The Holy City Read online

  Chapter 6

  Since the meeting, Steve had been sending word through the streets for Marcus to get in touch with him. Ever since Marcus moved up in rank and became a boss over his own crew under the IVL nation, he made it difficult for certain individuals to get up with him.

  “Aey, Pee Wee . . . !” Steve hollered out his car window while pulling up next to a parked car on Avers one weekday afternoon. “Let me holla at'chú for a minute.”

  “Hold on y’all, let me see what he want,” Pee Wee stated in a low tone as he walked off from the crowd of guys that surrounded him on the block. “Wassup, Unc, what’s goin’ on?” Pee Wee acknowledged Steve as he approached the driver’s side of the car, resting his arms on the car window seal.

  “I can’t call it, you been a’ight?” Steve asked as he reached his hand out to give Pee Wee five.

  “Aw yeah, I’m straight. Jus’ out here tryn’a make it happen.”

  “Yeah, I hear dat. How it’s been doing over here so far?” Steve asked curiously, showing signs of suspicion in his expression.

  “You know we jus’ jumped down a week ago but I can tell its gon’ pick up soon.”

  “Aw yeah,” Steve replied, raising both eyebrows.

  “Hell yeah! Especially with this new batch of dope we jus’ put out here today. They say that shit’a bomb! Look across the street at Hotrod ass,” Pee Wee said as he lifted up from off the car to point across the street.

  “He jus’ bought a blow from us not too long ago.”

  “Gaaaddamn!” They both said at the same time with excitement as they watched one of the neighborhood hypes stopped in his own tracks while leaning all the way over into a deep nod, head damn near reaching his crouch area, but somehow he managed not to fall over.

  “Hotrod been getting high for a long time and I ain’t seen him that fucked up in’a while,” Steve claimed as he grinned while still looking back at Hotrod leaned over.

  “When them dope fiends react like that, that’s when you know you got’a bomb, Jack!” Steve said as he and Pee Wee shared a laugh.

  “I told you, Unc!” Pee Wee exclaimed

  “Aey, where Marcus at, man?” Steve asked after a couple more minutes of staring and laughing at Hotrod snapping in and out of a deep nod.

  “I ain’t seen him since I lef’ him earlier this morning,” Pee Wee claimed.

  “Did you tell’em I been tryn’a get up wit’em?”

  “Yeah, I told him. He said he was gon’ get wit’chú,” Pee Wee said. “He ain’t at the house?” Pee Wee asked, already knowing Marcus wasn’t there.

  “Nawl. Me or his momma ain’t seen him. Every time I call that number you gave me I never got an answer. That’s the only number you got on him?” Steve asked

  “Yep, that’s it.”

  “Well, when you see him later make sho’ you tell’em to get up wit’ me, it’s real important!”

  “A’ight, I got'chú.”

  “Don’t forget!” Steve said with emphasis.

  “I got'chú, Unc. I ain’t gon’ forget,” Pee Wee assured him before shaking up with Steve and heading back toward the crowd.

  “He can forget about it.” Pee Wee mumbled to himself on his walk back.

  Chris was so excited about being eligible to participate in St. Angela’s first play-off game that he wanted everyone to be there, especially Marcus.

  “Yeah, who dis?” Marcus asked as he answered his cell phone.

  “This yo’ lil brotha’, wassup!” Chris spoke excitedly. “I’m surprised you answered the phone.”

  “You the only one in the family that got this number so if this would’ve been anybody else, I was gon’ whoop ya’ ass ‘cause I told you not to give this number out to nobody!” Marcus joked aggressively with his little brother.

  Marcus enjoyed conversing with Chris every chance that he got. This particular day Marcus was rotating around the neighborhood scoping things out while smoking a blunt to himself. This was how he relaxed and thought about his next move. Marcus was a thinker but still had so much to learn about the life he was leading.

  “Where you at?” Chris asked.

  “Don’t worry ‘bout it. What the hell you want, anyway?”

  “Damn, I jus’ can’t call my big bra’ to see wasssup?”

  “Hell naw! Now tell me whatchú want ‘fore I hang up on yo’ ass,” Marcus said in the midst of laughing through the receiver. Marcus and his little brother always talked shit to each other for fun. Everyone in the family and that was close to the family knew how much love Marcus had for his younger sibling, but majority of the time they showed tough love.

  “Man, I was jus’ calling’ to let'chú know about my game this weekend. You gon’ be there, right?” Chris demanded

  “I don’t know, I might have some’nt to do, Jo,” Marcus claimed.

  “Let'chú not be there, me and you gon’ fight, dude!”

  “I don’t know why you want me to see you stank up the gym, anyway!” Marcus said, but knowing Chris was the best player St. Angela had, even though he was the youngest on the team. Marcus knew if Chris continued to stay focused on basketball that he would have a promising career ahead of him.

