chapter
36
Everyone knew that when it came to gangs, there was only one way out. That’s why I’d tried my best to steer clear of the 713 Crips, the notorious gang in my Fifth Ward neighborhood. But while I didn’t want to have anything to do with the gang, they wanted everything to do with me.
My best friend, Wiz, was the only other boy in my neighborhood I knew that felt like me—and didn’t want anything to do with the gangs. The third member of our crew—this dude named Paco—didn’t care for the gangs, either, but he’d adapted a lot better than me and Wiz.
We all had been sucked in with seemingly no way out. That’s why the three of us were sitting here on the corner of Lyons and Lockwood Boulevard, doing Monster’s dirty work.
Monster was the leader of the 713 Crips, and he’d helped each of us out at one point by loaning us money for our families. We’d been paying the price ever since.
At eighteen, I already knew this thug life wasn’t for me. I just wanted out of the game. I didn’t want to be sitting on a corner pushing black market guns. I didn’t want this to be my life. It had been my past. I didn’t want it to be my future. But I didn’t see any other ending for my story.
Wiz leaned back against the building, an old, boarded-up gas station where we did a lot of our business. His eyes were a window into a soul that also wanted to be anywhere but here.
I’d met Wiz when we were both ten-year-olds who had been dumped at the local Boys & Girls Club by our parents. We’d spent every moment outside of school there, and our mentor, Mr. Graham, tried his best to keep us on the straight and narrow. We’d met Paco two years later when his mom started sending him there in hopes that he’d like it better than the streets. But by age fourteen, the streets had summoned all of us, and now we were obligated to do Monster’s bidding.
“Paco, man, what’s wrong with you?” Wiz asked. Paco had been acting weird since we’d gotten out here. He’d been pacing back and forth and jumping at every little sound.
“Yeah, bruh, you’ve been walking back and forth and looking over your shoulder. You’re gonna draw attention to us, acting all suspect like that,” I said.
Paco stopped in his tracks and turned to us. “I gotta tell y’all something.”
The fear across his face made us both stand up straight.
“What’s up?” Wiz said.
Paco shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He ran his hands back and forth through his curly black hair. Then he said, “Well, ah, so y’all heard about the shooting a couple of weeks ago at the Main Event in Stafford, where that little girl was killed?”
“Dude, what are you talking about?” Wiz said.
“The six-year-old. She was killed and her sister was injured. Then ICE turned around and picked up her mother. Now they’re deporting the mom.”
Wiz shook his head like he had no idea what Paco was talking about. But I nodded. I’d heard about it at home. I lived with my grandmother’s friend, and she was always watching TV and that story had been breaking news.
“Yeah,” I said. “I know the story. What about it?”
When Paco lowered his eyes in shame, I said, “Oh snap, was that you?”
Paco slowly nodded. “Kinda. Monster wanted us to take out these two dudes, and we followed them to the Main Event.” He got choked up. “It was me and Little Will . . . you know that dude is crazy. When the guys walked out, Little Will just started firing. I had my piece out but just to scare the dudes. I had no idea Little Will was just gonna start blazin’. The little girl . . .” He choked back his words.
I had no idea that was a Monster shooting, but I should’ve known. If blood was shed in this city, Monster was likely to be behind it.
We were all silent. I know Paco was dying inside, because I would be, too. We ran guns. We weren’t killers.
“What did Monster say?” I asked. “You know about killing the kid and the mom getting deported?”
Paco shook his head. “Called them casualties of war. He didn’t even think twice about them. He was madder that we let the guys get away.”
Casualties of war.
Monster was the evilest man I’d ever met.
“Yo, but the news said the cops know who did it,” I said. The expression on Paco’s face made my heart jump.
“Dude, are you for real?” Wiz shouted. “You’re out here with us and the heat is on you?”
“Man, I gotta get some money to get out of town,” Paco said. “The DA is tryin’ to get my mom to turn on me.”
“What?” I said. “They’re trying to get your mom to snitch on you? How do you know?”
“I overheard her the other day talking to her friend about it,” he said as he began that pacing again. “Plus, Little Will is missing.”
“Missing?” I said.
Paco nodded. “Yeah, ain’t nobody seen him and y’all know Monster. He was pretty pissed about us missing those dudes.”
“So, um, you scared?” Wiz asked the question I know all of us were thinking. When Monster sent you on a mission and you not only failed, but you brought unnecessary heat, you became expendable.
Killing a kid was definitely unnecessary heat.
“Nah,” Paco said. “Monster said we were straight.” The way his voice quavered, we all knew that was a lie.
“You know what?” Paco said. “I shouldn’t have said nothin’. I was just, you know, lettin’ y’all know. I’m going to take a piss.”
He disappeared around the back of the store. When he was out of earshot, Wiz said, “You know Monster is gonna get him, right?”
I couldn’t say anything because I knew my friend was right. But what could we do about it?
Wiz bit down on his bottom lip, something he did whenever he was deep in thought. Finally, he leaned in and lowered his voice. “Can I tell you something?”
