Eastside (21 page)

“That's why you in the trouble you in now!” she shouted as she headed toward Tamika and Travon.

“Tre, I'm pregnant, don't be mad!” Tamika blurted out. “Pretend like you been knowin'. Please.”

Travon was stunned into silence. The woman approached.

“Excuse me, young man, but I presume that you are the one responsible for my daughter's condition?” she asked.

Travon nodded. “Yes, ma'am.”

“Well, what do you suppose we do about it? My daughter is trying to get into Spelman, but now she is six months' pregnant. It's too late to terminate the pregnancy, so I would like to know what your plan is.”

Travon remained silent.

“That's what I thought,” the woman told him, nodding her head. “Are your parents home, and may I speak with them?”

Chicken walked down the porch steps and approached the woman. “Hello, I am Cynthia Robinson, and you are?” She extended her hand toward the woman. Her hand was ignored.

“Mrs. Johnson,” Tamika's mother replied. “Are you this young man's mother?”

Chicken pulled her hand back, dropping it to her side. “No, but I am his aunt and legal guardian.”

“Well, your nephew has ruined my daughter's life. He has gotten her pregnant and I want to know what we are going to do about it.” Mrs. Johnson pointed at Travon. “Did you ever think to teach him about safe sex?”

Chicken reeled.

“Excuse me, ma'am, but what I teach him is none of your business. I am well aware that Tamika is pregnant,” Chicken lied. “Now since there is nothing that we can do to change that, I suggest we move on.”

Mrs. Johnson placed her hand on her hip. “Well, that's easy for you to say, your daughter isn't the one who's pregnant by some hoodlum!” She pointed toward herself. “I'm the one that's going to be stuck raising that child, not you! So all of that ‘move on' shit ain't gonna cut it. I want answers!”

Chicken placed one hand on her hip and lifted her other hand, sticking her finger into Mrs. Johnson's face. “Look, bitch! My nephew ain't no God damned hoodlum. If you want to see a hoodlum, you just keep talking crazy to me. Now, you want to talk about values, and how I raise Tre, and what I teach him? Well, in case you didn't know, it takes two to tango. It looks to me like you ain't been doing too good of a job at teaching yourself. Especially since you the one standing up here whining about your daughter being pregnant.”

Chicken pointed toward Tamika. “Now what you need to do is stop telling this child that her life is ruined, because it's not. She can still go to college and be whatever the hell it is that she wants to be. As far as taking care of the baby, you don't have to worry about that. I'll be glad to take the child off of your hands and give it all of the love and affection it needs.”

Chicken stuck her finger in Mrs. Johnson's face again. “Now, since you want answers, let me give you one last piece of advice. If I were you, I'd get my fat ass back in that Caddy and drive off, before I got whipped.”

Chicken turned toward Tamika and placed her hands on her shoulders. “Anything you need; money, diapers, milk, a ride, a place to stay, anything, you just call me. You go to college, you study hard, and you make something of yourself, you hear me? It's not the end of your life, it's the beginning. You are just starting the most wonderful part of your life off early. But don't let anyone tell you that your life is ruined. I was sixteen when I had my first child. I was able to enjoy my children, grow with them, and be real close to them. I went back and finished high school, and then I went to college. I got my degree in nursing, I own my own home, and my life is far from being over.”

Chicken pulled Tamika close and embraced her tightly. “Congratulations and good luck, baby.”

Mrs. Johnson grabbed Tamika's arm, pulled her away from Chicken, and stormed off to her car. Tamika turned and smiled at Travon.

“Call me!” she shouted.

Travon nodded.

Tamika and her mother climbed into the car, and pulled away. Chicken turned, walked up the porch steps and stopped just at the front door.

“Tre, honey,” Chicken called back to him.

“Huh?”

“Come inside with me so I can kick your ass.”

“Huh?”

Aunt Vera's House
Weeks Later

“We smashing deep, Blood,” Winky exclaimed.

