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Authors: Tysha

BOOK: Young-Minded Hustler
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Part 2:
Calm Before the Storm
Chapter 9
High School Years—This Is Who I Am . . . Right?
Jayden stood in line with the other fifth-period lunch students who were paying the short, white-haired lady manning the cash register. He could only hope the forty-year school employee, was off her game. For the third day in a row, Jayden had forgotten to turn in his free or reduced lunch application and would be forced to use a number assigned to an absent classmate. He and every student at South High School knew what fate awaited them if lunch lady Betty was in true form.
Standing just over six foot tall with smooth skin, slanted hazel eyes, and broad shoulders, Jayden's quiet spirit always drew attention, but he was no match for the petite, seventy-something lunch lady.
“Number please,” stated Betty while eyeing the food on the brown lunch tray.
“Twenty-one twelve,” replied Jayden. He held his breath in fear of Betty's response. Betty gave no indication that she knew the lunch number Jayden had given her wasn't his. Relieved, Jayden grabbed the tray and walked off toward his regular lunch table where his cousin Quincy was seated.
As usual, the cheese pizza was lukewarm, the kernel corn was cold, and the two peanut butter cookies were golden brown. After being joined by Quincy's girlfriend, Caron Jefferson, the group sat, comparing grades received on their honors English writing assignment Miss Stevens had just given back.
“She gave us all a B, as usual,” said Caron.
“Not all,” corrected Jayden, “because I got an A.” Jayden opened his milk and drew it up to his lips when the room grew silent.
“That's not your number!” screamed lunch lady Betty.
Caught!
Jayden's nightmare had come true. A wrinkled, pale hand reached over his left shoulder and snatched the lunch tray from in front of him. Betty was notorious for calling out those who attempted to deceive her by using another student's lunch number. Today, Jayden Prince McGee, high school senior, was added to her list. No one could ever figure out how Betty was able to memorize the lunch numbers of over 800 students each and every school year. Most students heard stories about the little old lady from their parents and never believed the tales, until they entered South High School and witnessed Betty in action for themselves.
Betty turned on her heels and quickly returned to her station. The lunchroom erupted with laughter as Jayden sat embarrassed and hungry. As quickly as it happened, it was over.
“Man, you got played.” Q began clowning his cousin and best friend. Jayden had to laugh at his own outing. He knew sooner or later his time would come, especially since the students were not allowed to leave school premises during their lunch hour. The old days of Red Barn hamburgers and Sammy Quick Stop subs for lunch were over before most of the current high school students had even been born.
Before the lunch bell rang, Jayden had searched the crowded hallways for his twin brother, Prince. He wanted to ask him for a couple of dollars for lunch to avoid the situation he now found himself in, but Jayden had no luck locating Prince. Knowing his brother, Prince had probably skipped school in search of the almighty dollar or was laid up someplace with one of the women so eager to get with him.
Jayden and Prince were identical twins physically but their personality traits were like night and day. Where Jayden was responsible, goal oriented, and shy, Prince was restless, impulsive, and outgoing. Jayden loved to read books and play basketball, and worked out daily. Prince's hobbies included hanging out with his friends, making fast money, and sleeping with as many girls as he possibly could. The only thing the twins seemed to have in common was the love they shared for their mother and baby sister, Lilac Princess. Though they did it in different ways, Prince and Jayden both took care of their mother and sister. As with most siblings, looking out for each other was an unspoken rule, even more so with identical twins.
 
As always, Jayden stood at the bottom of the school stairs, waiting for his girlfriend, Brianna. Being dedicated to sports, weight training, and studies didn't leave room for much free time, so Jayden made sure he spent at least a few minutes each day with his first love.
“Hey sexy, are you looking for me?” Jayden flirted.
“Boo, you know I am,” replied Brianna.
The young couple held hands and walked out the front doors together. After school, Jayden always walked Brianna halfway home before turning around and running back to the school's field house for sports conditioning.
“So how was honors English today?” asked Jayden.
“It was cool. I got an A on that assignment and a B on a pop quiz this morning,” said Brianna. Her bright smile always made Jayden feel special to be with her. Unlike Jayden, Brianna was brought up in a two-parent, middle-class family. Their family history and upbringing were the only differences the two had. Jayden and Brianna loved learning and had goals for their future. The number one goal was to leave the poverty-stricken city as soon as possible. Brianna was one year behind Jayden in school, but if fate would have it, they both planned to attend college in Atlanta. Jayden planned on attending Morehouse College and Brianna was set on attending Spelman College. They were both planning on majoring in English with minors in business management. Their dream was to one day own a successful book and music publishing company.
