What do you do when you are young and gifted and the world has turned its back on you? That is the wrenching question at the heart of this extraordinary novel about a seventeen-year-old street kid whose only escape is through crime--and the redemptive power of his poetry.
Ballad of a Ghetto Poet tells the savage and lyrical story of a teenager caught in the brutal cross-fire of poverty and violence that could send him on a collision course to the cellblock--or the grave.
The ghetto poet of the title is Chico Grayson, a teenager growing up in a tough town in Richmond, Virginia, where poverty is a life sentence, and the only way out is behind the barrel of a gun. Raised on the harsh, brutal language of the streets, Chico hears the music of God in the poetry he writes. But God is noticeably absent when he falls in with a sly and dangerous criminal who draws Chico and his best friends Malcolm and Junnie into the city's violent underworld of crime. Torn between his allegiance to the boys in the 'hood and his unique gift that could be his ticket to a better life, Chico takes more and more risks, becoming a trigger boy in a series of drive-by shootings that sweeps him into the sights of a ruthless East Coast gang. Marked for execution, he soon becomes the unwitting pawn in a terrible murder that must now be avenged.
Filled with the rage and pathos of the streets, eloquent in its anguished portrait of life in the forgotten corners of the South, Ballad of a Ghetto Poet delivers a modern-day interpretation of West Side Story. This is a tragic and heroic tale of desperate hope and lost chances, and of what happens when redemption comes too late.
Chapter Five:
God’s Gonna
Ask It Back From You…
The heat of the day betrayed the chilliness inside the dark blue Sentry. As Chico, Malcolm, Junnie and Marco made way for Chamberlayne Avenue in Northside Richmond, the streets were quiet. People were trying to stay cool in the ninety-nine degree heat wave. Only the little kids seemed not to mind the intense heat as they took turns shooting each other with a Super soaker. Marco looked around then pointed toward a raggedy set up of pink apartments that should have been ripped down ages ago.
“Pull around the back, man. I know that nicca at home, but he’s gonna try to play me. Just gonna surprise his fat ass,” Marco said. “Now this is what I want y’all to do, Junnie you stay with me, Malcolm you and Chico go up there, knock on the door, and I want y’all to ask for this nicca name Wesley. Then you tell ‘em, Marco wants to holla with ‘em, aight?”
“Aight, that’s cool,” Malcolm said.
Chico was very quiet, not sure how he should respond to Marco. He glanced pensively at Malcolm as he pulled the car to a slow halt. After nodding to Marco they both got out of the vehicle and made their way up the trash cluttered, metal stairway.
“Man, what we doin’ here? This ain’t even our biz. This is just too wild for me,” said Chico.
“Yeah, it is our biz. Marco is cool peeps you just have to know how to deal wit’’ him, you know?”
“This ain’t none of our
business I’m telling you,”
Malcolm gestured for him to quiet down then tapped on the door as they looked down to the balcony below. Chico noticed Marco and Junnie waiting for a signal, with Marco’s ever present ivory cane waiting on the sideline.
A heavyset, brown skinned, baldheaded brotha opened the door. “Yeah? What can I do for ya?” he asked, as he eyed both guys suspiciously.
“Yo, we looking for this dude name Wesley, he here?” Malcolm asked.
“And who wants to know?”
“Marco wants to know,” said Chico, noticing that this bruh fitted the slight description Marco gave them. “Would that be you?”
Suddenly with a loud bang the door shut hard on Malcolm’s hand.
“Oh shit! cried Malcolm, grabbing his smashed hand. “Get that nicca!”
Giving the door two hard left kicks, Chico felt it give way with a loud thump. He worked his way in the apartment house, soon to hear Marco and Junnie running up the stairs behind them.
“What happened?” Marco asked. “Where’d he go?”
“He’s in there,” Chico nodded toward the inside of the apartment.
