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“Nope. We’re not takin’ a slow walk down Fairytale fuckin’ Lane this fine afternoon. The hell with Mama and Daddy, Cain.”
“Why do you always do this? I have a right to talk about our parents!” The man’s voice rose like dust from the floor. “You always wanna shut the conversation down, like they did somethin’ to you personally.”
“I’d say robbin’ a bunch of banks, the last one with a million security cameras, and getting shot by the police until their bodies looked like Swiss cheese is doin’ somethin’ to me personally, motherfucker.”
“They did it for us!”
“That shit wasn’t for us! Look where it landed us. In the homes of strangers. Weirdos! Don’t start that shit, Cain. They’re not heroes. They’ve been dead for almost twenty years now, and you’ve bought into the hype. We walk in their shadow. You know I love ’em, just as much as you did, but Jesus, man! They had kids! I don’t need to romanticize the past, and neither do you. I live on Reality Avenue, right across from Common Sense Lane. You should come on through some time for a visit.” Cain sucked his teeth and huffed. “Look, Mama and Daddy loved us. I know that, all right? They were nice to us, I suppose you could say, but bein’ nice to your kids at home, while raisin’ hell out in the streets has consequences. Doesn’t matter now though, does it? We bounced around from foster home to foster home after that botched robbery they pulled, until Grandma went on and took us. She could barely take care of her damn self, let alone kids. Let’s just agree to let go, all right? Move the hell on.”
“I’m not romanticizing our parents’ lives, Jude. They were legends. There’s no sugar I need to add. Fuckin’ desperados.” Jude huffed and rolled his eyes. How fucking outrageous.
“Are you serious? Desperados? They weren’t outlaws, motherfucker. They were scratchin’ at the concrete lookin’ for a miracle like everyone else! Trying to survive.”
His brother pointed an accusing finger at him, his eyes made of brass, and his lips distorted, turned downward. “Show some gotdamn respect.”
“Or what?” Judge paused. “Come on, Cain… What’s going to happen if Idon’tbow down to the altar of our dearly departed mother and father, huh?” He tossed up his hands. “Lightnin’ gonna strike me? A witch’s curse, maybe? I wish lightning would’ve struck the day we were gettin’ the tar beat out of us, and fried Uncle Danny’s house! I wish that lightenin’ would’ve split his tweakin’ ass in two! Where was the lightning at when I was a kid, being tied up to a fuckin’ bed for three days, sittin’ in my own piss in foster care?! Mama and Daddy died, Grandmama cried, the cop lied, and now you’ve been convicted and tried. Don’t nobody give uh fuck ’bout no poor ass White boys from Bordeaux. None of that shit is real! Our lives were shitty, so ain’t no such thing as no fuckin’ miracles, and respect is earned. Uncle Danny had one thing right, and that was it.”
“Fuck Danny. Didn’t karma pay his ass a visit and stayed all night?! Thisismagic, Jude. You’ve got it. I’ve got it.” Cain looked wild in the eyes, as if he’d had some great epiphany that only he could comprehend. “It’s in our blood. The poison runnin’ through our veins is pride, privilege and prejudice. I’m just saying that if they were here, brother…” He leaned in close. “If our parents were here, they’d make sure we were fine. That’s all. Straight, no chaser.”
Jude stared at his brother, making the choice to not speak another word about it. He’d let Cain live in his illusory world, dance in it, then die a slow death.
“…I better get going.”
“You make sure you come see me again before another six damn months pass. The phone calls don’t always cut it.”
“Three. I’ll be back in three months.” Jude winked as he waved three fingers about.
“All right. I reckon that’s fine.”
“Do you need anything? I sent the packages. Food and what not. Sneakers, too.”
“I got ’em. I have everything I need. ’Cept the cigarettes and crossroad puzzle.”
Jude nodded, reassuring his brother once again as he got to his feet.
“Oh, before I go, I wanted to tell ya that I got a strange email couple of days ago.” Jude smoothed out a few wrinkles in the sleeve of his white button-down shirt.
“Was it from Peter tellin’ me to fuck myself in Spanish this time around? I heard he’s bilingual.”
Jude grinned and shook his head. “Nah. Just a warning from our friends in small places and spaces, with no traces. I wanted to give ya the heads up.”
Cain nodded in understanding. It wasn’t the first time their lives had been threatened. After all, he and Jude had claimed other people’s turf in a way that shocked even the most seasoned drug lords. A war had begun on account of his brazen actions, and he was dead set in the center of it, daring anyone to come and get a taste. “You take care of things in here, Cain, and I’ll help. I’ll take care of things out there, and you keep me informed…”
Cain chanted their mantra.
“We don’t hide, we don’t run, we grin and grab our guns.
We don’t tuck no tails ’round here. We don’t believe in fright or fear.
Behind bars, or free as all outdoors,
We stand at attention, like hard dicks in front of whores.”
“You know it.”
His brother got to his feet and outstretched his arms for the guard to cuff his wrists.
“Thanks again for lookin’ after my boy and his mother. You’ve been good to them over the years.”
