Authors: Tracy Brown
Jamari was seething. He hated Born, because he was a constant reminder that there was always someone better than him. Jamari remembered how he had started getting respect only when he came around his peers wearing Born's clothes, rocking Born's jewelry. Jamari had respect for Born, but wanted that same successâwanted those same things for himself. He always got the things he wanted, eventually. But by then
Born would be two steps ahead of him, and always did shit bigger and better. Jamari remembered when he started bringing pretty, light-skinned girls around the way, and he was the man for a minute. Having a light-skinned girl with long hair was a badge of honor in the hood back then. But then Born came through with Jada. And she wasn't even all that light-skinned. But she was bad as hell, and she shut all the other bitches in their circle down. Jamari got an Audi, and Born got a Benz. Jamari rented a house, and Born bought one. Jamari hated the feeling he got whenever Born was aroundâthe feeling that he was never the best. Never quite number one, as long as Born was on the scene. Everywhere he went niggas gave him respect. But Born still treated him like a shorty, and he was a grown-ass man. The truth of Jamari's animosity toward Born had yet to surface, and he never revealed to Wizz his true motivation for hating Born as much as he did.
Not realizing that he was speaking aloud, as he peered out the shop windows at the passersby, Jamari said, “Fuck that nigga. I ain't no shorty no more. Things ain't sweet like they used to be.”
Pulling his card, the old man in his fifties said, “Yeah, nigga. You talk all that shit now that the muthafucka's gone. Ten minutes ago, you was quiet as a fuckin' church mouse.”
The shop was filled with laughter, as everyone fell out at Jamari's expense. Wizz shook his head, as Jamari stormed out. Their laughter filled his ears as he left, and headed for Jada's house.
Jamari arrived at Jada's house, and she could sense right away that he was upset about something. He seemed uptight. He sat down and explained to her that he'd just had an argument with Born at the barbershop. He told Jada that he had defended her, while Born spoke about her like she was a disease.
Jada's heart beat rapidly. “What did he say about me?”
Jamari seemed not to want to tell her. But she pleaded with him until he gave in, and told her his version of the day's events. “He said that you're a dirty crackhead.” Jamari watched Jada's expression change, and he continued. “He started talking about how you were wild in bed, and all the sexual things he used to do with you. He was on some real disrespectful
shit. He said you were his leftovers, and that he already used you up. He called you a bitch. The nigga was talking about you like you was some ho in the street, with all them niggas in the barbershop laughing at you, and shit. I defended you, though.”
Jamari watched Jada wipe the tears that fell from her eyes. He knew that she still had love for Born, and knew that she was holding out hope that he would take her back one day. But Jamari saw Jada as a pawn, and he manipulated her as such. He walked over toward her and wiped her eyes. He kissed her softly on her nose, and held out his hand to her. When she reached for it, there was a vial of crack in his palm. Jada snatched her hand back as if she'd just stuck her hand in some fire. She looked at Jamari, questioningly.
“Go ahead and take it,” he said. “I'm not gonna judge you. I know you smoke. My moms smoked also. So I understand. I'm not here to pass judgment. All of us have our bad habits. I got mine, and Born got his, too. He judges you, but I don't. Go ahead and take it. I got you.”
Jada stared at Jamari, feeling two things. She was hurt because of Born's cruel words against her. She had thought that Born was her soul mate, and he had spoken about her as if she was a stranger to him. That hurt. She was also wondering what kind of man Jamari was. True, she
was
smoking crack again. But Jada wasn't accustomed to a man who would just give it to her and encourage her to get high. Only Mr. Charlie had done that, and he had turned out to be a snake. Still, the pain of what Born had said about her needed numbing, and Jada took the crack from Jamari. She watched his reaction, but he simply sat there and sparked a blunt filled with weed, and smoked it. Jamari got high off of hydro, while Jada got high off of crack. Jada felt relieved that she did not have to hide, and that she could let her guard down around Jamari. As her mind swirled around in a haze, Jamari reminded her over and over to be herself. He assured her that she could be who she was around him, that he didn't want her to change like Born wanted her to.
