White Lines (19 page)

Smitty also had his reservations about just letting him walk away without question. “How you gonna leave us behind, Born? So you made some connections, and now you wanna use that shit for your own personal gain, and fuck us? That’s how it is?”

Born shook his head. “I ain’t leaving nobody behind. All I’m saying is that I got a plan. Y’all don’t seem like you wanna listen to my plan or come along with me. I’m out here day and night, hustling my ass off. Y’all muthafuckas is sitting up in the house getting high and fucking mad bitches. That’s all good. But there’s a time for that. We supposed to get money first and celebrate later. I’m tired of trying to convince y’all niggas that there’s too much dough out there for us to get lazy now.”

“So now we’re lazy!” Smitty said, frowning.

Born laughed. “I expected you to side with your brother—”

“This ain’t got nothing to do with me agreeing with my brother. This shit is about keeping the crew together. We’re supposed to be a team,” he reminded Born.

Chance chimed in. “You’re being selfish, Born.”

“How am I being selfish?” Born couldn’t believe they were acting like a bunch of fucking kids.

“You know that we depend on you for certain shit,” Chance explained. “Martin is the muscle. Me and Smitty, we do a lot of the field-work. We got our own positions to play. But you’re the brains behind a
lot of what we do. So if you leave, you’re taking away a vital part of our success by leaving.”

Born respected Chance’s honesty. Martin wasn’t as diplomatic.

“You
cant
leave,” he said, emphatically. “Period. I’m not gonna stand for that shit. I will rob you
every single day
if you leave the crew, nigga. I mean that shit. Every time I see you, Γ ma take what you got, and that’s my word.” Martin glared at Born, daring him to challenge him.

Born stood there with a grin on his face, listening to his childhood friend tell him that he was gonna rob him every day rather than watch him get money by himself. Martin’s words infuriated Born, because he felt that not only was he being challenged in front of their whole crew, but Martin was ignoring the fact that no one else was pulling their weight the way that Born was. “I’m not worried about that,” Born said. He wasn’t intimidated by Martin’s role as the “muscle” of the crew. Born had plenty of muscle of his own. Besides his broad chest and muscular build, Born had two guns in his waistband as Martin made his threat. It was winter time at one o’clock in the morning. No one was around but the four of them. If he wanted to, Born could have made Martin a memory for threatening him in that way. But knowing that his friend was emotional at the moment, Born kept his cool. “I want to be fair to everybody,” he said. “I’m willing to leave with nothing. Absolutely nothing: no drugs, no money. I just want
out.
”

Chance understood where Born was coming from, although Smitty and Martin didn’t understand at all. “It sounds like you got your mind made up. I mean, we can’t make you stay with the crew. I think that would be the honorable decision for you to make. We all came from the grain together. This ain’t how it’s supposed to be. But I can understand where you’re coming from. I’m not gonna beg you to stay.”

Born’s mind was made up anyway. He nodded, and stood waiting for the reactions of his other two friends. Martin felt betrayed, as did Smitty. But there was really nothing they could do to stop him.

Martin looked at Born disapprovingly. “Aiight,” he said. “You wanna get money by yourself? Then fuck you, nigga!” Martin slinked off, with Smitty following close behind him. Chance gave Born a pound and left
also. And that’s how it ended. Born left them with all the drugs, all the cash. He started over with only three guns, some money in the stash, and good connections in his favor.

Born somehow managed to remain on speaking terms with his crew. But things were never quite the same, particularly between him and Martin. It wasn’t easy for Born to be at odds with his boys. It wasn’t an easy transition. And he found that it was much different being out there all on his own. The success or failure of his next moves would be entirely up to him. Born utilized the connections he had made during his years on the grind, and a very valuable connection he had made years earlier while he had been living in a group home in the Bronx.