“Aight. See this fool wanna make things hard. Hey, where you at, Wesley?” Marco called out as he stepped inside the apartment. Malcolm, Chico and Junnie stood closely behind him. “Hey, Wes, you know wassup, man, I just wanna talk to you, aight? Don’t play me, man; don’t make me have to search for your ass.”
All four guys looked around the quiet apartment, with no signs of Wesley. Suddenly a shadow from behind the curtain alerted them to his presence. The sound of a scuffle soon could be heard thought out the room, ending with Malcolm and Chico holding Wesley hard against the floor.
“Hold him tight.” Marco said, as he quietly leaned down at Wesley. “See, what’s so crazy about this is now I don’t even have to ask you if you have my money or my product. ‘Coz I know you don’t with you trying to run and all. Now I don’ told you, not to fuck me. Do you realize how painful that is for a man?”
“I’ve been trying to get your money, Marco! Come on you gotta give me more time, aight?!” Wesley begged. Fear caused his voice to rise and tremble.
Marco brought the shiny ivory cane up to Wesley’s lips, motioning for Malcolm and Chico to hold him ever tighter. With one swift movement of that cane Wesley’s mouth was a bloody pulp.
“I gots to give you more time? Pardna, the only thang Marco gots to do in this world is eat, piss, shit and die, you got that? And it’s just so happens that your time is up, my brotha…so rest...in...peace.”
Marco rose up with his eyes never leaving Wesley’s. “Junnie, smoke this piece of shit.”
Junnie’s eyes widen, as Chico’s heart quickened.
“Man, what’s wrong with you? Do it!” Marco screamed. “You got the heat. Nicca, do it!”
Junnie aimed at Wesley. His hands were shaking. Suddenly Marco grabbed the gun from him. “You slow as shit. I’ll do it myself.” He aimed.
Marco laughed crazily at Wesley. “Silly, nicca, I was just fuckin’ witcha! That piece ain’t even loaded,” he said to Junnie.
Junnie’s hands were shaking. “I swear I thought I had loaded it!”
“Oh, you thought it was loaded?”
Suddenly Wesley jumped up, then kicked Malcolm, hitting him with such force that he flew back, hitting the floor with a thud. He then ran for the door. Malcolm was able to reach around and grab Wesley by the ankles, which brought him tumbling down like the Jolly Green Giant. Once he was grounded, Marco started beating him viciously with his cane.
“See, I told you I was just fuckin’ with you, but you have to get all crazy, right?” Bringing the cane down hard against him, Marco screamed to Wesley, “Don’t you ever play with my money again, you hear me?”
Without warning Wesley grabbed the cane from Marco then stabbed the sharp end into his upper arm. Marco screamed out. Chico jumped at the scream that came from Marco, and moved quickly to quiet him. Wesley grabbed the hand that Chico held his .38 in. They wrestled back and forth with it. Chico jerked at the loud pop sound. It was a loud, deafening sound, which seemed to echo though out the tiny apartment. It seemed to him that it had all happened in slow motion. Splattered blood and brains were everywhere. Smoke seemed to radiate from the hole in Wesley’s head as his dead eyes looked blankly in Marco’s face. He fell back with a thud.
Somehow Chico could hear voices coming from two different directions. He could hear Malcolm’s voice as he said, “Oh shit, Chico! Oh shit! That nicca is FUCKED UP! “He could also hear Marco’s demanding voice saying, “Let’s roll! Let’s roll!”
Chico looked up at Junnie, who shook his head and looked back at him in utter disbelief before also rushing out the apartment. But the loudest voice he heard as he followed his boys down the stairway was the voice of Elizabeth Grayson, and the words he used to hear all the time growing up. “God’s gonna ask if back from you, baby, everything you do, God’s gonna ask it back from you....” Her words seemed to echo, again...and again, in Chico’s ears.
When they got back into the car, all was quiet. Hearts beating fast. Everyone trying to absorb individually what had happened.