Jayden and Brianna walked hand in hand toward the corner of Dewey Avenue and Market Street as they discussed their day.
“Do you think we can catch a movie this weekend? We can rent one if you have a couple of hours to spend with me,” Brianna said innocently.
“We have a double session of conditioning on Saturday, but if your mom will let me come over after nine, we can rent movies. I mean, you know I love your mom and all but she be cutting into my ‘fill you up' time the way she be popping in and out the room. It seems like she don't trust me,” said Jayden snidely.
“You know she loves you.” Brianna laughed. “She just thinks you're out to steal my heart and get in between my legs.”
“No, I'm not even like that.” Jayden smiled. “I'm trying to get up in your tight, virgin coochie.”
“Boo, you are so bad. Come here and give me my kiss.”
Brianna grabbed Jayden around his waist and pulled him close to her. She stood eight inches shorter than Jayden and always stood on her tiptoes to meet his full lips for their daily French kiss good-bye. Moments later, Jayden began his five-block jog back toward the home of the Warriors. Jayden was less than a block from his destination when he saw a crowd of boys and instantly knew something was wrong with his brother.
Damn, Prince, not today. I don't need this today.
Their entire lives, a shiver up his spine meant his twin brother was involved in something he had no business being in. It is said that identical twins experience some type of phenomenal experience whenever one encounters pain or danger. This was true with Prince and Jayden.
Jayden ran toward the crowd just in time to see his brother being handcuffed and thrown in the back of a police cruiser.
“What did he do? Prince, what is going on?” yelled Jayden over the ruckus.
Prince could only look at his mirror image through the raised car window and shake his head. Jayden didn't know if he should be angry at Prince or at the unfair prejudices of the world in which they lived. He had no idea what had gotten his brother arrested, but Jayden could guess it had something to do with their shiesty god brother, Raequan.
One of the boys Prince was with stepped to Jayden to provide a brief explanation of what had happened. “Hey, man, your brotha ain't done anything wrong. These racist-ass cops just don't wanna listen,” explained T-Lee. “Prince and Raequan been chilling' wit' us all day and you know how we do. These cops are just mad that the average street hustler make more in one week than they do all year.” T-Lee took a long drag off his Newport and pointed to the second police car parked beside a closed-down storefront. Raequan was sitting in the back seat with a stupid smile on his face.
Raequan Lamar Jackson was Prince's best friend and partner in crime. The boys were raised together because their mothers were best friends. At the early age of eighteen, Raequan had already served three different stints in juvenile, and Jayden was surprised he hadn't graduated to the big house yet. Though his crimes were petty, Raequan could be dangerous and Jayden hated the relationship Prince had with him.
“What are they arresting him for?” a shocked Jayden inquired.
“Man, some lady rolled up on us while we were chilling at the sub shop and accused him of stealing her car. So you know Prince and that mouth of his. He started cussing da bitch out.” T-Lee paused to toke on his Newport before continuing. “So, she whips out her cell phone and calls the police and here we are.”
“How can they just arrest him based on her word? I mean, look around at all of us; everybody dressed in jeans and a white tee, half with braids and half fades. Hell, we all look alike out here. Our own mommas probably couldn't positively identify us.”
“I know, man, but you know how it is. Young black males look suspicious to everybody, especially if more than two are chilling together.” Unsure of how he would react, T-Lee purposely withheld some information from Jayden. He knew for a fact that Prince was with Raequan and they'd taken a ride in the lady's car. T-Lee knew that was enough for Prince to catch a charge.
Jayden gave T-Lee the universal black man handshake and returned his attention to his brother.
How am I going to tell Mom this? Her heart is going to break,
thought Jayden. As he stood on the sidewalk, looking at his other half. Jayden wished he could protect Prince from all harm and danger. Jayden knew that Prince acted hard and talked a good game, but deep inside were immeasurable amounts of pain, resentment, and anger. It was that pain that made Prince Jayden McGee a menace to society.
Prince sat in the back seat of the police cruiser with his head hung low and his heart beating fast. He'd been placed in a cop car before. The police always harassed him for petty things but nothing that would result in him being taken downtown, processed, and held behind bars. After a call to his mother, Prince was always released to her custody and sent on his merry way. Prince knew that this time was different and he would soon be checking into juvenile detention center for an extended stay. He could feel his heart pounding in his head as beads of sweat formed on his forehead.
I really fucked up this time. I knew I should have listened to that voice in my head instead of going along with Raequan. They didn't even need the money so mugging that lady was stupid, especially after stealing that car and selling it to that chop shop. Fuck!
