The Circle: Rain's Story (2 page)

Each year, the Porter family
would feed and give away dinners and turkeys to the entire neighborhood during Thanksgiving. They brought toys to all the poor and indigent families with children, even getting her brother Dayvid to don a Santa Claus suit and all, right down to the boots and white beard. It wasn’t unusual for her to help and assist the elderly or single mothers who fell on misfortune and pay their rent up for six months or stuff their refrigerators and cabinets with a months’ worth of groceries.

None of her siblings could see her reasoning for doing it
. In fact, it angered them by how often and how much money she spent doing it. But Rain, an avid student of the Laws of the Universe, lover of such strategic and warfare related books like The Art of War and The 48 Laws of Power, knew better.

“In order for you to receive, you must give it away and take care of the neighbor, and they will take care of you when you need them most.”

Well, she certainly needed them now and would commission them. She had well over a dozen stash and safe houses throughout the city and one only five minutes away. She knew that her primary purpose for the coming days was to call up all her money and favors.

East of
Gwynn’s Falls, Rain searched her former neighborhood for a street, dark and desolate. Three blocks away from her destination, she stumbled across the perfect space. A tight spot beneath a towering oak on Edmondson Avenue between a small white Kia SUV and a shiny black Lincoln sedan no doubt belonging to some Old G.

With the exception of the old red rusted pickup parked along the curb on the opposite side of the street, most of the cars parked on that particular block of
Edmondson Avenue were fairly new. It made sense, considering most of the row houses were lived in— unlike the boarded up, abandoned shells on the neighboring streets.

It took three
attempts to parallel park in the space, Rain stepped from the car, only to realize she was too far from the curb. Tempted to start again, momentarily worried the crazy parked Honda would garner attention; she dismissed the notion with a suck of her teeth. Nothing of value inside, she knew she couldn’t keep the truck much longer anyway. Not when it belonged to a corpse, cold and stiff in the morgue.

Tears burned the corners of Rain’s eyes as
reality taunted her. The love of her life was dead, gone, and her siblings arrested. Unable to bear the thought of them being imprisoned, she threw the hoodie to her grey sweatshirt over her head and shoveled her hands inside the pocket. Chewing on the inside of her jaw, something she’d done as far back as she could remember to deny the threat of tears, she headed down the street to her destination—Miss Jackie’s house.

Killing the three blocks with long-legged strides
, as a child, Rain was taught to always park at least a block away from any place she would be bedding overnight; hustlers rule. As she headed to Miss Jackie’s, the rule was even more prevalent today.

An old school prostitute, former hardcore dope fiend and seasoned opportunist, Miss Jackie and Rain’s mom had been best friends since high school. Devastated by the death of her best friend
being killed in a car accident, Miss Jackie turned to drugs.   

*
**

One scorching summer
evening, eleven year old Rain and her twin brother Dayvid stepped off the bus. Crisp and clean in their stone washed denims, fresh white tee and their all-white air force ones, just scooped from the mall with money earned from petty schemes. Their two younger sisters—Fallon and Autumn, dressed in floral, thin strapped rompers trailed in their shadows.

S
hy of seven o’clock, the street leading to their Aunt Rachel’s, their new guardian since their parents’ death swarmed its usual fuss despite the lack of sunlight. Guys loitered by the threes and fours in scattered pockets of the block; smoking and sipping 40’s concealed in brown paper bags.

White cap cocked to the side, Rain
nodded her head toward the corner store. “Yo, I’ma run in here real quick.”

“We want something,” her little sisters chanted in unison.

“Y’all got money, what you telling me for,” Rain teased as she stepped to the side, clearing the path to the store.

“I got y’
all,” Dayvid said, a sucker for all his sisters. 

