Crazy Summer (41 page)

Then, out of nowhere, a masked man appeared. He was dressed in black from head to toe. His gun hand was covered in a leather glove. Cat Eye didn’t see any of this. The masked man took him quick.

Two shots fired, both in the back of the head. The guy was gone after a few casual steps, and then he moved quickly on foot through the parking lot. The guy in the cab had already pulled off.

Jermaine had more dedication than his brother. When he wasn’t playing a game, he practiced hard. With a ball in each hand, he dribbled down the court from one end to the other. He’d perfected his jump shot and maneuvered his inside game similar to Tim Duncan. His teammates called him The Beast. He was more powerfully built than his brother and had an extra inch over him.

He worked hard in the gym, bench-pressing 275 pounds on the regular. That was lightweight for him. His max was 360 pounds, and that strength showed on the court. Jermaine was single, didn’t drink or smoke, nor did he hang out at clubs. He had other shit on his mind, like landing a shoe contract from Nike.

At the moment, Jermaine studied a DVD that he’d put together of Michael Jordon, Kobe Bryant, Lebron James, and Tim Duncan, but Duncan was his favorite. He watched him in slow motion on a fifty-inch flat-screen television. This was his motivation; he would face him one day soon and dominate him in points. Basketball was like a high for him, and he wasn’t about to come down.

When his phone rang, his eyebrows furrowed as if he was catching a headache.

“Whuzzup, bruh?” he answered. He knew it was his twin.

“Whatcha up to up there?”

“You know me…I’m coolin’. What about yo’self?”

“You know how I do it. Man, Mama came up here and caught me slippin’. I had a talk with her and Bookie…some real serious shit, too. And I’m through wit’ all dat bullshit, fa’ real.”

Jermaine smiled, basically because nobody could see him.

“That’s the move,” he said, then asked, “Are you ready?”

“You damn right,” Jeremy shot back. “That’s why I’m callin’ you, nigga.”

“I hope so, ‘cause I don’t want the fame by myself.” Jermaine stood up and walked into his kitchen. He opened the fridge and got himself a V8, downing it before Jeremy’s next response.

“Boy, you can best believe I won’t let myself get lost in the crowd,” Jeremy said, then added, “Bruh, you know we’re connected like the mob. Between Mama and Bookie…”

“Yeah…yeah,” Jermaine shot back.

He didn’t like when his brother spoke on issues like that. Even though he knew Summer was connected to something or somebody, he didn’t like it nor did he want to be a part of it.

His doorbell rang. He stood erect and looked toward the door.

“Let me get back at you, bruh. I love ya. Stay up.”

“Be safe, nigga. See you in da draft.”

Jermaine laughed. “See you next week at Grandma’s house.”

“Damn right. I forgot it was her birthday. See you then, nigga.”

Jermaine hung up, went to the door, and glanced through the peephole. Standing on the other side was a blonde Amazon; her jade green eyes were stunning. He opened the door for the 6’2” beauty. It wasn’t a doubt that she was a Goddess, with her tanned, smooth skin. She wasn’t much older than him, maybe four years at the most, and she was in her senior year at UNC.

“Hello, Jermaine,” she said politely.

He stepped back and opened the door wider. His heart began to pound uncontrollably. She stepped over the threshold and he closed the door behind her. He turned and met her lustful stare. The kiss she gave him was unexpected.

She was only supposed to be there to tutor him. Her name was Misty, the granddaughter of the governor of North Carolina. Her father was an attorney at a huge law firm in Charlotte, and her mother owned a chain of restaurants on the east and west coasts. And this was something her family wouldn’t approve of.

There she dropped to her knees and removed his soft penis from his shorts and boxers. She kissed it, hugged it, and shoved it in her mouth to meet her wet tongue. He grew large and hard in her mouth.

She looked up at him with those dazzling eyes as he came in her mouth. She massaged his scrotum but never took her eyes away from his.

A loud knock came from the other side of the door. Jermaine gave a bewildered look. He wasn’t expecting company and didn’t have a clue who it was.

*****

Several hours later, Summer was in Bookie’s arms in their master bedroom in Columbia County, when their private line rang. Bookie had in a pair of earplugs watching the Color Purple on a seventy-inch flat screen. He didn’t hear the phone, but Summer did. She stirred a little.

“The phone’s ringing,” she whispered.

When he saw her lips moving, he removed the earpiece and heard it himself. He leaned over and answered it.

“Hello.”

A frown appeared across his face when he heard the operator from the North Carolina County Jail. He pressed the intercom button after the call was accepted.

“Whuzzup, Twin?” Bookie asked.

Thunder clapped outside, and Summer jumped. Her eyes opened suddenly when she heard her son’s voice emerging through the speaker.