The ride down to Scott Street seemed to happen in a heartbeat, much too fast for Prince. Taking a deep breath, Prince braced himself to face the unknown like a man. He had no idea what to expect, but he figured being raised in the Victories Housing Projects had groomed him for what awaited him behind those brick walls. Prince also took heed of the fact that he would not be alone.
Shit, I'm tripping. Raequan will be here with me, so I ain't got nothing to worry about,
Prince said to himself.
I know my boy got my back.
Chapter 10
An Honest Day's Work
Shy was at work, watching the thin second hand on the clock slowly tick by. She had another fifteen minutes to go before quitting time. It had been a long day of dealing with the public and their nasty attitudes. Shy hated being assigned to the outpatient clinic, where people were free to verbally abuse her for no reason. For the life of her, Shy could never figure out why people would be downright evil to a person who was trying to help them. The last four patients she'd drawn blood from had gotten smart with her. One elderly man even cussed her out like she'd stolen something from him. She was grateful that her rotating schedule only placed her in the clinic twice a month.
In order to avoid drawing blood from one more asshole, Shy was hiding out in one of the stalls in the ladies' room. Her feet, back, and head were aching. She just wanted to go home and relax.
Shy was the type of woman who never left the house with one strand of hair out of place. Never one for much makeup, Shy made sure her lips were always glossed, her eyebrows were always perfectly waxed, and her eyes were lined with a brown liner to enhance her beautiful light brown eyes. Thanks in part to possessing natural beauty and aging well, the thirty-eight-year-old queen always caught the eyes of men.
To help pass time, Shy reached inside her pocket to turn on her cell phone and check her messages. As soon as she received power the cell phone began ringing.
“Hello.”
“Mom, it's Jayden.”
“I know ya voice, boy. Why aren't you at practice or lifting weights or wherever it is you should be?”
“Mom, you need to get home as soon as possible,” Jayden huffed.
Shy dropped her head in despair and felt what little energy she had left seep from her body.
“Please don't tell me it's Prince,” said Shy, sighing. “It is Prince, isn't it? What has your brother done this time?”
“Mom, just come home please. I don't know how to get him out of this one.” Jayden hung up the phone before his mother could demand to know what was going on. He knew she would be upset and Jayden couldn't have her driving and crying at the same time. Jayden took a deep breath and sat down on the couch to gather his thoughts. His heart broke into pieces each time he had to call his mother with bad news about his reckless and, at times, even selfish brother.
“I can't believe how stupid he can be sometimes,” vented Jayden.
“You need to calm down, man,” said Quincy. “I love him too, but he makes these bad choices and he just doesn't care how it affects you or Aunt Shy.”
“You're right, but he is still my brother and I feel responsible for him. I just don't know how to protect him from himself. How do you protect a person from himself?”
Jayden put his face into his hands and silently asked God to give his father a message.
Lord, ask my dad to tell me what to do to save my brother, and please watch over him while he's behind bars.
By the time Shy arrived home, all of the anger Jayden was feeling toward Prince was replaced with concern for his mother. Shy parked her car and was not pleased to see her sister, Tara, standing on the porch with Jayden and Quincy.
Just what I need on top of everything else, her know-it-all, snobby ass,
thought Shy. Jayden met his mother at her 2006 white Toyota Camry and opened the driver side door for her.
“Hi, baby,” Shy said before giving her son a kiss on his cheek. “What has he done this time?” Shy held her breath and waited for Jayden's response.
“Mom, Prince and Raequan have been accused of stealing a car and robbing an old lady on Market Street. The police caught up with them and arrested them both.”
Shy knew this day would come, she just wished it had happened sooner. With Prince being seventeen the state could decide to treat him as an adult despite the fact that he wasn't even old enough to vote.
“Did they take him to juvenile or the county?” asked Shy.
“I don't know, Mom. The arrogant cop wouldn't answer any of my questions and Prince hasn't called yet.”
“Where is Baby Girl? She wasn't home to see them carrying her brother off in handcuffs, was she?”
The same day her husband was murdered, Shy discovered she was pregnant with the little girl she and Melvin had wanted for years. Melvin did not live long enough to even find out another baby was on the way. Shy had just left her doctor's appointment and stopped by the Boys Club to get Jayden from basketball practice. After picking up a celebratory dinner for the family, Shy arrived home to find an abundance of police cars, ambulances, and spectators fixated on their apartment. What should have been a happy evening turned into the most traumatic event anyone could ever experience. Shy and Jayden kept Melvin alive by sharing stories of happy times with the beautiful little girl named Lilac Princess.