“Hell muthafuckin' yeah!” Omar agreed.

“Did anybody pick up the Ks from Fro-Dog?” Caesar asked.

Lil Daddy nodded. “Tre did that last night.”

“What we smashin' in?” Omar inquired.

“Let's smash in our black Dickie suits with the red BSV T-shirts over them,” Lil Daddy suggested. “The shirts with Blood Stone Villains on the back in big, black, old English letters.”

“What are them Crabs wearin?” Winky asked. “We gots to look cleaner than them muthafuckas.”

“They probably gonna wear some black Dickies with them royal-blue T-shirts that gots
Every Thang Goes
on the back of 'em,” Caesar answered.

“Then let's smash in those brand-new burgundy Dickie suits we bought the other day,” Winky suggested.

“Hell yeah!” Omar agreed. “That shit a look sweet. We just gotta tell the homies where to go buy them.”

“Anyway, back to them Crabs, did anybody hear what's up for tonight?” Caesar asked.

Lil Daddy nodded. “Yeah, Darius said that Big Mike called Big Pimpin and they agreed on a truce for the concert, the afterparty, and everything else, all the way up until twelve o'clock tomorrow afternoon.”

“Dejuan called Missy at her beauty shop and told her to tell Big Pimpin and Lil Bling that they want to call off the pistol play for tonight too,” Omar added.

Winky peered around the yard. “Where'd Tre disappear to?”

“Yeah, baby, it's cool,” Travon said into the receiver. “Yeah, two more months until Lil Tre is born.”

“What did your aunt say about us staying with her?” Tamika asked. “Have you even talked to her about it?”

“Yeah, I talked to my auntie; she said of course we can come and stay with her,” Travon replied. “Well, me and the baby can go and stay with her, and you can stay with us during your summer breaks and during the holidays and stuff.”

“Boy, you don't know how to take care of a baby,” Tamika told him. “I'll bet you can't even change a diaper.”

“I do know how to take care of a baby,” Travon told her. “And yes I do know how to change a diaper.”

“And when he cries at night?” Tamika asked. “Who's going to get up with him?”

“I'll get up with him,” Travon told her. “Tamika, quit tripping. You're worrying too much. Look, I'm a come by and holler at you later, okay?”

“Okay.” Tamika exhaled. “I'll see you later. Love you.”

“Yeah,” Travon replied. “I love you too.”

Travon placed the telephone back into its cradle, rose from the couch, and walked out onto the porch. “Where's Marcus?”

“Him and Romeo went with Robert Jr. to take Darius to pick up his new ride,” Lil Daddy told him.

“Damn. Well, y'all wanna ride with me?” Travon asked. “I got to go to the Courts and get something.”

Caesar stood. “What the fuck are you going to the Courts for? Nigga, is you crazy?”

Travon shook his head. “Naw, we sneaking in the back way. I'm a run in and pass y'all something through the window of my momma's house. If she ain't there, then I'm a run in and run right back out.”

“What are you going to get?” Winky asked.

Travon turned and peered off into the distance. “I'ma get my Street Sweeper.”

That Night

The Concert

“Damn, everybody is here,” Marcus exclaimed.

“I feel naked without my strap,” Darius told them.

Travon walked in behind them. “Yep, they searching us, but they ain't searching the broads. I sent Romeo back to tell the girls. They gonna bring in all of the straps. Poison brought her big Dooney bag. She gonna try to get my Sweeper in.”

Travon shook his head and laughed. “That girl is crazy.”

“Trust me, we are gonna need all of the firepower that we can get in here if something jumps off,” Darius told them. “You know that this is Tweetie's club, so all of them WCG's is strapped. He probably brought they shit in for them this afternoon when he opened the club up.”

The music inside was almost deafening. Though the club was rated to hold sixteen hundred people, it was clearly over its capacity by at least half that much. People were everywhere.

