How Can I Be Down? Read online

  How Can I Be Down?

  Brenda Hampton

  www.urbanbooks.net

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  INTRODUCTION

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  Copyright Page

  INTRODUCTION

  Playa-hating, backstabbing, stupid-ass bullshit was what was going down in Los Angeles. The fellas and me packed up our bags five years ago and jetted to St. Louis. We figured since didn’t nobody know much about us, everything would go smooth. And as for now, things are on the down low. What’s behind us is truly behind us. But things didn’t always go as smooth as they are now.

  Years ago Papa Abrams, my daddy, used to run the show. He’d done six years in prison for drug trafficking, money laundering, and racketeering. He knew his time was just about up so he taught my brother, Kareem, and me the game remarkably well. By the time he got out, I was eighteen years old and things were running smooth. Money was flowing and everybody in the hood gave Papa Abrams the utmost respect. Even the police. They didn’t trip with us and we didn’t trip with them. That wasn’t until some new fools moved in the hood trying to run the show, and things started to take a turn for the worse.

  I remember it like it was yesterday. After coming home from my senior prom, getting ready to get down to business with Jada, my girlfriend, I opened the door and Daddy lay in the middle of the floor, stripped naked, smothered in blood with a gunshot wound to the head. I yelled for Kareem to come help but he was somewhere getting his mack on. By the time the police and the coroners came to haul Daddy’s body away, Kareem heard the news and ran down the street trying to stop them from taking Daddy’s body away. Kareem was only fifteen at the time and didn’t understand what was destined to go down. Retaliation was the only thing on my mind, but shit took mega planning and preparation to do it how I wanted it done.

  It didn’t take the fellas and me long to figure out who was responsible, so as soon as things chilled, we went on a mission. Cleaned muh-fucking house. My boy Rufus was usually the one who pulled the trigger, but since it was Daddy who we were talking about, the pleasure was all mine. Shortly after, people started talking and the cops started coming around more and more every day asking questions. I’m sure they knew who was responsible, but we left no evidence. Six dead bodies and no one to blame. Not that the police cared, especially since I had a feeling we did them a favor anyway.

  But after that, shit just wasn’t the same without Daddy around. Our respect in the hood went to no respect. Rufus was thrown in jail for eight years on a simple-ass carjacking case, and Donovan moved to St. Louis for a fresh new start. When he offered for us to move with him, I told him I wasn’t running from anyone. Daddy always taught Kareem and me that running was for cowards and said he’d done enough time in prison for the whole damn family. Including Mama, who was incarcerated for stabbing her boyfriend to death. Two weeks in there, she committed suicide. We were hurt like hell, but Daddy said we’d just have to make it the best way we could. If anything happened to him, he made me promise to take care of Kareem and told me to do whatever I could to keep my ass out of prison.

  So, less than a year after his death, it was hands off for Kareem and me. Daddy had hookups all over the place, and his connections turned out to be worth thousands and thousands of dollars. Without a doubt, he had definitely paved the way for us. And after three more years in the game, we called it quits. Had enough money to set us out for a while. I washed my hands of the situation and never looked back.

  When Donovan called and said everything was hooked up for us in St. Louis, Kareem, Quincy, and me rolled out. I knew Kareem wouldn’t have a problem leaving, but Quincy, I wasn’t too sure about him. We’d been friends since the second grade, but from a white boy I didn’t know what to expect. When I asked him if he was ready to leave his family and everything he had in Los Angeles behind, he made it perfectly clear that wherever Kareem and me go, he go. He’s always been like a brotha to me, and no matter what, he comes through for me. Sometimes even more than Kareem. But blood is fasho thicker than water. And whenever Kareem and me have our differences, Quincy stands clear. Never sides with either one of us. He’s the only partner I’ve never had an argument with, never had to fight with, and never had to disrespect. That’s why he’s my muh-fucking boy. Got more love and respect for him than anybody. He’s smart, knows the business, and ain’t trying to run shit like everybody else does. What I admire the most, though, is his aggressive ways with the sistas. According to him, he be putting it on ’em. Quincy wouldn’t dream of kicking it with a white gal because in his eyes, a sista is definitely the best way to go. I’m sure his green eyes, trimmed goatee, and black spiked hair plays a part in their attraction, but he insists it’s the two-carat diamond in his left earlobe along with his charming, deep voice that hooks ’em every time. To me, a piece of ass is simply a piece of ass. Black, white, green, purple, whatever. As long as I’m satisfied, who gives a damn?

