True To The Game Part 24

"No, Zorian and Avanna was out there. They seen everything."

Gena answered the ringing phone. "It's Aunt Paula, Gah Git."

Another knock at the door brought another surprise. Gary opened the door thinking it was family, but Ms. Bradley, the social worker, was standing there smiling.

"Yeah? Can I help you?" asked Gary.

"Yes. I'm here for Ms. Scott."

"Oh, Gah Git!" hollered Gary, slamming the door in her face. "It's some white lady!" He left Ms. Bradley outside in the cold and went back in the house.

"Paula, I got to go. I'll call you right back," said Gah Git, and she went to the door. "Oh, my goodness! Come on in. You sure do come at the darndest times. Children, this is Ms. Bradley," she said, ushering her in. "Say h.e.l.lo. She's here about Aunt Gwendolyn's baby."

Everyone said hi to her and behaved like they had etiquette for once in their lives. You could tell that the white social worker lady had really caught Gah Git off guard.

"Come on in; have a seat," said Gah Git, sitting the lady at the dining room table. "Can I get you something to eat or drink?"

"I'm a little thirsty, if it's not too much trouble. I see you have a houseful."

"Gena, get Ms. Bradley some juice, please." She excused herself for one minute and walked over to Gary.

"Come here," said Gah Git. Calling him into the bedroom, she explained that the lady was there about the baby and how important it was that no one run in and out of the house. Especially since her child was down the street making a spectacle of herself.

"Gah Git, it's cold outside."

"Boy, don't you got no long drawers?"

"No."

"Well, you better get some. Now, go on, and don't let n.o.body run in here," she said, pushing him out the bedroom. "And don't go across the street with them hoodlums, either."

"They not hoodlums, Grams."

"Yes, they is. You just don't know it. Don't tell me, fool. I been here longer than you. I know a hoodlum when I see one, and I see 'em across the street. Now go on."

Gah Git returned to the dining room and explained baby Ayonna. The social worker was very impressed with the lovely redecorating that had been done, and Gah Git explained how Gena had moved in.

"But there's still plenty of room for the new arrival."

"Well, Ms. Scott, you really don't have to explain. I'm sure the baby will be fine with you, and she'll be with her family. I just wanted to tell you in person that the state has awarded you custody of Brandi Valon Scott."

"Oh, thank you, Ms. Bradley. Thank you so much. I been so worried about what would happen to that baby. You just don't know how happy I am. Thank you so much."

"Well, you're welcome. I knew you would be glad."

"Oh, I am! I'm gonna have to thank the Lord for all these blessings. I really appreciate everything you've done for me and my family," said Gah Git.

"Well, it was easy to see how much you cared, and that you can give Brandi a good home. But I must be going now."

"Thank you for coming by to tell me in person," said Gah Git.

"Bye," said all the grandkids sprawled all over the living room watching Quadir's TV. Bria had Gucci, Ayonna was asleep, and Brianna held Khaleer.

"Take care," Ms. Bradley waved to everyone in the house. Gary was standing right there by the door as she exited. He scared her half to death.

"That's my other grandson. Boy, what you standing out here in the cold for? Get your b.u.t.t in the house," she said, dragging Gary inside, smiling in Ms. Bradley's face, waving good-bye.

Gah Git got back on the phone with Paula, saying "Oh, Lord," over and over again.

"She gonna have us in church tonight," said Bria.

"I hope not," said Brianna.

"Yo, you should have seen Aunt Gwendolyn beat up that lady police officer. She kicked her a.s.s. They had cameras and everything. She prob'ly gonna be on Cops or something."

"Nuh-uh," Gena said.

"For real, I think I was on TV."

"Gary, you always bugging. You not gonna be on n.o.body's TV, okay?" said Bria.

Gena suddenly froze at the sound that meant loss: gunshots. Bap! Bap! Bap!

"Get down, Gah Git!" hollered Bria.

"Watch out," Gary said, running over to Gah Git. Everybody was on the floor. A bullet shattered the living room window and hit the wall, leaving a hole.

"Lord, have mercy on us all. Please, Jesus, save me. Please Lord, have mercy!" Gah Git was preaching for real. "Pray! Y'all pray!" she said.

"Praying isn't gonna do s.h.i.t!" whispered Brianna.

"Sure as h.e.l.l ain't," said Bria. There were no more shots, and it was over. Outside, two men were lying in the street.

Gary went running out the door. It was his boy Vic and this other kid named Freddie. Gena went running out the door too, but Gah Git wouldn't let the twins outside. Baby Ayonna was crying from all the commotion.

"d.a.m.n, he was my boy," said Gary, as he put his head down. Gena reached for her cousin, hugging him.

