Street Soldiers (3 page)

“That said, little Jayd, yes I believe we can make a difference. I know we can do what the police won’t,” Mama says. “We will find Pam’s killer.” Mama chops the chicken into pieces with a quickness. I know it’s not the bird she’s thinking about serving up on a platter: It’s Esmeralda’s head.

“Never allow the people who let you down keep you down, Jayd,” Netta says like she’s in church.

“God is the only one who can give and take all things, and that’s the only opinion I truly give a damn about,” Mama says before leading a quick prayer to the ancestors to bless our work. “There’s just as much blood shed in these streets of Compton as there is in New Orleans. Now, those ancestors are calling for justice and it’s our duty to answer.”

I’m glad to hear that we’re doing something about Esmeralda’s latest crime. It’s time to go H.A.M. on the house next door in a serious way. By the time we’re done, they’ll never know what hit them.

“Lust takes and love gives.”

-Mama

Drama High, volume 3: Jayd’s Legacy

* * *

CHAPTER ONE: NO LOVE

“Jayd, Jayd. Is your Mama home?”

The sound of sandals quickly flapping wakes me out of my sleep. This feels too real to be a dream. I can hear Pam’s shrill voice in the darkness but can’t tell where it’s coming from.

“Pam, where are you?” I ask. The darkness begins to fade as the sun rises and slits of light bursts through the blinds. I’m sleeping inside Netta’s salon. What the hell?

“I’m in the alley. Hurry up, girl! I need to talk to your Mama.”

I walk cautiously through the empty shop with my hands out in front of me, my vision still limited by the twilight. I make my way to the wall in the washroom and flick the light switch on illuminating the small space.

“Jayd, where’s your Mama?” Pam repeats. “I need to talk to her.”

The urgency in Pam’s voice frightens me a bit as I make my way onto the porch where I can see Pam standing on the other side of the screen door.

“What’s the matter?” I ask. Something tells me not to let her in but I have to. Mama always told me to take care of Pam, even when she’s at her worst.

“They trying to get me, Jayd,” Pam says, looking around the vacant alley like someone’s hot on her trail. She’s dressed in a dark hoody and sweats—far from her usual streetwalker attire.

“Who, Pam? The police?” This wouldn’t be the first time she’s been on the run for one thing or another. I notice her stomach’s heavily protruded. Whether Pam knows it or not, she’s about to be a mother—again—if this baby makes it. We’re still not clear about what happened to the last one she had.

“No. Them,” Pam says, pointing toward the opening at the south end of the alley that leads out to Greenleaf Boulevard.

I open the screen door and follow her eyes. It’s Rousseau and his canine gang slowly making their way in our direction.

“Pam, get inside!” I scream, trying to force Pam through the backdoor, but her ice-cold skin shocks me and I let go.

“Jayd, get your Mama! She’s the only one who can help me now.”

“Pam, I don’t know where Mama is,” I say, realizing that I’m alone in the shop for the first time. Something’s definitely up if Netta and Mama left me here by myself. “You can wait for her inside. Evil can’t step foot over our thresholds.”

Netta’s shop—like the spirit room—is under Mama’s spiritual protection with a shrine for Legba posted at each entrance. He’s the orisha over the crossroads and guards his children fiercely.

“I can’t come in, not without an invitation from the queen herself.” Pam lifts her hood revealing pitch black eyes and ashen gray skin.

I jump back and instinctively avoid looking directly at the horrific sight. What the hell is wrong with Pam? I don’t really know how these things work, but maybe she’s having a bad reaction to whatever drugs she’s on.

“Pam, stop tripping and get in here. I can’t help you if you don’t,” I say, watching the deadly army approach, but Pam refuses to listen.

“I can’t, Jayd. Tell your Mama I need her.” Pam’s eyes return to their normal brown color as she starts to walk away from Rousseau’s brood and the shop. “Promise me you’ll give her the message.”

“I promise, Pam. Pam, wait!” I scream after her but it’s no use.

Pam disappears into the adjacent parking lot belonging to the gas station next door. Rousseau and his crew follow after her ignoring me altogether. I relock the screen and step back inside the shop locking the backdoor behind me.

