If I Grow Up

  Back out in the hall, Bublz was sitting at the top of the steps, playing his PSP. Now that the two gangs had joined, we didn’t really need a guard, but I kept Bublz up there because there was nothing else he was good for.

  On the way downstairs, I stopped to see my family. Gramma and Nia and her new boyfriend, Nathan, were watching TV. Xavier and Jayda were one and a half now. Xavier was sitting on the floor, playing with some plastic blocks. He was a chubby, happy little boy with fat thighs and a round belly, and he always had a big smile for his uncle DeShawn. Jayda was thinner and edgy. She sat next to her mother, sucking her thumb and pressing her pink baby blanket against her face. I rubbed Xavier’s head, and he looked up at me and grinned.

  Just about everything in the apartment—the TV, the toys, the baby clothes, the food—was there because I’d paid for it.

  “What up, bro?” Nathan waved from the couch. He was short and heavyset and happy to eat the food I paid for and watch TV and play video games all day. I nodded tersely, not happy that he was freeloading off my sister. But Nia’s belly was big with his baby. And as long as Nia had his baby, he was pretty much staying right where he was.

  Gramma looked up from the TV. “You going downstairs?”

  “Yep.”

  “Go over to thirty-one flavors and get me some mint chocolate chip.”

  “Don’t have time.”

  “Don’t give me that,” Gramma said. “Just because you a big shot now. I remember changing your stinky Pampers.”

  Nia gave me a crooked smile. I may have been top dog in the biggest gang in Frederick Douglass, but as far as Gramma was concerned, I was still her gofer.

  Outside, the bench was empty. A kid named Arnet was supposed to be there. Feeling anger start to simmer, I spotted him over by the wall chatting up a couple of girls. By the time Arnet saw me coming, it was too late. I smacked him hard, and he stumbled and fell down. The girls backed away to a safe distance.

  “I say you could leave the bench?” I asked coldly.

  Sitting on the ground, his hand on the side of his head where I’d slapped him, Arnet’s eyes darted around as if searching for an escape route. “Ain’t no customers.”

  “Maybe that’s ’cause there ain’t no one there to sell ’em anything,” I snapped. “Get back on that bench.”

  He jumped to his feet and scurried back. I was about to leave when one of the girls caught my eye. She had long shiny hair, big pretty eyes, glossy lips, and a long, slender body that was easy to imagine beneath her tight jeans and sweater.

  “Hi, DeShawn?” she said, slinky-voiced, batting her eyes. “Know who I am?”

  “Should I?”

  “Sechelle, Lightbulb’s sister.”

  “Lollipop?” I blinked. It was hard to believe that sticky-faced, nappy-haired little girl had grown into such a beauty.

  Sechelle pursed her lips. “No one calls me that no more.”

  Something in me stirred. Now that I was high up in the gang, a lot of women let me know they were interested. So far I’d resisted the temptation, but it wasn’t easy.

  “Still with Tanisha?” Sechelle asked.

  I nodded.

  “Bet she’s real busy with that new baby,” she said. “Gimme your phone.”

  I handed it to her, and she thumbed in a number and hit save. She handed it back with a smile. “Anytime.”

  Rance had a club in the basement of one of the Gentry buildings. It had a bar and tables and a dance floor. Just about every night there was loud music and alcohol and drugs and thugs and loose women. Rance spent most of his time in the back room playing cards. The word on the street was that he bet big and lost big.

  I parked outside the building. A couple of gangbangers were leaning on cars. They were Gentry, and even though we were all supposed to be one, big, happy family now, they still gave me suspicious, uncertain looks. Especially Antwan, who wore long braids falling past his shoulders, capped with green beads. He blocked the entrance. “Rance expecting you?”

  “That’s right,” I said.

  “Wait here.” He went inside.

  The hood rats relaxed, but I still felt their eyes on me. A moment later the door opened and Antwan waved me in. The dimly lit club smelled of stale cigarette smoke and spilled beer. The year-round decorations were mostly Christmas lights and tinfoil. A few tables were already occupied by men and women, and at the bar a couple of painted girls gave me the eye. I knocked on the door to the back room.