The majority of the club's patrons were wearing some sort of clothing indicative of their gang affiliation, but a few had dared to dress up for the occasion. There were people dancing, carrying drinks and mingling, while many others were seated around one of the massive bars. Many were seated at tables that were spread throughout the establishment.

“There go the homies over there,” Darius announced, pointing at a massive sea of red across the room. He and the rest of his entourage made their way across the crowded room.

“What's up, Blood?” Lil Fade shouted, as he and Capone embraced.

“What's up, Darius?” Suga nodded.

Darius returned Suga's acknowledgment and the two pretended to be friendly.

“What that Blood Stone Villain be like?” a familiar voice shouted from behind.

The boys turned. It was Fro-Dog, Big Pimpin, Bull, Lil Bling, and an entourage of about fifty plus. As the night progressed their numbers continued to grow, as did everyone else's. Soon, a drink arrived at the table. The girl delivering the drink caught everyone's eye. She wore a formfitting bodysuit beneath a pair of high-cut Daisy Duke shorts, and her hair was styled in a short pixie cut. Her curvaceous figure made all the boys go silent. She pointed.

“It's from that boy over there,” she told them. “He says that it's for Big Pimpin.”

The Bloods turned and stared. There was a massive crowd of ETGs across the room. Seated at the center table amongst them, were Big Mike, Michael Vay, Lil BK, Half Dead, C-Low, and Mike-Mike. Big Mike lifted his glass in a toast toward Big Pimpin, and then sipped from it. Big Pimpin raised his glass and did the same.

“What the fuck's that supposed to mean?” asked Suga.

Big Pimpin turned to Charlie. “Say, Charlie, go to the bar and send Big Mike a drink. Tell the waitress to tell him that it's from me. Since he sent me a Blue Hawaiian, send his ass a Blood Mary.”

Soon, the concert began. The lesser groups performed first, and did quite well. The entire crowd was pumped up, on its feet, waiting raucously for the main artist to perform. Finally, DJ Slick made his appearance.

The rapper taunted the crowd, and performed his act flawlessly. The entire crowd was whipped into a festive frenzy. The rapper's entourage soon got into the act, and began to throw gang signs into the air with their fingers. They repeatedly formed the symbols for Treetop Piru and a few other Blood gangs as well. The atmosphere inside the club quickly reached a crescendo. And then the alcohol took over.

“Fuck Crabs! Fuck Crabs! Fuck Crabs! Fuck Crabs!” Alonzo, Baby T, Stephon, Dupriest, and a few other WCGs began chanting along with the music.

“What did you say?” Half-Dead asked Alonzo.

“Nigga, I said fuck Crabs!” Alonzo answered with an intoxicated slur. “Now what's up? It's Wheatley Courts on mines!”

“Nigga, fuck Wheatley Courts!” Dupriest shouted.

A shoving match ensued, quickly elevating itself into a full-blown fist fight. Travon grabbed Poison and immediately headed for the exit. Romeo, Marcus, Winky, and Precious followed.

Chairs began flying through the air. DJ Slick was struck in the head and members of his entourage were quickly pulled off of the stage and beaten. People began fleeing, and panic engulfed the entire club.

Travon made it out of the door and led Poison around the side of the building. They stood just around the corner and watched for their friends and relatives. He removed her large bag from off of her shoulder, placed it on the ground, and quickly removed his Street Sweeper from it.

People were storming out of the club; many were trampled. Then gunfire erupted inside.

Darius, Capone, and Charlie ran out together, holding their weapons in the air. They quickly scrambled into the parking lot and melted into the darkness. More gunfire erupted inside, and people began screaming.

“Fuck!” Travon shouted. “Where are they?” He was desperate to find Omar, Caesar, Antwon, and Cibon. Soon, he spied C-Low, Slow Poke, and RJ running from the parking lot, back toward the club. The gunfire inside of the club was almost continuous now.

Several people ran out of the club, including DJ Slick. The rapper happened to be running out of the club amidst a group of burnt-orange T-shirts, and as a result was next to Baby T when C-Low lifted his shotgun and blew Baby T's face off. The rapper's face and clothing were covered with blood and brain tissue. He ran past Travon screaming.