With his bifocal glasses and freckled skin, Wiz had struggled to find his place. Half-black, half-white, he never quite felt like he fit in anywhere. And since I had left a mother who spent her days drugging and running after various men, we had immediately bonded. So I could tell when something was bothering him, and the look on his face told me it was more than just Paco’s revelation.
“Yeah, man. What’s up?” I asked.
He was silent, like he was unsure whether he should say something.
“Just spit it out,” I said. While Wiz was reserved with everyone else, with me he always spoke his mind.
“I got accepted to Jarvis.” He rushed the words out.
“What is Jarvis?” I asked.
“College,” he whispered like it was a bad word.
“College!”
Wiz leaned up, looked nervously around. “Shhh, man. I don’t want no one to know that. Not even Paco.”
I lowered my voice. “For real? You going to college?” I asked. I knew Wiz wanted a different life, but I didn’t know that life involved college.
“Yeah, I’ve been working with Mr. G. Apparently, the Boys & Girls Club has some kind of partnership with Jarvis Christian College.”
“Wait, hol’ up. Christian? So you’re going to learn how to be a minister or something?”
“That’s just the name of it,” he said, like I was the dumb one in this friendship. “They got some kind of grant that’s supposed to get more black males to go to college.”
“Wow, and Mr. G. wanted you?” I wasn’t jealous, I was happy for my boy. But just the thought of Wiz getting out of the game made me feel some kind of way.
“He wanted us. But remember, I tried to get you to go with me to see him last month when you had to go see your brother? Mr. G. said he called you a couple of times, and you never called him back.”
I groaned as I remembered that I had forgotten to return his call. He’d left me a message, but when I heard him mention college, I’d just deleted it.
I’d barely graduated from high school. I never even thought about college. Though my teachers—and Mr. G.—used to always encourage me to go, saying I was naturally intelligent. But in my world, college was just a dream. In my world, it was all about survival. Wiz was from the same world, and if I felt like I didn’t belong, Wiz was even more of an outcast. He and I were in the same boat now, parentless and on our own. We did everything in our power to keep our distance from the Crips and only did our small hustles for Monster because we didn’t really have a choice.
“I can’t believe you’re going off to college,” I said.
“What? You think I’m supposed to stay around here doing this for the rest of my life?” His voice was filled with disgust as he glanced around the dilapidated parking lot. The raggedy, broken gas pumps still said $1.67 a gallon. That’s how long this place had been closed.
I shrugged. “Nah, man. I get what you’re saying. I’m just . . . I guess I’m just shocked.”
“I just wanna bounce,” he said. “Get out of this grind.”
“Wow,” I repeated, only because I didn’t know what else to say. “College,” I said, leaning back, still stunned.
“Yeah, man,” Wiz said. Then he smiled like he was thinking of that better life. “I might go up there and get me one of those college chicks. I might even become a Q-Dog or a Kappa, like Mr. G.”
“Man, I can’t see you as one of those sorority people,” I laughed.
“Fraternity, man,” Wiz said. “Sororities are for girls.”
I shrugged. It’s not like I would know any of that. My mother had been a high school dropout. My grandmother had been a middle school dropout. I didn’t need to go to college and be a college dropout. Especially since I’d done good to finish high school last year. Besides, I had one focus and one focus only. Getting that paper and getting my life right, so I could get my little brother.
“Well, whatever. I’m happy for you.” I meant that. As bad as I wanted a change for me, I wanted my boy to be happy as well.
“I’m gonna just disappear,” Wiz continued. He was smiling like he was leaving tomorrow. “I’m letting you know now. I love you, man, but I ain’t even goin’ to tell you when I’m leavin’. The less you know, the better. That way, when Monster and his crew come looking for me, you can honestly say you don’t know nothin’.”
I groaned. Now I wished he hadn’t told me which college he was going to. That way I would be telling the truth that I didn’t know where Wiz was.
Paco emerged from around the corner, and Wiz immediately changed the subject.
“How’s your little bro?” Wiz asked me.
My little brother, Jamal, was the reason I hadn’t left Houston myself.
“He’s a’ight. Sad all the time.”
“Shoot, I don’t blame him.” Wiz shook his head. “I hate they put him in the system.”
“You and me both.”
My eight-year-old brother had been sent to foster care after my grandmother died nine months ago. Because I was eighteen, I was able to be out on my own. But the state wouldn’t let me have custody of my little brother like I wanted because, as the social worker said, “You aren’t stable enough.”
My dad had been in a gang—and gunned down when I was just three. My mom had held us together until her new boyfriend—Jamal’s father—got her hooked on drugs right after Jamal was born. She disappeared a few years ago, and Jamal and I were with Grams after that.
Then Gram’s death had split us up for good.
“Y’all ain’t got no uncles or aunts or nobody that can take him?” Paco interjected.
That both pained me and pissed me off. “My triflin’ uncle is the only halfway decent person, but he doesn’t want to have anything to do with Jamal, talking about he’s a bachelor. My mama had a cousin, but she’s on drugs, too. So, nah, Grams was the last person we had.”
