Читать книгу Crack Head II - Lisa Lennox - Страница 8

“BY THE END OF THIS CLASS,” Mr. Giencanna spoke, “you may or may not think differently about your religious beliefs, but I guarantee you that by the end of this class,” he poked his index finger against the podium, “you will be impartial and look at situations that may arise in everyday life objectively.” He emphasized the last word.

“So, are you saying that we don't need to believe in God?” asked the same girl who answered the first question. The class looked at the girl, and then at T.J., who sat next to her. He remained silent in a noble attempt to not embarrass himself any further. Dink had a feeling that question would come up. He was just glad that the girl asked it, rather than T.J. running off at the mouth.

“No, I'm not saying that,” Professor Giencanna confirmed. “Religion is a very controversial subject – one of which we will only touch on in this class. Everyone has his or her own beliefs; however, academically examining religion will make you think. There are many religions, christianity, Judaism, Islam and even Hinduism, to name a few. Each of these are ancient established religions with their own unique beliefs and doctrines. Who are we to say what is right and what is wrong? Right now, your answers are very subjective…meaning, one sided. Once you look at the big picture,” he raised his arms in the air in a fan-like motion, “you will become more objective and be able to express your objectivity with a valid argument.”

Dink smiled and nodded his head. For a white guy, Mr. G. an ole G, he thought to himself.

Professor Giencanna then looked up at the clock and saw that he had 30 seconds left.

“Let me leave you with a quote from one of my favorite philosophers, Rene Descartes. ‘Living without philosophizing is exactly like having one's eyes closed without ever trying to open them; and the pleasure of seeing everything which our sight reveals is in no way comparable to the satisfaction accorded by knowledge of the things which philosophy enables us to discover.’” He stood up and walked in front of the podium, “Class dismissed.”

Dink got up out of his seat and flung his large backpack over his shoulder. “Let me get that for you,” he told Laci as she stuffed her notebook into her backpack.

As people filed out of the lecture hall, a few students walked up to Dink, welcoming him to Boston University. Some patted him on his back, introduced themselves, then headed to their next class. There were those who ignored him but there was one who actually stopped to talk.

“Yo man, that was some shit you laid out there,” a tall, toffee colored man said to Dink.

Dink observed the man's long slender frame, clean shaven face, and short hair that looked like it may have been naturally curly instead of the Jheri curls that most folks were rockin' back in the Bronx. He wore a red and white Adidas sweat suit with matching red and white kicks. He also had a large diamond earring in his left ear, along with a Herringbone chain that didn't look like a knock off. Dude got a lil grip, Dink said to himself.

“Hi,” he extended his hand, “I'm Steven but my friends call me Slim.” Dink suppressed a grin. The name ‘Slim’ fit Steven to a tee. He had to stand around 6-foot-8-inches tall and couldn't have weighed more than a buck fifty.

Dink reached out to shake his hand. “Nice to meet you. I'm Darryl and this is my girl, Laci.”

Steven smiled at her and shook her hand.

Just then, a voice bellowed, “Slim…what up nigga, you comin?”

Dink, Laci and Slim looked over at where the voice came from. It was T.J., and he was headed toward them.

T. J. stood about six feet tall, had a nice muscular build with dark colored hair that he kept cut close to his head. He had amber-colored hypnotizing eyes and shapely lips that he got from his mother's side of the family. He got his coloring, strong angled jaw line and keen nose from his father's side. T.J. was exceptionally handsome. He dressed in the latest trendy clothing but still stuck out like a sore thumb. Standing firm, as if he had a point to prove, T.J. wasn't going to back down from Dink.

“Aye, yo,” Dink called out to T.J. He wrestled with what he was about to do next. Darryl Highsmith wasn't one to apologize, especially when he did nothing wrong, but he realized that he had to be the bigger man. “Hey, about what happened earlier,” he looked at T.J. and stood in front of him, “I didn't mean to embarrass you. I was just—”

“Embarrass me?” T.J. interrupted in a shocked tone, looking at Dink up and down. “If that's all you got, shit…you need to go back where you came from, learn the shit again, then come at me.”

