didn’t. My home is with my wife.

Excuse me?

No, sweets, it’s not like that. It is just that I need you to understand that my wife and family comes first, and everything else comes next.

So where does that leave me?

It’s too soon to tell.

I don’t think that you won’t me to go anywhere.

We will see, sweet. So what’s the code to get in the gate? What’s your code when you page me?

Okay, that’s cool. I’ll be right over.

Hey, hurry up. My power pole is hungry for you, ha-ha!

I got off the phone, and Terica came up with a plan. This is how it’s going to go down. I’ll park the car on the opposite side of his building, and you knock. And when he opens the door, I’ll go in first.

Terica parked the car and pulled her hair back in a ponytail, wrapped a Chanel scarf around her head, and put some oversized Chanel sunglasses on. She opened the glove compartment and pulled out a gun.

What is that for!

You never know with these dreads. He might get grime. She put the gun in her little Chanel handbag.

We got out the car and up the two flights of stairs. I knocked on the door. Red opened it without hesitating. As the door opened, Terica stepped in. Hi Nicolas.

What the fuck? Don’t you think that a hello is more appropriate?

What are you doing here?

To ensure Neven’s, my cousin’s, future. Do you have somewhere we can talk in private? I can see that there isn’t much room for anything in this closet of an apartment.

Neven, why did you bring her?

Don’t say anything to him until you have talked in private with me, or should I call a mutual acquaintance of ours?

Red went in to the bedroom. Terica followed him, closing the door behind her. I went over to the door so that I could hear what was being said.

So what do you want, Terica?

Nothing for me. I’m doing this for Neven. I want you to give him fifty thousand now and five thousand a month.

What kind of shit you trying to pull on me, Terica?

Watch your step, Nicolas, and don’t insult me or Neven for that matter. Remember, I know how much you’re worth, so don’t make me ask for more.

What if I’m done with him now?

Then why would you answer his page?

You know what, I don’t have time for the bullshit.

Nicolas Banks, you have three hours to come up with the sixty thousand, or I’m going to make two phone calls.

Sixty thousand? I thought you said fifty. Who are you going to call? And stop using my government name.

Yes, you heard me. The other ten is for me and my time, and I’m going to say it again, I know how much you’re worth. And one call to my husband and the other to the police for sex with a minor. I’m sure your wife would love to hear about this. And I like Nicolas better. Red is just too personal, and this is business.

Okay, go out there with Neven so I can put some clothes on, and you can fallow me somewhere.

Terica came out the room with a big smile on her face and sat next to me on the sofa and reached in one hand in her Chanel handbag and sat the bag on her lap with her hand still inside. After about ten minutes or so, Red came out the room with the money.

I thought you had to go get the money from somewhere else, Red? Do I have to count it before I leave?

No, you don’t have to count it. I remembered I had this lying around. Here’s fifty-five, and I’ll bring you the other five when I come down South.

Thank you, sir. Nice doing business with you. Let’s go, Neven.

Hey, can he stay for a few hours?

I looked at Terica without saying it, but she knew I wanted to stay.

No, Neven. Nicolas, his body needs time to heal, and you knocked his period on anyway.

Damn, sweets, you’re full of surprises.

He sure is, and you better treat him right, or I might have to put a hit out on you.

Red patted me on the ass as we left and seemed unaffected by what had just happened. We pulled out the apartment complex.

Damn, Terica, you are roué. I would have never asked for that much money.

I knew something was going on. I felt it. Do you know that I drove to town in four hours, and it normally takes six.

Damn, Terica, you were pushing this bitch.

Yes, I was. Now let’s go to Duval Acura. I have a friend. Her daddy owns the place, and she owes me a favor.

You just got this Benz. Why are we going there?

You are dope-boy nigger. Now, you have to play the part.

You mean all that money is mine?

Hell yeah, boy. I don’t need it, and this ain’t shit to me. I handle millions. This is a drop in the hat.

That’s why Red didn’t seem to care.

Right. That nigga got Jacksonville on lock and the surrounding counties. Cues don’t sleep on that nigga.