“No, Mom, the police arrested Prince on Market Street. I haven't picked her up from daycare yet because I didn't know how you were going to receive the news and I don't want to upset her. You know how she likes to ask a million questions.”
“How did your Aunt Tara find out about this?” asked Shy. The last thing she needed was her older sister telling her how she was failing as a mother.
“Quincy called her, Mom.”
As children, Shy looked up to her big sister and strived to be just like her. The five-year age difference made Tara appear bigger than life to her little sister. Once Shy grew up and began making decisions about her life without consulting Tara, things between them changed. With life's challenges and Shy receiving a bigger blessing in life than what she did, their relationship changed from sisters to mere acquaintances. Shy was tired of Tara always judging her and pointing out her mistakes. In Shy's eyes, Tara had gone from a cool ghetto girl to a judgmental, opinionated snob overnight. It infuriated Shy that her sister acted like she had forgotten where she came from.
“Now what are you going to do?” asked Tara without greeting her sister.
“Hi, Tara, and how are you today?” Shy rolled her eyes and walked through her front door. Tara took a deep breath and followed Shy.
“Don't just walk away from me like that. I asked you a question, Shy,” responded Tara.
“First, I'm going to sit down and drink a beer. Second, I will take a quick shower, and third, I'm going to send Jayden to pick up Baby Girl for me. On second thought, maybe I'll send for Baby Girl first,” answered Shy with as much sarcasm as she could muster.
“Don't get smart with me, Shy, you know what I meant. What are you going to do about Prince getting arrested?” snapped Tara.
“If you would let me finish . . .” Shy rolled her neck. “Fourth, I'll drive downtown, find out exactly where my son is being held, and find him a lawyer. Does that meet your requirements on how
I
should handle this situation with
my
son?”
“You know what, Shy?”
Shy immediately stood up and put her hands on her hips. She had a long day and would have loved to release her stress on her opinionated sister.
“You need to let him sit down there and think about what he has done. If Prince was my son, I would—”
“See, Tara, that's just it. Prince is not
your
son, he's mine. I may not be raising the perfect child, with the perfect husband, in the perfect house, but I'm doing the best that I can. If that doesn't meet your standards, then to hell with you and your opinion!”
“Shy, all I'm saying is . . .”
“Have I asked you for your opinion? You being a better
parent
than me in no way means you love your child any more than I love mine!” Shy stormed past Tara, purposely bumping into her before showing her to the door. She was not in the mood for unsolicited advice, and was tired of Tara and her brother-in-law looking down their noses at her. Shy held the screen door open for Tara.
“Now take your snobby ass back to your perfect suburban life and stay the hell out of my business,” demanded Shy.
“Shy, why are you always so defensive when it's about Prince? He needs more help than you can offer him. Why can't you see that?”
“Why do you have to be the one to make decisions on what is best for my son? Ain't nobody else in his corner but me, so fuck you and your advice!” yelled Shy. Her head was throbbing and it was taking everything inside of her not to punch the hell out of her sister.
“You don't even know what happened today and you already protecting him,” added Tara as she walked off the porch.
“You know why, Tara? It does not matter what he did. Prince can go out and kill an entire block and I would still have his back. Right or wrong he is still
my child, my son
and nothing and nobody will ever change that. Now, get the hell out!”
“Quincy, get in your car and come home. I don't have to put up with being spoken to this way, and until your aunt apologizes to me, you are not to be over here,” Tara ranted.
Quincy did as he was told, but not before apologizing to his Aunt Shy for his mother's behavior.
“It's okay, baby. You have absolutely nothing to be apologizing for,” Shy assured her favorite and only nephew. “And, Tara, I'm telling you now, don't have your
perfect husband
call my house trying to force his opinion down my throat, or so help me God, all hell will break loose. Do not test me.”
Shy could not believe the nerve of her sister. She had a husband at home to help raise her son. Only a man can teach a boy how to be a man and Shy understood that. What she did not understand was how Tara and her husband, Bruce, acted as if they had been perfect teenagers and never made mistakes.
Shit, if it wasn't for our mother beating the hell out of her every other day, Tara would be locked up someplace. But I guess she can't remember all the stress and trouble she caused when we were growing up. And Bruce isn't any better. His ass was in and out of juvenile so much they probably named a wing after his punk ass,
thought Shy.
“Jayden, take my car and go pick up my baby girl. When you get back I'll go check on your brother.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“And, Jayden, you tell Quincy that his mother does not need to know my business. I'm sure you'll talk to him before me. You got that?”
“Yes, ma'am, I'm sorry.”
Man, this just isn't my day,
thought Jayden.

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