Stepped from the store, a crowd had formed, watching as
two snot-nosed punks, corner pushers around the same age as Rain and Dayvid out to make a name for themselves, viciously beat a dope fiend with wooden stakes yanked from a fence. Without care, the four Porters bypassed the foolishness, numb to the everyday occurrence of beating crack heads simply because they were dirty and stunk had become recreation.

Cracking the can to her Pepsi, Rain happened to glance toward the chaos. Through holes in the crowd, she caught a glimpse of the dope fiend’s face.

“Y’all that’s Miss Jackie!”

Blood ran from a gash in Miss Jackie’s forehead as she struggled on wobbly legs. Sodas and bags tossed down to the floor, the four Porter’s beat the two fake thugs, leaving them just as bloodied and bruised as Miss Jackie. From that day forth, Miss Jackie had been one of their most trusted.

Flooded with memories of Miss Jackie and the old neighborhood, Rain continued through the dark streets, feeling safe despite the
crack heads and heroin addicts that lurked around in the harrowing darkness, looking to score their next hit. Devastated by crime, decay and neglect, the region was the epitome of urban blight and despair. It was like a ghost town.

Only the poorest of poor
, disenfranchised, called it their home. Surrounding properties were now mere empty buildings or barren lots. Mass row houses doubled as rest havens for addicts or make shift graves of choice for the criminal element as a short stop, or stash house.

This part of town was a jungle. Sad, hopeless and lonely people were the hunters, all in search of their medicine, their drug of choice, crack cocaine, heroin or both.
The habitants, mere shells of their former selves, became slaves to their addiction, trapped under the spell. Women betrayed their children. Men begged to suck another man’s dick, just in hopes of getting one more hit. A drug so insidious, it told their brain that they had to have it no matter the cost. Nothing could stop those on the prowl for the substance that provided them a temporary amnesia, a momentary euphoria, a desperate escape from the reality of their tiny lives. They were on a hunt, 24/7.

Rain walked worry free directly up the block, passing one dilapidated row house after the next, and squadrons of zombie-like junkies, all promising her they could direct her to the best dope on the block.
She ignored all of them, until she found building 215.

A few young boys, drug dealers, sat scattered about on the stoop, corners and curb side, all surrounding areas of the fragile, decrepit homes as the quasi organized grou
p, mounted at strategic level, visual, to ward off law enforcement or rivals getting the jump on them.

The ruffian looking group
of young hard heads became heedful and took notice of the unfamiliar dark figure approaching them, and became on guard. The youngest dealer, no more than thirteen, with a clear chip on his shoulder and blood lust gumption to prove himself to the older boys in his crew, spoke first while pulling out a black baby Eagle 9 mm.

“Who the fuck is this gu
mp rolling up on us and shit?”   

Face hidden
by her gray hoodie, undisturbed by their presence, Rain secured her finger on the trigger of her own gun, purging forth. In a uniformed show of force, five of the hoppers stood grim-faced, fortifying her from entering the building.

The young dealer, frenzied by the moment, pointed his weapon upward, directly toward Rain’s face and growled
.

“
Nigga, you bout to get a hit on that body if you don’t back the fuck up. What the fuck you want yo?”

Calmly,
Rain removed the hoodie from over her head revealing her face. They recognized her instantly, some of them. The ones who didn’t know her knew she was not someone to fuck with from the mean, wolf-like scowl that riddled her face. But the black tear drop below her eye was unmistakable mark of a veteran killer.

Either out of ignorance or stupid youthful vigor, t
he wiry man-child still felt compelled to stand his ground and shrugged. “Oh shit, this a dope fiend dyke bitch yo.”

Huge mistake. Unknown to the boy, his crew
behind him faces turned flush, as they stood in stunned silence, knowing their young brethren made a fatal miscalculation by calling King Dayvid’s twin sister “
a dope fiend dyke bitch.
”

In a deathly sense of urgency, the leader of the crew nervously informed the boy
while lowering the uninformed arm with the weapon in it. “Yo, Frog, fall the fuck back, that’s people right there yo.” 

