Travis Hunter - Two The Hard Way

R OMEO

I paced the rooftop of my apartment complex with a .40-caliber Glock pistol in the palm of my hand, sweat pouring off of my closely cropped head. Fear had a strangle-hold on me, and my heart threatened to beat its way out of my chest. I struggled to control my breathing as I eased over to the edge of the building and took in the sight of the only place I had ever called home. Thats when I realized that life as I knew it was over.

A nervous chuckle escaped my lips. How dare I ever allow myself to dream of a life outside of this box I was placed in since the day I was born? First my brothers dreams were snatched away, then mine. The more I thought about it, the more I realized my life was doomed from the start.

Y ou ever cheated on Ngiai? my best friend, Amir, asked me as we walked home from school on a wooded path toward our home in the busted-in and burned-out subsidized projects. Atlantas Village Apartments had been my home for the last ten years of my life, and although it was a pretty rough spot, I liked it.

Who is that? I smiled.

Whatever. You a player but you aint stupid.

I dont cheat. Im a good boy, I said.

Man, Amir said, shaking his head. How you function with all those girls up in your face all the time?

The same way you function with none in your face. I just keep it moving.

What? You crazy. I got more than my share of the honeys, player. I just keep my business to myself, Amir said.

Yeah, thats not all you keep to yourself. But you should embrace your virginity and stop being ashamed of it.

You crazy. I lost my virginity a long time ago, lil buddy, Amir bragged his lie.

Yeah, but Fancy and her four sisters dont count, I said, wiggling my fingers in his face.

Whatever, homie, he said, smacking my hand down. Like I said, I keep mines to myself. Im respectful of the woman I spend my private time with. Dont need to run around here telling you low-self-esteem-having clowns bout my business.

Yeah, okay, I said.

What the, Amir said, stopping in his tracks as we noticed the path to our apartments was cut off by a six-foot-high wrought-iron fence.

I guess were moving on up, Amir, I said, running my fingers along the black iron. I always wanted to live in a gated community.

Amir folded his arms. His face wore a disgusted scowl. He was quiet and his breathing was measured. He seemed to be analyzing the situation we had before us. One of the men working on the gate nodded at me and I nodded back.

Dont be speaking to no Mexicans, Romeo, Amir snapped. He huffed a frustrated breath, then found his stride along the fence line. Those people are the worst of the worst. The white man tells them to put up a fence locking black folks in and they jump on the job. No standards. Anything for a buck, Amir said. You dont see whats going on?

Amir kept me laughing. He was a walking worrywart who believed the government was secretly conspiring to eliminate the black man from the face of the earth. Maybe that was the reason his hair was turning gray at the tender age of seventeen. He claimed his dad was a political prisoner, but in reality he was just a prisoner who got caught selling drugs.

Nah, why dont you tell me whats going on, Reverend Al Sharpton Jr.? I said.

This is nothing more than the governments way of preparing us for incarceration. My daddy sent me a book, and he said the only reason they call where we live the projects is because the powers that be are doing a project on how to eliminate our black butts.

Your daddys a genius, dude. You are so lucky that he imparts such deep wisdom on the world, I said sarcastically. Thats why they keep him locked up, man. Hes too smart to unleash on the world.

Okay, see, you think this is a game. Youre one of those dum-dums who cant call a spade a spade. I cant believe you cant see whats going on, Romeo. They tryna condition us to being surrounded by fences. And what does a prison have? A bunch of doggone gates. He looked at me like I was the dumbest person ever to take a breath. Thats whats wrong with black people. We dont think.

So now you got a problem with black people too?

His eyes almost popped out of his head. My biggest problem is with black people. We the worst of the worst.

I thought you just said Mexicans were the worst of the worst.

Hellneither one of us are worth a red cent. But Ill tell you whatblack people are the only group of people on this earth who just dont care how we look on TV. Were just happy to be on TV. Master want me to play a pimp and degrade my sistersOkay. He mocked a wide-eyed minstrel character. They be like, You aint even gotta pay me that muchjust put me on TV so people can think Im somebody and Ill beat that ho to death.

I laughed as I always did when Amir went off on one of his race tangents.

Now, I will say one thing about Mexicans, he said. They will work.

Black people work too, I defended. This country was built on the backs of black people.

Man, that was three hundred years ago. And we aint done jack since. I guess were resting.

What about Barack Obama?

Man, whatever. One man out of two million and you want me to jump up and clap.

Shut up, Amir, I said.

Im just saying, Amir said, sticking his middle finger up at a big poster of a fancy-dressed real estate mogul whose face was plastered on the side of a MARTA bus station. We done lost all of our pride, man. Theres nothing sacred in the black community anymore.

Why do you stick your finger up at that picture every day? I asked.

Do you know who that is?

Nope, I said.

Damn, Rome. You gotta get a little more involved in something other than rap videos and SportsCenter. Thats the fool who owns all of these apartment complexes around here. Mr. Slumlord himself. Hes riding around in Bentleys and we living in the hood. I dont have a problem with him getting paid, but I do have a problem if hes getting paid from keeping us poor.