Concrete Rose: Part 1

They...make sure the rest of us have what we need, make alliances, and discipline anybody who step outta line.

I take the necklace outta my pocket. The pendant spell out “Maverick” in cursive.

“If she ain’t scarred from looking at your face, she a’ight,” I say as a horn blare in the parking lot from a rusty Datsun.

Ms. Robinson take the papers out and read over them. By that smug look she get, I know what they say.

I sit on the edge of the couch, get Li’l Man situated, and feed him again.

“Yeah, you did. I bet it was King, wasn’t it? Yeah, he seem like the type to go rogue.”

“Yeah, that’s easy to say when you driving around in a Beamer,” I say. “You a hypocrite, dawg. You also a damn fool if you think I’m walking away from this money, especially now that I got a kid.”

Maverick mean “independent thinker.” Malcolm come from Malcolm X. Guess Pops wanted me to be a leader from jump.

He found it at a salvage yard and fixed it up himself.

Dude was invincible.

I don’t tolerate foolishness, and I don’t tolerate gang drama.

“You’re always instigating!”

Their house smell like potpourri and look like it with all the flowered wallpaper Lisa’s momma got up.

“Don’t be late on your first day of work. Mr. Wyatt was kind enough to give you this job, show him you appreciate it by being prompt.”

“I didn’t say it’s stupid, Maverick, calm down. I’d like some clarity behind the decision, that’s all.”

The Wyatts’ backyard is a garden. Flowers, fruits, and vegetables everywhere. There’s bird feeders and li’l fountains all around. A stone pathway lead to a gazebo in the middle.

We’re planting them well before the first frost. That’ll give them time to grow some roots before they go dormant.

They could easily survive without any help. We want them to thrive.

He set a rosebush in a hole and pack dirt around it. “Pruning means getting rid of what they don’t need. Thin canes, dead canes, damaged canes. If it doesn’t help them grow—” He does his fingers like they’re scissors.

“Frankly, that’s a lot to ask of her.”

Wisps of smoke rise into the air near Dre’s door.

Then the pastor did the eulogy, I think. That’s what happen at funerals, right?

We in the church basement now for the repast. There’s fried chicken and side dishes lined up on a table, buffet-style.

“It was a beautiful service though,” P-Nut says. “Had me on some introspectalness, know what I’m saying?”
Hell nah, I don’t know. I doubt this fool ever picked up a dictionary in his life.

“He got over it. All it took was some gas money and a rib-tip plate from Reuben’s, with peach cobbler and banana pudding.”