Where the Concrete is Jaded

Chapter Two

BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE!

Here's the SECOND installment of "Where the Concrete is Jaded"

Take a look at Cynnamon's brother and sister, Quincy and Yana above.

They're more fair-skinned like their father whereas Cynnamon favors her mother's chocolate complexion.

I love you, so does Jesus.

ENJOY!

- Buhlack Queen

I grew up in a two level, three bedroom household.

My father, older brother and my younger sister all called our peeling red, ghetto palace that my father had been "fixing up" for years, home.

It was easily the brightest colored house on the block but the peeling of the red exterior made it blend in just right with the rest of our beat up neighborhood. We had been residents on the street ever since I could remember and I hadn't known any other home outside of it. From the obnoxiously early morning horns to the late gun shots at night, the Clair was your token troubled neighborhood in which every day held new drama.

Felicia Wood, who lived a few houses down from us was a prime example of that daily drama.

After finishing up the shift at Jessop I left the hotel feeling a bit uneasy but overall satisfied that I finally had a job. Since I was a new hire, I got let go early and caught the bus back to my side of town. I was walking home from the bus stop when a guy stormed out the side door of Felicia's house as if he were set on fire.

"Fuck you bitch!" He yelled behind him before pulling his keys from his pockets.

I slowed my walk, my nosiness kicking into full gear.

Seconds later Felicia stormed out of the front door of her house with her three year old daughter, Riley, on her hip. "You ain't shit!" She screamed after him. "Broke ass nigga! I should've left your ass on the street where you belong!"

"Bitch get the fuck outta here! The only reason you got this house is cuz' yo ass is on Section 8!" He climbed in his car.

"At least I got a fucking pot to piss in muthafucka! How about you?!" she countered. "Yeah that's right, go back to yo' mama's basement deadbeat!"

Moments later the dude peeled out of her driveway barely missing a car that was already coming down the street. The driver of the other car honked profusely, yelling expletives out his window while Felicia's dude zoomed off in the other direction.

I watch Felicia watch his car leave our street and then she pulled out her phone. She stood there for a moment, her eyes spaced out as she listened for the other line to stop ringing. Whoever she was calling must've picked up because she began speaking. "Bitch let me tell you what the fuck this nigga done did..." she started as she went back into her house.

Immediately my heart went out to cute little Riley.

All the times that I passed their house she was always on the porch, waving at me. She seemed like a sweet little girl but that probably wouldn't last if Felicia kept doing Felicia. One would like to believe that Riley would be better than her mom when it came to choosing men but generational curses ain't work like that.

Felicia may have got it from whoever raised her.

Riley would learn it from Felicia.

That shit was a vicious cycle.

~~~~~

It was around seven when I closed my front door of my house behind me.