  Big D let me in. The room was small and smoky. Rance and three other men sat around a table, smoking cigars and playing cards. On the table were drinks, handguns, and poker chips. Rance swiveled his head toward me. “Check him, D,” he ordered.

  I held out my arms. With my jacket open, the gun in my waistband was in plain sight. Big D removed it and held it up for Rance to see.

  “Why’d you come in here strapped?” Rance asked while Big D patted down my legs in case I was carrying a second weapon.

  “Same reason you did,” I said.

  “You planning on shooting anyone?” Rance asked.

  “If I was, I already would have,” I answered.

  One of the men at the table chuckled.

  “He’s clean,” Big D said.

  “Give me a minute,” Rance said, and turned back to the card game. An older man wearing a plaid golf cap won the hand and raked in a pile of chips. Rance told the players to take a break, and they filed out of the room. He pointed his finger at Big D. “You too.”

  Soon we were alone. At a small bar on the side of the room, Rance reached for a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label and filled two shot glasses. I took a sip. The whiskey burned my throat, and I blinked back tears.

  “I hear William ain’t happy,” Rance said. “He seems to think I’m holding out on him. That what you think too?”

  “It’s not for me to say,” I replied.

  “You unhappy with your cut?” Rance asked. “You ever imagine you’d have as much as you got now?”

  I shook my head. I’d never imagined it. Not even anything close.

  “You like that crib you got? That flat-screen TV and sound system? That nice BMW and all that bling? Your woman or baby wanting for anything?”

  Again I shook my head.

  “We got a good thing here,” Rance said. “Everyone’s happy. Things are running smoothly. Nobody shooting nobody. Why let a rotten apple spoil the barrel?” He narrowed one eye. “You know what rotten apple I’m talking about?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “So how’d you like to make twice what you’re making now?” Rance asked. “How’d you like to move out of that low-life project and into a really fresh crib? A place with an elevator that actually works. And an indoor garage for your ride so you don’t have to have shorties watching it on the street. A place where you can adjust the heat in the winter and have a toilet that’ll flush and a bathroom with a shower. Where you don’t get woken up in the middle of the night by screeching train wheels. Nice, huh? Think how much your woman would appreciate getting set up in a place like that.”

  “That’s what you have?” I’d heard he’d moved out of Gentry to another part of town.

  “That’s right,” Rance said. “And you can too. There’s just one thing you gotta do.”

  Rance decided we’d do it that Friday. That was the day he usually met with William and me to divide up the week’s money and take care of gang business. On Friday I was just getting into my car when someone yelled, “Hey!”

  I looked up. A girl was hurrying toward me with a bunch of books in her arms. She looked familiar. As she got closer, she grinned because she could see I was puzzled.

  “Come on,” she said.

  I took my best guess. “Precious?”

  “See, that wasn’t so hard,” she said, and pointed at my car. “That’s a nice whip you got, DeShawn. I’m glad you’re gonna give me a ride in it.”

  “Don’t have time.”

  “Oh, yes, you do,” Precious said. “
You gangbangers got all the time in the world. Know why? ’Cause you ain’t going nowhere. But I am. I’m going to school, and you’re giving me a ride because I’m late.”

  It had been a long time since anyone, except Gramma, had talked to me that way. I could have easily ignored her, or done worse.

  Instead I opened the car door for her.

  “Since when did you start taking evening classes?” I asked as I drove toward Munson.

  “Since I figured out that no Prince Charming was going to come along and save my sorry butt, so I’d have to do it myself,” she said.

  We rode in silence while I wondered what my life would have been like if I’d gone to Hewlett Academy or stayed in Munson. I wondered why I was going out of my way to drive Precious to school. Was it because I wanted to believe that someone could make it out of the projects, even if it wasn’t me? As if she could read my mind, Precious said, “Know why I knew you’d give me a ride, DeShawn? Because I know you. You may be the top dog around here, but inside you’re different. Some of those gangbangers are bad to the bone. But not you. You never were, and you never will be. No matter how hard you try.”

