Death Befits Me

A Crumb To A Brick

On Wednesday morning at 2:56am, I was riding in the passenger seat of Kevin’s old school park avenue. We cruised down the dark street with our eyes peeled open. At this time of night on a weekday, only two kinds of people are out, criminals and police.

Kevin drove us to Elmwood elementary. We coasted to the back of the school to the gym and stopped. I hopped out first, stretching my arms and yawning. I’m ready to get this meeting over with so I can go sleep. It was 2:58am, so we made it just in time. If you come a minute late then they’ll increase your tithe, but if you don’t come at all then you better have a damn good reason.

From the looks of things everybody was here. Sherm stood by Jag engaged in conversation. Kevin and I went to the crowd dapping up a few people in the process. When the clock struck three on the dot everyone immediately got quiet and gathered around Sherm.

“Let’s make this quick, I think the boys know bout us and this spot,” Sherm referred to the police and he was probably right. We’ve been meeting at Elmwood for about a year now, it’s probably time to change locations. “Ight check this out. We needa focus on gettin’ our money right. As a whole we behind in our tithes and K aint feelin’ that. Said we five hundred below.” As Sherm talked, Jag went through the crowd taking count and our hundred fifty-dollar tithe. Since the set’s forty plus strong, it’d probably take a few minutes for him to finish the task. “Aside from buildin’ our money, our numba’ one priority is make sure we all strapped. You got that? I want every last one of ya’ll to be packin’.” Sherm glanced around his gang as he spoke. The seriousness in his voice helped to affirm why he was in leadership. “Everyday BJK and the Murete try and move in on us. And if you aint strapped, how you gon’ hold the block?”

Jag went to Sherm’s side and whispered something in his ear. Sherm didn’t appear to enthused about what ever his partner told him, but brushed it off. He called our

Third in command, Clint, to the front and informed him to help Jag count the money.

            “Like I was sayin’. Every time the BJK make a move on our strip, that’s money we lossin’. Every time the Muerte try us and have one they boys serve on our block that’s money out our pocket. We gotta turn the heat up ya’ll. I think some of ya’ll niggas don’ got comfortable and forgot bout the Slimes and Spics right up the street. Them niggas waitin’ for the chance to catch us slippin’ A… so they can D.U.A us. And ya’ll niggas actin’ like you cool with that.” Sherm’s whole tone changed and he looked like he could punch a hole in the wall. He paced the ground back and forth, continuing with his lesson plan. “So this what we gon do. We goin’ back to the basic’s. Ya’ll gon’ start postin’ the block day in and day out.” A few people around rolled their eyes, not feeling the new orders. “Everyday and Every night somebody gon’ be walkin’ through the Heights makin’ sells and shit. The Slims been markin’ up our block and ya’ll just em lettin’ do it. But not no more. We gon’ start bussin’ them boys in the mouth, the Muerte too. The Bull Shit ends today!”

            Sherm went on and on about bringing the fight back to the Black Joka’s and making more money. Truth be told, half the whole meeting was about stuff we’ve already heard before. I would have closed my eyes and went to sleep if they wouldn’t beat my ass for it.  

            Kevin and I were riding back to Town Heights at four in the morning. Sherm was talking about making the meeting quick, but it lasted an hour. Kevin was driving with one hand on the wheel and half an eye on the road. He started to drift on the grass so I boxed him the arm.

            “Wake up nigga!” I exclaimed, staring him down. “I aint trynna’ die tonight.”

            “I’m always awake nigga,” he shot back. I leaned back in the seat in want of sleep myself. Like always, today was long, but at least it was over.