Dirty DNA (G Street Chronicles Presents) (2 page)

Daddy, Oscar and I had just started to
gather our things to leave Fort DuPont Park. We frequented the park
often to take in the sounds of the artists who performed in the
Jazz in the Park venue. I really didn’t care for the music, but
Daddy said I should always try to experience new things; besides he
was making me go.

I handed the picnic basket
from our lunch to Oscar. He was my father’s most trusted employee.
Needless to say, Oscar was Daddy’s best friend. He was also the
deadliest, and you would never catch me or my father out anywhere
without Oscar in tow. He was always sporting twin
Desert Eagles
on his
hips and he wasn’t afraid to make them clap. Oscar didn’t look like
he was a killer which pleased him because it always made it easy
for his opponent to underestimate him.

“Oscar, why does Daddy make me come to this
bamma Jazz stuff? I would rather be at a go-go. All my friends are
partying with Chuck Brown and listening to Backyard. Why do I have
to be the only one of my friends who has to suffer through this
weekly visit to Jazz in the Park?”

“YaYa, one day you will have the pleasure of
taking over “The Family Business” and you will have to entertain
other types of people. My sweet niece, you will be a great leader
of the DC streets, and you will have to know how to dance with the
devil. You will have to be cultured in many things.” Oscar
said.

Oscar called anyone that wasn’t a nigga, the
devil. He also liked to call my father’s ring of terror, drugs,
pimpin’, and violence, “The Family Business” which they had been
telling me was my destiny since I was two. Just as I was handing
Oscar the other end of the blanket we had used to sit in the cool
grass, my father pulled up in his brand new armored Hummer. We
started to pack up the truck when a frail woman with a teenage
looking dude approached us.

Oscar – who trusted no one – instinctively
reached for the heat on his hip, exposing the butt of the gun on
his right side. After a second glance, I could see that the walking
stick figure that was approaching us was once my mother, Christa.
She was dirty and looked as though she hadn’t had a bath in weeks.
Her clothes were ratchet, and her hair was a shitty mess. She
reached out for me, but Oscar grabbed Christa before she could
touch me.

“Oscar, don’t touch me!” she scowled.

Oscar released her, not because he was sure
she was safe, but because he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
My father couldn’t believe his eyes either. He was seeing the
mother of his daughter looking worse than he could have ever
imagined. The dude who had walked up on us with Christa stepped up
like he could protect her from anything that might pop off. He
looked as though a bath tub hadn’t seen him in quite some time and
that he had missed one too many meals. There was something about
him though that gave off that, “Don’t fuck with me” vibe.

“Funny seeing you here! You were always so
predictable.” Christa said as she walked up on my father who was
standing with a look of guilt in his eyes. “Darnell how about you
and I talk for a while? Maybe we could try and get that old thing
back.” Christa cackled.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing coming
from the mouth of the woman who once was my mother. She had the
nerve to be trying to hit on my Dad as if he were going to jump at
the chance to fuck her.

“Dee, I want you to meet someone. Neko, this
is Dee and that lil’ black bitch is your sister, YaSheema. She is
the reason we have no home son. She is the reason we ain’t got
nothing. That lil’ whore stole everything from me, including my
man!” She screamed pointing at me. She was staring at me through
drug-riddled eyes that were evil little slits. 

Darnell had had enough. “Christa, if you
don’t leave YaYa out of this and tell me what it is you are doing
here, I swear they are gonna’ find your ass in the Potomac by
morning!” He barked.

“I don’t want shit from you or that tramp
YaYa.” She scowled. “Look, I have decided to get myself cleaned up.
I need some help Dee. I am fucked up. I dunno’ what else to do. I
have nowhere to go.” She sobbed.

“I’m no good to Neko like this. I can’t help
him until I can help myself.” Her tears flowed freely. There was no
doubt in my mind this was an award-winning performance. The young
man with her, who eerily resembled me, rolled his familiar grey
eyes.

“Look Christa, you and the boy just get in
the truck because I ain’t gonna’ have you putting on a show for the
whole damn city to see!” Darnell said.