“What did you say?” Dink questioned.

Laci looked at Dink and noticed that he instinctively clenched his fists and tightened his jaw. She knew that even approaching T.J. was a big step for him, so she quickly grabbed his hand and kissed it.

From his observation, Dink saw that at twenty-two years old, he was probably the oldest student in class. Although he was trying to rap to T.J. man to man, he'd let him get that one off, but that was the only thing he was gonna let slide. Dink had come too far to get disrespected by a bitch ass nigga…a white one at that.

T.J. played the game right because he was pissed. He was tired of the rejection and disrespect he received. Never in his short college life had anyone challenged him the way Dink had in class and he didn't like that. “Let's get outta dodge man.” He looked at Slim. “We got some shit to take care of at the frat house.” T.J. walked away.

Slim watched T.J. slink away, then looked back at Dink. He knew his boy was embarrassed. As second year students at Boston University, T.J. and Slim were taking additional bullshit introductory electives just to keep their GPAs up, but they had even more nefarious reasons for taking intro courses— the freshman hotties. They knew the incoming female freshmen would be fly, and provide a new breed of bitches to dip up in. Freshmen always loved attention from the upper classmen and both T.J. and Slim were more than willing to oblige.

Slim and T.J. were both products of broken homes and found college-life an easy way to escape their pasts. They both paid their own way because their families couldn't afford it. Unlike T.J., Slim did it the hard way – he worked two part time jobs and took out student loans.

When T.J. saw Dink that day in the registration office, there was something about him that told him that he was more than that squirrel trying to stack nuts…he was the real deal and now here this nigga was, in college, checking him.

T.J. never thought he'd encounter anyone with Dink's ability to think in a Philosophy 101 class. Dink was on a whole ‘nother level, and although he was a threat to him, that wasn't what bothered T.J.; that was a mere obstacle in his eyes. What really got him was that Dink had the undeniably finest chick on campus and from what he saw she wasn't going too far.

“Don't trip offa him,” Slim said to Dink as he nodded toward T.J. “He just hatin. Aye, why don't you come down to the frat house later on? You know, have a lil drink, shoot some pool, you know…hang out, see how we do it.”

“Frat house? You mean it's more black folks here?” Dink joked.

Slim laughed. “Yeah man, it's—”

“Excuse me,” a tall, slim, caramel colored honey interrupted, as she brushed past Dink, Slim and Laci. It was the same girl who sat next to T.J. during lecture. She headed toward the stoically posed T.J. She shook out her shoulder length auburn hair then said something to him. With little resistance on his part, she led him out of the lecture hall. Just as she and T.J. got to the doorway, she turned and looked at Dink from head to toe. With a raised eyebrow and a half grin on her face, she winked, and then walked out.

“A'ight, I gotta burn out, but the offer still stands,” Slim told Dink, ignoring what just happened.

“A'ight, cool,” Dink responded. “I just may do that.”

The two dapped, then Slim bounced and dipped out of the lecture hall.

“Let's go,” Laci snapped, shoving her backpack into Dink's hands.

“What's wrong baby?” Dink asked, noticing Laci's attitude change.

“Did you see how that girl was looking at you?”

“Man, I wasn't even paying attention to that chick,” Dink said. Actually, he did notice the girl. She was stunning. Almost a dead ringer for his ex, Crystal. A shadow cast over Dink's face because he still couldn't get over the malicious part she played in Laci's tragic summer.

Dink grabbed the backpack, put his hand in the small of Laci's back and escorted her out into the hallway.

“Looks like you were really into the lecture,” Laci told him, changing the subject, as they headed outside.

“Yeah, he said some stuff that was really deep.”

