Sometimes I think if my father hadn’t been killed, I wouldn’t have gone down the wrong path. I still remember the events that led to the death of my father. It’d been three years since we immigrated to the United States of America from Cameroon after my father won the American lottery. My family which was made of my Father Joe Fort, my mother Grace, myself Prince, and my twin siblings, Tony and Tonya settled down in the Brewster-Douglass projects in Detroit, Michigan. I was fourteen when we arrived and my siblings were two years younger than me. My Dad opened a grocery store on Mack Ave.
Every day after school I went to my Dad’s shop to help him out. When I came back from school, my Dad was behind the counter doing the inventory.
“How was school, son?”
“Good.” No way I was gonna tell him I failed my maths test.
“You working hard?”
“Yeah,” I replied, thanking God that he didn’t check my book bag no more.
“I know you must be hungry. Go to the back and take those crates of carrots to the front. Hurry up so you can go home and eat.”
“Okay. Dad,” I said and went to the back to carry the crates.
In the neighborhood lived a nigga called Bone. He was a heavy-set, fierce-looking African-American who wore expensive clothes and jewelry. Bone and his crew who called themselves the Gutta Boyz, extorted money from storekeepers and business owners by threat of violence. Some of the storekeepers and business owners paid him weekly tributes. However, Bone was also a stick-up kid. He and his crew stole from dope boys in the hood and his reputation was growing as a man to be feared in the streets. My Dad had to pay him protection money every Friday and today was a Friday.
While I was in the back, Bone and two of his goons walked into the shop. I stopped what I was doing and went to see what he wanted.
“Yo, Joe! You got that band for me?”
Dad reached for a brown envelope in the drawer and handed it to Bone. Bone gave it to one of his guys to count. When he was done counting, he said, “It’s just half in here.”
“You messing with me, Joe?” Bone asked in an irritated tone.
“Nah, it isn’t like that man. The shop isn’t doing good now so I’m kind of short on your money but I’ll have everything for you in a couple of weeks.
“You got a week to come up with my money or else I’mma fuck you up, you got it?”
Dad nodded and then Bone gave him a threatening look before leaving the shop with his goons.
“Dad why do you even let that guy treat you like that,” I asked once they were gone. “You don’t gotta pay him.”
“Listen, son, we no dey back for Cameroon. Things dey different here. If I no pay e, e fit kill me. If we be dey Cameroon I for done spoil e for village,” Dad said and we both laughed, calming the tension that had been in the air with Bone’s appearance.
I finished transferring the crates and headed home. The projects were just a few blocks from the store. Once I got to the projects, I saw some kids playing a game of dice by one of the buildings. Bone was there too, probably betting the money he’d gotten from Dad. I decided to stay for a bit and watch the game.
“Man, you sure you don’t wanna quit? My arms are getting tired from picking up your money,” a kid called Rich picked up the dice and shook them. He had rolled a four and a five once and two six’s twice beating Bone all those times. The game had gotten heated and the steadily mounting tensions had caused a few spectators to leave.
Bone glared at Rich, fuming. I think it wasn’t the money he was losing that had him tight—he’d make more the next day after doing his collections—it was Rich’s constant babbling. From the way Rich was talking, I could tell he was stoned.
“One last roll, hot shot. Whatever you got in your pockets versus what’s in mine,” Bone said.
“Okay, big man. It’s a bet.” Rich shook the dice and tossed them before his opponent could change his mind. Five-six. Bone picked up the dice, shook’em and tossed them. Two-four.
“Looks like it ain’t your day.”
“Fuck,” Bone cursed. He shoved his hand into his jacket pocket and everyone knew he was about to remove the money he owed Rich. Rich watched greedily. Instead of cash, he pulled out a .380. Looks like I ain’t the only one having a bad day,” he said laughing before opening fire.
I didn’t wait to see what happened. I ran from the scene with all my might towards 304, the building which we lived in.
“Yo, Prince, what happened over there?” A hustler by the name of Dog asked me. Dog was a member of the Douglass Boyz known as DB gang for short and he was wearing gang colors; a black bandana. He was a twenty-something year old nigga and he’d set up shop in front of our building and sold drugs there for Scar, the man who ran the projects. Dog was of Native American descent, and he had most of their features, along with smooth dark skin that he had inherited from his father who was a native of Nigeria. He had that long, Indian hair which he spotted in two long pigtails. He had a slim frame.
“That nigga Bone done shot Rich over losing money in a dice game.”
“That why you running like you’ve seen a ghost?” Dog laughed.
“Me being there makes me a witness, ain’t it? Bone could come after me.”
“Don’t sweat it, dawg. Bone does his thing ‘cause he knows no one is gonna snitch on him. The cops are gonna come around asking questions but we don’t talk to the cops, got it?”
I nodded. I was beginning to understand how things worked around here.
“Welcome to the projects, nigga. Welcome to the muthafuck’n neighborhood.”
Our apartment was on the seventh floor of a fourteen-story building. I always chose to take the stairs instead of the elevator which smelled of piss. I key-opened the door and went in. The hallway led to the sitting room which was cozy. It had two sofas facing a forty-two-inch flat screen TV. The walls were painted white and there was furniture all over. Family photos hung off the walls. I went to the dining room which was just by the kitchen. I could get the scent of Mom’s fine cooking coming from the kitchen. There was a rectangular wooden table at the center of the dining room. My lil bro Tony was seated at the table texting. He looked up when I walked in. Tony was five foot nine and wore his large afro hair in box braids.
“What it do, T?”
“Chilling. You?”
“Just saw Bone shoot Rich.”
“Word?”
“I kid you not, T.”
“I guess that was the gunshot I heard then. I thought it was something else.”
