Crave All Lose All (4 page)

When they lowered his father into the ground, his mother held Vince tightly, sobbing. Vince stared at his father’s casket and made a promise to himself to get his life right and do just.

My alarm went off at exactly 6:10 every damn morning, indicating that it was time to get my ass up and ready for work. I didn’t know why I was getting up to go to work. I had two weeks left then I’d be permanently laid off. I received my notice in the mail a few days ago. My job sent me papers saying
that they regret to inform me, but my employment status will be affected by reduction in workforce requirements in my classification
—which meant I was soon to be unemployed.

I worked for
American Airlines
for four years. Things started going bad after 9/11 happened. I knew it would be my turn soon. I’d hope and pray that the downfall wouldn’t affect me, but it did. The economy took a nose dive and had a big domino effect. Businesses started closing down and layoffs were next. Now it was my turn and soon I’d be out of a job.

I didn’t fall asleep till two in the morning and was still groggy when I jumped in the shower. Unemployment was not an option. There weren’t any companies hiring at the moment. I applied at Jet blue Airlines, the sanitation department, MTA, even the local Pathmark and was placed on waiting lists.

I started working for American Airlines when my girlfriend was seven months pregnant. I tried juggling getting my bachelors degree and working full time to pay the bills. That wasn’t easy.

After pops died, I started helping my moms out. She was heartbroken. We fell behind on the mortgage payments and the bank foreclosed. My moms moved in with her older sister in St. Albans. It was a fucked-up situation.

Eventually I gave up my fulltime status at college to earn a steady paycheck. I was planning on going back full-time once I was back on my feet.

I met my baby moms five years ago while we were in John Jay college. Chandra and I had three classes together. We started talking at first, getting to know each other then we became friends. One thing led to another and a year later she was pregnant.

Beautiful with silky, dark skin, Chandra was charismatic with long, black hair extending past her shoulders. She was tall with a curvaceous body. Her legs were well defined, stretching up to the heavens.

Everything started changing after my son’s first birthday. Chandra stressed me too fucking much about my lack of money and school.

I was already busting my balls with overtime at the job. We lived in a basement apartment and I was tired of living underneath everyone.

My job provided medical benefits and flight privileges. She never complained when I used my benefits to vacation with her in South Beach
,
Miami
,
Barbados
,
Jamaica
,
even Hawaii. She wanted a house with lots of windows and cars. She always whined about taking the train back and forth to work. Chandra was a fashion fanatic. She loved clothes and had more clothes than Macy’s but she wanted more. Although she was a good mother to our son, we separated.

I moved in with my mother and Aunt Linda staying in the basement living an average life.

My last day of work, I got drunk with a few fellows at a bar on Rockaway Blvd. It was the end of the day and I was in my uniform throwing back Coronas and E&J not thinking about unemployment. I stared at the TV watching a clip of President Bush as he spoke to the nation about Osama Ben Laden and the war on terror.

“Muthafuckas fucked up and we lose our jobs,” Billy exclaimed. “Shit, they need to lay off Bush and that bitch, Rice. We the ones who suffer in the long run—the working man’s always last.”

“I hear that shit,” Roger, my ex-coworker concurred.

“He got some fucking nerves being on TV talking about the war… that muthafucka is terror. They need to knock his ass down like they did the towers,” Billy, my other ex-coworker joked.

“We gonna miss you and your lisp, Vin. We can still roll wit’ you…” Billy said raising his bottle.

“You said that wit’ just like Vince does,” laughed Roger chugging.

I joined in the laughter.

Billy and Roger were white and been at the company two years longer than me. When the pink slips were handed out, it didn’t matter if you were white or black. We were all in the same predicament—fucked.

I continued to down drink after drink. The news was too depressing to keep watching. Billy asked the bartender to change it. The Yankees were playing. I didn’t like baseball so I turned my attention elsewhere. Scanning the bar, I did a double-take when I spotted a girl I went to high school with. Sharice was standing by the pool table with a couple goons.

I remembered wanting to hit ‘em panties a long time ago. She was sexy, popular and everyone wanted a piece. Seven years had gone by but Sharice was looking good. She wore tight fitted jeans that highlighted her hips and a white top that left all her cleavage exposed.

She caught me looking. I smiled. Sharice was stuck on herself. From all the clarity in the ice she flossed on her neck, wrist and fingers, she had snatched up a baller.

I perked up and decided to holler at her as she strutted my way in five-inch stilletos. Her swagger could teach Beyonce a thing. Sharice snapped her fingers at the bartender while standing next to me without any acknowledgment. Her presence got my dick hard.

“Sharice, right…?” I asked.

“Do I know you, nigga?” she said with attitude.

“We went to high school together… had classes together during your senior year. I know you ain’t tyrin’ a play a nigga, now,” I smiled.

“That ugly uniform you wearing, it’s that easy for me to forget you,” she snapped back. “What you make ten…twelve dollars an hour? You can’t afford me, so step the fuck off.”

Her response smacked the smile off my face. I was flushed with embarrassment.

“Oh, so you think you the shit now…bitch, you a fuckin’ gold-digger,” I barked. She had pissed me off.

