“Oh my God, Sahirah! You been shot!”

  Sahirah heard him from very far away; there was a more interesting channel to watch inside her head. Everything was flashing in front of her. People and places that she had forgotten had come to life. All the moments in time replayed themselves as fast-moving images in her head. Oh, there goes me and Gena on the swings. “Hi, Gena.” And Mama. “Mama, I don’t want no barrettes. I want ribbons. Ribbons are prettier.”

  Her eyes closed, and Winston felt panic. “Sahirah! Sahirah! Talk to me!”

  She tried to look up at him, whispering, “Help me, Winston, it’s burning. Please, somebody help me.”

  She worried Winston’s image was fading, but another, more important, occurrence flowed into her vision. So beautiful, exactly like Reverend Beaumont had described. God was right there, shining in all His glory, waiting to receive her. He was the only one who knew she was on her way. And He’d come all the way to Broad Street just for His Sahirah.

  “Sahirah!” Winston screamed, trying to stop the flow of blood that poured from her body. “Sahirah! Come on, baby! Don’t die!” But Sahirah was already gone.

  Handle Your Business

  From the time they left the club, Rasun’s jaw was still set in the mad position. “You see Sahirah sweating all over Winston? I’m saying, I really like that girl, but she don’t want to act right.”

  Reds’s observation was astute. “Fuck the bitch.”

  Rasun put on his “women ain’t shit” act. “Man, that’s what I wanted to do, but fuck it, I’m not sweating no female.”

  “I know that’s right.”

  Ra pulled up on Kenny’s block and pumped the brakes. “Damn, what the fuck happened out here?”

  “Some serious shit by the looks of it,” Reds answered.

  Ra parked the car, and they both got out and walked up to where police cars were angled to block traffic. A paramedics’ van was drawing attention as it made its way through the crowded one-way street.

  Ra and Reds stood on the block and watched with the rest of the neighborhood. It was unbelievable. The chaos and mayhem surrounding Kenny’s house was some real major shit. The police were everywhere. Ra and Reds watched as the police escorted Kenny from the house and into the back of a nearby paddy wagon. His hands were cuffed behind his back and he was calm.

  “Damn, what the fuck did he do?” Reds asked, watching the paramedics push a covered body on a stretcher into the back of the ambulance.

  A distraught young girl was headed their way, and Reds stopped her for a moment. “What happened?”

  “Kenny killed his father,” she said.

  Ra went cold. Grasping the girl’s arm, frightening her with his grip, he could only get out one word. “What?”

  Trying to back away, she told him, “They said he shot him about six or seven times.”

  “I told you not to give Kenny’s ass no gun. The motherfucker done killed his pops,” Reds exclaimed.

  Rasun came to himself and let the girl go with an apology in his eyes. Adjusting himself to chase the chill, his quick mind speculated on what they should do next. “What are we going to do?”

  Reds really didn’t know what the next move should be, but he tried to think. Reds and Rasun sat there on a neighbor’s porch steps, trying to put everything into perspective.

  Ra was thinking of Qua’s reaction. “Man, we should’ve never gone out. That’s what Qua is going to say. We should’ve stayed out on the Ave.”

  “I know,” Reds said.

  “I didn’t think he would kill his pops, though.”

  “What are we gonna do?”

  “What is there for us to do?”

  “We can go get the money.”

  “Motherfucker, is you crazy? Five-O all up in the house, man.” Ra could see only danger in the suggestion. “I’m not going in the house with Ola running around gathering evidence and shit.”

  “I know where Kenny keeps everything. I’m going to get the money,” Reds said, walking down the sidewalk to the front door. When the cops stopped him, he acted like he belonged. “That’s my aunt. Let me by.”

  He started shouting, and Ms. Davis heard the commotion. She told the police to let him pass. She had fresh tears in her eyes, streams of water down her cheeks, and a look of pain on her face.

  Once inside, he asked her what had happened.

  “I don’t know. It happened so fast. Kenny and his dad were cursing and arguing about him drinking and whatnot. I thought it was going to be okay ’cause Kenny went up to his room and when he came back downstairs, he kissed me on my cheek and said he was going out.” Tears tracked the lines in her face, but Reds knew they were not for the dead man.