“Something else like what? You know we in the hood. Shit like that happens all the time, ain’t it?”
“Yeah,” he said and went back to texting.
“Prince is that you?” Mom asked from the kitchen.
“Yeah, ma.”
“Go keep your book bag and change first then come and join us let’s eat.”
Ma was always like that. She didn’t care that we were hungry when we came home from school. She would make sure we changed and washed our hands before eating.
It was a three-bedroom apartment. I shared a room with Tony while Tonya had a room all to herself. Not that it bothered me. I loved sharing the room with my brother. We were cool I put on a black top and a pair of black jeans then left the room. When I returned to the dining room, Tonya was setting up the table. Tonya was as tall as Tony and wore her jet black afro hair in braids. She was a total tomboy. She was putting on a red blouse and a pair of blue jeans. She smiled at me when we jammed eyes.
“What did Ma cook, sis?” “Fried rice and chicken.”
My mouth started to salivate on hearing that we were gonna eat chicken. It was my favorite type of meat. Ma joined us at the table when the food was all set. She was in her late thirties and was a lil bit thick. She was dark skinned and today her hair was tied in a bun.
“Prince, it’s your turn to say grace,” Ma said.
We held hands and then I led the prayer starting with the sign of the cross. We were Roman Catholics. “Bless us O Lord and bless this your gift which we are about to receive from your bounty through Christ our lord, Amen!” The Amen was said in unison. The food was passed around and we began eating. I was a very fast eater.
“You know Tonya helped me in the kitchen today. She’s basically the one who cooked.”
“No doubt. It tastes like her cooking,” I said. We’d all learned how to cook since back when we in Cameroon. But Tonya’s was the best.
“Ma,” Tonya began, “who’s better at cooking, it’s me, ain’t it?”
“Of course, Tonya,” Ma replied.
“Nah. Ma is just trying to please you. Everyone knows I’m a better cook than you, isn’t that right, Prince?” Tony asked.
“Don’t fool yourself, bro. Tonya’s way outta your league.”
“Her food tastes like shit,” Tony said, laughing.
“Why you laughing for? You’re washing up,” I said.
“What?”
“Tonya helped Ma in the kitchen so you’re washing up.”
“But the timetable says it’s her turn.”
“Don’t argue me, bro. Just do what I said.”
Tonya giggled.
“Ma I gotta bounce,” I said once I was done eating.
“Where are you going?”
“Gotta meet up with Lil Ray, Cash and Malik.”
“A’ight. Just make sure you’re back on time.”
“Yo, T. I don’t wanna see no dirty pans in the sink when I get back.”
“But I got two assignments, bro.”
“Then you gotta hurry and wash up, ain’t it?”
Tony sighed but I paid no mind. Dog was still posted in front the building when I went out. I saw him collect money from a dope fiend and then send her around the back to get served by his man. I tried to avoid him but he saw me.
“Yo, Prince. Lemme holla at you for a minute.”
“What do you want?”
“If you wanna make some money, come with for me, a’ight?”
It sounded like an invitation to join the gang. “Dog, you know I don’t fuck with drugs. And I ain’t joining no gang either.”
“You won’t have to sell drugs or join the gang. Just be my lookout.”
“I ain’t about that life, Dog. Listen, I gotta bounce. Catch you later.”
I grabbed my bike and met up with my friends. They all lived in the projects and we attended the same school. We rode our bikes along Mack Ave and parked in front of an amusement arcade called Game City. The place was crowed when we went in. There was just one free machine so Malik and Lil Ray paid up first and played each other in street fighter. They were both Disciples and they were wearing gang colors. They were lower level gangstas and so weren’t involved in hard crimes but Malik sold crack part time after school. Lil Ray was a wannabe rapper.
I watched Lil Ray beat Malik’s ass and then I went over to the machine which changed paper money to coins. The machine was in front of the window facing the streets. I put in a dollar and waited. A black Cadillac Escalade pulled up across the road. I recognized the car. It belonged to Scar, the biggest drug dealer on the Eastside of Detroit and leader of the Disciples. Every nigga in the hood either wanted to be him or get down with him. But not me though.
A short muscular man got out of the driver’s side and looked around before giving Scar the heads up to come out. The short man was called Scatter, Scar’s chief enforcer. A black bandana was tied around his clean shaven head and he had one of those funny faces. It was kinda like he was old, but young at the same time…if that makes sense. He was putting on a black and blue jacket over a black top, a pair of black jeans and a pair of brown timbs. Scar got outta the car looking like a million bucks. He was wearing a black fur coat and a golden chain hung around his neck. He wore his hair in cornrows just like me. In fact, I had my hair cornrowed after seeing his. I wanted to be like him but not through gangbanging. I was gonna do it by being drafted to the NBA.
“That shit’s bulletproof,” Cash said. He’d joined me at the window a few seconds after Scar pulled up. “Scar’s got a guy in New York who armors up all his rides for him.
”I wondered how Cash knew all this stuff. But I guess it ran in the family. He’s elder brother used to be a Disciple until he got arrested for possession of drugs. Cash was an aspiring gangsta. It was his mother holding him back if not he’ll have quit school and joined the Disciples like every other young nigga in the projects.
I collected my change and went to the arcade machine. It was me and Cash’s turn. He messed me up in the game. When we were done playing, the crew wanted to grab some burgers to eat but I’d already eaten and besides I didn’t have any more money on me so I went over to help Dad close up the store.
“Yo, Prince,” Cash called, “you up to hang out during the weekend?”
“Nah. I gotta help my pops at the store.”
“See you next week then.”
“A’ight. Next week, fam,” I replied and rode to the store.
