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When Booker coasts to a stop at the first red light, he looks over at me and bursts out laughing.
“Damn cousin that shit was funny as hell. You don’t know how hard it was for me to keep a straight face. Personally, I wanted to shoot the asshole the first time he disrespected you, but I knew it was only a matter of time before you were going to let his ass have it. You held your composure well. Uncle Clinton would’ve been proud of you,” he says.
Yes, Booker is not only my assistant but also my cousin. His father, Elijah, is my daddy’s younger brother. Daddy ran Cooper Road here in Shreveport and Uncle Elijah was his Second in Command. They had the streets on lock and everyone in the city knew it. Even at a young age, I knew my daddy was the shit. I saw the way people respected him and the ones who didn’t, I never saw again.
Although my daddy was a street dude, he showered my momma, Rachel and me with love and attention. I loved the devotion he had for my momma. Daddy never cheated on momma, which showed how much he really loved her and that says a lot for a street hustler. Daddy was all about taking care of his family and building a legacy for us.
Just because my daddy was into illegal shit didn’t mean he wasn’t smart. He invested a lot of his money in opening legit businesses. He owned three car washes with detail shops, a soul food restaurant called ‘Ruby’s Kitchen’ that he named after my late grandmother, and a couple of auto parts stores. Each of them he put in my momma’s name just in case he got hemmed up by the feds.
When I was ten, Uncle Elijah was caught moving an enormous amount of drugs and since he had a record, the judge threw the book at him, giving Uncle Elijah twenty-five to life in prison with the possibility of parole. Daddy spent a crazy amount of money on lawyers, but even with all their credentials, they couldn’t help Uncle Elijah. In the end he was sent to the most dangerous prison in Louisiana, Angola State Penitentiary. Lucky for Uncle Elijah, he and daddy’s reputation was known around the prison, and no one messed with him. Hell, in no time he was leading the brothers.
Six months after Uncle Elijah left, a woman came knocking at our door. When daddy answered it, she dropped a backpack on the porch, then moved to the side to show a little boy standing behind her in dirty clothes and shoes.
“Here’s your nephew. Since your brother was stupid enough to get his ass hemmed up, then you all can take care of his son,” she said.
Daddy stepped out on the porch. “His son? Elijah doesn’t have any kids and who the fuck are you?”
The woman put her hands on her hips. “Yeah, he used to tell me the same thing, but look at that boy and tell me he is not Elijah’s son. I’m Lolita Burns.”
My eyes went straight to the kid. He looked scared, but there was no denying he was Uncle Elijah’s. I also saw the bruises on his arms and the ringworm on his neck. Daddy must have seen it too, because he asked, “If this is true, then why am I just now hearing about this?” He points to the boy. “What’s his name and why is he bruised up like that?”
“His name is Booker, and you know how boys are. He fell off a swing at the park,” she returned, but we knew she was lying because he flinched when she grabbed his shoulder and forcefully pulled him in front of her. “When I told Elijah I was pregnant, he flat out told me it wasn’t his. I might’ve been hot in the ass back then, but I knew who I was pregnant by. The more I tried to convince him, the more he denied our child. Before I had the baby, I moved to Plain Dealing with my grandparents. Ever since Booker was born, things have been hard for me. I love my boy, but I can’t give him the life he deserves. I have a part time job that barely covers my section 8. The state just lowered my food stamps and I have three other kids younger than Booker to take care of. Him not being there will give me one less mouth to feed. Their daddies don’t do shit for them, so it’s up to me to take care of them. My plan was to bring Booker to Elijah, but after I heard what happened to him, I remembered you.”
Momma moved to daddy’s side, fussing, “How can you just give away your child? What kind of mother does that?”
Daddy held up his hand.
I couldn’t see his face, but the look of pure terror on the woman’s eyes confirmed that my daddy was giving her one of his death stares. She instantly released her grasp on Booker.
“What’s in the backpack?” daddy questioned.
The woman swallowed hard before answering, “His birth certificate, school information, and medical records. Shit like that.”
“Come here, Booker,” daddy said in a calm tone.
When Booker didn’t move, the woman pushed him towards daddy.
“Don’t fucking touch him,” daddy growled. Booker’s eyes widened. Daddy held out his hand as he dropped to one knee, telling Booker, “It’s okay nephew. I promise no one will ever hurt you again.”
Booker slowly walked to daddy. When he was close enough, daddy wrapped his large arms around him, then stood. “Syd get the backpack.” I hurriedly did as I was told before going back to the door. Daddy turned with Booker in his arms and told momma, “Take him inside.”
Momma took Booker from daddy, then went inside the house. I should’ve been right behind her, but I stayed to listen to what daddy was going to say to Booker’s momma.
“From this day forward, you will not have any contact with Booker unless he wants to reach out to you. I don’t need a DNA test to prove that he’s Elijah’s. By bringing him to my doorstep, and wanting to abandon him like a stray dog, in my eyes forfeits your parental rights. He is of my blood, my brother’s blood, so that makes him a Morgan. Don’t let me catch you anywhere near him or my house again. I’m sure if my brother truly knew Booker was his son, then he wouldn’t have ever ended up with you and I sure as hell wouldn’t have. Leave my property now before I make your other kids orphans,” daddy threatened.
“So, I can’t stop by and check on him from time to time?” the woman asked.
“Hell no,” daddy boomed. “You lost that right when you brought Booker here. If my brother had known about Booker sooner, I guarantee he would have never been with you. Now get the fuck off my porch.”
She then seemed to be concerned, requesting, “Can I at least say goodbye to him.”
Daddy chuckled, then put on a stern face, replying, “You did that when you brought him here. You had six years to bring that boy to my brother and you didn’t. I’ll make sure Booker knows you gave him to us, but I won’t paint you out to be mother of the year. I can only imagine how Elijah is going to react after finding this out. If I were you, I’d go back to Plain Dealing and act like you’ve never given birth to Booker. He’s with us now, so make no mistake I will do everything in my power to get custody of him.”
The woman was shell shocked as daddy left her on the porch and entered the house. Booker’s momma stared at me, hoping I would have pity on her, but I went inside and closed the door. I expected her to bang on the door to fight for her son, but five minutes later she was gone. I joined my family in the living room.
The next morning while the four of us were in the kitchen, daddy called Uncle Elijah’s illegal cell phone at the prison.
“What’s up big bro?” he answered.
