Let Me Hear a Rhyme: Chapters 32–55

I turn to face him, but he holds my shoulders, his fingers grazing my neck.

Dag, why is he ruining this night for me? For a change, I can see the allure of this lifestyle and just want to let down my armor. Why won’t he let me enjoy myself?

A girl next to me is sweating like crazy, hair matted to her face, dancing with her eyes closed.

Flashlights shine in our faces and a defense line of burly football players appear, arms linked, and like a long broom, they sweep the floor clean of anyone fighting.

“Jazz, I’m sorry,” he says, flustering.

“One, you give me my brother’s money. Two, you help find his killer. Three, I tell Pierce AND my mom everything, including how y’all swindled a grieving young sister...”

She hands me my bag with a stoic expression.

I’ve been keeping a ledger in the back of one of Steph’s notebooks.

My system is mad sophisticated.

Stupid on a track/but still a
Tutor to y'all cats/ I
Exude the gravitas to snatch fools from offa that/
Pedestal, now you should nap

Old school like movin' back, to the future 'cause the fact/ I'm
Not new, I'm two years past,
Use an almanac/
What's my name?

I look up at Mack, pulling up in a sleek black Range Rover.

Now normally, I’m the cool, calm, collected type.

But this chick right here...even her voice irks me.

I mean, Rell’s the flashy fashionable one of our set, but I like having a little swag too.

“You know how they say, when kids are kidnapped without a struggle, it sometimes means that the kid might’ve known his capturer? What if that’s the same with Steph? What if he knew who the killer was, and that’s why he was over here? Steph wouldn’t come around here otherwise. We don’t have no family over here. No friends...technically.”

He stretched his arms out wide, grinning and with a pitched voice says, “COUSIN!”

Following Jarrell, Steph gave the court another once-over, and that’s when he saw it. Red Shorts duke giving Quadir a subtle head nod.

But he said he didn’t know anyone out here, Steph pondered.

Frozen in fear, Quadir watched Steph through the gate, wondering if their friendship could still be salvaged.

Rell pokes his chin out, straddling his legs, fisting one hand into the other.

Hair braided down, covered by a thin hoodie, she returned from her evening excursion unscathed, until she reached the front door.

Hair braided down, covered by a thin hoodie, she returned from her evening excursion unscathed, until she reached the front door.

We shouldn’t even be celebrating Thanksgiving, some holiday to commemorate the Indians saving white people from starvation and in turn they “thanked” them by slaughtering their tribes, stealing their land, and poisoning the earth.

She’s the one who gave me the bread. No one knew Steph took that weight from me, so it couldn’t have been no retaliation.

“And that line about snitching...I can’t even front, son has a point. ‘If you keep being quiet, you only a chain on the neck of violence with your silence.’ Yo, he talking about being an accessory to murder, son.”

Pierce ignores him, fixated on his television, still set to MTV, playing DMX’s “Get at Me Dog” video, shot in the Tunnel.

She picks up a see-through neon-blue rotary phone off her desk and dials a number.

“Aight. Don’t be reneging like last time.”

“Guess I never really looked at it like that. But...if taking back your power means you can be whoever you want to be...how about be a teacher and help children to read. A doctor and help cure cancer. A humanitarian and help feed the world’s poor. A social worker and help kids in the hood. If your only goal is a selfish one...if your looks is only thing you care about...what does that say about you?”

“I just heard Pierce on the radio,” I say, in a daze.

The goons and I share a baffled look.

He shrugs. “Said I was ‘too much of a liability.’ With my temper, ego, blah blah blah. I ain’t tripping off that. I already saw the writing on the wall.”

Brooklyn sweltered, the humidity a thick layer of paint coating skins and suffocating mouths.

“This ain’t like him,” Quadir mused.

Rell hobbles to the middle of the sidewalk, watching him ghost.

He juts his lips out at Fletch. “And the lawyer?”

“I’ll save you the legalese but he’s here to represent the young man’s estate. He was smart enough to draft himself up a will before his untimely passing.”

“I’ll save you the legalese but he’s here to represent the young man’s estate. He was smart enough to draft himself up a will before his untimely passing.”

“But hey! I’m sure you could afford a lawyer. Sitting here in your state-of-the-art studio in the middle of the hood. How long this place been open again? Could be used for collateral, considering all the expected profit losses I plan to sue you for.”