“You're right, the whole good, bad, angel, God and Devil thing was something to really think about,” Laci admitted. “You and Mr. Giencanna were about to make that T.J. guy mad though.”

They both laughed.

“Well, if you think about it, Laci, he has a point. We were brought up believing in something that we were told exists but in actuality, how do we know? I mean, we know that Jesus was a man who walked the earth, but how can we validate God, the Devil or angels? What about the religions that believe in God, but don't believe in Jesus? That is truly subjective reasoning.”

Laci chuckled. “Subjective reasoning?” She stopped and faced Dink. “I didn't even see you take notes.”

“I have everything right here,” Dink pointed to his forehead. “How do you think I made it this far? You can't take notes on the street, sweetheart. I may be a college student now, but I'm a hustler at heart. I bet Giencanna was a hustler back in his day,” Dink joked.

Laci frowned at the thought.

“The greatest lessons learned come from the streets, baby, and you can't trust everybody, so you have to use more than just common sense to peep game.” Laci stopped walking and turned to face Dink. She loved to hear him talk with such passion. “On the streets, baby, a hungry nigga would do anything or say anything just to get put on and come up. But for me, I listen to what's being said. When I hear something that don't make sense, my radar goes off and I automatically think someone tryna fuck me. It doesn't necessarily mean that they are, it's just that with all the shady shit folks do, you can't trust just anybody and those that can be trusted, you keep close to you. I fucked up in the beginning, but as I grew with the streets, I started looking at stuff differently. I became more defensive, on guard, and more aware of what was going on around me. In the game you have to be careful because one fuck up, it's over. It all boils down to being able to spot the real from the bullshit,” Dink told Laci. “Besides a broke hustler, ain't nothin' worse in the game than a wannabe hustler because shit bound to go down.”

Dink's thoughts went to Marco and Dame. He was still shocked that his boys would try to play him shady, but repercussions in the hood were a muthafucka. Disloyalty was honored by death. “Niggas will try to get at you all the time but you have to have to be sophisticated enough to be able to differentiate between the straight shooter and the nigga tryna take you. You have to work on that balance, and that balance is called…”

“Objective reasoning,” Laci said out loud.

“Exactly,” Dink confirmed. “Niggas take kindness for weakness so you still gotta be cool, all the while, ruling with an iron fist. There's a time to be hard and there's a time to finesse shit.”

Laci looked at Dink in awe and with respect. She didn't realize that hustling required that type of thought. “Do you miss it, Dink?”

“Do I miss what?” Dink replied.

Laci was studying the look on Dink's face as he talked about his former life. “Do you miss being on the streets?” she asked.

He paused momentarily. Everything was still fresh and new to him. “Nah, not really. That was just something to do for the time being. But things happen for a reason. I'm where I want to be now.” Dink stepped toward Laci and put his arms around her waist.

Laci smiled at him, and then placed a tender kiss on his lips.

“I knew there was more to you all along,” she confessed. “You are truly a smart man.” She kissed him again. “And guess what?”

“What?”

“You're all mine,” she smiled back at him. “But right now,” she looked at her watch then grabbed her backpack from Dink's grasp. “I'm late for my next class and this isn't the way to start the new school year. I'll see you after class, baby.” Laci quickly kissed Dink and ran in search of her second class.

Dink loved Laci's innocence and smiled while he watched her scurry away. He was glad he was a part of Laci's rehab and saw how much it helped her. After she had disappeared out of his sight, Dink glanced at his schedule then shoved it in his pocket and flung his backpack over his left shoulder. He strolled through the campus with the swagga of a man who owned the world. It was a new day, and Dink saw that there was another life outside of being a dope man. Of course, the game gave him cash and material things, but now he had the opportunity to exercise his mind. Dink realized that he had it all. Money at his disposal, a girl he loved and now he was legit. Giving the ‘what up’ nod to those who passed him, confidently Dink walked to his next class, now living the white man's American dream.