“A female friend came over. Her father had her followed by a detective or some shit. Anyway, they got me charged with kidnapping and rape.”

Summer felt a knot in her stomach, and it took her a few seconds to get control of herself. She sat up and rubbed her eyes.

“Who was the girl?”

“Misty,” he said, then added, “But she tried to tell them what happened. It’s the detective that’s pushing the issue.”

“White girl?”  Summer asked.

“Yes, ma’am, but it ain’t like that.”

“Now do you see how easy it is to get caught up in bullshit?  This is the type of shit y’all got to watch for in the future. Everybody is out for a dollar, Jermaine.” She ran her fingers through her hair and took a deep breath. “Hold tight until first thing in the morning. You’ll be out then.” 

She hung up. Bookie faced her, looking at her with a deadly stare.

“You did that shit?”

She snuggled up against him and pulled the covers up to her shoulders. Then she shrugged. “Some people don’t believe what you tell them, and you have to give them a real-life situation. No pressure. No stress. No pain. No gain.”

Bookie flipped the covers off and got out of bed.

“You takin’ shit too serious,” he said before leaving the room.

Summer waved him off as if she didn’t care. She relaxed herself and opened her legs. Her left hand went into her silk bikini panties, and she fingered herself until she came.

Mrs. Diane was indeed getting older, but she damn sure took good care of herself. Summer made sure she had the best of the best, including doctors and even her personal live-in nurse. Her house was situated on four acres of land in Columbia County. Lil’ Danté and Alisa lived with her. Lil’ Danté was still boxing, and Alisa was focused on school. She wanted to be a computer programmer, but Summer wanted her to do something on a political level.

Inside the house, Lil’ Danté brought in a huge cake with sixty-something candles blazing. He knew his grandmother wouldn’t be able to blow them all out, but he would help her. He loved Mrs. Diane, who he called Big Mama, and would do anything she asked. The living room was crowded with friends and family. Lil’ Danté had invited his friends, Summer invited a lot of business associates, and so did Bookie. Red Bone was there, also, looking stunning as ever. Everybody brought gifts. The twins came too, both with girls on their arms. Diamond wasn’t about to let Jeremy get away. She was casually dressed and wore loose-fitting clothes. They all sang happy birthday and blew out the candles. Then it was time for Mrs. Diane to take her nap.

Summer walked Mrs. Diane to her room and tucked her in. Then she sat on the bed next to her mother and softly rubbed the side of her face.

“It’s been a while since we just sat and talked,” Summer whispered, avoiding eye contact with her mother.

Summer felt her mother’s trembling hands. She turned and looked in her eyes.

“I always knew you were gonna make it.”

Summer smiled and nearly lay in the bed next to Mrs. Diane. She kissed her mother’s cheek and said, “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Mrs. Diane’s eyes turned teary. She gently patted Summer’s hand and her bottom lip began to tremble. “I love you, baby.”

Summer tried desperately to hold her composure, but she began to experience dry heaving and just let it all out. Her heart had ached for so many years. She cried like a baby and hugged her mother.

Mrs. Diane closed her eyes. She was tired now and Summer knew it. She kissed her mother again, this time on the lips.

Mrs. Diane was gone. She died in her daughter’s arms.

*****

After the funeral, it was business as usual for Summer; but with her kids, it was a different story. The twins took it hard, but they knew they had to give their younger brother and sister a strong shoulder to lean on. However, Lil’ Danté was focused on an issue just as severe as his grandmother’s death.

Two weeks earlier, the same night of Mrs. Diane’s birthday and death, Lil’ Danté had his dog, a trained Persian Canary, in the garage checking his teeth and gums. He’d grown antisocial and in a short time. Something really wasn’t clicking in Lil’ Danté’s head. His mentality was different, and rap music had a serious influence over him. He wanted to sell drugs because he’d heard about his mother and Bookie and his father Danté and his uncle Rodney. His years in boxing had helped him develop his deadly attitude. He used his muscle and boxing face in school to get the attention he wanted.

He glanced around the dimly-lit garage. There was a tool shelf to his right. He went to it, removed a small toolbox, sat it on the concrete floor, and opened it. Inside were twin Glock .40’s with four extended clips, a pair of black gloves, a ski mask, and a thin custom-made vest that could be worn underneath a t-shirt. This was just part of his arsenal. There were more weapons buried on their property, and it would be only a matter of time before he used them. He was sixteen now, and to him, he was grown and a force to be reckoned with.

Today, he and Bookie rode alone in a black 2005 Yukon listening to Sade’s “Cherish the Day”. They turned into the Augusta Mall parking lot. Bookie was driving, lost in his own thoughts but slowly bobbing his head. The parking lot was crowded. Bookie lit up a cigarillo, looked at Lil’ Danté, and blew smoke towards him.