Page 38 of Delirium 2

Again, she sucked her teeth but this time when she spoke, I heard the smile in her voice. “Bye Exodus Christ.”

She hung up and I continued down the block wearing a silly ass smirk myself.

About forty minutes later, I was in Kingston Heights, MI, posted up on one of the blocks Jayceon claimed as his.

After going through his file, I learned that Jay was more than just a nickel and diming ass nigga. He ran the southside of Kingston with a couple of other niggas. His cousins. As an only child, he clung to his cousins, which he had a shit ton of them muthafuckas. But because the streets of Kingston was just as treacherous as the ones in The Bricks, he only had a hand full left. Despite having a big ass family, Jayceon grew up in the system, moving house to house since the age of five. His peoples, like most muthafuckas in the trenches, fell victim to drugs. Jayceon was left to fend for himself in a system that never gave a fuck about little black kids.

He was in and out of juvie. Petty shit like breaking and entering. A couple of car jackings. Nothing big enough to stick for real. Not until he was eighteen and caught a drug charge. He was caught with a few ounces of weed. Again, nothing crazy. Whoever he worked for got him a good ass lawyer and he was sentenced to probation and community service work. Jayceon was a regular ass drug dealer. The connect these days who apparently needed help from me. Because he was heavy in the game, I knew what it was. He needed help getting his work across a couple lines. I wondered if it was something different. Wondered if he needed help transporting across them oceans. Was I interested after reading his file? Fuck no. I wasn’t intrigued. There was nothing special about what Jay had going on. Today was about studying movements. Today was about learning who he was outside of the file. Day one of many. I did this. Whenever I was put on someone new, I hid in the shadows, watching, in an unmarked car, blending in with the rest of the raggedy cars out this bitch.

After I left the crib, I stopped at one of my lots… picked up a rusty Impala and slid through the hood. The block I was on was busy. Kids ran up and down the street, playing kiddie games. Based off how lil’ mama was standing, facing an abandoned house while her friends scurried around behind her, I could tell it was hide and seek. I hoped that’s all it was. Back in the day niggas played hide and go get. Because it was a girl counting, I chalked it up to an innocent game of hide and seek though.

Further down the block there was a basketball game going on, dice game, and not too far from them stood a couple of young girls dancing in front of their phones. On the porch of the house, they were in front of, stood a girl who couldn’t be no older than ten braiding an older woman’s hair with a couple other women waiting patiently with bags of hair in their laps.

I was studying everything.

The community included.

I had eyes on Jayceon about ten minutes ago. He pulled up in a white AMG Benz GLE with tints, got out, said a couple words to one of the niggas tossing dice on a pile of money, and soon after disappeared behind the door of a house that had to be the trap. It’d seen better days. Didn’t have any siding. The door was off the hinges, resting against the house. The windows were covered with plastic. A couple stairs were missing. House was hot as hell. If Jayceon was smart, he would clean this bitch up so it wouldn’t be as obvious. Despite being in Kingston, where the law really didn’t give a fuck about the trench, moving the way he moved was still very fucking sloppy.

I took notes.

Didn’t jot shit down on a notepad or no shit like that.

I took mental notes.

That told me Jayceon was careless. I didn’t do well with carelessness. He wasn’t strategic. Didn’t really put effort into…

The fuck?

He walked out of the house with a young kid on his hip. A boy who only wore a dirty diaper. Fuck was a kid doing in a trap? Then it hit me. It wasn’t a trap, but a spot someone actually lived in. I watched as he carried the child to the car and sat him inside. A couple of seconds later, a broad walked out of the house, yelling, pointing at him. She was dirty. Hair all over her head, dingy tank, short ass shorts, ran over thong sandals. Skin dark and patchy. She was a feign for sure.

With a squint, I wondered the connection. I shifted my eyes to the address on the house and made a mental note to have Calvin look into it. There was a lot of shit in Jay’s file but nothing about a kid.

They argued.

He choked her up.

She clawed at him.

Everybody on the block watched.

Real hood shit.

All the while, I sat blending in, watching it all unfold. If I was out here with malicious intent, I could have easily sent something between his eyes. In the middle of him fighting with the bitch. My shit was just that precise.

Shifting around in my seat, I turned the key dangling from the ignition, deciding I’d seen enough. Enough for today, at least.

About thirty minutes later, I was pulling up on Zeke, popping up at his shit because I could do that. I pulled into the driveway, and shot Kiss a text, telling him to meet me at Zeke shit. He reacted almost immediately, giving me the thumbs up. I got out of the car, the summertime sun shining bright on a nigga, scorching, for real. It was hot as fuck today. Weather app said ninety, but it felt like a hundred, honestly.

I closed the door behind me and headed up towards the house. Zeke stayed in The Bricks. A couple of blocks away from the crib we grew up in. Well… a couple of blocks away from the street we grew up on at least. The house was gone. We set that bitch ablaze the minute we moved out after the bank foreclosed it. Yeah, we lost the crib. After pops died, we lost a lot. If it weren’t for me stepping up, putting my head in the game, getting us money, the church would’ve been lost too. I mean shit, we did lose it, but when I got up, it was the first thing I bought back. Before putting bread down for a crib, I got in touch with the bank and got the church back. Had to. Not because I wanted to do work out of it but because it was a staple in the Christ family household. That church belonged to us. House did too, but we were young and reckless back then. How important it was to us didn’t cross our minds before Zeke drenched it with gasoline, and me and Kiss tossed the match that took it away.

Anyway.

Bro. He lived in the trenches. Was most comfortable here. I got it. I was most comfortable in the trench too. Only reason I stayed in Wildermere was because momma did. And regardless of how comfortable I was out here I would never have my ma living out here. Although I was sure if she was in her right state of mind, she would have preferred Brickhaven too. It was home for us but nah, I was straight on that. I wanted my momma in the best. It might’ve sounded fucked up but I was fully taking advantage of her mental state because if Marietta was lucid, none of the shit that’s gone down would have gone down. At all. Church would be clean as a whistle. She’d be in Brickhaven. And shit would be… different. Very different.

Outside around here was much like outside in Jayceon’s hood. Kids playing. Muthafuckas shooting dice… the whole nine. I headed towards the house, jogging up the creaky stairs.

Zeke owned the crib but did very little to take care of it. All he had to do was get up with a crack head to fix a couple things here and there. Nigga didn’t give a fuck though. Paint was chipping. He needed a screen door, a railing, and the stairs replaced.