We pulled off Arlington Expressway in to the Duval Acura dealership. The sun was shining bright, the wind was blowing, and I felt so excited. Terica told me to go and pick out which one I wanted, that she had to handle some business. I saw it—black with gold trimming, sunroof, tinted windows, body kit, chrome rims, tan leather heated seats (like I needed heated seats in Florida, but it was North Florida), and a Bose sound system. I couldn’t wait to drive it off the lot. Terica was still in the car on the phone. I signaled for her that this was the one I wanted. She held up one finger, letting me know that she was only going to be a minute. I had stood there twenty long minutes before she got out the car and came over to where I was.

How long have you been standing here?

I don’t know.

I do. We have been here forty-five minutes, and no one has come to ask you if you need help or that they would be right with you. Come on, watch this shit. We got in the reception earlier and went to customer service where a pricy little white girl was on the phone, and I could tell that the phone call wasn’t business. Terica got right in crater. Uhm, excuse me, ma’am."

The girl held up one finger and rolled her eyes at Terica. Terica took the phone—no, snatched the phone out of the girl’s hand and put it on the receiver’s nicely.

Oh no, you didn’t.

Oh yes, I did. And while you try to figure out what to do next, go and get your manager.

The girl stomped off very upset at what Terica had just done and said. I get so tired of these good-for-nothing white people thinking they are better than us. The girl came back with the same attitude, saying that the manger was in a meeting.

Well, may I see his manager?

And off she stomped off again, but this time, we followed her right to the assistant manager’s office. There he was, a middle-aged white man, and he was on the phone with his feet propped up on the desk. Terica walked in his office.

What is it around here, relax and chitchat time? My patience is running thin around here with you people. I have been waiting an whole hour just to pick out a car that already been paid for.

Well, ma’am, we are very busy around here.

Oh, enough is enough. Neven, go and pull my car right up to the front door so that I can call someone that can help me.

I was looking dumfounded because I didn’t know who she was going to call. I went and got the car, but I decided to back it up so that they could see which Benz It was. That manager saw that Mercedes E Class AMG, V12 back up at that door with the Dade County plates and the personalized plate that sad the tera, and nearly fainted. One of the other salesmen tried to help then. Ma’am, what seems to be the problem?

Sir, don’t you worry you bald little head about it now. It has been one hour and fifteen minutes, and I haven’t spoken to the manager yet.

Terica started out the door, but before she could get out, another white man with his golf clubs, short shoes, the whole getup, met her at the door. Ma’am, what seems to be the problem?

And who might you be?

I’m the manager of this establishment.

Well, well, well, what a coincidence. Just the person I wanted to speak to was the manager, not the assistant manager.

What is the problem, ma’am? Why don’t I help you?

First, let me get to the problem. I have been waiting now one hour and forty-five minutes to pick out a car for a family member, and no one could seem to assist me. And when I went to the front desk, I had to take the phone out of her hands.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get better, Terica let one single tear fall from her eye and down to her cheek, wiping it away and thumping it at the girl, never breaking stride or letting her voice tremble a note. After Terica had gotten done, I could not believe it. She had me thinking she was a rich white lady. She had eat them people up and cued them up and spat them out without raising her voice or uttering a curse word.

Ma’am, what’s your name?

Terica Delacruse.

The assistant mangier almost turned red as a fire truck. I heard someone say, Oh shit, under their breath when they heard Terica’s name.

And shit is what you are in, young lady. Terica’s eyes landed on the little white girl. The manager called the girl over to him and told her to come and meet him in his office after he had helped us.

Ms. Delacruse, I’m going to help you personally today. So what can I do for you?

Yes, I came to pick out a car for my cousin. So my husband has already called the owner, and all that’s needed is pick up the car and sign a few papers. But what I thought was going to take maybe an hour has turned into three. I had other plans, so can you excuse me one minute so that I can cancel my other engagement?

Ms. Delacruse, you can use my office.

No, thank you. I’d much rather use my mobile phone.

Hi, my name is Stan Bryant, and what’s yours?

What’s up? I’m Neven.

So, Neven, do you see a car that suites you?

Yes, I like that black one over there.

Oh, you mean the Integra?

No, not that one. The Legend coup.

Wow, that a lot of car for a teenager. How old are you?