By now, Victor and Freddie's families were outside, losing their minds. Victor's mother just fell out in the street. "Lord, please don't take my son!" was all you could hear being said.

"Gary, come on. Let's go back in the house." Gary didn't argue because he knew if he stayed out there tonight, it was gonna be trouble.

"You kids come on in here and settle down. Gary, you okay?"

"Yeah, Grams. He was my boy, though."

"I know. I know, son. It's a shame to see these young children out here killing one another and taking away good lives that G.o.d put on this here earth. I just don't know what has happened to these young peoples out here in the world. They is crazy and they don't have no respect. Now, back when I was coming up, wasn't none of this mess going on. There was drugs and people drank, but they had sense about 'em, and not only that they had respect for one another. It's a sad shame, and what the dang dabbit they done did to my window?"

Gena walked upstairs to her room. She moved about in the dark and sat on the bed holding her kitten. Funny how they ended up the same way, in the street, covered with blood. She remembered that night her destiny changed. He winked his eye and let go of her hand, making it happen. Gena mustered up the strength and forced the tear back inside. "Qua," she said to him with her heart, "I miss you," and she paused for a moment continuing on with her normal conversation.

Bria walked by Gena's bedroom door and heard her in there talking to Quadir. She really needs a new man, she thought to herself.

Gena got herself ready for bed and let Khaleer sleep with her. In the middle of the night, screeching sounds of a baby in distress woke up the whole house. Gena got up, but Gah Git told her to go back to sleep.

"I can't sleep no way," Gena said, getting a gla.s.s of milk.

"Thinking about Quadir, baby?"

"Gah Git, all the time."

"I know," she said, rocking little Yonni in her arms. "Quadir was a good man. Child, if I'd had a man like Quadir in my day, I'd have to dig deep to find a reason to go on without him too, so I know how you feel. Gena, you got to be strong, honey. You got to count your blessings and thank the Lord for being so merciful. You must keep your mind strong. Quadir would want it that way."

Flashbacks illuminated the image of the gunman aiming right at her, and Quadir pushing her out the way. She knew he would have done anything for her 'cause he did everything that he could.

"I'd give anything to be with him again."

"I know, but when G.o.d is ready, you will be. All things in time, Gena. All things in time. Be patient. I worry about you girls, I really do. But Gena, you had something special, baby. You must never forget Quadir. Keep him alive in your heart and in your soul. What you two had was pure and honest. Cherish that love. Keep it in your heart, and let it grow with you."

The next morning Gena got up to answer the bell and let Brenda in.

Gah Git took over immediately. "You know I been waiting to curse you out, but I'm not going to." She got up and went into her bedroom.

"Why did you leave your baby here all night?" Gena asked.

"I'm sorry. I went out, and I just thought I would be back before now."

Gah Git came out the bedroom and Gena left it alone. She handed Brenda her daughter. "You take your baby and you go wherever you going, but you think about one thing. That child didn't ask to come into the world and she deserve a lot better from you. You must be crazy to try some s.h.i.t like this at 2432, but you will learn and you, my dear, are gonna have to learn the hard way."

"I'm sorry," she said.

"No, you not. You not sorry, 'cause if you was, you would have done what you said you was gonna do, and that was go take an English test and come back here and get your baby. You not sorry. You knew you wasn't coming back. But guess what? You won't get me to play your fool no more," said Gah Git as she gathered the baby's things and put them in the baby bag.

"It's not that. It's just that my mother was getting high, and she put me out and then I tried to stay with my boyfriend, but his mother said I couldn't stay there."

"Your mother been getting high. That don't got nothing to do with you calling. You young girls treat these babies like they something that just came out of you. Baby, they more than that. You need G.o.d. You're going down the wrong path, and I tried to help you, but you took my kindness for weakness. In life, you should never bite the hand that feeds you."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Scott. I really am. I appreciate you keeping her for me."

Gah Git handed her the baby bag and closed the door. Relief filled her. She looked at the time, noting that her babies would be home soon. She worried about them out there in the streets on their own, especially little Khaleer. "Lord, show my babies the way."

WHEN IT'S ALL SAID AND DONE Forty had come a long way. He had progressed quite well with the help of therapy. Despite the fact that he would never walk, he went every day for the past seven months determined to beat the odds. The FBI's Witness Protection Program had moved him to North Dakota in the mountains to keep him safe. Now it was time to bring him home. Time to testify against Jerrell Jackson.