  “Yeah, you'a luv that. Man, is you coming’ or not?”

  “Where it’s gon’ be at?”

  “At the Merrilac House on Jackson, right off California. The game start at two o’clock but I advise you to get their earlier ‘cause it’s gon’ be packed wit’ people there to see me,” Chris exaggerated in a boasting manner, but in all actuality, Chris was a crowd pleaser.

  “Yeah, I guess I’d be there. If y’all don’t win I’mma beat'cho’ ass for wasting my time! Who y’all playin’, anyway?”

  “Resurrection,” Chris answered.

  “Aw yeah . . . ,” Marcus said in between puffs of smoke. “They gon’ blow y’all ass out. Dem boys be ballin’,” Marcus teased.

  “You crazy as hell!” Chris replied.

  “A’ight, Jo, let me get my ass off this phone. I’ll holla’ at'chú later.”

  “Wait . . . !” Chris yelled out anxiously. “You comin’ through here later on? I need a few dolla’s.”

  “I ain’t'cho’ daddy; Speaking of dude, where he at?”

  “I don’t know I ain’t seen him today.”

  “A’ight, man, I’ll be through there.”

  “A’ight,” Chris responded as they hung up the phone from each other.

  Chris got off the phone feeling good inside. It always excited him when he knew his brother was coming around. Since Marcus moved out the house, Chris wasn’t able to see him as much.

  The play-off game fell on a Saturday afternoon, and majority of Chris’s family was there; Sylvia, Grandma Emma, and Steve all sat next to each other on the bleachers while watching St. Angela struggle throughout the first quarter.

  “I told Chris about playing’ so damn soft . . . !” Steve stated intensely. “He needs to attack the basket and quit settling for the outside shot!” he continued to complain while talking to Sylvia.

  “Well you know, sweetie, it takes time for him to get into a groove. He’ll get it together. Don’t be so hard on’em,” Sylvia replied, being sympathetic toward her son’s poor play-off performance.

  “Baby, you don’t understand. If Chris expects to play successfully on that next level, he’s gonna have to be more aggressive and play with more heart and passion!” Steve expressed himself with a slight aggression.

  “He’s only in the sixth grade, Steve . . . !” She responded, showing a sign of irritation in her tone of voice. “I’m sure he’ll get it together in due time. Hell, if you ask me he’s doing damn good to be a starter on the eighth-grade team. Two levels higher! Anyway, I’m not about to go there with you.”

  Steve sat there shaking his head with anger. By Steve’s intensity level, it was obvious that he wanted nothing more than to see Chris become more successful and make it further than he did in the pr
ofession.

  “Baby, you seen Marcus around here in the crowd anywhere? Chris told me that he promised to show up,” Sylvia asked as she glanced around the packed gym.

  “Naw, baby, I ain’t seen ‘em. You kno’ he prob’le to busy for some’nt like this,” Steve responded sarcastically.

  “Well, Momma been asking about him so I was just hoping he showed up,” Sylvia explained in a sorrowful manner.

  Even though Steve acted nonchalant about Marcus’s temporary absence, he knew this would be the best time to catch up with him being that he had been unsuccessful in reaching him in the streets.

  It was the end of the third quarter. The packed crowd was in frenzy from St. Angela going on a 10-0 run to cut a fifteen-point deficit down to a five-point game.

  Marcus finally strolled in the gym with a few of his crew members behind him; all of them dressed in Girbaud outfits with $700 leather Pellé Pellé jackets on. Their clothes reeked with Marijuana smells, and all their eyes were low.

  “Damn, this muthafucka packed, ain’t it?” Marcus stated as they all took post and examined the gymnasium.

  “Hell yeah! You’a think Jordan or somebody was playing in this bitch!” Mikey replied.

  “Aey, y’all help me find my people. I know’ they around here somewhere,” Marcus said while looking around the gym.

  “Aey Jo, ain’t dat Steve sitting’ right there,” Lil G alarmed Marcus while pointing in their direction.

  “Where?”

  “Right there! Matter of fact, yo’ ole girl sitting’ next to’em,” Lil G spoke out while pointing through the crowds to assure Marcus on where his people were seated.

  “Hell yeah, that’s them . . . There go my granny too. Damn, I ain’t tryn’a be all in her face ‘n’ shit while I’m high,” Marcus said with a paranoid smile on his face.

  “Well, I don’t know about y’all but I’m goanna get on some of these older bitches that I see in the crowd, ya dig!” Mikey said as he walked off from the two.

  Marcus staggered his way through the crowd to where his family was stationed.

  “Hey Ma!” Marcus greeted his mother with a smile but hugged his grandmother so sincerely it seemed that he didn’t want to let her go. Marcus sat down next to Grandma Emma and conversed with her without acknowledging Steve at all.

  “Haaaeeeyy, babe . . . !” she reacted dramatically at Marcus’s actions. “You jus’ forgot about ole Granny, huh?”

