"Shit is mad real out here in this battlefield."
Method Man (1999)
* * Chapter 1
As the bus continued on its way, Hakim stared at the card Tony had given him. Hakim realized at that moment that he had a very serious decision to make. His pockets were too fucking light for his taste! Since he had been released from prison, he realized that things had changed. Somewhere along the way, crack cocaine had become the obsession of an entire generation of people. Selling, using, cooking it up—all exploded. It seemed like everyone he once knew was into crack in some form or other.
When Hakim had been younger and living in the projects, he had been enamored with the thought that sixteen and seventeen-year-old dropouts could earn thousands in hours without ever leaving the comfort of their own street corners. He remembered staring enviously at the shiny Jeep Cherokees and Volvos that boasted exorbitant sound systems and how the girls flocked to the dealers when they walked into the clubs and skating rinks with their glittering jewelry blinding the crowd. He had been amazed at how, seemingly overnight, brothas he'd been chucking dodgeballs at on the elementary-school playground only eight years earlier now had their names spoken in awed whispers.
Though he had partied with some of the dopemen, ran the streets with a few; he could never bring himself to join The Game. Not that he had been noble or opting instead for some moral high ground. It had been simple: he had been afraid. Afraid of going to jail. And once closer scrutiny of the rulebook made him realize that murder was standard operating procedure in drug dealing—afraid of dying.
But time had changed and so had he. He had had the opportunity to witness the mass incarceration of Black men, young and old alike, because of drugs while it seemed that whites who committed the same crimes were given a second chance to prove their worth to society by receiving probation and community service. Although Blacks make up only 13.5-14% of the total population in the United States, their numbers are reaching 55-60% of the total population in America's dungeons! He had stopped believing the lies of American society and so had many other young Black men.
Hakim had talked with many people and witnessed many things while in jail and he had come to realize that "The Drug Game" gave truth to all those wonderful lies American schoolkids are fed about all the joyful opportunities America holds for them. "Just go to school, get a good job and make good money" had become the mantra for a society unwilling to face up to its true legacy of cowardly racist acts and beliefs, and it's exclusionary attitude towards others who were/are not white. 'The Game' was about Black kids mimicking power brokers, about Black youth showing just how right-wing George Bush and his cronies could make the rest of us. It was about rugged individualism ("I gotta get mine"), megabucks ("Make money, money, make money"), about eschewing the welfare of the collective in favor of hoarding wealth for a few ('Don't ask me for shit!"). What was fucked up…what was incredulous was that white America viewed crack dealers as the scourge of the Earth while minimizing the impact of white- collar crimes, institutional racism, and politicians! But crack dealers aren't the only American men to be tempted by the dollar. Capitalism corrupts thoroughly, across CLASS and RACE lines, across professional boundaries. Corruption, cashing out on principles, they are very much the American way!
Hakim realized that the decision he had to make would change his life, dramatically. He had to think deeply and seriously about it. He realized that if he did decide to get involved in The Game, it would have to be short term. Get in, get money, and get out. The bling-bling of the drug culture held no interest to him. That was the same ignorant ass mentality that had gotten so many stupid jackasses locked behind bars. Selling…whether it was crack cocaine on the block or advertisers on television telling you why you had to have the next new fuel-wasting truck…it was business, never personal. He surmised that if was able to keep the 'drug game' as a business venture and not an ego trip, he might just be able to pull the shit off. He had grown while in prison and had learned three important principles: kill hard and fast without hesitation, never trust anyone where your life is concerned, and, when you want something done right, do it your damn self!
* * Chapter 2
"Fate is determined by what one does and what one doesn't do." Ralph Ellison
Scene: A transit authority bus lumbers to a stop in a clean, residential street corner.
Hakim exits the bus and pulls a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket and begins to unfold it to view it. He chuckles at the event that had caused him to possess the paper and his first date with a female since he had been released from prison three months prior.
Two weeks ago…
Hakim had had the day off so he decided to go to town. He planned to walk around for a bit and then get a haircut at one of his old hangouts. The downtown area had changed dramatically. A spanking brand new county jail lockup had been built while he was away and its' ugly shit-colored bricks contrasted sharply with the formerly attractive skyline of the city. Anything to keep the bucks rolling in, he guessed.
After Hakim got his hair cut, he headed into an upscale department store to purchase a scarf for his mother. He had missed the shit out of his mother while locked up and he realized since he had been home just how much his mother had missed him. She had been very supportive of him, as she knew that it would be hard for him coming out of jail. She looked out constantly. He wanted to thank her for all she had done for him. Right now it would be something small, but ultimately he wanted to make good on the promise he had once made about purchasing her a dream home.
Walking around the department store…a 6'2", 210 lb. muscular Black man drew the usual attention. Security and nervous stares from white patrons followed him throughout. As Hakim walked past a row of women's blouses, his eyes scanned a familiar face at the sales counter…Keisha. The woman who had taken his virginity!! She looked good…damn good! And her co-worker was a stunner, also. Maybe even more so. She seemed to be Asian mixed with European heritage. And the woman had a body that resembled the movie and television actress, Vivica A. Fox!
"How the fuck they got both of these fine motherfuckers working the same counter?" Hakim asked himself.
As Hakim walked towards the counter, Keisha bent forward at the waist to pick a receipt off of the floor. Her ass cheeks under her skirt spread invitingly. Hakim remembered the fact that Keisha liked her ass cheeks rubbed and smacked hard when she was getting dicked doggystyle. He also remembered how soupy her pussy had been! She stayed wet for an extremely long time and left extremely large wet spots on his bed, he also remembered. After the first time he had gotten between her thighs, she had allowed him to fuck her whenever he had the desire. She had been hooked! But her problems began when she ran her big mouth to her girlfriends about the new, big dick in her life. After that, they had to find out what she was bragging about. She had learned a lesson she would find hard to forget in the coming years.
As she straightened up, she glanced in his direction and immediately recognized him. He appeared to be thicker and somehow more muscular than he had been before entering prison. Her eyes sharpened and she sucked her teeth, slightly. She had not felt the least bit sorry for him when he was charged, tried, and convicted for possessing drugs. Though some people felt that Hakim had been set up, she wasn't worried about the facts of the case. Hakim had hurt and humiliated her by fucking her and then banging her closest friends. Then, he had the nerve to start fucking a white girl!! After that, he had virtually ignored her for the rest of the year! That little fact hadn't sat well with her then, and she damn sure was going to let him know about it! Keisha remembered that during that time she had practically begged Hakim to be with her and he had spurned her advances. It had been the first time in her life that she didn't get what she wanted. She didn't forget shit like that easily!
Hakim smiled, waved, and began walking toward the counter Keisha was standing behind.
"What's up Hakim?" Keisha said as he reached the counter.
"Hello, Keish. How have you been? Damn, it's good to see an old face…uh…er…I mean a pretty face," Hakim said.
"Sorry I can't say the same." Keisha mumbled.
