Chap. 1
"Human dignity is more precious than prestige."
Claude McKay, 1939
"We'll contact you if any openings become available," said the man on the other end of the phone. Hakim had called to follow-up on a job interview he had had the day before. He had quickly caught on that "we'll contact you if a job comes up" really meant, "hell no, you ain't getting a job here, black ass!"
This had been Hakim's fourth job rejection in two weeks! Money was tighter than J-Lo's ass cheeks! He realized that no matter how honorable his intentions, white employers were not going to give him the opportunity to be useful in society. He'd committed the unpardonable sin of being a Black man and having a criminal record! He had stuck his head up and continued going on interviews mainly for his mother's benefit. He hadn't wanted her to be disappointed in his effort. But shit... things weren't working out the way he had planned while he had been sitting in his prison cell awaiting release. He made his mind up at that moment to call Tony and get this hustling thing together. He knew these motherfuckers who made the decisions on whether to hire you or not would never give him a chance as they smiled at him in that nervous way that interviewers give you when they know that you'd have a better chance of fucking Janet Jackson bareback while she kneeled before you on the floor than getting a callback for the position you just interviewed for!
Begging was out the question for Hakim. He had been through too fucking much to have it turn out this way! He couldn't get a decent job because of his record and color. If it was just color, he might have had a chance, he reasoned. He was on parole, working at a country club as a dishwasher/busboy and getting jipped on his check by his p. o. If he didn't tow the line and stay out of trouble, his ass would be back in jail serving out the remainder of his time. He was in a tight spot... to say the least!
Hakim felt very strongly that he could not get too deep into this 'drug game' because he looked at it as 'a means to an end', not the whole enchilada. He had too many other plans he wanted to put into motion. He desperately wanted to attend school. Before he had gotten locked up, he remembered that he not only wanted to attend college to play football, he wanted to test himself in the classroom. He hadn't been a dumb jock while in high school. In fact, his last two years in high school, his grades increased steadily for both years. His mother hadn't allowed him to be pleased with just being a star athlete. She had preached to him time and again that a Black man with a mind was way more powerful and useful than a jock.
Hakim made a promise to himself before calling Tony that it would not be long before he started putting that plan into action. He realized that he already under the 8-ball because of the four years he had been off the streets. He would not allow himself the mistake of letting too much more time pass by before he jumped on that issue.
But first he had a call to make.
Chap. 2
"A man has to act like a brother before you can call him a brother."
Malcolm X, 1964
The next day, Hakim called the number on the card that Tony had given him. Apparently, it was a number to a pager or voicemail system. Hakim left a message for Tony to call him back.
For the next few days, Hakim waited anxiously for Tony's call. He went to work as usual and continued to see Erin on a regular basis. During that time, his younger brother, Rasheed had come home from college for spring break. He was so proud of his brother! He had worried constantly about Rasheed's welfare while in prison, but his brother had received a basketball scholarship that took him far from the hood. Hakim remembered that upon hearing the good news about his brother, it had taken a lot of weight off of his shoulders. He wanted/needed his brother to do something positive with his life. His imprisonment had hurt his mother enough. Even though he had been in jail and could do nothing to help his brother, he felt responsible for him nonetheless. He was his brother's keeper, no doubts. He hadn't wanted his brother to follow in his footsteps, though he had been innocent and set up.
Hakim had recalled that while in prison, he had seen the average age for a juvenile receiving an adult prison sentence drop from 16 to damn near 14!! How the fuck were children expected to survive (or as a grimy ass politician would say... 'rehabilitate') in the most uncaring ruthless environment on Earth?! It wasn't a prison sentence they were handing these kids... it was a death sentence!! And of course, they all had to be Black!! Nothing like a brotha to be the poster boy for the rest of societies fuck-ups!
Seeing his brother grow from a little boy into a decent young man, Hakim felt blessed. The streets were a strong attraction for any young man just coming off of mom's titty and out into the neighborhood for the first time. Trouble arose from around every corner and alley. It took brains and balls to navigate through that shit and somehow his brother had done it without his direct guidance.
Chap. 3
"Take advantage of every opportunity; where there is none, make it for yourself, and let history record that as we toiled laboriously and courageously, we worked to live gloriously."
Marcus Garvey, 1963
After about a week had passed, Tony returned Hakim's call. He didn't say much on the phone, but he told Hakim to meet him down his older brother's house around the corner from Hakim's mother's house. Hakim was familiar with the location. Tony's older brother was a barber who cut out of his house. He had been there many times before to get a hair cut or to stop in and converse with the regulars who hung out over there.
Hakim hung around the barbershop for three days before Tony finally showed up. He didn't make any apologies or offer any explanation for not showing up for their appointment a few days ago. Hakim expected as much. During the time he had spent after work at the barbershop, he had overheard some of the men discussing the neighborhood and Tony's position within it. Apparently, Tony was top dog around the hood. Hakim realized that the situation had a lot more upside to it than he had previously thought.
When Tony strolled in dressed like a model for "GQ" magazine, all conversation stopped, paused, and waited for him to speak. He spoke and shook hands with most of the men seated near the barber chairs and to the group of men huddled over a Playstation 2 video game. Everyone seemed to give a guarded respect towards him. It was as if they were afraid to not say 'something'. Hakim realized that Tony had shit on lock! This kid was serious biz!
As Tony walked over to Hakim, he smiled and extended his hand to Hakim. Hakim reached out at the same time and dapped him up.
"What's crackin' soldier?" Tony asked.
"You tell me," Hakim answered.
Tony looked quickly to his left, and then to his right before saying, "Not here. Meet me out front in 10 minutes."
He then reached into his pants pocket and took out a cellular phone, pushed a button, and began an animated discussion with someone on the line as he walked out the door of the barbershop.
Hakim eased himself out the door of the barbershop ten minutes later. As soon as he closed the door, a car horn beeped. He looked and saw Tony sitting across the street, waving at him, while sitting in a brand new black Infinity QX4 sport-utility vehicle. Hakim crossed the street and got in on the passengers side of the truck.
"Let's take a ride, Hakim," Tony said as he guided the truck into traffic.
After riding for approximately 15 minutes, Tony began to speak. "I know you just got out of the pen. I normally don't fuck with niggas straight out of the pen because they always end up doing something stupid and get popped. Then the motherfuckers are put into the position of having to either talk or get sent back upstate."
