B-More Careful: Meow Meow Productions Presents by Shannon Holmes

Author:Shannon Holmes [Holmes, Shannon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780967224916
Amazon: 0967224918
Publisher: Teri Woods Publishing
Published: 2001-12-02T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Downtown at Lexington Market, Black mingled in with the crowd of office workers and students who were stopping through to shop and get a bite to eat on their lunch hour. While he was eating a fast food meal of chicken wings and french fries, his eyes wandered about till he suddenly spotted an old teammate. Ty was fresh out of the joint and Black hadn’t seen him in years. Though Ty had heard plenty about Black terrorizing the streets while he was in prison, he never thought in a million years Black would alter his future.

“Yo, Ty!” Black yelled out to him.

Ty looked around as if he were lost. He heard someone calling him, but was unable to determine the direction the voice traveled from.

“Yo, Ty, Up here!” Black yelled again as he leaned over the railing.

Ty looked up and squinted his eyes.

“Who dat?” he questioned unknowingly.

“Nigga, bring ya ass up here and see,” Black replied.

Curiously, Ty walked up a flight of steps to find out just who this stranger was. A million faces flashed through his mind till he got upstairs and Black came into full view.

“Oh, shit, my nigga,” Ty shouted as he got close enough to see him.

They hugged each other, and both remembered how tight they were when they played ball together. That was years ago. Black was the hot shot point guard with the deadly jump shot. As they broke their embrace, Black stepped back to get a good look at Ty. He still looked the same, except he had packed some muscle on his tall wiry frame.

“What’s up?” asked Black giving him a pound. “Long time, no see. Where the fuck you been, yo? I ain’t seen ya ass since y’all moved out to Woodlawn, yo.”

“I know, my mother did that dumb shit. She said I was getting in too much trouble in East Baltimore, but I found trouble out there, too.”

Black nodded his head understandingly. “What type of shit you into now, you hustlin’, yo?”

“I been biddin’ lately, yo. Matter of fact, I just came home about a week ago. I’m tryin’ to do my thing. You know what I’m saying?” he added.

“I heard that,” said Black.

“Wasn’t you up Hagerstown on the farm?” asked Ty.

“Uh huh,” responded Black. Quietly Black thought of his own fascination with jail. It was a survival thing. He felt that anybody who could survive that and come home unbroken still down to do dirt was a soldier.

“Ya name is ringing bells up there, yo,” Ty said informing him.

It seemed like every time a new inmate came upstate on the Bluebird Prison Bus, new stories about Black’s exploits or extravagance in the streets of East B-More came up with them.

Unimpressed, Black simply ignored the comment. It only affirmed what he already knew. He was that nigga, dah! Bow down in the presence of a true boss playa.

“They still slinging that knife up there, yo?” asked Black.

“You better know it. They check the guns in at the door, not the knives.

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