Zion Williams was one of the few group home residents that Born had socialized with. In fact, he had become friends with Zion completely by accident. Zion’s mother had died when he was a very small child, and he had kept certain mementos that reminded him of her. He kept these things underneath his mattress—a hairpin, a Bible, and a gold necklace with a cross on it that she had worn everyday when she was alive. One day, Zion had taken out the gold necklace and stared at it for what seemed like hours. It was his mother’s birthday, and that was always a sad day for the young man, who still missed her tremendously. During the course of this day, Zion kept his mother’s necklace in his pocket, and somewhere along the line it fell out. He was distraught, and searched the whole facility for his keepsake. But he couldn’t find it, and Zion was furious. He wondered if someone had stolen it, and if that was the case he would surely never see it again. But it was Born who had found it stuck up under the seat cushion on the couch in the lounge. He thought about keeping it, selling it, or whatever. But Born was making so much money that the 14-karat gold trinket wouldn’t have made a dent in his pockets. He knew that the sentimental value it possessed for Zion was priceless.

Born found Zion moping in the library. “Zion, I heard you was looking for this,” he said. “I found it in the lounge.” He held up the necklace, and Zion’s face lit up.

“Yo!” he said, excited. “Thanks.” Zion was grateful beyond words. He knew that if any of the other guys had found it, it would have been a
memory. This act of honesty endeared Born to Zion, and the two became friends. It would prove to be a priceless connection for Born, as he maneuvered his way up the ladder in the game.

Word on the street was that Zion was knee-deep in the crack game. When Born got in touch with Zion to let him know that he was working solo now and needed to get on, Zion put Born in touch with a guy named Dorian from Brooklyn. Dorian was the nigga to see, since his prices were unbeatable. He was selling cook-up for a mere seventeen grand a brick. Born got his money together and started doing business with Dorian. Within three weeks of his departure from his childhood crew, Born had gone from hustling hand-to-hand to selling weight all by himself.

The highlight came for Born on the day he walked into his mom’s apartment and handed her a big Hefty bag. His father was fucked up for real by then. He was in and out of the hospital, and constantly ill. And when he was home, he was in a wheelchair, and Ingrid had to do damn near everything for him. Born knew that it was hard on his mother, seeing her husband turn into a shell of the man he once was. And Born wanted to do whatever he could to see her smile again.

Born went by to see his mother one Sunday morning. He walked in, and she was in the kitchen washing the breakfast dishes. Born sat down with the big garbage bag on the floor in front of him, and talked to her while she washed the dishes. “What’s up, Ma?” Born asked her, smiling.

Ingrid loved seeing Marquis smile. His dimples were a rare sight, since her son seldom smiled. And when she did get to see them it made him look like her little boy all over again. Not the grown-ass man he had become. “Nothing much,” she answered. “I’m not looking forward to work tomorrow. The weekends always go by so fast, and before you know it, it’s Monday all over again, and I gotta go right back to work. I can’t wait to retire.”

Born smiled at this, and nodded his understanding. “How’s Pop?”

Leo was asleep in the bedroom, and judging from the way Ingrid rolled her
eyes
at the mention of his name, he was still up to no good. “He’d be alright if he left that shit alone,” Ingrid said. She couldn’t believe
that her once strong and respected husband had been reduced to an ailing drug addict. “But he’s okay, I guess.”

Born shook his head, and changed the subject. “So what you making for dinner tonight?”

Ingrid smiled. No matter how bad things seemed, Marquis never lost his appetite. “Fried chicken and macaroni and cheese,” she said. Born rubbed his hands together in anticipation. They discussed Ingrid’s desire to retire. She had been working ever since she came to New York at the age of seventeen. Ingrid was tired, and eager to be able to sit back without having to report for her shift at the home. She wanted to enjoy what was left of her life.

When she was done with the dishes, Born rose to leave. Ingrid frowned. “I thought you were staying for dinner,” she protested.

Born shook his head. “Put a plate up for me. I’ll come and get it later. I got some running around to do.” He gave her the bag. “This is for you,” he said. “Wait until I’m gone before you open it.”

Ingrid looked at him suspiciously. “What’s in this bag, Marquis? You know I don’t want you leaving no bullshit over here—”

“Ma, it ain’t nothing like that. Just wait till I leave.” Born kissed his mother, and gave her a big bear hug, and he left.