The boy still had a fight in him
and was ready to question his boss, until he caught a glimpse of indisputable fear on his face, and gulped when he saw the rest of his crew walking as quickly as possible away from the scene, ensuring they had no part of it. Rain stared down upon the little boy with her savage, grim eyes, and then proceeded up the concrete stairs. But the thug in her just couldn’t let it go, Street Law.

They watched the tall girl stop short, then tu
rn around and waved to the both of them to come up the stairs towards her. They obediently followed her instruction, as the older boy pushed the boy called Frog hastily from behind, putting him involved in the mix. Standing before her, both boys eyed the ground, fearing to look her in the eyes.

“You know who I am?” Rain demanded to know.

Without hesitation, the older boy lifted his head and answered in a timid solemn tone.               “Yeah, you are one of the Porters. King Dayvid’s sister.”

The young boy suddenly realized the magnitude of his mistake and began to lose control of his legs
and his bowels at the mention of the Porter name and King Dayvid.

Rain grew disgusted at the sight of them, and honestly wanted to shoot them both in the face to release
the raging angst already in her. She opted against it, and curled her lips and ordered, “Run what you got in your pockets yo.”

Both boys didn’t hesitate to follow her orders, searching desperately in each of
their pockets handing her mounds of money. When they finished, Rain growled at them both and said, “This block is off limit to y’all for twenty four hours. Now get the fuck outta here and take this lil bastard with you.”

The young boy never saw it coming, as Rain lifted
her foot and kicked him square in his chest. Backwards he fell head first off the stoop. The older boy didn’t even bother to help him up off the ground and took off running, waving to his whole crew to leave the block.

Rain watched their retreating backs, then noticed all t
he drug addicts, stood idly by, all eyes glued, watching the entire while. She looked at the marsh of money in her hand and tossed it upward in the air, then watched them scramble with the reflexes of a cat, submerging upon the fallen cash.

CHAPTER 2

When Rain got to the second floor, the door to
Miss Jackie’s apartment was already opened, welcoming her in. Miss Jackie was a sharp individual, very aware of what was happening in her surroundings. She had to be. She was in a war zone.

The
wood floor squeaked, a sign of age despite their flawless appearance. Rain felt a sense of calm as she closed the door behind her. Miss Jackie was the only person alive that could tell them about their earliest childhood and fond memories of their parents.

Not long after her
parent’s death, Miss Jackie took it badly and turned to drugs. Strung out, Rain and her siblings always respected her, no matter how low she got. No matter how many times she came to them for money, they honored her request without question. Clean for the past decade thanks to Rain, Dayvid, Fallon and Autumn, who sent her to a drug treatment center out of their own pockets, and been clean ever since.

The aroma of fresh coffe
e wafted the air as she entered the sparse, yet clean lived room. The apartment was silent and Miss Jackie was in her room, giving her time to settle in, without disturbance or questions. That’s what she admired about her old friend, who they put in and allowed her to take over the apartment when she was homeless and they bought their first house in Baltimore County. They paid up her rent for up to a year at a time, until she got off of drugs and on her feet. They did this because she held a special place in their hearts; she was their mother’s best friend growing up. She knew how to play her position and minded her own business.

When Rain unlocked and entered the back bedroom,
she closed the door behind her and locked it. She glanced across her old bedroom that she still maintained and occupied from time to time for well over ten years now, and found it exactly as she left it last.

The room smelled sweet, floral, like lavender and jasmine from the plug-in
. A glow from the outside lamp peeked through the blinds and offered the room a hint of light. After she surveyed the bedroom, satisfied everything was still intact, she counted off five steps, and used her foot and tapped the floor. Slowly, and ever so gently, she unfolded the throw rug, exposing a floor safe with an invisible fishing reel type trip wire attached to it. Lightly following it along the base of the wall, and under the queen-sized bed she detached it from the hand grenade it was rigged to.