Jada had sex with Jamari for the first time that night. He took his time, and seemed to enjoy every moment. Jada was disconnected, and to her it felt empty. There was no emotion in it at all for her, other than
sadness that Born had turned on her so viciously. She disappeared inside of herself, as she had done countless times when she was a prostitute. Jada let Jamari explore her body, and she finally accepted that it was over between her and Born. She thought that she just might find happiness with Jamari, if she gave him a real chance.
After that day, every time he came to see her he had crack for her. She appreciated Jamari's openness and his acceptance. She misinterpreted it as love. Jada lost some weight, but maintained her sexy curves. She had few outward signs of her addiction, other than her dwindling bank account balance. Jamari was proud to be seen with her, and the two of them went out all the time. At first she would hope to run into Born, so that he could see how well she was doing without him. But soon she heard that Born had met an unexpected twist of fate.
Two days passed after Born argued with Jamari and Wizz in the barbershop. He went about his business, as usual. But he longed more than ever to talk to Dorian. He missed his boy, and was consumed with guilt. He still felt like he was the one to blame for Dorian's death, and he wished that he could go back to the fateful moment and change his actions. He never would have taken his eyes off Raquel. Never would have let her get inside the house. Born felt responsible for Sunny not having Dorian to depend on, and for their daughter not having a father. In short, he missed his friend. He wondered where Sunny was, and he wished she was around to tell Jada to leave Jamari alone. Sunny had all but disappeared after Dorian's death, and he hadn't even seen his friend's little baby girl.
Over those two days, Born thought about how life had changed so much for him. Dorian was gone, and so was Sunny and the baby. Jada was a thing of the past, and even his childhood cronies were no longer as close to him as they'd once been. He knew that, despite the civil nature of their relationship, Martin still didn't particularly like the fact that Born had done his own thing, and left the crew behind. In Martin's mind, Born had been selfish, keeping all his connections to himself, while his former crew was left struggling to keep up.
Born felt alone for the first time in his life. It really was lonely at the top. It was nice having Anisa around. But she was someone who didn't
know his story. And he didn't have the energy to share it all with her. She didn't know him the way that Jada had. The sex was good, and her conversation stimulated him. For these reasons alone, he kept her around, and she became the new lady in his life. Somehow, he still felt a longing in his heart for the life he once had. He had had it all. A great best friend and mentor, a lovely lady on his arm whom he loved with all his heart, and an enterprise no one could penetrate. And in the blink of an eye it had all gone away. All but his hustle, and that was what he focused on. His days were spent making moves and taking risks, trying to maintain his hold in the streets. He spent his evenings with Anisa, though his mind wandered to what used to be.
He awoke one morning, and left Anisa at home asleep while he went to the store. He planned to drive a few blocks to the convenience store on Victory Boulevard. But as soon as he pulled out of the driveway and onto the street, he was surrounded on all sides by dark vehicles, and cops started jumping out. He knew what was up, and he put his hands up as the cops closed in and opened his car door, removing him from the vehicle. “Don't move, Marquis!” He was amazed that they knew his government name. From that alone, he figured that they had done their homework. Either that, or they'd been tipped off. He didn't resist, didn't say a word as they read him his rights, and showed him the search warrant. They wasted no time searching both the house and his car. He said nothing, and neither did Anisa, as they led her out of the house in pajamas, and put her in the back of a squad car while they searched the house. Born heard them asking her where she was from and how she knew him. But she didn't answer their questions, and they got frustrated, and left her sitting in the back of the squad car half dressed, while they searched the house with police dogs.
Soon the cops emerged with smiles on their faces, and Born knew they had found the small amount of drugs he had stashed in the kitchen canister. His suspicions were confirmed when he heard one officer say to another, “Got him! We got him!” It was only about ten bags of white powder. Not enough to hit him with twenty to life, but still enough to make his heart sink. Born had never been one to keep the bulk of his
drugs where he rested his head. The few bags he had in his residence were nothing compared to what they could have caught him with. He wasn't too concerned, but he also didn't want to get his hopes up that things would work in his favor, when he knew it was quite possible that they might not. He watched his neighbors come out and shake their heads at him, as if they'd known all along that he was unfit for their suburban neighborhood.