Ingrid waited until Born left her house. She dragged the Hefty bag into her living room, and sat down to open it. The bag was doubled and knotted at the top, so it took her a little while. When she did, Ingrid covered her mouth and gasped. She was shocked! She could never have guessed that when she opened that bag she would find thirty thousand dollars in small bills. Ingrid had not seen that much cash at once since Leo had fallen out of hustling. She picked up a handful of twenties and shook back the tears that formed in her eyes. Her son had saved the day once again.

Ingrid called her son. She didn’t ask where he’d gotten all that money. She obviously knew. “Marquis, I don’t know what to say. How did you know how bad I needed this money?” Ingrid had long been overwhelmed with bills and debt and just trying to maintain, while Leo was destroying himself. Ingrid was never one to wear her problems on her
sleeve, preferring to suffer in silence and pray about it. But, Born knew she needed money.

“Ma, just ‘cuz you never complain don’t mean I’m blind to what’s going on. I know that all the bills are backed up. I see them laying on your dresser whenever I come over there. Your car is always breaking down. I know you can use that dough. Use whatever you need, but try and save some of it for a rainy day.”

Ingrid gripped the phone tightly, feeling gratitude beyond measure wash over her. “Thank you, Marquis,” she said. “So much.” Ingrid hung up the phone after speaking to her son, and she never breathed a word to Leo about that dough. That became another one of her and Born’s little secrets. That day had been one of the proudest moments in Born’s life. The money wasn’t enough to retire on. But Born figured that money would allow Ingrid to do something nice for herself for a change. She was the type to always look out for other people, never giving the same attention to her own wants and needs. Born was on the come up. Giving his mother that money had symbolized his rise to power, and signaled that she could depend on her son and no longer have to work like a slave. He felt like a man. More of a man than his own father.

Born began to see how far he’d come from being a shorty in the game to a grown man doing big business on a very grand scale. Born was selling weight. He was on top of the world, and still climbing.

There was some animosity between Born and Martin at the beginning of his departure. Smitty and Chance continued talking to Born, although their conversations were a lot more strained. Jamari was still cool, because it had been Born who invited him into their crew in the first place. It seemed that a line had been drawn in the sand, and Born was curious to see who would stand on his side when all was said and done. But it would be the death of his father that brought it all full circle.

Leo’s health was going further and further downhill. He was legally blind, and one of his legs was amputated as a result of untreated diabetes. Day after day Born went back to his childhood home, and he watched his father die. Leo’s last few conversations with his son were lighthearted reflections on how fun-loving and carefree Born had been as
a child, compared to the ferociously determined man that stood today. Leo admired his son and the man he had become, and in his own way he told this to Born. Yet by the time he drew his last breath in the fall of 1992, there was still so much that Leo had never said to his son. He had never said that he was sorry for his failure as a father, never said that he wished he could have been stronger. Born was left with a hole in his heart and no way to fill it.

Before he died, Leo had lain in an induced coma after his body was ravaged by a massive heart attack. All the years of drug use had physically consumed him. All the years of neglecting his health and never visiting a doctor had caught up with him. With the respirator connected to his mouth, and his
eyes
closed, Leo looked like a man at death’s door. But still he was holding on. On that day, though, his vital signs had been unstable. The doctors didn’t sound optimistic, and Ingrid had warned Born that he should make peace with his father. She seemed to sense that the end was near for her husband. Born refused to think like that, though. He refused to believe that his father would die on him. He walked close to his father’s bedside, and leaned in close to his father’s ear.

“Yo.” Born had felt awkward talking to his father while he was still unresponsive. He wondered if Leo could even hear him. But he said what he had come to say. “Yo. You better not give up. I hope you can hear me.” Born looked down at his father’s face. He saw all the years of fast living and wild ways all over his face. He remembered the way he used to look before his downfall. He saw the scars on his father’s face from all of his notorious brawls. The way his mouth hung open, obstructed by tubes, reminded Born of seeing his father after he’d gone on a cocaine binge, sleeping for days with his mouth hanging open just this way. He missed him already.

“Don’t give up, Pop.” Ignoring the urge to cry, he turned and walked away. Born went home, went back to his block. He went about his routine, still checking in with his mother regarding his father’s condition. But two days after his visit, Born’s father died.