just felt good talking to her.
Silence. I looked over her head. There was a Goodyear blimp in
the sky. Her rejection of me was written all over her face. It
answered my question in a way she could never have. Time was of
the essence. What I just said even sounded whack to me, that was
my weak heart talking. I realized I needed to spit game like flavor
in her ear. “Tell you what, give me something to read, something
conscious.” I watched her delicate eyebrows furrow like she was
trying to read my brain to see if I was lying. I know that all them
people with that fake-ass “Black Man” talk were suckers and want-
ed to tr y to get people to read like it was going to kick star t a rev-
olution. Her eyes softened, maybe she saw potential in me. I damn
sure did, enough to want to sell bricks and buy a villa in Manila,
smoke trees while getting my dick sucked by one of them exotic-
looking bitches under a palm tree.
“ Life, there’s a book titled,
The Destruction of Black
Civilization
, written by a man named Chancellor Williams and
another book,
Miseducation of the Negro
.”
I could have won an award for best actor the way I feigned
interest. She went on to talk about some cat name Marcus Garvey.
Her faced beamed, like she really enjoyed the topic. Boring. I was
trying to remember how far the Black section of town was that we
passed. I knew it was called Frenchtown. I heard talk about it
while I was in the joint. I needed to know what size their dime
rocks were. I was making plans, like a general, about to mount an
attack, to take over them Tallahassee niggas tur f.
“ Life! Life! Boy, you ain’t heard a word I’ve said.” She got into
the car.
“ I heard ya.” I made a face, my best impression of don’t go.
49
L i f e
She reached in and placed each one of the bags that I bought
for her on the curb. “I’m sorry, but I cannot accept these. Call me
at the station tonight, we’ll make arrangements to pay for the car.”
As she pulled out, I shouted, “Bring the books when you come
back tomorrow.”
“ Come back?” she mouthed the words, looking at me strange-
ly. I thought to myself,
you’ll be back as soon as you find Jesus under
your front seat
.
I went to my room. It was nice and comfortable with a scenic
view and a king-sized bed. It even had a kitchen with a stove and
fridge. I counted out my cash, a little over eight grand. I cut a hole
in the mattress and stashed it there for safe keeping. I placed my
jewelr y under the pillow and changed clothes, a simple pair of
jeans and a large white T-shirt. I was about to make my first foray
into the Black section of town. There was a risk involved. I need-
ed to look as inconspicuous as possible. I easily concealed the .380
in my pocket and only took eighteen dollars and some loose
change with me.
I walked a mile or so taking in the sights. This city was alive.
The Florida State campus was huge. White broads walking
around, scantily clad, teaming with other vibrant ethnicities. I
blended right in, and even though it was hot as hell, I enjoyed the
sights and sounds. To me it was like being in a foreign land. I
passed a car lot, across the street was a Popeye’s Chicken, and
down the street from that was Nether world, better known as
Frenchtown. I’ve often wondered how the Black section of town
was always placed in the middle of white folks’ areas so that they
can conveniently drive by with their expensive cars, windows up,
doors locked and scorned expression on their faces at the shock of
the plight of Black life.
I was definitely approaching the Black section. I could tell
because the value of the land looked dilapidated. I strained my
eyes to the glare of the sun. I saw it up the street. To the casual eye
it would not have been detected. I spotted what looked like a
lookout man or woman. Any trap that is making any money has
50
L i f e
one. The best lookout in the world is a
Silence. I looked over her head. There was a Goodyear blimp in
the sky. Her rejection of me was written all over her face. It
answered my question in a way she could never have. Time was of
the essence. What I just said even sounded whack to me, that was
my weak heart talking. I realized I needed to spit game like flavor
in her ear. “Tell you what, give me something to read, something
conscious.” I watched her delicate eyebrows furrow like she was
trying to read my brain to see if I was lying. I know that all them
people with that fake-ass “Black Man” talk were suckers and want-
ed to tr y to get people to read like it was going to kick star t a rev-
olution. Her eyes softened, maybe she saw potential in me. I damn
sure did, enough to want to sell bricks and buy a villa in Manila,
smoke trees while getting my dick sucked by one of them exotic-
looking bitches under a palm tree.
“ Life, there’s a book titled,
The Destruction of Black
Civilization
, written by a man named Chancellor Williams and
another book,
Miseducation of the Negro
.”
I could have won an award for best actor the way I feigned
interest. She went on to talk about some cat name Marcus Garvey.
Her faced beamed, like she really enjoyed the topic. Boring. I was
trying to remember how far the Black section of town was that we
passed. I knew it was called Frenchtown. I heard talk about it
while I was in the joint. I needed to know what size their dime
rocks were. I was making plans, like a general, about to mount an
attack, to take over them Tallahassee niggas tur f.
“ Life! Life! Boy, you ain’t heard a word I’ve said.” She got into
the car.
“ I heard ya.” I made a face, my best impression of don’t go.
49
L i f e
She reached in and placed each one of the bags that I bought
for her on the curb. “I’m sorry, but I cannot accept these. Call me
at the station tonight, we’ll make arrangements to pay for the car.”
As she pulled out, I shouted, “Bring the books when you come
back tomorrow.”
“ Come back?” she mouthed the words, looking at me strange-
ly. I thought to myself,
you’ll be back as soon as you find Jesus under
your front seat
.
I went to my room. It was nice and comfortable with a scenic
view and a king-sized bed. It even had a kitchen with a stove and
fridge. I counted out my cash, a little over eight grand. I cut a hole
in the mattress and stashed it there for safe keeping. I placed my
jewelr y under the pillow and changed clothes, a simple pair of
jeans and a large white T-shirt. I was about to make my first foray
into the Black section of town. There was a risk involved. I need-
ed to look as inconspicuous as possible. I easily concealed the .380
in my pocket and only took eighteen dollars and some loose
change with me.
I walked a mile or so taking in the sights. This city was alive.
The Florida State campus was huge. White broads walking
around, scantily clad, teaming with other vibrant ethnicities. I
blended right in, and even though it was hot as hell, I enjoyed the
sights and sounds. To me it was like being in a foreign land. I
passed a car lot, across the street was a Popeye’s Chicken, and
down the street from that was Nether world, better known as
Frenchtown. I’ve often wondered how the Black section of town
was always placed in the middle of white folks’ areas so that they
can conveniently drive by with their expensive cars, windows up,
doors locked and scorned expression on their faces at the shock of
the plight of Black life.
I was definitely approaching the Black section. I could tell
because the value of the land looked dilapidated. I strained my
eyes to the glare of the sun. I saw it up the street. To the casual eye
it would not have been detected. I spotted what looked like a
lookout man or woman. Any trap that is making any money has
50
L i f e
one. The best lookout in the world is a
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