He looked through the police car window as they drove him to the precinct. He spoke not a word until he arrived and was processed. Born was booked, fingerprinted, and put in a cell. He called his mother and explained the situation. She promised to be in court in the morning to see what the deal was. Born instructed her to get in contact with Grant Keys, the attorney from Dorian's crew. He asked her to explain what had happened and to see if there was anything Grant could do to help. Ingrid told Born not to worry, that she had everything under control. After talking to her Born felt a lot better. The police questioned him for hours that night. They wanted to charge him with conspiracy, but with no coconspirators that was impossible. For once, Born was glad that he had no partners, no team. The detectives who questioned him didn't seem convinced that he worked alone. They kept asking him about Brooklynâwho were his connections from Brooklyn? Instantly, he thought of Jamari and wondered if he'd stooped low enough to rat him out. How else would they know as much as they did? But thankfully, they didn't know enough. In order to prove conspiracy, they needed people to say that they worked with him. They didn't have that, and they couldn't get him to talk. Born was mute as they barraged him with questions, insults, and accusations.
Finally, at two o'clock in the morning, they returned him to his cell. Born settled in for the night, refusing to worry too much. But all the while he was wondering what was going on. How had they caught up to him out of the blue like this? Had somebody tipped them off? Over and over he replayed his argument with Jamari and Wizz in his head. He wondered if one of them had dropped dime on him, and realized that it was a very likely scenario. He wondered how Anisa was holding up under
all the pressure, and wished that there was some way that he could talk to her.
With very little sleep, Born awoke the next morning to face his destiny. Hours passed before he was finally called to the courtroom, with Anisa standing nervously beside him. He looked at her and nodded reassuringly. Then he scanned the courtroom until he found his mother's face. She winked at him, and Born felt more at ease. Beside her sat Grant Keys and Born smiled, happy to see his face. The judge and D.A. went through their formalities while Born's attorney pled his case. Marc Burnett was the finest criminal attorney in the borough, and Born had chosen him to represent both him and Anisa. When all was said and done, despite the prosecutor's attempts to have bail set at ridiculous amounts, the judge asserted that such desperate measures were unnecessary. Born's bail was set at five thousand dollars, and Anisa was released on her own recognizance. Born glanced at his mother on the way out, and smiled triumphantly. Within an hour both he and Anisa were free to go.
When he was released Born eagerly greeted Grant outside the courtroom. Born told Grant that his attorney was urging him to take the five-year deal that was being offered, since the prosecution was willing to drop all charges against Anisa in exchange for Born pleading guilty. With good behavior, he could be home in three years. Grant assured him that he could do better than that. He told Born that he had a relationship with the judge who was presiding over his case.
“How do you think you got such a low bail?” he asked, smiling. “Give me a chance to go back and talk to him in his chambers, and I'll see what I can do about the deal you're being offered.” Seeing the look of relief on Born's face, Grant decided not to let him get his hopes up. “Yo, Born, there's a big probability that you're gonna have to do
some
time. Hopefully, it won't be nearly as much as Burnett said they're offering you now. But he's gotta give you some type of penalty because of the nature of the crime.”
Born nodded and stuck his hands in his pocket. He looked at Grant. “Somebody ratted me out, didn't they?” he asked.
Grant nodded. “I'm told it was a confidential informant. They called
in an anonymous tip from a pay phone at the Staten Island Ferry terminal.”
Born shook his head, knowing that if he saw Jamari or Wizz he would kill them for snitching. Fucking cowards! Seeing the fury on Born's face, Grant put his hand on his shoulder reassuringly. “I'll get back to you about your plea offer, but don't get your hopes up too high. I'll do the best I can.” Born shook his friend's hand, grateful that Dorian had exposed him to such valuable connections.