“Jayd, wake up before you’re late to school,” Bryan says, peaking his head through Mama’s bedroom door, who’s nowhere to be found just like in my dream.

I have to tell Mama about Pam’s message from beyond the grave. I know that shit was too real to be a simple dream.

“Okay, I’m up.” I throw the covers back and let the cool air finish waking me up. It’s been a while since I slept in my old bed and it felt good. The couch at my mom’s house is okay, but there’s nothing like a mattress to solidify a good night’s sleep.

I glance at the clock on the DVD player and wonder where Mama could be at six in the morning. Then it all comes flashing back to me: Esmeralda’s youthful transformation, Rousseau’s dogs chasing me, and Pam’s murder. Maybe Mama and Netta got an early start on the day’s spirit work—God knows there’s always enough to go around.

*

It’s funny how the world seems to stand still early in the morning. Even the birds are quietly collecting their breakfast of unsuspecting worms and dew to drink. The neighborhood mutts are rummaging through trashcans left out for the weekly collection. Mr. Gatlin, our mean ass neighbor across the street, collects his newspaper and ignores me, as usual. He and I are the only two people outside.

It was too late for me to drive back to Inglewood and expect to get any kind of sleep before school this morning. Mama and Netta both insisted that I stay the night and I didn’t object. Besides, it was nice sharing a room with my grandmother again. My uncle Bryan didn’t even give me any flack this morning for interrupting his daily routine, which he now starts a few minutes earlier due to my absence. I think he missed our morning chats as much as I did.

I haven’t left for school from my grandparents’ house since last year and haven’t missed the lack of privacy or bathroom space in the small house. Bryan’s ass is still funky and so is everyone else’s. Mama and Netta talked until I fell asleep about what the plan of action will be to organize the neighbors. Between Daddy’s congregation and Mama’s loyal clientele, they’ll be able to call to duty over two hundred people to seek justice for Pam and by default, Mickey’s former man.

Mama and Netta were probably out before sunrise making and posting signs all over the neighborhood with Pam’s pictures on them—both before and after crack hit her like a freight train. Mama, Daddy and others will hit the streets posting signs, knocking on doors and talking to people. Daddy’s already reactivated the Neighborhood Watch, calling the local police department out for not being more active in our community. Mama and Netta have designated the beauty shop as ground zero for the operation’s creative needs while they’ll hold meetings at Daddy’s church.

I never knew how good my grandparents could be in a crisis situation. They’re both excellent community organizers. I guess that’s why they fell in love so quickly back in the 1970s. They were young, impetuous and passionate about their individual causes. Right now, nothing else matters except for getting justice for Pam because no one else really cares. The media rarely reports on missing persons in our hood unless there’s a salacious murder of someone other than a crackhead to go along with it. They’re still the same strained couple behind closed doors, but as far as our small city of Compton is concerned Pastor and Mrs. James are a force to be reckoned with.

I step down the front porch steps toward my mom’s Mazda Protégé and silently unlock the doors via the remote keychain. When I open the passenger’s side door to set my backpack and purse down, Mr. Gatlin frowns at me from his front yard across the street—the feeling is mutual. I shut the car door and walk around to the other side ready to roll. After we exchange a tense look, he turns his attention toward his ex-girlfriend’s yard. Mr. Gatlin stares forlornly at our neighbor, Esmeralda’s house where her new beau, Rousseau exits the black front porch gate with a bucket and rubber gloves like he’s about to wash the car they don’t have.

“Bonjour, mi amor,” Rousseau says, slamming the iron gate behind him.

I can’t see his eyes through his dark sunshades but I can still feel his piercing stare. There should be some sort of law against harassing your neighbors no matter how subtle the attack. Even Mr. Gatlin disappears into his home at the sight of his replacement.

“I’m not your love, no matter what language you say it in.” I’m tired of Rousseau’s strange ass and his canine crew. If I don’t get out of here soon I’m going to be late for school and I still need to grab a muffin and some juice from the student store. There’s only cereal and no milk for breakfast—typical.

“Oh, mi petite,” Rousseau says. “Why so rude? You did not rest well last night, I assume?”

Assume my ass. If he’s anything like his woman he knows exactly why I can’t stand his ass. I attempt to ignore Rousseau but his gaze is too strong, much like Esmeralda’s.