  I stopped in front of Munson. As Precious got out, she said, “Thanks for the ride. Enjoy your life, DeShawn. Whatever you got left of it.”

  From there I drove over to Gentry and picked up William. We were equals now. The Disciples reported to me, and the Gentry crew reported to him, and we both reported to Rance. Over the past year, he and I had gradually become more comfortable around each other. There was still some friction left over from the days when Douglass and Gentry were murderous rivals, but we were also family. William wasn’t only Tanisha’s brother, he was Simon’s uncle.

  “Any word on how we did this week?” he asked after getting into the car.

  “Guess Rance’ll tell us,” I said as I drove.

  “You think?” William said with a heap of sarcasm. “Suppose I told you I’ve been keeping track of what comes in, and I know for a fact he’s keeping a lot more than he’s supposed to? And for what? He doesn’t do nothing. Just sits in that club all day and plays cards and then goes home to that fancy crib.”

  “Guess he thinks he earned it,” I said.

  “For how long?” William asked. “How long do you want to support his lazy butt while he just coasts?”

  I didn’t answer. William gave me an uncertain look. “You and me are family now. Blood’s thicker than water, right? So what if something happens to Rance? Here in the hood things happen all the time. The cops don’t care. Another gangbanger gets killed? Good riddance. With Rance gone it would be you and me. And we’re blood. Tanisha needs her brother, and Simon needs his father.”

  Kill or be killed. That’s what it always came down to. Nothing to do each day but take care of business and wonder if you’ll still be alive in the morning.

  “I don’t know about you,” William went on, “but as far as I’m concerned, today’s his last chance. Either he puts up or I’m gonna shut him up for good.”

  I tensed. “Not in the club.”

  “You think I’m stupid? He can’t stay in that club forever. If things don’t get right, some night soon I’ll be waiting for him.”

  At the club, Big D patted both of us down and took our guns. In the back room Rance was sitting on the couch, watching baseball on TV. He glanced up at me and William.

  “Is it that time of the week?” he said. It was a taunt at William. Rance turned back to the TV, purposefully making us wait. “Sorry, boys. I got five g’s on Detroit, and it’s the bottom of the ninth with one out left.”

  We waited. The Detroit batter struck out.

  “Damn!” Rance muttered. He clicked off the TV. “They clean, Big D?”

  “Sure are.”

  “Okay, you can go,” said Rance without rising from the couch.

  “How do we know you’re not carrying?” William asked. It was a stupid thing to say. We’d met like this nearly every Friday for the past year, and William had never said it before. It was an obvious tip off that something was up.

  Rance slowly rose from the couch. He gestured at me and said to William, “You trust him?”

  William nodded. Rance raised his arms. “Be my guest.”

  I slid my hands down his body and around his legs. Through the pants, I felt a holster strapped just above his left ankle. The gun in it was stubby with a thick grip. Probably a snub-nosed .38. I glanced up at Rance, and our eyes met in an instant of understanding. It was survival of the fittest. Choosing sides was always a gamble, but sometimes you had no choice. This was one of those times.

  “He’s clean,” I told William.

  Rance nodded toward the poker table. “Let’s get this over with.” He gestured for me to sit on his right and William on his left. Just as he did every week, he unzipped a dark green First National Bank bag and dumped the contents onto the table. Out tumbled neat stacks of bills held with rubber bands. Instantly William and I saw that there was less money on the table than in previous weeks.

  Without a word Rance divided the stacks, then leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. William was glowering.

  “Why don’t you tell me what’s buggin’ you,” Rance said.

  “You know what’s buggin’ me,” William replied.

  “You talking about how the shares work?” Rance said as if we didn’t know. “The same as always. Each month one third goes to me. You two split one third, and the last third goes to the rest. Ain’t nothin’ new about that.”