Marco looked at him as they got in the car. “Damn! What happened, man? I hadn’t really planned taking him out, but damn!” He pulled his bloodied hand back from his forearm, which was bleeding profusely.
“That looks bad, Marco. You need to have that looked at, yo,” Malcolm said.
“Yea, imma do that.” He signed, laying his head back against the seat. “That shit was wild.” He looked over at Junnie. “Junnie you was funny as hell. I thought it had bullets,” he mocked. “And you should have seen the look on your face when I told you to kick it to ol’ boy.” Marco laughed, then cringed as pain from his wound flashed through his arm.
Junnie didn’t look like he found it as funny. He shook his head at Marco then looked toward Chico. “You aight, man?”
“Yea, he’s okay, just all shook up. Right, bruh?” Malcolm said. “Yo! How did it feel to pop that nigga? That shit was straight outta Scarface. BAM!!” he said, mockingly moving his hands in a gun shape.
Chico was still silent.
“I gotta admit, you surprised me how quick and easy you did that. That’s what I need, somebody who can be quick on his feet, and not chicken out when you have to do what you gotta do. Besides, that was Wes fault for trying to take your piece from you,” Marco said to Chico approvingly. He looked down at the blood and tissue covering Chico’s clothes. “You look like you been in a war. Need to get you cleaned up before your mama sees ya.’
The conversation seemed to go on without Chico thinking or feeling anything, only hearing his mama’s words…
____
Long, long ago when I was small, I remember the solitude...
Swiping gummy balls at the mall...
He’ll ask it back from you...
When throwing rocks at passing cars and lying of what you do...
Six words are heard unfailingly...
He’ll ask it back from you...
A shrouded cheat sheet in my desk; the consequences that ensued...
Still left me illiterate to the fact,
He’ll ask it back from you...
Older and older as I became...my sins they grew and grew...
To Mama’s words I became enslaved...
He’ll ask it back from you...
My disgrace has escalated; commandment number six is through...
For now my fear and trepidation tells me…
God will ask it back from you...
____
When the car stopped in front of Marco’s townhouse Chico looked down at his blooded clothes and suddenly began to vomit uncontrollably.
----
“Do you have mustard to go with this?” a customer asked Asha as she looked down at her freshly baked pretzel.
“Sorry, we ain’t got no mustard.”
“How y’all gonna sell hot pretzels with no mustard?” the woman grumbled, giving Asha a nasty look as she walked away.
“Old heffa,” Asha mumbled to herself.
“Now that ain’t no way to treat a customer.”
Asha turned around at the familiar voice. She felt herself immediately stiffen. It was Peanut, smiling down at her as if nothing bad had ever happened between them. She turned back around and started refilling the pretzel carousel, trying her best to ignore him.
“So whas’ been up, baby?” he said cheerfully.
“Nuttin’ up.”
“Nuttin’ up? Aight. So, did you miss me?” Peanut leaned against the counter, giving Asha a heated stare.
She noticed that his face still held the bruises from his fight with Chico. Sighing as he watched her, Asha mistakenly dropped the sleeve of cups she was stacking.
“Oops!” Peanut said, smiling at her.
“Peanut, would you please leave? I’m at work and I have a lot to do, and I don’t feel like talking to you right now.”
“Girl, I’ve been trying to call you for the past two days, and your mama always saying you ain’t at home, or you busy. Now either she lying for you or you don’ found another nicca to take my place. So which one is it?”
Asha could tell Peanut was getting antsy. His voice rose and fell as he spoke. Just as she was about to answer him, a customer walked up. She felt relief flowing through her, happy for a reprieve.
“Can I help you?” she asked the short, white man, who took his place behind Peanut.
“I think he was first,” the man said.
“Naw, it’s okay,” Asha assured him. “He don’t want nuttin’.”
“Yea, I do,” Peanut announced. “I’ll take a twelve pack of pretzel sticks, with pizza sauce and nacho cheese.”
