it.â
âSo youâre the brains behind the machine?â I asked.
âNaw, I wouldnât call it that,â he answered. âYou can say that Iâm part of a team and my position is unseen. Iâm no lawyer yet, although I plan to finish law school. I only have two more year-long courses to take in order to take my bar exam. Right now Iâm employed as a paralegal at the firm.â
âWhatâs a bar exam?â
âItâs a test you have to pass in order to get your license to practice law in a certain state.â
âSo I guess youâre taking yours in D.C.?â I asked.
âI havenât really decided yet. Shit, I gotta finish school first,â he said.
âAre you still in school now?â
âNaw, boo, I took a rest so I could get a job and pay for my next two courses. I just got out of school six months ago. I took a two-year paralegal course.â
Damn, it was so good to see a nice young black man with an education and intelligence, and to think of it, he wasnât even the preppy nerd type. This brother was smooth. I could tell that at one point in time he was a nigga in the streets but had enough sense to get his ass up and get an education and a job so that he wouldnât suffer the pains of death or prison like most of our young black males today. The world needs more people like Jovan.
âSo, is that why you were in court today?â I asked him.
âYeah, boo, it was hectic. We have a client who has come back on an appeal from thirty years, and the government wants to proceed with the case without giving us proper notice so that we could prepare briefs. Today my boss had to go and ask the judge for an extension of time in order for our firm to prepare and file briefs. I was just there as a backup to make sure that the judge and government act according to the law.â
âIs that why you had that black notebook?â
âYeah.â
See, I knew he wasnât a criminal. I knew I had made the right choice in coming to lunch with him.
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Jovan
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When Bilal was sentenced to juvenile hall, I was crushed, because my true friend and comrade was gone for what seemed like forever. Since Bilal and I both were juveniles, there was no way that I could visit him, but at times, I would send him flicks of me and other bitches at the latest Chuck Brown or Rare Essence go-go club. To me it felt like I couldnât do enough for Bilal, the person who was doing time for a crime I had committed that only three people knew about: Bilal, me, and God.
As Bilal continued to do his time at Cedar Knoll Youth Division, I continued to keep the vow I made to him two years earlier, and that was to take care of Mal-Mal. Every time I went over to Grandmaâs house, I would go get Mal-Mal, take him to play video games or to the movies and get him an outfit and new kicks.
I was seventeen at the time and was hustling. For a seventeen-year-old, you could say I was getting it good. At that time, I was selling PCP. In D.C. we called it BoatâLove Boat, to be exact. There were also other nicknames for it, like John Hinkley, the fool who shot Ronald Reagan, or the most famous of all, That Butt Naked.
I was hustling on one of the most pumping and vicious strips in D.C., Whaler Place Southeast. Sometimes I would go on Galveston Street Soutwest and hustle with my man, Rose, or over in Maryland up around Glassmanor with my boys Liâl James and Ek-Dre.
Barry Farms was one of my spots also, but a nigga had to be real careful hustling in the Farms because people were getting killed and robbed almost every other week. I made sure that whenever I went into Barry Farms, I was always strapped, but it was cool, though, âcause I was mostly dealing with one of my brotherâs old comrades, Liâl BB.
Liâl BB was a little brown-skin dude who went to school with my big brother. They was real close, and when my brother died, Liâl