  “Who was drinking?”

  She looked at Reds as if to wonder where that stupid question came from. “His father.” Wiping tears, she continued. “Anyway, when Kenny went to go outside, his father told him he couldn’t go nowhere and then they started arguing again. Then Kenny’s dad hit him and . . .” She just sat there. “And Kenny shot him,” she said, still not believing it.

  She had lost a husband to a son and now a son to the system. She looked so tired, not from the drama her home had been exposed to, but tired of getting whooped on. She had taken many a beating in her day from Kenny’s father, and it truly showed.

  Reds asked Ms. Davis if he could use the bathroom. “Go ahead, baby,” she said.

  Reds went straight to Kenny’s room, opened the closet door, and located the shoebox. He grabbed it and checked the contents. The money and the caps were there, like always. Kenny must have put the caps back after he shot his dad.

  Reds quickly grabbed the shit and put it in his pants pocket. Kenny fucked up, he thought. He shouldn’t have killed his pops. He heaved a great sigh and went back downstairs.

  “Ms. Davis, I got to go, but I’ll be back to check on you.”

  “Okay.” She was crying again.

  “Don’t worry, Ms. Davis. Everything will be all right. Qua will handle this.”

  “I sure hope Quadir gets my son out of jail. Oh, Lord Jesus, please don’t let them lock up my child.”

  Reds could hear Ms. Davis praying to herself as he walked out onto the porch and past all the police officers. He went straight to Rasun and handed him the money and the pack of caps.

  “What happened?” Ra asked, stuffing his pockets.

  “Man, the shit is fucked up. Ms. Davis said Kenny and his pops was fighting and arguing and Kenny’s dad told him he couldn’t go outside. When Kenny tried to leave the house, his pops hit him and that’s when Kenny killed him.”

  Rasun stood there looking at his friend. He was trying to understand what Kenny had been thinking. Kenny was an abused child, and his pops was a drunk who went hard on him. Yet, Rasun had never suspected it had gotten to the point where Kenny would take the man’s life.

  “Ra, listen to me. You should’ve seen the house; blood was everywhere. Ms. Davis was beat the fuck up and shit. It was chaotic.” Reds shook his head in disbelief. “Kenny really killed his pops up in that motherfucker.”

  Rasun’s head went up, his eyes working back and forth. “Ms. Davis was all beat up?”

  “Man, you know Mr. Davis beat her ass every night when he got home.”

  “Damn, Kenny’s dad on some bullshit, ’cause he wouldn’t been hitting the fuck on me.”

  “If you was a visitor in that motherfucker, you would get your ass kicked like everybody else. That’s why I never went inside when Mr. Davis was home.”

  “We got to tell Qua.”

  “He’s not gonna like this,” Reds observed. “What you think he’s gonna do?”

  “Pay his bail, get him out of jail.” Ra was thinking about how this kind of news could ruin Quadir’s vacation and decided it would be best not to burden Quadir until the bail amount had been established.

  The next morning, Rasun woke up around eleven thirty. He sent his little brother to the corner store to get a newspaper so that he could read about Kenny.

  Reds was sleeping comfortably in Ra’s little brother’s bed. “Reds, you sleep?” he asked, eventually waking him.

  Poor Rafik, they treated him so roughly. When they came in last night, Reds put him right on the floor—didn’t even give him his pillow or a blanket.

  Rafik walked through the bedroom door and surprised his brother with a rolled-up newspaper in the face.

  “Nigga, I’m gonna kick your little ass.”

  “I’m a kick your ass,” Rafik responded, slamming the bedroom door.

  As Ra scoured the newspaper, Reds observed, “Man, your little brother is bad. If he was my blood, I would fuck him up.” Pausing, he then asked, “Is Kenny in there?”

  “Wait a minute.” Rasun quickly turned the pages. As he smelled an unpleasant odor, he looked at his friend. “Reds, why you fart in this motherfucker?” He stopped turning pages and uttered, “Oh, shit.”

  “What?” Reds asked, lying in the bed, trying to figure out why he woke up with a limp dick.

  Rasun sat there reading the newspaper article, not believing it.

  “What?” he asked again, smelling his hands.