  Now, the only other brotha who sees it like I do is Donovan. Donovan is the Black Stallion of the crew. Can’t even see him with the lights off. But when he cracks a smile, his gold tooth shines like the sun cracking through the clouds. If it wasn’t for his thick-cut body and his so-called “bedroom, slanted eyes” (so the women say), he’d be outta there. No matter where we go, he’s styling his black wave cap and only takes it off when he wants the women to see his waves. Everybody seems to think we got a lot in common, but something inside me just won’t let me trust him as much as I want to. He’s sneaky. Always wants to run the show since he’s twenty-eight and the oldest in the bunch. Li’l does he know, I’m the head nigga in charge.

  Donovan was even trying to run shit when Daddy was around, even when he went to prison. But Daddy cut that shit short and did things his way from the inside. So, when Donovan moved to St. Louis so quickly after Daddy’s death, I was actually surprised to hear from him. He bragged about how well things were going for him in the Lou and insisted we needed to be there with him. After his months of coaxing, I couldn’t resist. Just maybe, he wasn’t that conniving after all.

  Either way, we scoped the Lou for months riding down Goodfellow, Natural Bridge, Delmar, and Kingshighway trying to find a nice private place for us to chill on the city’s north side. Had to feel like home for me but at the same time I wanted a place with class. So, when Donovan found a huge, three-story brick house off Delmar near the Central West End, we had the entire place gutted out and remodeled to our satisfaction. There was a vacant lot on one side and a boarded-up empty house on the other. Privacy was of key importance. Took less than three months to have the place fixed up, but when it was finished, it looked like it belonged in a magazine. Everything from vaulted ceilings to bay windows surrounds the place. Each one of us has our own bedroom and private bath that take up the entire second floor, led by way of an old cherry wood repolished staircase from the bottom floor. The third level is our playroom. Got pinball machines, a pool table, an entertainment center, and a kitchen to get our grub on.

  The most important things in the house are the cameras that view the entire property. There’s no way to sneak in or out without somebody seeing you. So, in reality, ain’t much for us on the ou
tside but fresh fucking air and pretty-ass women. Not that I’m looking for anyone, because all I need is Jada. She’s been my backbone for many years. I used to be out there dirtball bad but she stuck by me. Never gave up on us even when I wanted her to. I’m sure the money I was dishing out helped, but ain’t nothing better than a thick, big-breasted, light-skinned sista who got my back no matter what.

  As things settled down in the Lou, I sent for her. The fellas weren’t too enthused about her moving in with us, especially Kareem, but whatever. Had a fit when he found out about my plans. Wanted me to be a playa forever like he is, but I’m trying to live my life as best as I can. Kareem, though, he be playing with fire. Fucking any-and everything that crosses his path. There’s no doubt about it, he’s definitely the Pretty Boy and knows it. The ladies fall head over heels for his melting smile, his cocoa chocolate shiny skin, thick lashes, and hazelnut eyes. He’s clean cut, can’t do without the material bullshit, and preppy as preppy can get.