  “Nah, Granny, it ain’t like that,” Marcus replied while in the midst of kissing her on the cheek. “I jus’ been tryn’a get myself together,” Marcus finished explaining as they settled in to the bleacher.

  “Your mother told me you haven’t been staying at the house lately, everything all right?” she asked while staring directly in Marcus’s eyes and holding on to his hand with a tight grip.

  “Yes, ma’am, everything’s cool. I jus’ been staying’ wit’ my lady friend until I find my own place,” Marcus said, trying to straighten his face from a high expression.

  “You know Granny be worried about you. My door is always open if you need somewhere to stay, you hear me?” Grandma Emma forcefully assured.

  “Yes, ma’am, I know,” he answered sincerely.

  “And why your eyes so red? You sick or something’, shuga’?” she asked curiously while gently rubbing the side of Marcus’s face.

  “Nah, Granny, I’m just a little tired,” Marcus retorted with a high grin upon his face.

  “Ummm hmmm! You need to leave them tweeds alone or whatever y’all young folks call y’all self smoking these days. You know Granny far from crazy,” Grandma Emma said humorously before they both shared a laugh. They focused back on the game after the crowd reacted to a three-point shot Chris knocked down to tie the game with three minutes left on the clock in the fourth quarter.

  At this point Marcus made it very obvious that he had been ignoring Steve’s quest to reach out to him.

  The game was coming to an end, and Chris had been struggling throughout the entire game with only fourteen points and three assist. It came down to ten seconds left on the clock, and St. Angela was down two points.

  “Put the ball in Chris’s hands, coach!” Marcus yelled across the court as St. Angela came out of a time-out with the possession. The defense on the other team was so aggressive; they forced St. Angela to call their last time-out. The entire packed gym was so intense and quiet you could’ve heard a pen drop.

  After St. Angela came out of the time-out, Resurrection already had a pretty good idea whose direction St. Angela were going in. After having trouble inbounding the ball, Chris eventually got it in his hands.

  “Pick! Pick!” Chris called out a pick-and-roll that got him open for a three-point field goal.

  “Got’em!” Chris yelled out as he released the shot as if he already made the basket. Sure enough the shot went in, hitting nothing but net!

  “Yes! Yes!” Marcus hollered out wildly with excitement while running onto the court, being the first person to grab hold of Chris, followed by the rest of his teammates. St. Angela ended up winning the game by one point, and the gym went up in a roar!

  Once the court became really crowded with everyone celebrating, Marcus attempted to slip out the crowd without anyone noticing. As soon as Marcus made his way to the exit, he was met by Steve. At that point there was no avoiding him.

  “Was sup man . . . ?” Steve asked aggressively. “Why you ain’t been returning none of my calls?”

  Marcus stood there emotionlessly with wandering eyes, avoiding all eye contact with Steve. “I been busy,” Marcus simply replied, nonchalantly.

  “Too busy for family?” Steve asked vigorously.

  “Family?” Marcus responded with an estranged expression. “What family you talking about?”

  “Awe, I hope you don’t think them guys you be wit’ is yo’ family ‘cause they don’t give a fuck—”

  “Look, man,” Marcus cut Steve off from making his statement. “What this shit all about?”

  “Marcus, do you even know whatchú got'cha’self into?”

  In the back of Marcus’s mind, he wondered why all of sudden Steve acted as if he cared about his well-being.

  “Look, Steve . . . !” Marcus said firmly while looking Steve directly face-to-face. “I’m grown. I can take care of myself, a’ight!”

  As the gymnasium began clearing out, the hallways became flooded with noisy people, from young kids jumping around reenacting the dramatics of the game, to security trying to get everyone to cooperate and exit safely.

  “Aey, lord, you seen how Chris was fuckin‘nem up out there . . . !” Lil G said with much excitement as he and Mikey walked up to approach Marcus, rudely interrupting him and Steve’s conversation. “Dat lil nigga raw as hell!”

  “Was sup, Unc?” Mikey greeted Steve with a handshake.

  “Yeah, wassup, y’all straight?” Steve asked halfheartedly.

  “Yeah, we good . . . !” Marcus interrupted. “Come-on y’all, let’s get up outta here. We got shit to do.”

  Marcus and his guys proceeded to leave out the building before Steve yelled out, “Aey, Marcus . . . !”

  “What!” Marcus countered back angrily while still walking with his back turned.

  “We need to finish talking’ . . . !” Steve demanded.

  “You know’ where to find me,” Marcus replied as he continued to walk.

  “Where?”

  “On tha block!” Marcus answered by glancing back with a slight smirk before walking through the exit doors.

  St. Angela ended up losing in the second round of the tournament on the road against an underrated all-white St. Benedict Catholic School. St. Angela underestimated the other team and got “shot out” the gym!