Travon turned to Poison. “Wasn't he just rapping all of that gangsta shit?”

Together they laughed.

Slow Poke lifted his shotgun and began firing into the fleeing crowd. A red shirt fell and Travon's heart skipped a beat. Robert Jr. walked calmly out of the club and up to RJ, and put a bullet in RJ's face at point-blank range. Cibon, Antwon, Caesar, and Omar ran out of the club together, firing their weapons. Red shirts, blue shirts, orange shirts, and black shirts were all falling.

“Over here, Blood!” Travon shouted. “BSVs!”

The cousins made an all-out sprint toward Travon.

C-Low, now finished reloading his shotgun, lifted it and took aim at Omar. Travon, unable to fire at C-Low because his cousins were in the way, shouted and waved his arms.

“Look out!” Travon shouted. “Behind you!”

Lil Daddy ran out of the club firing rapidly. He held a weapon in each hand, and fired both with an adroitness that was almost uncanny. C-Low shifted his weapon toward Lil Daddy, but a massive crowd rushed by and subsequently bore the brunt of C-Low's shotgun blast. C-Low quickly pumped his gauge again, but Lil Daddy was lost in the crowd. Furious, C-Low backed away and descended into the shadows of the parking lot.

“C'mon, Blood, let's go!” Robert Jr. shouted as he, Cibon, Antwon, Caesar, and Omar ran past Travon.

Darius drove up with Marcus, Lil Daddy, Romeo, and Precious inside of his car. “Don't go to the Heights, go to Chicken's,” he told Travon. “The po-po will be all over the Eastside tonight.”

Travon shoved Poison toward the car. “Go with them!”

Poison shook her head.

Travon opened Darius' car door and forced her inside. “It's too dangerous for you to run through the parking lot. Go with them!”

“Be careful, kinfolk!” Darius shouted. He revved his motor and raced off into the night.

Travon bent down, lifted Poison's bag, and ran off into the parking lot toward his car. He spied Robert Jr.'s car pulling away, and sighed with relief. They had all made it.

Travon turned back and examined the club. No one was running out anymore, but there were several people lying on the ground in front of the club, many more lying throughout the nearly empty parking lot. Some were dead, some were dying, and many were severely wounded. Some were Blood, some were Crips, some were WCGs, and some were DOGs, and some were members of other gangs. Gunfire was still erupting sporadically throughout the parking lot and from the nearby highway and surrounding streets. Gun battles were raging all over the area tonight, as people bumped into each other while trying to flee the carnage and get back to their respective neighborhoods.

Travon turned toward his car and spied a burnt-orange shirt standing near it. Another burnt-orange shirt was running toward the first. Travon ducked behind a nearby vehicle, lifted his Street Sweeper and let it roar.

One of the burnt-orange shirts cried out, and the second one grabbed him. They both ducked, and retreated like jackals into the night. They had wisely chosen to not engage the Street Sweeper.

Travon rose and ran to his vehicle. Lying on the ground next to his car where the burnt-orange jackals were gathering, was Slow Poke, a notorious ETG. He was breathing laboriously, bleeding profusely, and holding his stomach. Travon lifted his Street Sweeper and pointed it at the wounded boy.

“Quentin and Tech Nine was about to finish me off. I guess you wanted the pleasure instead, huh?” Slow Poke asked. “Well, go on and handle yo muthafuckin' business! I'm ready to die for the Terrace, nigga!”

“Where's your strap at?” Travon asked.

Slow Poke broke out into laughter. “If I had a strap, do you think Quentin and Tech Nine would have been standing over me? If you're jackin' for straps, then you're shit outta luck, cuz.”

Gunfire erupted nearby and Travon jumped. He turned back toward Slow Poke. “C'mon!”

Travon leaned over and helped Slow Poke to his feet with one hand, while holding his Street Sweeper in his other hand.