What's Really Hood! by Wahida Clark

What's Really Hood! by Wahida Clark

Author:Wahida Clark
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: FIC003000
ISBN: 9780446569866
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2010-05-24T04:00:00+00:00


ALL FOR

NOTHING

BY SHAWN “JIHAD” TRUMP

ONE

It was late. The moon was a silhouette in the cloudy sky as Jihad drove through the McKeesport city streets en route to Legends nightclub.

He stood five-nine and weighed in at 160 pounds, so appearance alone was not enough to instill fear. His pale face would make a brother in the hood quick to judge. But any brother from the hood who knew Jihad knew better. More than once, men had waged war and walked away with regrets or died from their stupidity.

He pulled the purple ’72 Cutlass in front of Legends and those in the line outside stared as he exited the vehicle. Never flashy, he sported a pair of butter Timbs, blue jeans and a black hoodie with seven cornrows woven perfectly to the back. As he approached the entrance he was joined by three other brothers, and together the four young men created the clique known as Point Blank Mob.

They weren’t your average crew. Most cliques were plagued with some form of jealousy or envy, but not them. They operated in harmony and were willing to sacrifice their lives for one another, and the bond of loyalty and love they shared would bring certain death to anyone who transgressed their limits.

“What up, y’all?” asked Jihad as he began to embrace the squad.

“Ain’t shit,” answered Crook. “Just sittin’ out this muhfucker waitin’ on your ass.”

“My bad, homie,” replied Jihad. “I had to break out the crib. You know Monique’s ass is always actin’ crazy.”

“Man, you’s a sucka,” laughed Crook as he looked at the other two men and said, “He the only nigga out here who can put a bullet in a chump and go home and bow down to some pussy.”

As Jihad laughed he thought to himself how close he and Crook were. By nature, Jihad wasn’t playful and the fact that Crook could clown him and get away with it said a lot. Crook and Jihad were as tight as friends could be. They had grown up in the same building and were separated by only two months in age. During their twenty-one years on this earth they, just like their moms, had been best friends.

Standing more than six inches taller than Jihad, and seventy-five pounds heavier, Crook always stood out. However, he was the least likely of the two to start any drama, but once shit jumped off, you had better duck.

“What the fuck. Y’all gonna sit here and crack jokes or we gonna go inside?” asked the short and stocky dark-skinned brother named Teku impatiently.

“Quit crying all the time,” mocked the fourth and final man, named Tree, as the two men stared at each other as if a fight would evolve from their words.

Eventually, though, the two men stood down and laughed. Since birth there had been a challenge of superiority, but only a few could have a bond as strong as Teku and Tree. They were identical twins.

Done playing games, the four men passed the crowd and made their way to the front.



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