Hard White. Shannon Holmes

ashes off an already dirty floor.

      “It’s me, mom, Sheron,” the boy responded.

      Sheron was the mature twelve-year-old son of Tess. Unlike most boys his age, Sheron was not concerned with videogames or T.V. He had more pressing needs like taking care of himself. He rarely indulged in the childhood games.

      “Mom…?” Sheron said almost inaudibly.

      Quietly Melquan, Precious and Mike Copeland got up from their seats to watch the exchange. Melquan was most touched by the boy’s timid behavior. Wearing a puzzled look, Melquan glanced first at Precious then Mike Copeland. He was completely appalled by what he was witnessing. Mike Copelan and Precious both had snide expressions on their faces. It was as if they were enjoying themselves.

      Melquan looked back at the bagged up drugs that were on the table. A powerful overdose of shame shot through his veins. Melquan wanted to leave but stayed riveted watching this scene play out. Even though the youngster wasn’t in the same room, the thought of bagging up drugs with a kid around dogged Melquan’s conscience. He went off on a guilt trip.

      “Yo, where shorty come from? I ain’t even know that someone else was here,” he said.

      “Me either. But what’s da big deal? He’s just a lil’ fuckin kid,” Mike Copeland said, shrugging his shoulder.

      “Man, I ain’t tryin’ to corrupt nobody who ain’t already corrupted, especially no lil’ kid. God don’t like ugly. Precious, go find sumthin to cover that shit up with real quick,” Melquan said, pointing at the table.

      Sheron was still standing at the bathroom door waiting on his mother to respond. He leaned against the door, trying to hear her reply.

      “Ma, ma,” Sheron whispered.

      “Boy, if you don’t get the hell away from this door, and leave me the fuck alone, I’m gonna come out there and hurt you. Now leave me alone!”

      Sheron turned dejectedly and walked away from the bathroom door. Moping around the apartment, Sheron stopped when he reached the kitchen. He stared in wide-eyed surprise at three unfamiliar faces. Mike Copeland and Precious gave the boy a look of indifference.

      “Hey shorty, c’mere… What’s your name?” Melquan asked, attempting to stir a conversation.

      The kid walked a few feet up the hall toward Melquan. Although he didn’t know Melquan, he still didn’t fear him.

      “Sheron,” the boy responded.

      “What’s good, Sheron? My name is Melquan. Yo, you hungry, Sheron? Cause I was just about to send my girl to the chicken spot to get some eats.”

      “Oh no, I didn’t know I was about to go to no chicken spot. Melquan, I’m ya girl only when you want sumthin. I gotta hair appointment today and I just ain’t got no time to get no chicken.”

      “Wow,” Melquan smiled, shaking his head. “I know you frontin’ but that’s cool. What comes around goes around.”

      “I’m dead-ass, Melquan. I do too have a hair appointment.”

      “Look, I ain’t tryin’ to hear all that rah-rah. You ain’t right, shorty ain’t got nothin’ to do with nothin’... And you here just shittin’ on him for no reason,” Melquan said staring down Precious.

      “I ain’t shittin on shorty. I just gotta go get my hair did, wash and set. The Dominican’s got a special on Wednesday.”

      “Oh you just realized that… Or is that is just an excuse, because of who his mother is, right?” Melquan asked Precious.

      He turned to look at Mike Copeland. His lieutenant vigorously shook his head, rebuffing Melquan’s non-verbal request.

      “Don’t, even look at me dog. I’m grown ass man. What I look like lettin’ you son me like that. You know what they say if you want sumthin done, do it yourself.”

      “A’ight, a’ight, fuck both y’all! I’m a take shorty to the chicken spot my damn self. Y’all got the game fucked up doin’ shit like that. Both y’all ain’t gonna have no luck. Y’all can’t keep takin’ from the game and don’t give nothin’ back. Have a heart sometimes muthafuckas,” Melquan said, walking out with Sheron.

      “Havin’ a heart will only get a nigga knocked. Precious what da fuck is up with your man?”

      “I don’t know what he on. That nigga only calls me his girl when he wants some ass or wants me to do sump’n. Any other time, I’m just his down-low bitch,” Precious sarcastically said.

      Mike Copeland and Precious stayed with the task at hand. When the process of cooking and packaging the crack was done, it was now time for the product to hit the streets.

      Chapter Five

       True 2 Da Game

      Out on Laconia Avenue, blue and white police cars raced through the street with sirens blaring, rushing from the 47 ^th Precinct on 229^th Street to God knows where. A block up the street, and what seemed like a world away, Melquan and Sheron sat in the Kennedy Fried Chicken spot eating the house special, chicken wings and French fries. They kicked it for a minute about everything from school to sports. Melquan soon realized that Sheron loved sports but hadn’t participated because of his mother.

      “She’d be showing up to the games all drunk and high talking shit. So I quit.”

      “Shorty, you gotta forgive her, cause no matter what she’s still ya mother,” Melquan said between bites of chicken. “She knows not what she does.”

      They continued chatting and hit it off, laughing and playing. Melquan stole food off Sheron’s plate and Sheron did the same to Melquan. Both of them quickly became real familiar with each other.

      “You still hungry, Sheron? You want sumthin else? Or maybe you wanna take sumthinupstairs with you for later on? Maybe another soda, ice cream, or whateva…?”

      Melquan’s voice trailed off as he watched Sheron’s reaction. The kid seemed caught between shyness and neediness. There was a hesitation before Sheron gave an answer.

      “Thanks, but I guess I’ll be alright. We can head back by my building. I got some homework to do.”

      “But how can you do your homework if you hungry? You know you can’t even concentrate when you stomach’s makin’ funny noises, shorty.”

      “I know, but really Melquan, I’m good. Thanks anyway.”

      “You sure…? Never let your pride get in the way of asking for sumthinthat you need. Closed mouths don’t get fed. Shorty, think about it. You working, and you get hungry later, and you ain’t got nothing in the house to eat…Hmm, hmm?”

      Melquan saw shyness in Sheron but asked anyway. There was something about Sheron that made Melquan recognize that he was a good kid. He had not been tarnished by the ways of the world, or the projects. It seemed as if he wanted to really accept the offer but was too bashful to do so. Still Melquan had to make an offer that Sheron couldn’t refuse. It was the drug dealer in him.

      “Look, I don’t care what you say. I’m get you sumthin anyway. How about that…?”

      “I guess, alright,” Sheron said, giving in. “But my mother gets her welfare check tomorrow. So we’ll have whole lotta food to eat. Tomorrow, we’ll be good.”

      “Okay, but you gotta make it through the night to get to tomorrow, feel me?” Melquan said.

      Melquan got up from his seat and walked over to the counter and bought another order of chicken wings and French fries to go. After the order was processed and paid for he returned to Sheron and handed him the bag of food.

      “Here,