“Esmeralda needs to keep her pets on a tighter leash before they get hurt,” I say, staring back. I’m over being afraid to look folks in the eye. My ancestors are too powerful for that shit.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, tossing the dirty water from the bucket out onto their front lawn.

“It means I’ve got something for your ass if you don’t get off of mine.” Rousseau tried to get to me last night through his dogs. If there’s a next time, I’m not running. The spirit book has to have something to deal with his kind once and for all.

“Sounds intriguing, young queen.” Rousseau smiles, displaying his yellow fangs. “I anxiously await the opportunity to see what exactly it is you’d like to share with me.”

“Is everything okay, Jayd?” Mama asks as she and Netta pull up in front of the house causing Rousseau to retreat back inside their creepy menagerie.

I often wonder where Misty and her mom sleep. I’ve been in Esmeralda’s house on a few unfortunate occasions and it’s smaller than ours with a literal zoo inside.

“Yeah, just rushing off to school. I don’t want to start the week off late.” I want to tell Mama all about my morning but it’s not the right time. “I love you, Mama. I’ll call you later.”

“You need to come back here after school, Jayd. We’ll need all the help we can get at the county jail. I also want to keep a close eye on you until we figure this out,” Mama says, glancing next door. I understand the urgency in her voice, but my gas tank is on empty and my pockets are hurting.

“But Mama, I missed all of my clients in Inglewood this weekend and I have homework to do.”

My grandmother looks from her best friend to me, completely unmoved by my pleading.

“I’ll see you this afternoon, Jayd,” Mama says.

Netta shrugs her shoulders in sympathy but she knows as well as I do that ultimately it’s Lynn Mae’s show. Well, damn. I guess that’s that. My stomach’s growling too loudly to continue stating my case. I guess I’ll see her back here after school.

*

I haven’t spoken to any of my friends—Keenan included—since our individually dramatic weekends. I know Mickey’s still beside herself about Nigel leaving her and Nickey at Rah’s house after he found out she was still in contact with her ex, but what can I say? I told her it wasn’t a good idea to accept gifts from him, even if it was a generous act. Nigel’s right: Mickey should feel the repercussions of her actions for once in her life. Maybe she’ll learn her lesson this time around.

I also haven’t heard from Jeremy since our last date ended on a sour note. I know he thinks that I’m overreacting but he needs to chill on drinking and smoking every chance he gets. It’s not sexy at all and I worry about his safety. I feel guilty for kissing Keenan, but honestly he’s becoming the more attractive of the two. Keenan doesn’t drink and rarely smokes weed. And, as far as I know, there’s no crazy white girl looking to become his wife within the next year.

“What’s up, chica?” Maggie asks as we make our way out of the busy main hall. “It feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

We stop and quickly hug before continuing our trek to first period. Now that I have Mrs. Bennett first thing in the morning there’s no being late—ever. She’ll never get the satisfaction of sending me to detention if I can help it.

“What’s up, mami?” Maggie asks as we resume our stride. “How are things?”

“Girl, dramatic as always,” I say, shaking my head at the thought of Pam’s bloody body in the driveway. “But I don’t want to talk about that. How are you doing? Where’s your boy?”

“Girl, let me tell you,” Maggie says, in her thick, Spanish accent. “Papi and I are just fine, but all couples have their drama. Speaking in which, I heard about you and Jeremy and that puta, Cameron. I got something for that ass if you want, chica. You know you’re my girl,” Maggie says, looping her left arm through mine, making me smile.

“Nah, I’m good,” I say, grateful for the backup. “Cameron’s just a distraction. Unfortunately, we’ve got bigger issues to deal with.” I hope Jeremy heeds my advice and chills. I don’t care what he says, his daily consumption habits can’t be good for anyone to maintain.

“I feel you, girl,” Maggie says, waving to her boyfriend, Mario and the rest of their Latino crew, El Barrio. Her little brother, Juan, joined South Bay High this year and she’s very protective of him. Juan’s a cutie, just like Maggie. “I don’t want mi hermanito getting twisted with these brujas up here, especially witches like her,” Maggie says, pointing across the courtyard to Misty who’s walking to class with Emilio.