Seventeen turning eighteen this year.

Before Mr. Bryant could ask any more questions, Terica came up. Neven, have you picked out the one you want?

Ms. Delacruse, I was just telling Neven that the Legend coup is a lot of car for a teenager.

Mr. Bryant—that is your name, right?

Yes, ma’am?

Don’t tell him what’s too much for him. Just go get the key so he can test-drive the car.

Yes, ma’am, right away.

Mr. Bryant walked away to get the key to the car. When he had gotten far enough so that he could not hear her, Terica started laughing. Ha-ha, I have them eating out the palm of my hand before it’s all over. Neven, remember, sometimes it’s not what you know, it’s who you know.

Well, let me in on the secret.

The owners have a daughter, a real cokehead, and we spent some time in Cancun last spring break, and I called in a favor. Look, he’s on the phone right now with her dad. Look, he is going off on them. Someone is going to be out of a job today.

So how is the car already paid for?

Neven, you really think that I can go and give cash money for a brand-new luxury car? You are sadly mistaken. I called my husband, and he is going to have his accountant to do a money wire transfer.

Husband? When did you get married?

Neven, I’ll tell you later.

Within an hour, I was driving off the lot in my brand-new Acura Legend. Camisha lives in the rough side of town. If you didn’t know anyone in the area, then you probably shouldn’t be in the area. Camisha’s mom was standing at the front door when I pulled up. I read her lips: I don’t know who this is out here, but they have a pretty car. I rolled down the widow, letting the cool October air in my car so that she could see me. Oh, that’s Neven. Boy, I didn’t know who you was. Is that one of your cousin’s cars?

No, ma’am, its mine.

What! Neven, that’s bad.

Thank you.

Camisha, come out here! Neven got a new car! she shouted in the house through the front door.

Camisha came running out the house with her son, li’l Dan, in her arms. Oh shit, my dog got a Actright! We gonna ride tonight. You know we have to flow show throw the runnings.

Camisha’s momma had to ask why she called the car an Actright. I told her it was because of the car’s performance under high speeds and its reliability. Camisha had screamed so loud that all of her neighbors were coming outside to see what was going on, She had drawn a crowd. The little kids were saying how sweet the car was. The corner boy was walking past just to see who was driving the new Acura Legend. One of the corner boys I saw was Travis. He had dropped out of school when we were in the tenth grade. He was tall and slender, yellow skintone. He was slow-footed, and his body was all disproportioned. Travis walked up to me. Yo, what up, Neven? This you ride?

Yeah.

This is a nice car.

Thanks, man.

Camisha cut in, Travis, don’t you have some crackhead to sell to? Better yet, go get the rest of your crew. You know, Laron and that other dirty-ass nigga. Black and I will get my water hose and give every one of you a shower. Okay, maybe not. Laron, he do try and keep his self clean, ha-ha!

Everyone out in the area laughed at what Camisha had said.

Damn, Camisha, I ain’t even talking to you with yo fat ass.

You talking to my best friend, and you in front of my house, talking to my best friend—and that’s fat bitch to you, all right?

Camisha, watch yo mouth.

Sorry, Ma.

Travis walked off mumbling, Somebody should slap the shit out of her.

It ain’t going to be you! Camisha shouted down the street. Hey, Neven, what time we going to the club?

Why don’t you come to my house at in a hour or so that I can fix that do?

I know. That’s right, my dog ain’t going to let his girl go out with a tired do.

I have some shit to tell you.

I know you do, but anyway, I got to go home and show my granny my car. I pulled off, and as I got to the end of the street, I saw the rest of Travis’ crew. They were sitting on Laron’s car. It was a box Chevy, an old police car panted lime green, and everyone called it the green machine. They flagged me over to them, but I concluded not to stop because I had to go home. It was dusk and dark outside as I pulled up to my granny’s house. Terica, Granny, and all the girls were out on the porch, waiting for me to get home. I had the biggest smile on my face as I got out the car. All the little ones were telling me that I had a pretty car and if I would take them for a ride. Granny walked over, saying, Yeah, girls, let’s go for a ride. I want to drive it. This Acura Legend sure is nice.

I