Christa lifted her head and thanked my
father for being so gracious. She tried to look as if she was
wiping away tears. Then she looked at me and winked her eye. I knew
right then Momma had some shit with her and I was determined to
find out what the deal was.

“I see you moved out of the hood Dee.”
Christa said as we walked into our home on Dumbarton Street, in the
heart of historical Georgetown, DC.

Georgetown is a beautiful area in upper
Northwest Washington, DC. It used to be exclusively for colored
folks back in the day and then white folks ran the blacks out
during the 50’s and 60’s. Now it’s nothing but uppity white folks
living in their million-dollar homes. Black folks in this part of
DC were far and few between.

“Yeah, Georgetown was a better area to raise
YaYa in. She could go to a better school, but we didn’t have to
move out of the actual city. I like it. I can sleep better knowing
YaYa is safe here.” Darnell said.

My Dad and Christa were making small talk
and I didn’t want to hear my mother’s fake shit anymore. “Christa
why are you here?” I said with my hands on my perfectly rounded
twenty-six year old hips. “You gotta’ have a reason. You must want
something.” I stated.

Christa whirled around and stated boldly, “I
am your mother and you will respect me little girl!”

“Mother? More like a fucking drug addict!” I
shouted. “You haven’t been a mother to me my whole life, so don’t
try to come in here with that shit now! And respect? Why should I
respect a two-dollar whore?” I spat.

Christa lunged for me and slapped me across
my face. I was stunned that the nasty bitch had touched me. Oscar
moved in fast.

“That’s enough Christa! I will not have you
beating on one another in here!” Oscar barked as he carried me out
of the room kicking and hollering.

“Imma’ get you; you better believe this shit
ain’t over!” I screamed.

I could see Christa staring at me like she
knew what I said was true. Her days were numbered. I had no love
for the woman who gave me life. I had no respect for her. I vowed
right then and there that she would never get another chance to
make me feel like I was the cause of her misery. I saw Neko
watching me as I was being carried away. I knew I should have
protected him from the wrath of Christa. I was not going to let her
fuck up his life anymore than she already had. I was fortunate
enough to have my father in my life. God only knew what he had been
through in his.

The House

Georgia Avenue

NW Washington, DC

“Girl, I wanted to knock her on her ass!” I
said into the receiver of the cordless phone that I had glued to my
ear. I was talking to my best friend ShaniQua.

ShaniQua still lived in my old hood in
Trinidad NE. That’s where I was born and raised until my father
decided we needed to be upgraded. ShaniQua and I had been best
friends since we were babies. She was the sister of one of my
father’s lieutenants who was responsible for dropping off product
and picking up money.

My father paid his people well, so ShaniQua
was well off; but she wasn’t doing it big like I was. In the eyes
of the folks in the hood, ShaniQua was a ghetto princess and people
respected her gangster. NiQue and I were thick as thieves, and
everyone in the streets knew we were going to be running shit once
our folks passed on the torch. NiQue was on the thicker side just
like me. She had a creamy complexion. She was a “red bone” with a
mean swag. NiQue knew the power of pussy and used it frequently to
get what she wanted. 

“NiQue, I almost crushed her in front of my
dad. I know she is down there trying to con her way back into the
house, but I got plans for that ass.” I said.

Just as we started to speak on some nigga
NiQue was craving to give the booty to, I heard a knock on my
door.

“NiQue, someone is at my door. It’s probably
my dad and I rather you not hear him let me have it about this
hoe.”

“Aight girl, call me when you’re done.”
NiQue laughed as she hung up.

I hit the end button on the phone just as my
father entered the room. “YaYa, Christa will be staying here until
she gets herself clean.” He stated with authority. “I will not
tolerate the bickering between the two of you while she and Neko
are here.” He continued.

I stood there in shock as my father told me
my crack head mother would be staying in our home while she
rehabbed.

“Daddy, why does she have to stay here?
Can’t she go to a shelter? They got plenty of shelters for crack
head whores.” I whined.