  “You’re not gonna believe it.” Ra was in a state of disbelief.

  Reds picked the gun up off the floor and pointed it at Rasun. “Man, what does the motherfucker say?”

  “Winston was shot and Sahirah is dead.”

  Rasun dropped the newspaper, forgetting Kenny and ignoring the fact that Reds had pulled the gun on him like he always did.

  Reds promised his dick he’d get back to it.

  “What? The boy Winston? Who woulda figured that simple motherfucker would take a hit and live?”

  Reds reached for the newspaper Rasun had dropped, picked it up, and started reading it aloud.

  “Nineteen-year-old Sahirah Bowden was pronounced dead on arrival at Temple University Hospital this morning at approximately 3:47 a.m. Bowden suffered a fatal gunshot wound to the chest area from a semiautomatic weapon. Bowden was a passenger in a vehicle operated by Winston Trimber, age twenty-six. Trimber suffered a gunshot wound to the left rotator cuff. Police believe Trimber was giving Bowden a ride home from a nightclub when the incident occurred. There are no suspects and no witnesses.”

  Reds glanced up from the paper. “What the fuck is a rotator cuff?”

  “It’s your shoulder,” Ra answered in a soft voice.

  Reds thought to himself for a minute and decided he wanted to know all the parts of the body. “I’m going back to school.”

  “You need to, if you don’t know what a rotator cuff is.”

  “Fuck you!”

  Ra couldn’t contain his frustration. “Damn, Sahirah would be alive if she had come with us. I tried to tell her. You know I did, right?”

  “Man, you tried to get her to go with you ’cause you liked the girl, and you wanted to fuck her. But she had a choice. Sahirah made the wrong one. It’s not your fault. That’s the only way I see it. She fucked up. She made the wrong choice, and it cost her, for real. She dissed you, so how could it be your fault?”

  Rasun didn’t respond.

  “Now, Kenny’s different,” Reds continued. “I told you not to put no gun in the boy’s hand. Shit, I was worried he was still upset about that girl. I thought the motherfucker was gonna shoot my ass, and you up there telling me to hand the nigga a gun, knowing I fucked his young jawn.”

  “Kenny wouldn’t shoot you.”

  “You don’t know how Kenny is when he thinks you’re not his friend. You don’t count no more to him. That’s Kenny, man.”

  “Kenny isn’t my fault,” Ra argued. “I gave him the gat ’cause he was gonna be out there without us.”

  “What are you talking about?” They hadn’t seen Rasun’s mother walk in.

  “Nothing, Mom.”

  “What’s a gat and who’d you give one to?” she asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

  “Mom, it’s nothing, really.”

  “I hope you didn’t give Kenny no gun. He killed his father, you know.”

  “I know,” he admitted.

  “That’s why you sent your brother to the corner store to get that newspaper. I told you Rafik is only nine. He’s not allowed outside by himself, and you keep sending him out there. You better start thinking, Rasun, about what you’re doing. You, too, Reds.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Reds said.

  “You boys need jobs. You’re gonna get a job, Rasun.”

  “I don’t want no job. Mom, please don’t make me work for the white man.” Rasun begged his mother not to pressure him.

  “Dammit, a paycheck is a paycheck. You don’t want to work for a white man, then work for a Black man, but you’re gonna get a job, Rasun.”

  She was righteous. Nobody in her house was gonna lay around collecting dirty money, taking chances with her baby son, Rafik. “You, too, Reds. I want both of you to get jobs.”

  All Reds needed was a hat in his hand. “Yes, ma’am. I been looking for a job, Ms. Clair.”

  “That’s good, Reds, but when you gonna get one?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think nobody is gonna give me a chance.”

  Rasun couldn’t get over Reds kicking it to his mom.

  “Well, Reds, you got to keep trying,” she advised. “And take him with you.”

  “Mom, I been working with Quadir. He’s letting me help fix up his apartment building, so I can get my winter clothes.”

  “Well, Quadir is a good person. I know his mother, but you don’t need to be giving people no gats or whatever you said. Shit, I don’t even know what you’re talking about, but it don’t sound right.”

  Ms. Clair was finally at the bedroom door and closed it behind her, leaving Rasun and Reds looking stupefied.