I got nostalgic thinking about my grandmother. Everyone always asked what she died from. She was old. Real old. She had been forty-five when she had my mom. And despite her hard life, she woke up every morning with a smile on her face, singing some spiritual song. I felt myself tearing up as I heard her voice singing “Amazing Grace” and reading her old, torn Bible. I’d bought her a new one for Christmas, but she kept that raggedy one, saying a Bible that’s falling apart usually belongs to someone that isn’t. Remembering that brought a pang to my heart.
I was grateful when Wiz spoke, so I could push aside thoughts of Grams.
“Yo, Paco, let me ask you something. You tired of this?” He motioned around the empty parking lot.
I expected Paco to pledge his loyalty to the streets, but he said, “Between the three of us? Hell, yeah. But what else we got?”
“You got a mama,” I said. “You could go home.”
He looked like he was thinking. “Go home to what?” he replied. “Poverty? Nah. My mom’s bitchin’ every day? Unh-unh.”
“Least you got a moms that cares,” Wiz said.
Paco shrugged. “I ain’t about that strugglin’ life. I was just at my mom’s crib last week, when I heard her talking to her friend. I felt claustrophobic with all of us up in that tiny place. Just gotta deal with the bad because the good is good, ya know?”
I knew. Monster’s money was the only way the three of us had been surviving. But the cost we were paying was starting to take its toll.
Monster was Suge Knight, Nino Brown, and Michael Corleone rolled into one. Not only was he scary—just from his towering six-foot-four, three-hundred-pound presence—but he was ruthless. Word around the neighborhood was that his mama had given him his name because he was a monster from the day he was born. Though no one ever said anything negative to Monster’s face, almost everyone I knew hated him.
Wiz sighed. “I don’t think this dude is gonna show,” he said.
We’d been waiting on this college kid who was coming to pick up a piece. He hadn’t shown up and we’d been waiting for forty-five minutes.
“Let’s just get out of here,” Wiz said.
“Man, Monster is gonna be trippin’ if we don’t get rid of these pieces. We’re supposed to bring him two Gs. We’re five hundred dollars short,” I said. I thought about telling them about the extra two hundred dollars I’d gotten from the old man outside the gun store the other day. But I’d already put that money up, hidden it in my bootleg savings account—under my mattress. While most of the guys I knew used their money to splurge on the latest gear and hottest jewelry, outside of a pair of Jordans, I didn’t spend a dime. I held on to my money like it was a vital organ. My hope was that one day, I’d have enough money to get my brother and leave this life.
“What are we supposed to do then?” Wiz snapped. “Put an ad on Craigslist? Ain’t nobody buyin’ today.”
My friend was right and I was tired. Plus, I needed to get over to the group home so that I could see Jamal before it was too late. I’d been trying to make a point of going over there every other day, just to give him some sense of normalcy.
“Yeah, he’s right. Let’s hit up another spot, see if we can move some stuff there,” Paco said.
Paco grabbed the duffel bag where we had the guns stored, and threw the bag over his shoulder. We were about to get into Wiz’s beat-up Impala when, out of nowhere, two guys sped alongside of us and jumped out the car.
“Give me your money!” one of the guys said. He was wearing a low-cut baseball hat that hid his face.
Wiz immediately jumped back. “We ain’t got no money.”
“Don’t play, or I’ll bust a cap in you,” the guy said, thrusting a gun in Wiz’s face. “Give me the money and the guns.”
No. No. No. The last thing we needed was to get robbed of Monster’s money and his guns.
The second robber, a much taller, linebacker-looking dude, pointed at the duffel bag on Paco’s shoulder.
“Hand it over, homie.”
Paco looked to me, then to Wiz. We both stood in horror as Paco pulled the bag close to him and then said, “Nah, homie. You gon’ have to shoot me.”
“You ain’t said nothing but a word,” the guy said.
Before I could ask Paco if he had lost his mind, the sound of a single gunshot pierced the night.
I was too stunned to scream, and Wiz and I watched in horror as Paco hit the ground.
The first guy turned to me. “Which one of y’all is next?”
I could not believe we were about to go out like this. My chest heaved. I didn’t know what a panic attack was, but I was sure that I was having one this very moment.
“Here,” Wiz said, thrusting the money at the guy. “This all we got.”
I kept struggling to breathe as I thought about my brother. He’d lost our mother, our grandmother. Was he about to lose me, too?
“Yo, let’s roll,” the guy who’d shot Paco said. He’d picked up the duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder.
Satisfied with the wad, the first guy stuffed the money in his pockets. Then the two of them jumped in the car and sped off. Wiz and I looked at each other, on the verge of tears.
I looked down at Paco as I struggled to contain my breathing.
Wiz pulled my arm. “Come on, man. We gotta go.”
“W-we’re just gonna leave him?” I cried.
“We don’t have any choice. He’s dead! If the cops come, we gotta answer questions.”
Wiz didn’t wait for me. He just jumped in his car. After a few seconds he rolled down the window and said, “Come on, Trey. We gotta go, now!”
I stumbled to the car, swung the passenger door open, and fell into the seat.
Paco. Was. Dead.
And we’d lost Monster’s money and his guns.
That meant it was just a matter of time before we were dead, too.