I knew I had crossed a line. My father
looked at me like he never had before and I knew what was coming
next was not going to be good.

“YaSheema, I don’t know who you think you
are talking to, but it certainly ain’t me. Did you forget about who
calls the shots around this muthafucka’?” He growled.

I must have looked as
though I was in shock about the whole thing because my father’s
face softened. “YaYa, it is only gonna’ be for a hot minute and
then she and Neko are out. This is temporary, just so she won’t be
dragging that boy from place to place. I am ordering
Ledo’s
for you and Neko.
I thought it would be a good idea if you and Neko spent some time
together, seeing that he is your brother and all.”

With that my father turned and walked out of
my room. I thought my father had lost his damn mind. He let this
woman sucker him into letting her stay. I knew the real reason my
father let her stay, he had a soft spot for charity case youths
like Neko. He grew up without a loving home, and he never wanted to
see a youngin’ down on their luck and fighting just to live day by
day.

I took all of those things into
consideration and thought about my, “not so little brother” who I
would get a chance to know. Christa and I could squash our shit for
a little while for his sake. I eased out of my room to see if Neko
was adjusting to his new surroundings. He was in the guest room
sketching a picture.

“Wassup wit’ chu’?” I asked sitting Indian
style on the floor next to him.

“Nothing, just sketching a picture of you.”
He said with an innocence I instantly fell in love with. He seemed
like he was nothing like our mother.

I sat with Neko long into the evening. I
guess being an only child made me long for companionship. I never
really realized that I wanted a sibling. Neko had just finished his
pizza as though it were his last meal. I watched him closely and
studied him. He was surprisingly well mannered for someone with a
devastating upbringing as I am sure he had.

“Neko, this is your room.”

He looked around like he was in a fairytale.
“This is my room?” His grey eyes, which resembled mine, showed
their appreciation. Neko pulled the blankets off of the bed and
laid them neatly on the floor. He then gathered a fluffy pillow and
placed it on the floor with the blankets.

“What are you doing?” I asked, curious to
know why he wanted to sleep on the floor instead of the bed.

He stopped dead in his tracks. “I guess I’m
just used to sleeping on the floor. Creature of habit you know? I
usually gotta’ sleep on the floor where ever we end up; so it’s no
big deal. She says I am young and I can handle it. Plus, I don’t
wanna’ sleep with her. She always makes noises in her sleep.” He
laughed.

I couldn’t believe some of the stuff Neko
and I talked about. My brother was forced to take care of my
mother’s strung out ass! I couldn’t tell who the parent was and who
the off spring was. Based on the conversation we had, it seemed
like he did more taking care of Christa than she did of taking care
of him. Neko and I talked until he fell asleep. I stared at him and
promised myself that I would take care of him. I made up my mind
that Christa would pay dearly for whatever she had forced my
brother to live through; because I was certain that he had endured
a lot.

The Awaking

National Harbor

Fort Washington, MD

Two months had gone by and Christa still
wasn’t straight. NiQue and I were out shopping at the mall. It was
Friday; better yet, it was Memorial Day Weekend. Everyone knew the
spot to be at was Anacostia Park for the three major summer
holidays: Memorial Day, Fourth of July and Labor Day. The niggas
would be out and you had to be fly to catch the bait.

“Girl, you think Tonio gonna be at the
park?” NiQue asked with excitement while looking at a pair of
sandals.

We were in Tyson’s Corner
where you had to go if you wanted that fly shit. We loved shopping
at Tyson’s Corner because it was in a predominately white area.
There was nothing but rich white people there, and they stayed the
fuck out of your way because you looked like you were up to no good
if you were black. We used to love the attention we got when we
would cop some of the most expensive shit and pay cash for it.
Those dumb broads would be picking their faces up off the floor
when we would hit up
Bloomies
(Bloomingdales).

“Girl, damn if I know. You know how these
niggas be acting’. He and Twan say one thing and mean another.” I
said, looking through a rack of blouses.