  Me, I don’t give a fuck about all that mess. I just like to stay clean, live large, and keep my business on the down low. Truly worried every day, though, that the past is going to come haunt me. And no matter how hard I try to shake these feeling about someday paying for my mistakes, I hold on to what Papa Abrams told me about never going to jail. I’m hoping that people understand I killed for the love of my family, for the sacrifices Papa Abrams made for us; and I have no regrets. If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t do it any differently. Thing is, I know Papa Abrams probably upset with me for leaving L.A., but some serious shit was about to go down if we didn’t jet. Last thing I wanted was to attend the funeral of another one of my partners. Had too many of those, and if the Lou was my way of saving my life, so be it. I was here, and all I wanted going forward was peace.

  CHAPTER 1

  I could smell the bacon cooking in the kitchen, but when I saw the red flashing lights coming in from the outside through my bedroom window, that’s what immediately awakened me. I reached for the remote and clicked on the outside camera only to see the police putting a ticket on Donovan’s black Lincoln Navigator. Why would the stupid asshole park backward on the street? Puzzled the hell out of me, because the last thing we needed were the cops showing up. I went to the bathroom, quickly shaved my rough-looking beard, and trimmed down my mustache. My bald head didn’t need a shave so I just rubbed some grease in my hands and patted it to give it a shine. After I was finished, I winked in the mirror at the finest mocha chocolate brotha I knew.

  I gathered my robe in the front and headed upstairs to the third floor where all the noise was coming from. It was only nine o’clock in the morning, and to see a house full of fellas relaxing around on the leather sofa and chairs upstairs pissed me the fuck off. Didn’t these fools have somewhere else to be? And as I stood at the top of the stairs looking in their direction, the expression on my face quickly quieted the room. I guessed Donovan knew I was about to go off so he popped up and asked them to step. I watched as seven brothas, who I didn’t know, trotted down the steps one by one. As they passed by me, sons of bitches didn’t even have the nerve to speak. To me, there was too much at stake. Everything was kept in this house, including my money, so these many fellas running around could only mean trouble. As Donovan headed down the steps to escort them out, I reached my arm out in front of him.

  “Uh, we need to talk,” I said.

  “I’m sure we do.” He smiled at me and tried to move my arm. “Just not right now. Let me walk my boys out and I’ll be back up to holler at you in a minute.”

  “Let them out the back door. The police might still be out front putting a ticket on your car. So, before you come back up, if you wouldn’t mind parking your car on the right side of the street, I’d appreciate it.”

  I moved my arm and Donovan walked down the steps grinning at me. I could tell what he was thinking, but if he wasn’t man enough to say it out loud, fuck ’im. I went into the entertainment room and picked up the St. Louis American newspaper on the floor then set it down on the table. I turned on the TV and leaned back on the couch. Room was junky as hell. Empty Hpnotiq bottles and Colt 45 cans were all over the place. Thick smoke and hot, musty air stirred in the room.

  When Donovan came back upstairs, he took a seat on the other side of the couch and pulled out a joint. He lit it and sat up on the edge of the couch looking at me. “So, what’s up?” he asked.

  I leaned forward and gripped my hands together. “What’s up? You have the nerve to ask me what’s up?”

  “Yeah, that’s ’cause I don’t know what’s on your mind. You said we needed to talk.” He took a hit from the joint and passed it to me.

  I shook my head. “What’s up is all these unexpected, unknown-ass guests you’ve been having over here lately. One or two are cool, but must there be a house full of brothas I know nothing about hanging around?”

  “I know ’em. Besides, it ain’t like they be hanging around every day. But if it’s a problem for you, I’ll just ask them to stop coming by.” He winked. “Okay, Mr. Boss Man?”

  “Don’t be calling me that, man. You know better than I do that’s bad business just waiting to happen. Besides, look at this jacked-up room. It’s a mess and I didn’t put all our money into this house to let your damn friends come in here and mess shit up for us. So, one or two friends, that’s it. If you don’t like the rules, you can always find yourself somewhere else to live.”

  “Look, Kiley,” Donovan said, blowing smoke out of his mouth. “I don’t want no trouble. I know where you’re coming from, but a nigga get bored sometimes. Kareem and Quincy always spending nights with the ladies and you and Jada forever doing shit together, so I kinda like just chilling with my new crew. And don’t worry, no hard feelings. I understand where you’re coming from.”

