What's Still Goin' On...

As Future’s Rent Money blared through the speakers Rasean counted up his daily earnings. Rakeem, his eleven year old brother bounced and danced in the passenger seat, full of enjoyment. Rasean pulled two Jacksons and a Hamilton out of his pocket and handed them to Rakeem. “Here bruh” he said.

“Good lookin”, Rakeem said.

“You know Ima keep you straight. Them new Jordans come out Saturday, you want ‘em?”

“Naw. I want them Bronnies.”

“Jordans better but I got you.” Rasean’s phone rang cutting off the music that was playing on the radio. He unplugged the aux chord from his phone. They say boys learn how to be a man from their fathers. Rakeem and Rasean had no father. He too was a drug dealer and had been gunned down when Rakeem was only six months leaving a then nine year old Rasean to fill that role.

“Alright. Bet.” Rasean hung up the phone and reconnected the aux chord. “You wanna ride with me real quick?”

“Where we goin?” Rakeem asked.

“I gotta make this drop real quick.”

“Ok.”

Rasean turned the ignition. He took the pistol that was in his lap and placed it under his seat. He opened the glove compartment and pulled out a sandwich bag full of weed and a digital scale. He pulled some buds out of the bag, weighed them up, then bagged them up before stuffing the baggie for his customer into his pocket. Rasean started Rent Money over as he pulled out of the apartment parking lot. Rakeem turned the volume up as he danced and recited every lyric, word for word.

Less than a half-hour later Resean and Rakeem made their way home. Their mother Cynthia was sitting on the couch having a phone conversation. She had a half glass of wine in her hand that swished around every time she moved her hand to make a point to her not present friend. Rakeem sat next to his mother on the couch. Rasean went into the cramped room that he shared with Rakeem. He pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket before adding it to his stash in a shoe box under his bed. He counted out eight hundred dollars before going back into the living room.

“Here” he said.

“Hold on girl.” Cynthia took the phone away from her ear. “Ima need yo car tomorrow. I got a hair appointment in the afternoon.”

“What I’m supposed to do?”

“Boy I ain’t gon be all day.” Cynthia said before resuming her phone conversation.

Rasean left the apartment closing the door behind him. A few hours later when he returned Cynthia had since went to bed leaving Rakeem on the couch where he fell asleep. Rasean walked into the living room and picked his brother up off the couch. He took him the his room, laid him down, and tucked him in. Rasean put his weed in a drawer, took his gun off of his hip, and put it on safety. He kicked off his Jordans and changed into some basketball shorts. Rasean swung his legs into the bed before he closed his eyes. He whispered a small prayer to himself before falling asleep.

When Rakeem got his new shoes he couldn’t wait to wear them to school. All of his friends admired them. Whatever Cynthia couldn’t do for Rakeem, Rasean was there. As the man of the house it was on Rasean’s shoulders to look after and take care of his mother and brother. When Rakeem wanted new things, he could always count on his older brother to get them for him.

“Damn Rakeem”, one of his friend’s said “you got the new Bron’s?”

“Yeah. My brother copped ‘em for me. He said he gon get me the black ones this weekend.”

“Man I wish I had a big brother to buy me shoes.”

Rakeem loved the attention he would get when he showed up at the schoolhouse in new shoes. It made him feel like he was his brother. Rasean got love almost anywhere he went. Everybody in the hood knew him. The OG’s respected him not because of his father, but because he was able to earn a reputation for himself. His peers cautioned him because of his readiness with a pistol and the ladies loved him too.

When Rakeem would ride around with his brother as he made runs, he saw how well respected Rasean was. Despite what he did for money Rasean was a man of character and morals. He lived by a code and everyone loved him for that. When Rakeem got home from school he pulled out his homework and started working on it. Rasean wouldn’t do for Rakeem if his grades weren’t together.

Rasean was on the corner with a few associates. They were finishing a burner as they debated basketball.

“They didn’t call my nigga the Glove for nothin’”, one of the men suggested.

“Bruh, you talkin like Russ soft. Like he Steph or somethin’”, another young man said.

Rasean flicked the roach onto the ground. “Man fuck what y’all talkin’ ‘bout. Who is that in that Impala.”

He noticed the white Impala a while back. It was unusual for a car to pull up and sit in one spot for that long. This was one of the busiest areas in the neighborhood. He knew who came and who went. It could’ve been 12 but they wouldn’t sit that long. Besides, they would have pulled up as soon as the blunt got lit.

“You got yo pole on you?”

“I ain’t never lackin”, Rasean said as he flashed the handle of his pistol that was tucked in his waist band.