“Aight.” Asha swallowed hard, then got busy with the pretzel sticks. Her hands shook as she prepared them. She handed Peanut the pretzels sticks and sauce. “That 4.75,” she said.
“Damn, girl, that’s steep!”
“4.75, please…” Asha’s eyebrows rose.
The customer behind Peanut looked at both of them with amusement as if he could sense animosity.
“Here your go,” Peanut said, as he handed Asha the money. His hand lingered a bit in hers.
“Hey, Asha, you can go home now. I’ll finish cleaning up here,” Asha’s boss called from the back.
“All right. Let me finish up with this customer and I’m out.”
Asha looked up at Peanut’s smiling face. He pointed toward the benches down the mall floor. “Be waiting for you,” he mouthed.
After waiting on her final customer, and making sure she took her time, as to avoid Peanut as long as possible, Asha counted out her draw, and clocked out. The whole time her eyes kept being drawn to Peanut. She had promised herself that she was done with him, and was gonna move on and focus more on her senior year at school instead of dealing his abusive ass. But even with the promises she had made to herself she couldn’t slow down the fast beat of her heart whenever she thought of him. She couldn’t keep her mind or eyes off of him as he sat casually on the bench eating his pretzel sticks.
Peanut wasn’t the best looking guy she had ever dated, although he had a body that would put Shamar Moore to shame. But what had grabbed her most about him was the way he treated her. That is before he started slapping her around. It hadn’t always been that way. She could vividly remember when they first met. She was at a party with her cousin Jenene, when he had walked up to her, smiling and introducing himself as Tony Innis, but cockily announcing that his friends called him Peanut. Jenene had laughed later, saying that with that big ass head she couldn’t see why they called him Peanut; unless it had something to do with the size of his balls. Basically, Jenene never liked him. But Asha knew that if she had even an inkling of some of the things that had happened between them, her cousin would dislike him even more.
After grabbing her purse Asha closed the door to the pretzel bar. She took a deep breath and started toward Peanut. He stood up as she got nearer.
“Took you long enough,” he said. “But that’s aight, you’re worth it.”
Asha stopped in front of him, eyeing him suspiciously. “Peanut, why you trying to be all nice all of a sudden?”
“You mean why am I not pissed off that you sicced Chico and Malcolm on me?”
“I didn’t sic anybody on you,” Asha spat out.
Peanut laughed. “Yeah right. Anyhow, I’m always nice to you, Asha. I mean I know we have our bad times, but doesn’t everyone?” He noted Asha’s hard stance. “I love you, girl. You know I do.”
“Love ain’t s’pose hurt, Peanut. Love ain’t s’pose to make you feel like
nothing…” Asha surprised herself as she repeated the words her mother had said
to her days before. Oh God, she thought, I’m turning into my
mother!
“Oh, so I make you feel like that?”
Asha closed her eyes. She loved him so much. Why couldn’t she just be like her mom and make herself hate him? Her eyes stayed closed even as she felt Peanuts lips kissing slowly down her neck, with his arms wrapped loosely around her waist.
“Peanut, we’re in the mall, and people are looking at us,” she whispered.
“Then let’s go. Come on, Asha, I miss you and I’m sorry and it won’t ever happen again. I promise, okay?”
She looked at him, feeling herself weakening. She knew she shouldn’t believe him, but still, maybe, just maybe…She didn’t want to be like her mom, old and alone, manless. Shoot, she was seventeen, this was prom year coming up, she loved Peanut, she…she…He kissed her again behind her ear, which was her hot spot.
She gave in.
A.J. White is the pseudonym of an author who lives in King William, VA.
Home Authors Title List Title List with Covers Contact Information Purchasing Information
Merchandise Events Calendar Appearance Request Guestbook
Message Boards Chat Rooms Email Strebor Zane's Books Submissions Policy
Website Designed and Maintained by Zane