Red White and Black

Chapter Twenty Three

Jay C

"All I'm sayin' is that Cracker has got to go," said Jay C rubbing his aching ribs. "He came at me with a baseball bat and threatened to lynch me. And this ain't just about me, either. He hates anybody with skin a different color than pasty white. Haven't our people put up with this stuff long enough? What's gonna happen next? He gonna come after our families?"

"I'm with you, Jay C all the way," replied Derrick, leaning the chair back on two legs. "That whitebread deserves it, him threatening you like that. He's the one needin' his neck stretched."

The idea appealed to Jay C almost as an epiphany. "That's it! Think of the message we could send. Every brother who ever been put down and subjugated by a white man could step up with pride at seein' that. This could be the start of a revolution." He paused, thinking over the ramifications. "I can't believe no brother never thought of this."

Derrick snorted back a laugh. "Ha! Maybe one did think of it, but they ain't got the cajones we got."

Another voice spoke up, tinged with more than a little skepticism. "You guys keep laughin' about it, but have you talked to Markus about it?" This from Chris, another of Jay C's friends.

Both Derrick and Chris had known Jay C for years but neither was as close as Markus. That they had been invited into Grant Arms at all was part of the reason Markus didn't come around much these days. Markus had always said Derrick was a career criminal in the making and of Chris as a suck-up, someone hanging around just for approval. None of that bothered Jay C though. Derrick kept raising the bar and challenging Jay C into activities Aunt Sadie would have definitely disapproved of had she known. In fact, had it not been for Derrick, Jay C would have never gotten the gumption to put his weed production into effect. Secretly, Jay C was intimidated by Derrick but would never let that fear be discovered for he too much relished being the top dog.

Which was exactly why he tolerated Chris, who annoyed practically everyone else with his fawning and pandering. Chris did any and everything to gain respect and the occasional kind word from Jay C, who made sure to dole them out sparingly.

"Markus?" answered Jay C, "That boy done sold out. He is so whipped over this white chick, he can't see straight. And that's just another reason why this has gotta happen: it's gonna open his eyes."

They sat in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. Jay C was convinced Derrick would be behind him all the way. In fact, Derrick would probably enjoy stringing up a white guy and it wouldn't matter whether he had done anything wrong or not. He'd do it just for the fun of it. Derrick had a mean streak running through him, a tendency for cruelty and was always looking for any weakness in others he could exploit. And by talking him into attacking Morris, Jay C hoped to gain leverage over Derrick; a leverage he intended to channel and use to control his criminally minded friend. As he sat pondering the wealth of possibilities this opened up, Jay C knew he had to couch it in terms that would gain him support of the community. Eventually the police would want to track down who had killed Morris and, of course, it was likely everyone would already know. But if he had the backing of the entire neighborhood, if he could convince people this was the manifestation of the righteous wrath of a brother who had been victimized and pushed to the brink by yet another oppressive white racist, they would stand behind him and guard him from the police.

Not that he would actually be the one with his hands on the rope. That's where Derrick figured in.

"Yeah. Screw Markus," muttered Jay C, as if he were simply musing to himself. "He don't have the cajones we got anyways." He noticed Derrick was listening intently to his every word. "That's why I think you be the man, Derrick. In fact, you twice the man Markus is or ever will be. He would'a never thought of that in the first place and sure would'a never realized how that would instantly make him a hero."

Derrick furrowed his brows. "Hero? How's that?"

Jay C stood and began to pace, holding his chin in his hand as if deep in thought. "Dead right a hero. Think about it. The black man has been pushed around and subjugated throughout history. They brought us from our homeland and made us slaves. They done hung how many brothers from a tree or beat them to death, or whatever. Aside from that, how many of us got a shot at a decent job? Don't you know about all them government programs to get us all hooked on drugs? Where you been keepin' your head? You got to keep up with what's been happenin' to your brothers across the country. And don't even get me started on how many times the police have drug a brother from his car, a man doin' nothin' other than just sittin' there, for no other reason than to beat him half to death!"

He stopped pacing and turned to face Derrick. "And that's why you'd be a hero. You'd be sendin' a signal from here to Washington, D.C. that said this was one black man who wasn't gonna take it no more. He's fed up with whitey abusing the black men of this country and the time had come for us to rise up and take back what is ours. Think about it. This would spark a revolution bigger than anything since the civil war. And since then, all the brothers just sat back and took whatever the man dished out. You got a chance, right here, right now, to make a difference."

He paused for a moment, looking at Derrick and Chris. "So. Are you with me?"

Chris sputtered for a moment. "Hhhey. You ain't serious, are you?"

Jay C turned on him with a sneer. "Shut up, you gutless idiot! You worse than Markus and you ain't got no place here."

Derrick had a glassy look about his eyes, as if he had already pictured himself enshrined in some imaginary African-American Hall of Fame and attended to by hordes of adoring fans, each hoping for some crumb of goodness to fall from his plate of righteous indignation. "Yeah man. You right. Something's gotta be done. We got the opportunity to make something happen and I say we do it, and do it soon."

"No way," said Chris. "There is no way you can be for real."

Derrick was on his feet in a flash and shoved Chris hard enough to send him sprawling across the floor. "I am pretty sure my man here told you to keep yo face shut. I heard that." He looked up at Jay C, "Did I hear that?"

Jay C, pleased with how easily he had manipulated Derrick nodded. "You heard it straight. This brother has done lost his Grant Arm privileges and as far as I'm concerned is now trespassin'."

Derrick kicked the still prone Chris in the ribs. "You heard my man. You somewhere you don't belong, now why don't you get your ass out'a here." He kicked him again as Chris tried to rise to his feet, sending him face first to the floor again. Jay C joined in and together without mercy they kicked and punched Chris who could do nothing other than curl into a ball for protection.

Both were coated in a fine sheen of sweat when the beating stopped.