The three young men stood on the corner intensely staring at the white Impala. After a few brief moments the Impala turned on and pulled off. Rasean and his friends could breath a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure who was in the car or their intent, but he knew he would encounter them again.

Rakeem finished his homework and was waiting on Rasean to come home and check it. Cynthia hadn’t gotten home yet leaving Rakeem to entertain himself. Rakeem knew where Rasean hid his money and would count it occasionally for fun, never taking any. He went under the bed and pulled the shoebox out. Rakeem opened the shoebox and saw several knots of rubber banded bills.

Rakeem picked one up and inspected it. The knot had plenty of weight and girth to it. Suddenly the front door opened up. He quickly threw the wad of cash back into the box before placing it back under the bed. Rakeem went into the living room where his mother was taking off her jacket.

“Where’s yo brother? I told him I needed his car.”

“I don’t know”, Rakeem said. “I ain’t see him since he dropped me off at school.”

Cynthia let out a groan. “He better hurry up, shit.” Cynthia walked to her bedroom closing the door behind her. Rakeem sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. A few moments later Rasean walked through the door. Rakeem perked up.

“You got my shoes?” Rakeem said with a face full of excitement.

“Naw, tomorrow. Where Ma at?”

“In her room.”

Rasean went into his mother’s room to hand her his keys. When he came out he headed towards the door.

“Where you goin?” Rakeem said.

“I’ll be back.”

“Better bring my Bronnies back nigga.”

Rasean chuckled as he playfully jabbed his little brother in the chest.

A few nights later Rakeem was laying down in his bed watching rap videos on YouTube on his iPhone that Rasean had bought him. Rakeem had a playlist of his and Rasean’s favorite songs. Most of his musical taste came from his time riding around with his brother. Before that it was when he would follow Rasean to the corner store or the basketball court before he could drive. The bedroom door flung open. When Rakeem looked up, Rasean was in the doorway.

“What’s up bruh”, Rasean said.

“Nothin. Watchin’ Young Thug videos.”

Rasean took off his hoodie and sat on his bed. He looked at his little brother in silence as he sat entranced by his phone’s screen. “You tryin to get whooped in 2k?”.

Rakeem sucked his teeth as he diverted his attention from his phone. “Dude. I beat you twice last night”, he said.

“Steph beat me twice last night. Nigga you suck.”

“I’ll beat you with the Kings”, Rakeem gloated.

Rakeem hopped up to turn on the Xbox. He grabbed both controllers tossing one of them to Rasean. Rakeem sat on the edge of his bed as Rasean gazed at him with paternal eyes.

“Pick yo team. I got Golden state.” Rakeem said, snapping Rasean out of his trance.

“I got Mike. Period.”

“He can get it too.”

Rasean couldn’t help but to laugh at his little brother’s trash talk.

***

Cleveland - A 20 year old male was found shot dead in a vacant lot on the city’s east side. The victim appears to have suffered two point blank shots to the abdomen. Authorities have no leads and are depending on the community for assistance. Please contact the Cleveland Police Department Homicide Unit if you have any information.

***

The warm and salty tears streamed down Rakeem’s face. The tears from the service left his face tight and dry. No amount of condolences and well wishes could undo the damage that two point blank bullets had done to Rakeem’s world. His clean black suit reminded him of the week he had to endure since hearing about his brother’s homicide. Rakeem hadn’t moved from his since he and his mother first got home after the funeral. He couldn’t even look over at the empty bed next to him. The harder Rakeem tried to fight the tears back the more they fell.

In the living room Cynthia was on the couch with her head in her hands. She lifted her head for a brief moment to look to the ceiling. She was in need of solace to ease her grief. She wanted to ask the lord for a hundredth time, “Why mine?” Her runny makeup was the least of her concerns as she slumped to the floor, her back against the couch. She began to weep, “Why? Why?” Rakeem could hear his mother crying from his bedroom. He wanted to get up but he couldn’t.

“Lord why my baby”, Cynthia cried out.

Rakeem stood up from his bed and wiped away his tears. As his mother continued to sob in the other room Rakeem slowly made his way towards his bedroom door. He opened it up and stepped out into the hallway. His mother’s agonizing cries grew louder as he towards the living room. Rakeem stopped just short of the threshold. He hated to see his mother like this. Up until last week Rakeem had hardly ever seen his mother cry. She was always so strong. She had to be raising two young boys in the hood. The sight of his mother sprawled out on the floor in grief choked Rakeem up, but he held his tears back.

He walked over to his mother and picked her up as best his eleven year old strength could. He held his mother in his arms as she had done him the entire week prior. He was now her rock, her pillar. Rakeem leaned in with eyes full of tears and whispered, “It’s ok mommy, I got you.”