The U.S. Attorney Paul Perachetti had an open and shut case that would defy Clarence Darrow. It was ridiculous that Jerrell Jackson, the known leader of the Junior Mafia, didn't plead guilty. No one knew why he would even want to go to trial. It was totally ludicrous. Didn't matter. Jackson was gonna get the death penalty. Perachetti knew he had him by the b.a.l.l.s, and it felt great. Jerrell deserved to die, not just for all he did out in the street, killing and serving the city cocaine, but he deserved to die for being so d.a.m.n slick and never getting caught. The Junior Mafia was a f.u.c.king nuisance, all of them, and getting their leader, Jerrell Jackson, had made headlines in newspapers throughout the country for the past six months.

Now it was time for trial. Now it would all come to an end. Once Christopher Cole testified, it would be over. Perachetti was eating up all the publicity and taking all the credit for making the streets safer by prosecuting the criminals, especially the notorious Jerrell Jackson. For him it was a dream come true. He was finally getting what he wanted-publicity. It was time to think about running for mayor.

The courtroom was packed, the majority of the people black. They had come to sit this one in. A lot of families that had lost a life to the hands of the Junior Mafia were there watching, hoping and praying for justice, justice that hadn't been served. The prosecutor was their G.o.d. Only he could give them what they wanted. Only he could bring justice for this cruel and wanton behavior that had swept through the streets like Satan himself.

Paul Perachetti came through the double courtroom doors, his trench coat swinging as he made his entrance. He was on an all-time high. Things were looking good. He felt the power of City Hall calling him.

"All rise," said the bailiff as the Honorable Eugene Pearlstein entered the courtroom. "You may be seated," he said stiffly after sitting down.

Voir dire had taken three weeks. Perachetti had used his peremptory challenges early on, giving Jerrell's attorney, Billy DeStephano, a slight edge in the jury selection. As far as DeStephano was concerned, he wanted his client to beat the case. h.e.l.l, he knew he was defending the so-called leader of the Junior Mafia, but he didn't care. The bottom line was that the n.i.g.g.as and their bulls.h.i.t had made him a millionaire at the age of thirty-six. Why stop now? He could not stand, nor afford, for Jerrell to be sentenced. There was no way he was gonna let his client receive capital punishment, which was exactly what the state was going for. Voir dire, one of the biggest problems with the justice system, is the method of jury selection in American jurisprudence. It was totally unfair, but DeStephano felt good about the twelve jurors who were selected.

The judge explained to the jurors exactly what their job was, which was to find guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. Court was adjourned until the following morning.

DeStephano went back to his office. He rehea.r.s.ed his opening statement over and over again, preparing himself for the jurors, ready to look them dead in their eyes and tell them why they wouldn't be finding his client guilty. When he was finished not only would the jury be dazzled, but also the verdict would be not guilty. He had $175,000 so far, and another $50,000 due him for the professional services he rendered. The world had gone mad and he was making money. His dead presidents fantasy was interrupted by his secretary. "Billy, your wife is on line three," she said over the intercom.

"Thank you," he said picking up the line.

Finishing with his wife on the phone faster than his record-breaking connubial speed, he hung up and told his secretary to hold all his calls so that he could go over his opening statement one last time. It was short, simple, and to the point. It was stated as succinctly as possible, just to whet the jurors' appet.i.tes, antic.i.p.ating what was to come. He had a promising future right there in the palm of his hands. The publicity alone was phenomenal, not to mention all the incoming calls for potential clients he had not yet had a chance to review. Thanks to the Junior Mafia, he was famous, and he would get Jerrell Jackson off. He had no doubts about it.

"All rise." Judge Pearlstein seemed to take his sweet time sitting his fat a.s.s in his chair. Jerrell couldn't figure him out. Perachetti made his opening statement. Then DeStephano gave his opening performance. After opening statements were concluded, the prosecutor presented his evidence, then called his first witness, a hotel clerk who claimed he remembered two guys coming into the hotel and walking past him. When asked if either were sitting in the courtroom, he pointed at Jerrell.

"Ain't that some s.h.i.t? Ran and Sam went up in the hotel," he whispered to Billy.

At least he's honest, thought Billy as he glanced over and looked at his client.

The prosecutor seemed to introduce something into evidence about every ten minutes. From pictures to diagrams, he introduced it all, except a weapon. DeStephano objected to everything, and Pearlstein was getting tired of telling his a.s.s overruled. A great deal of investigation and preparation had been done by the DA, and it was a shame all that work he had done was a waste of time, 'cause DeStephano was going to get his client off. For $225,000, he knew he had better.

DeStephano did a good job on cross-examination. "Well, at that time of night, it's possible you were tired, and you didn't know who you saw walk into the lobby of the hotel. From fifty yards away, how could anyone know if it was my client walking in that hotel room?" He asked each question with sincerity, constantly watching the jurors.