  “Except it seems like you’re taking more than one third,” said William. “There’s a lot more gwap that comes in than what’s on this table right now.”

  “That’s cause you ain’t figured in the administrative costs of running this operation,” Rance said. “There’s a lot of expenses you don’t see.”

  William nodded at the cards and poker chips on the bar. “I think I see one right now.”

  Rance narrowed his eyes. “I think you see wrong.”

  “I don’t think so,” William said. “I think you been losing a lot of our money playin’ cards, and my guess is, the cost of that fancy crib of yours also comes out of our share. And I’m saying that from now on, you gotta divide the money up before you take out your so-called administrative costs.”

  Rance glanced at me, then shook his head slowly. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen.”

  “DeShawn and I think it should,” William replied.

  Rance gave me a feigned look of surprise. “Is that so?”

  That was my cue. I reached under the chair where the gun was taped, pulled it out, and aimed it at William, whose jaw dropped and eyes bulged. Rance seemed pleased by the result. “See, there are certain things you don’t understand, William,” he said. “I worked hard to get where I am. Every gangbanger I started out with is dead or in jail. I’m the only one left. And that means I’ve earned certain privileges. I’m in charge of this gang. I handle the finances. I decide what the administrative costs are. And…I decide who lives and dies.”

  William was trembling. “I…I thought we were blood,” he stammered to me.

  Rance laughed harshly. “Blood? That don’t mean nothin’. Where you been, boy? This is about money. It’s about who gets what. And too bad for you, it looks like from now on, your share’s going to someone else.” He nodded at me. “Do it.”

  I slipped off the safety and looked into William’s wide eyes. “DeShawn,” he whimpered. “How you gonna face Tanisha?”

  “Don’t be stupid,” Rance chuckled haughtily. “DeShawn’s gonna be second in command of the Gangsta Disciples. He don’t have to worry about facing no one. They gonna have to worry about facing him.” He looked at me again. “Now do it, boy. You want it, you gotta earn it.”

  Keeping the gun aimed at William, I turned my head and stared at Rance.

  “You want an equal share, do it,” he ordered.

  I swung my arm around and aimed the gun at him. “You killed LaRue. Father of my siste
r’s babies. Here’s how I get my equal share.”

  Rance’s eyes widened. He reached for his ankle.

  I pulled the trigger. Bang!

  Rance fell back and tumbled to the floor with a thud. I got up and stood behind the door as Big D burst in, gun drawn. By the time he saw Rance lying in a pool of blood, the barrel of my gun was pressed against the back of his skull. Big D raised his hands. William took the gun from him.

  Antwan and some of the hood rats raced in next with their guns drawn. I held my gun to Big D’s head. “Drop ’em.”

  Guns clattered to the floor.

  “Rance had an accident,” I said calmly. “William and I are the leaders of this gang from now on. Everyone understand?”

  Big D nodded slowly. The others followed his example.

  “Whatever he was paying you, we’ll pay you more,” I said. “Big D, how’s that sound to you?”

  “Good,” the big man said.

  “You sure?” I asked.

  Big D nodded at Rance’s body. “Never liked that man. He was as mean and nasty as they come.”

  I lowered my gun. “What kind of ride you got, Big D?”

  “Well, I ain’t actually rollin’ right now,” he said.

  “How’d you like a Range Rover?” I asked.

  “Serious?” Big D gasped.

  I pointed at Rance’s body. “I think you’ll find the keys and registration on him. And take whatever cash is in his wallet and share it with these fellows.”

  “Yes, sir,” Big D said. “Thank you, sir.”

  “And from now on, if anyone asks who’s running this gang?” I said.

  “You two,” said Big D.

  TWENTY-EIGHT YEARS OLD

  Recent studies have shown that the huge pool of poorly educated black men is becoming ever more disconnected from mainstream society, especially in the country’s inner cities where work is scarcer than ever and prison is routine.

  In 1995, 1,585,400 people were in American jails. By 2005 that number had increased to 2,320,359.