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The major story was this: Jason Miller was shot twice and had been rushed to the nearest hospital. He was expected to live, but his playing days in the NBA looked bleak. His season was over, leaving almost no hope for the Nets to make the playoffs.
The news told Kip NYPD had no leads and no suspects. It was limited information, but it was still information. Having heard enough of his work broadcast on TV, he turned it off and stood up. His bedroom was quiet.
He walked to his window and peered out, and it was another sunny, spring day in the projects. No one knew that he and his crew had done the robbery the night before.
Kip did fifty push-ups and fifty sit-ups. He needed to keep his body in shape. He had to always stay fit and ready. Being frail and weak was a death sentence to him.
He broke a little sweat while working out and then guzzled down a full bottle of water.
Subsequently, he went into his little brother’s bedroom and saw Kid already in his wheelchair, fully dressed and playing Call of Duty online on his Xbox. Kid was the wholehearted gamer. He sat in front of his plasma TV with his headset and remote control, communicating with other gamers from all over the world.
“You up and dressed, huh?” Kip said.
“Yeah,” Kid replied, not looking at his brother but focusing on the game.
Kip walked farther into the bedroom and noticed several hundred-dollar bills on the dresser. He picked it up and counted six hundred dollars. He looked shocked. “You won all this playing chess yesterday?” he asked.
Kid glanced at him and smiled. “Like I said, you got your hustle, and I got mines.”
“Damn! You definitely hustlin’, little brother.”
“You can’t be the only one bringing income into this home,” Kid replied.
Kip chuckled. He was impressed. “Do you.”
Kip sat on the foot of Kid’s bed and watched Call of Duty on the 50-inch flat-screen. It was an intense game of guns and soldiers, no
t to mention it was loud and busy.
Kid moved his avatar like a professional gamer and took on all enemies with a fierce machine gun.
Kip couldn’t keep up with what was going on. It almost matched his real life. He then looked at Kid and said, “Look, I’m thinking about going to see Nana this weekend. You wanna roll?”
The mention of Nana’s name put a frown on Kid’s face. “I think I’ll pass,” he said.
“Again, Kid . . . you know she misses you.”
“That old woman doesn’t miss us. The only thing she misses is the checks she used to get for keeping us,” Kid replied dryly.
“Nana is a sweet lady. She has always been good to us.”
“Because she got paid to care, Kip. And you keep her dolled up and living a lifestyle that she doesn’t deserve.”
“Why you resent her so much, huh? If it wasn’t for her, they would have separated us,” Kip reminded Kid.
Kid continued to frown. “But they didn’t. There was something about her that I never liked. She used us, and she’s still using you. She uses people, Kip.”
“She’s a good woman.”
“Good to herself.”
Kid wanted to fart on her name. He had always believed that when he had gotten seriously hurt and paralyzed, she was elated. A crippled child would bring her a bigger paycheck from the state.
“You’re supposed to be the kind and forgiving one,” Kip joked.
“And you’re supposed to be the one who thinks several steps ahead and could see a setup coming a mile away. Too bad you didn’t see Nana coming.”
Kip managed to chuckle. “Oh, you got jokes now.”