"Objection," said the prosecutor, really wanting to say "f.u.c.k you," as did DeStephano, but the judge overruled him anyway.

"Hah," DeStephano wanted to say, thinking about the five hundred he spent feeding Judge Pearlstein dinner last night. "Ha ha" was more like it. DeStephano just took over the courtroom, making liars out of all Perachetti's witnesses, until Perachetti called in his last witness. "Prosecution calls Christopher Cole."

Christopher Cole, a paraplegic. Christopher Cole, aka Forty. By the time Forty got off the stand, the jurors were in tears. A mean stare was what they gave DeStephano and his client. Jerrell just wanted someone to shoot Forty's a.s.s.

"Can't you do nothing to shut him up?" Jerrell asked.

"What do you want me to do?" Billy answered.

"I don't know, object or something," said Jerrell. "For a quarter million, do something! d.a.m.n!" Jerrell was really getting nervous.

Forty spoke directly to the jurors, telling them everything, from the girl, to the kidnapping, to the bas.e.m.e.nt where he was kept until they received the million dollars. He told them how he pulled off Sam's mask, and how Randolph and Jerrell Jackson took off their masks willingly. He told them that Jerrell Jackson was the one who pulled the trigger on him, first in his legs and then in his chest. He told them that he put the gun to his head and shot him.

DeStephano cross-examined him, not able to break his story, or intimidate him into giving the wrong answer, no matter how many ways he asked his questions. That had always been DeStephano's forte, causing people to twist themselves up and make themselves sound like they weren't sure of what they were saying. But, it didn't work. Forty knew what he was doing and he knew why he was there. He wanted justice, he deserved justice, and justice would be his.

In Gena's world the months pa.s.sed quickly, and with them, so did her savings. It had been six months since Quadir died and Gena didn't know if she was coming or going. Her brooding was in direct proportion to her financial situation.

The beauty and change that comes with spring didn't come for Gena. Instead, she talked to herself and stayed in her room, which she shared with Khaleer. Gwendolyn's other baby, Brandi, stayed in Gah Git's room. Gwendolyn was still in jail because Gah Git wouldn't let Gena put up the bail money. "No need in wasting. G.o.d says it's a sin to waste and Gwendolyn ain't right. So, you just hold on to your money in case you need it."

Gena had nothing going on for herself. There were no adventures, no nights out on the town, no dinners in AC, gambling and spending frivolously, and no romance. She missed the romance of Quadir, the way he would grab her and hold onto her in a rough pa.s.sion, tasting her, serving her his p.e.n.i.s, which was one of a G.o.d, thick and fat with the perfect length. Just the thought of him sent chills down her spine. Only Qua could take Gena far beyond any fantasy ever could. Quadir. She felt him all the time. She talked to him every night. She cried for him in her sleep, twisting and turning, talking in the bunkbed above Khaleer.

Sometimes Khaleer would sleep in the bedroom with Gah Git and his baby sister. There wasn't good sleep for Khaleer with the new baby either. Normally, Khaleer would be found sleeping on the kitchen floor, in closets and in the bathtub. Gah Git couldn't figure it. Finally one night she caught him sleepwalking and called 911.

Gena couldn't believe it, not the fact that 911 woke up the neighborhood at four in the morning, but the fact that Gah Git blamed Khaleer's sleepwalking on her because she was always talking to a dead man. "You talk the boy right out of the room, Gena," Gah Git had said.

Things just seemed to be going downhill. Even Gucci, the precious Persian kitty had his share of life in the hood. One day while Gena was out, Gary and his friends were in the house rolling poor Gucci up against the wall like dice. Gena was so upset when she came in the house to see Gucci being tossed like a football, she didn't speak to Gary for two weeks. The poor cat was never the same. He had started climbing up the walls and jumping on people as they walked by. Usually, he would climb on top of the refrigerator and wait for someone to walk in the kitchen, then jump on their heads. They had worked on Gucci every time Gena left the house. He'd become a mean cat, and now he was evil. Gena couldn't stand him-he had changed so much. He wasn't cute and cuddly anymore. Now Gucci was a mean ol' tomcat with long straggly hair. Gucci blamed Gena for the bad meals and torture he was put through and usually would attack her on sight. Gah Git just wanted the cat out of her house. Then there were the twins. Bria and Brianna weren't living in the same world with the rest of the people on the planet. They had boyfriends now. Life was Kevvy Kev, and don't tell Bria it wasn't, 'cause it would be something if you did. Brianna was blinded by the gold teeth, obviously, of some kid named Dalvin. "He's all that; he's all that. We use condoms. It's my life."