Chapter 1
Amir
“Hello, welcome to the Grand Spotlight Events Hall.”
“Can you tell me where to go to find the Banks birthday party?”
“Yes. Down the hallway and through those large double doors, sir.”
I followed the direction that the lady at the counter sent me, lugging four big ass pink gift bags filled with shit I randomly picked up at a Target a couple of hours ago. I don’t have children and haven't been around many, so I don’t know how to shop for one. Especially a little girl. Facts are, I’m only here because Crew personally invited me to his daughter’s party, since he’s always crediting me for saving her life. To him, it was a shame that I hadn’t officially met his daughter, and she was named after me.
Where I didn’t know how to mix in with children, I didn’t want to offend Crew because he and I had become pretty cool over the past couple of years. He hired me when he could’ve been at war with me, so appreciation was a two way street with us. I saved his daughter’s life, and he saved mine by taking out people that were determined to kill me.
Usually, on a Saturday morning, I’m sitting out on my patio, letting the sun peeking through the clouds touch my skin to rejuvenate my body. On my father’s side, the Quran teaches you not to worship the sun or the moon, but instead to worship Allah, because he is the one who created them both. But to my mother’s side, the sun meant something different. Black culture feels that the sun feeds our skin, deepens our melanin, and was something we should worship like it was holy.
I grew up confused as hell, torn between two meanings for the same light, and that was only a glimpse of how torn I was as a child.
When I walked through the double doors, it felt like I’d stepped out of a building and onto the boardwalk of Coney Island. There was actual wood under my feet, sand lined up against the wall, and a small children’s sized Ferris wheel spinning in slow circles over the mock pier. Of course, all of it was an illusion, scaled down to fit inside the massive banquet hall, but I’m sure to the kids, this was the actual Coney Island. OrAmira Island,according to the sign hanging from the ceiling.
The air smelled like funnel cakes, popcorn, and sugar. Those same smells I remember creeping up my nose when my grandma would sneak me off to Coney Island to have a day away from my father and brothers, because she knew I needed it. She would tell Mecca that she was taking me to go clean her backyard and pull up weeds for her, so of course, he had no problem with me being a fuckin slave. I was the son he dotted on being a hard worker. The words that only impress men and not an elementary aged child who shouldn’t really know what hard work is. That’s why, looking around, I was blown away by how all out Crew and Pernelle had gone for their daughter’s birthday party. Mecca often preached that birthday parties are a waste and to save the money to celebrate your entire life at your funeral. Ironically, hedied at one. It should’ve been a full circle moment for him as he took his last breath at the cemetery where he would soon be buried.
“Amir. Hey! You made it!”
Pernelle walked up to me, son on her hip with a big ass smile on her face.
“How are you doing, Pernelle?”
“I am fine, and thank you for the gifts, but we told you that you didn’t have to bring us anything. You are the guest of honor today, and just your presence is enough.” Pernelle adjusted her son to her other hip as she reached for the bags.
“I can sit them down for you. Let me know where they go.”
“Just over there near the fake funnel cake stand.”
She pointed across the room.
“Damn, I was kind of hoping that the funnel cake stand was real.”
“Oh, trust, there will be funnel cakes served here shortly. We didn’t drop the ball on that. Especially with her daddy loving sweets the way he does.” Pernelle and I shared a quick laugh before I felt two fingers press up against the back of my neck.
“You flirting with my wife nigga?”
I turned around, and there was Crew with a smirk on his face and his hand raised to dap me up.
I didn’t kick it with the nigga every day, but we spent plenty of time together getting street business handled. Crew and Hov filled my pockets for handling things they didn’t want to touch anymore. Once you are a street nigga, going clean isn’t as easy as some would hope, and that’s where niggas like me come in. I’m not a family man, and I don’t have kids to worry about missing,so killing and taking lives for street gain, didn’t pain my morals as much.
“Let me help you with these bags, then get you a drink at the bar over here, my guy.”
We started off to the other side of the room.
“Thanks, man, but I’m good on the drink, I like my mind clear at all times these days.”
“Nigga this is a kid’s party, it’s okay to relax and take it easy right now. Shit, there aren’t even any windows in here. No one can pull a move on us today. I made sure of that. You can let that long curly ass hair down.”
I laughed at this nigga.
“I promise you, I appreciate it.” I crossed my hand over my chest.
“But I can relax just fine with a cup of water or fruit juice.”
