Where the Concrete is Jaded

Chapter One

Welcome to my new story "Where the Concrete is Jaded" (WTCJ for short!)

Here's to a  another story full of conflict and drama! 🍷🍷👌🏾

VOTE/COMMENT/FOLLOW ME!

Check out the picture of Cynnamon Cartwright above! Isn't she beautiful?

By the way the character CAIRO, his name is pronounced "KY" like KYLIE and ROW"

So "KY-ROW" = CAIRO

Remember, I love you, but Jesus loves you more.

- Buhlack Queen

"The security cam footage of a twelve year old being gunned down has been trending all over social media for a week. Clevelanders are outraged about the alleged murder of Tamir Rice who was shot at the park in broad daylight by a police officer for carrying a toy gun.

Officers Timothy Loehmann and Frank Garmback responded to a call about a "black male sitting on a swing and pointing a gun at people" at Cudell Recreation Center. At the beginning and end of the call the caller said "it's probably fake". Within two seconds of arriving on the scene officer Loehmann immediately sprang from his car and shot Rice twice, hitting him once in the torso. Tamir Rice died the following day. Tamir Rice is the most recent death in the rising occurrence of police shooting unarmed African Americans.

The African American community is outraged as Rice's death is being compared to the deaths of unarmed Timothy Russell and Malissa Williams who were chased by police when Russell's car backfired in November of 2012. The two were shot one hundred and thirty seven times by six police officers in East Cleveland. Timothy Russell was shot twenty three times and Malissa Williams was shot twenty four times. The killings have been decried as a racially motivated execution – both victims were black – and are part of a wide-ranging federal investigation into the police department's use of deadly force and its pursuit policies---"

"Say miss can you spare a couple dollas for a old man that needa eat?"

I looked up from the streaming news video on my phone to find an elderly bum standing near the bus stop that I was sitting at. I had been waiting on the 10 DuPont to come for the last thirty minutes and if it didn't come in the next ten I was going to be late for orientation at my new job. I couldn't help but take in the older man's soiled appearance and I fought the urge to cover my nose so that his rank smell wouldn't invade my nostrils. Without a word to him I dug into my jacket and pulled out the three dollars that I had stuffed there this morning and held it out to him.

"Thank you ma'am. You have a blessed day." He took the money and quickly went on his way.

I quickly checked the time. This bus must be packed. I thought in annoyance. Most of the time the bus ran late if there were a couple hundred bodies trying to get somewhere. Nobody wanted to be crammed together but nobody wanted to be late to where they were going either.

Beep beep!

An old school, Chevy Camaro pulled up alongside the curve in front of me. With tinted windows and a clean, Apple red, paint job the ride screamed money. Though I couldn't see through the tint I knew exactly who was driving it way before the passenger side window rolled down.

A steady bass seeped out of the ride as Andre 3000 spit some truth through the speakers. "You need a ride?"

I shook my head.

"You don't talk?" He cocked his head at me, his short locs falling forward in the process. He smiled the kind of smile that made you want to smile back, but I made sure not to.