“Don’t get stupid. My peoples are over there and one word from me and they’ll have you laid out on Rockaway Blvd.”

“Vince, we don’t need any trouble,” Billy said.

“I’m tryin’ to show this bitch some luv and she getting ill. Fuckin ho!”

“You ‘bout to get fucked up,” she said tossing the drink in my face.

“Sharice, you got problems?” one dude asked.

“This…piece-a-shit here just fuckin’ dissed me,” she said pointing.

“You got a problem, homey?” he asked with the pool stick clutched tightly in his hand. He was flanked by other goons who had his back. They grilled me like I was easy prey.

“Nah, nigga…but you need to teach this bitch some manners. Fuckin’ ho, forgot where she came from. Maybe she needs some dick in her mouth for
her to shut the fuck-up!” I barked.

It was suicide. I knew what they were about. Their deamonor and style of dress screamed hustler. I had just lost my job, had too many bills to take care of and my car was on the verge of breaking down. They had Benzs and Escalades parked outside. All were frozen in ice and had money to burn. I had twenty dollars in my pocket and no job. Tipsy I was and in no mood for bullshit. I didn’t give a damn.

“Muthafucka, who you think you’re talkin’ to?” He was about six two, well dressed and well built. We were about the same size.

“Yo, I ain’t got no beef wit’ you, but your bitch is trash,” I continued my verbal onslaught.

“Vince man, c’mon…chill out,” Billy said fearing the worse. I needed to get hyped. There was nothing to lose and I haven’t been in a fight in months. Sharice played me. I knew she was used to niggas kissing her ass.

I saw the pool stick coming my way, ducked and charged forward. My first victim caught the blow across his jaw. I hit the second nigga across his temple and I went for the third nigga. I hit that third nigga so fucking hard, that I felt his jawbone shatter. I was outnumbered, but going hard body and had the advantage for serveral moments. Then someone grabbed me in a chokehold from behind. His forearm pressed against my wind-pipe like a python left me gasping, trying to break free.

“Yeah, what!” one of the thugs shouted hitting me.

“You bitch-ass, my son hits harder…”

The next blow buckled my knees. I found myself on the bar floor in the fetal position being stomped.

“Yo, drag this muthafucka outside!”

“Yo, get the fuck off me,” I yelled kicking.

My uniform was torn. My face was bruised and swollen from the blows bestowed.

“Yeah, talk that shit, fuckin’ big mouth!”

“I’m calling the cops.” The bartender shouted.

“We out…”

“I told you, stupid. Next time, you better fuckin’ respect me,” Sharice said looking down on me with a smug expression.

I was sprawled out on the floor, hearing them leaving. She followed her goons out the door.

“Fuck you! You still a ho!” I yelled.

I was hurting. My mouth was filled with blood and it felt like a few ribs were broken.

“Vince, you okay?” Roger asked coming to my aid.

“Thanks for the help,” I said, slowly picking myself up off the floor and holding my side.

“You and your smart mouth, gonna get you killed one day,” Billy said.

I looked at Billy thinking to myself,
fuckin’ pussy
.

“I’d rather die on my feet than live on my knees,” I said with as much conviction as I could.

Who was I kidding? I’ve been living on my knees in society since my mother lost her house to the bank. I dropped out of school to support my family. Now I’ve lost my job and my family. I just got disrespected by a bitch I went to high school with and her goons beat me down.

I sighed, licked my wounds and went to the bar for another Corona. I thought about dying on my feet and becoming a man in this world, instead of continuing to live on my damn knees.

I woke up to the aroma of breakfast coming from the kitchen. Either my moms or aunt was cooking. They both were wonderful cooks. I glanced at the time. It was ten in the morning. I slowly got out of bed, nothing to do for the day but job hunt.

“Vincent, breakfast is ready,” my moms shouted.

“I’ll be wit’ y’ all in a minute.”

I walked into the bathroom and looked at my reflection. My battered face from last night’s fight stared right back at me—a blackened eye, a slightly swollen lip, yeah I was a piece of work. Some parts of me still hurt. But I knew I was able to get through the day.

I turned on the water and thought about my glory days. I remembered wanting to be a boxer and was training at a gym on Northern Blvd. I was nice and my pops was supportive. He always encouraged me to have a back up plan in case I didn’t make it professionally. That meant keeping my ass in school and my face deep in the books, getting an education. Pussy and being stupid got in the way of me going to the golden gloves when I was seventeen. I got drunk and high with these two bitches the night I was supposed to leave on a flight to Chicago. My trainer was furious and barred me from his gym until I could get my act right. I never did.

Eight years later, I still had the physique of a boxer but my knuckle game was a bit rusty. My dreams were forever gone. I got dressed and went downstairs to enjoy breakfast. My mother was washing dishes and my aunt had left for work.

“Good morning, ma,” I greeted, giving her a kiss on the cheek as she
stood over the sink washing dishes with her back to me.

“Hey, sweetie did any one of them jobs called you back yet?” she asked.

“Nah, not yet,” I answered.

“Don’t worry, you’ll find something.”

“I hope so. I can’t be sitting around the house all summer that’ll be irritating.”

“Be patient. Good things will come your way,” she said. “Oh, Chandra called early this morning. She wants you to call her back.”