  I reached out for his joint and took a few puffs. Then I handed it back to him. “I hope you understand you’re like family to me. My issues are about making sure things around here run smoothly. Too many niggas mean trouble, and from past experience even you know that.” I stood up and grabbed his hand then pulled him up. “Now, let’s go get some of this good-ass breakfast I’ve been smelling all morning.”

  Donovan and me walked down the steps holding each other around the shoulders. When we went into the downstairs kitchen, Jada was putting the finishing touches on breakfast.

  “It’s about time,” she said with her hands on her hips. “I’ve been down here since seven o’clock and the two of you Negros finally decide to show up.”

  I went over by the stove where she was standing and kissed her on the cheek, then wrapped my arms around her waist. “Baby, I smelled your good cooking upstairs, but Donovan had some issues that needed my immediate attention.”

  “He lying, Jada,” Donovan said. “Quiet as kept, he told me he was trying to put off coming down here eating your horrible-ass cooking for as long as he could. I was the one who reminded him of how good you cook and changed his mind.”

  “Well, fuck both of y’all. I made all this food and ain’t nobody here to enjoy it. If y’all don’t want it, throw it away. I’m taking my ass back to bed.” Jada took my hands from around her and started to leave the kitchen.

  I grabbed her by the hand. “I know you didn’t just believe that bullshit he said.”

  “I don’t know what to believe, Kiley. Y’all play so many games that I truly don’t have time for them.” She loosened my hand and walked out.

  I gave Donovan a hard stare for lying to her; then we rushed the kitchen counter and fixed us a plate. I pushed him out of the way a few times and we laughed trying to pile as many pancakes as we could on our plates. Soon after we sat down at the kitchen table to eat, Quincy and Kareem came rushing through the back door grabbing plates ready to get their grub on as well. Quincy had a black bandana wrapped around his head, and a white long Nike T-shirt that hung down over his baggy jeans. Kareem was dressed in Sean Jeans from head to toe with a pair of leather Timberlands on. By the look of t
hings, it was obvious they’d been somewhere getting their sex on.

  “Playas, playas,” I said. “Good morning to you brothas too, and can we please go wash our hands or something before bringing all these germs up in here? Kareem, I know your daddy taught you better than that, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah, yeah, he did.” He smiled with a pancake hanging out of his mouth. “But he also taught me don’t starve myself either.” He and Quincy went over to the sink and washed their hands.

  “That’s better. But I can’t believe these bitches y’all be out with in the wee hours of the morning ain’t feeding y’all asses. Damn shame y’all gotta come in here and eat all my woman’s good cooking up.”

  “Aw, we eating,” Quincy said, piling his plate up high. “Just not what you might have in mind, my brotha.” He laughed as Kareem gave him five.

  “Y’all some young nasty-ass niggas,” Donovan said. “Kiley and me would never do any shit like that.” Donovan looked over at me as I held my head down and kept on eating. “Kiley?”

  I looked up and smiled. “What?”

  “What, my ass. Don’t tell me you go out like that. I remember you said never in a million years would you stoop that low.”

  “I know what I said, but I’m moving on with the times and so is my woman. If I don’t, somebody else will, so—”

  “So, my ass. Y’all muh-fuckers crazy.” Donovan got up and dumped his plate in the trash. “Just the thought of the shit spoils my damn appetite.”

  “Just the thought of what, Donovan?” Jada asked, walking back into the kitchen.

  “Uh, the thought of, uh . . . sex.” Donovan hesitated.

  “Sex? What about sex spoils your appetite?” she pushed.

  I grabbed her around the waist and sat her down on my lap. “Donovan gay, baby. Having sex with a woman just spoils his appetite.”

  She looked at me and rolled her eyes. Kareem and Quincy were at the table cracking up.