  “Oh, and, Rasun,” she said, opening the door back up, “your father said don’t think about leaving this house without cleaning up this bedroom.”

  After she closed the door again, Reds joked, “Don’t kill your pops, man. Let’s clean up the room.”

  “Man, my moms be bugging. She been on me about getting a job for the longest.”

  “I don’t know why you don’t go to college or something. Look at you, moms and pops still together. You got a nice crib. Your moms talks to you real nice. Your pops does shit for you. You never been in no trouble. You never stole ’cause your dad always gave you money. He used to give me money, too,” Reds said, thinking back to when they were little and life was easy. “I’m saying, if I had all the advantages you had, I wouldn’t be out here hustling.”

  “Man, shut the fuck up with your bullshit. See me after you get a high school diploma. I’ll be done with college by then,” Rasun said.

  “You know what? Fuck you and your attitude. All I’m saying is I wish I could’ve grown up with you ’cause you got a nice family. I really dig your moms.”

  Ra thought about what he had, and what Reds never had, which was a mother and a father. Reds was a foster child from the age of five until his aunt adopted him when he was twelve. “Man, I’m fucked up. You’re right, ’cause it’s my fault about Kenny and Sahirah.”

  “No, it’s not. I didn’t mean it. I really didn’t. You gave Kenny the gun because Kenny needed the gun out there on the Ave. He wasn’t supposed to shoot nobody with the gun, just protect himself. If his pops hadn’t beat on him all his life, he wouldn’t have killed him. Nothing is your fault, especially Sahirah.”

  Ra appreciated Reds’s effort, but it didn’t make him feel any better. “Read about Kenny,” he said, handing Reds the paper.

  “Okay, it says: ‘Twenty-year-old Kenny Davis Jr. shot and killed his father, Kenny Davis Sr., with a nine-millimeter semiautomatic weapon last night. Mr. Davis Sr. was pronounced dead in his home at approximately 1:30 a.m. He suffered seven gunshot wounds to the chest. Mrs. Julia Davis called the police while the argument was in progress. When the police arrived, it was too late. The argument between the father and son had already ended in a fatal shooting,’” finished Reds, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “Kenny snapped,” Ra added, also shaking his head.

  “Yo, they got a picture of Kenny looking crazy as hell. Look at this shit.” Reds handed the paper to Rasun.

  Rasun didn’t like what he saw and handed the newspaper back to him. Kenny didn’t look right.

  Silence filled the room as Rasun and Reds stared at blank space, neither saying a word. For a moment Rasun remembered Sahirah. She was so pretty, with her dimples and soft brown eyes that projected an innocence Rasun felt the night they were together.

  Reds sat next to Ra and took in Kenny killing his pops. Kenny would start tripping when he drank syrup and must’ve been in the zone when he fired that gun. He imagined Kenny wishing he was still at home, getting ready to meet up with the crew on the Ave so they could hang out and kick it with the ladies. Instead, he was in a jail cell.

  Pookey said Kenny had drunk two ounces of yella. Once he slept off his high and woke up to the reality of what he had done, that shit was going to hurt.

  The silence was too much to handle, and Reds had to break it. “You can’t control God’s setup,” Reds finally blurted out. “Only God knows why He called for Sahirah and Kenny’s dad. Haven’t you been to a funeral?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, the preacher says God has reasons for everything. I don’t have the answers to why, but I do know we got business to take care of. Come on.”

  * * *

  Slim Sammy, a neighborhood piper, had just finished wiping down the BMW when Ra and Reds went outside.

  Ra snapped on the older man. “Did anybody ask you to fuck with the car?”

  Reds said, “Chill.”

  Slim Sammy wiped down cars every day, so Ra’s outburst toward him was unwarranted. It obviously came from him being upset over Kenny.

  Reds handed Slim Sammy five dollars and said, “Don’t pay him any mind. Here you go.”

  After they got into the car and placed a brick in the back seat, Reds inserted his Geto Boys tape in the stereo system, and Rasun sped off down the block.

  Rasun cut through the north side of the park to West Philly. He made a left on Lancaster Avenue and traveled down the Ave. “Yo, there goes Rock.”

 

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