Читать книгу Kenneth Chapter - S. M. LAMBERT - Страница 6

Chapter 1

Part 1

The workout tonight seemed to have lasted an eternity, yet the clock on the wall revealed that it had only been a little under two hours.

Nine years, he thought to himself. At the persistence of his grandmother, he had begun his training nine years ago at the age of seven.

Charles Gill Jr., a teenager at the age of sixteen, had become proficient in the Tai Mantis style of kung fu (a derivative of the original praying mantis kung fu system, which was created in China by the rebel Shaolin monks). Under the instruction of Jin Fong, the renowned master of the Tai Mantis Kung Fu Association and the grand master of the Fu Jow Pai [Tiger Claw] Kung Fu Federation, Charles Gill had achieved the third highest position in his class.

“One, two, three, four.” The sound of Master Fong’s voice echoed throughout the room as he commanded his class into performing a series of prearranged movements. Using the cuff of his Sam (kung fu shirt) to wipe the perspiration from his brow, he nodded to his class to show that he was satisfied with their performance.

“All of you did very well today,” said Master Fong. “We will end the lesson now and start on the new techniques on Thursday night.”

With his hands, Master Fong motioned for the class to assemble into formation. The students bowed toward Master Fong to show respect and to signal the end of the lesson.

The students disbursed, emptying from the school into the parking lot.

“Hey Doug!” yelled Charles, “wait up!” He continued as he ran to the car that his friend was entering.

Born and raised in Palo Alto, California, and the youngest of seven children, Douglas Tabuco was one of the two best friends Charles had maintained since early childhood. He was sixteen years old, medium height, robust, with an athletic build and smooth Asian features that were attributed to Filipino heritage. Doug, Charles, and Dale Eng (who was of Chinese-Filipino descent) had met at Master Fong’s school of kung fu seven years prior and had become sworn barkadas (a Filipino term meaning “closer than brothers, though not from the same mother’s womb”).

Doug reached over and unlocked the passenger side door so that Charles could climb into the car.

“I thought you were going to catch a ride with Dale?” Doug asked as he watched his friend fasten his seat belt.

“When I saw you walk out the door, I knew that you had forgotten about me,” responded Charles. “And you also forgot that your mom wanted me to come over tonight because she wanted me to meet your cousin Marleen from the Philippines.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” said Doug. “Moms trying to play matchmaker. Well I’m glad Sifu [kung fu teacher] ended class early because everyone has probably started eating by now.”

“Since we are already late, does it matter what time we get there?” asked Charles.

“I don’t think so. Why?” asked Doug.

“Because then you won’t mind if we make a little stop,” said Charles.

“That depends on where it is,” responded Doug.

“Cassandra Jones’s house.”

“In East Palo Alto?” Doug asked, surprised on where Charles wanted them to go.

Part 2

Cassandra Jones, a beautiful African American woman in her early thirties, lived in East Palo Alto, California. She had befriended Doug, Dale, and Charles after meeting them at a martial arts demonstration three months earlier and had persuaded them to instruct her twice per week in her home.

Parking across the street from Cassandra’s small two-bedroom home, Doug and Charles walked up the pathway and knocked on the front door. The door opened, and Cassandra stood in tightly fitting jeans, which accentuated the curves of her lower body. She also wore a halter top, which exposed the upper portion of her voluptuous breast.

Charles and Doug were mesmerized, their eyes scanning over every beautiful curve in Cassandra’s body, then both stopping simultaneously on her breast. Aware of their not-so-subtle boyish gazes, she cleared her throat to break their trance. “Hello boys,” she said. “Come on in.” She stepped aside to open the door wide enough to allow them to enter.

Embarrassed by the awkwardness of the moment, both boys felt as if they had been thrown back in time and began to giggle like grade-school children.

“It’s late,” said Cassandra. “I thought that you had forgotten about me.”

“We had kung fu practice tonight,” explained Doug.

As the three continued into the living room, Cassandra found it hard to conceal her excitement. “The reason that I asked you to come over,” she said, “is because I wanted both of you to meet my little brother Kenneth, who just moved here from Compton.”

“Compton?” Charles asked. “Where’s that?”

“Here in California,” replied Doug, “somewhere near Los Angeles.”

“You got that right, Cuz!” said Kenneth, his voice startling Doug and Charles. They observed as the six foot tall African American man entered the room wearing a blue pendleton shirt, blue Levi jeans with a blue bandana hanging out from his back pocket. He had a tattoo on his right neck that displayed the insignia of the Compton Crip gang that he is a member of.

“This is my brother,” Cassandra said, placing her arms around his.

“Nice to meet you,” said Charles, reaching out his hand to greet him.

Kenneth did not respond to the gesture; instead, he stood defensively, looking over the two young men. Turning toward Cassandra, he whispered into her ear, “Who did you say these two little motherfuckas were again?”

Startled and embarrassed by her brother’s rude behavior, Cassandra tugged sharply on Kenneth’s arm. “Kenny,” she said, pretending to ignore his rudeness, “these are the friends who are teaching me kung fu, remember? The ones that I told Mama and you about over the phone.”

“These little niggas?” scoffed Kenneth, not trying to conceal his amusement. “You’d get your cap pealed [beat up] trying that karate shit in Compton, Cuz.”

“All right! That’s enough, Kenny!” snapped Cassandra, who had become increasingly irritated by her brother’s rude behavior toward her friends.

Grabbing his sister by the arm Kenneth, pulled her a few feet away from Doug and Charles. “Look, Sandy, I told you not to call me Kenny. My name is Kenneth.”

“Boy, have you lost your mind?” she said forcefully. “I will whup your ass if you don’t take your hands off of me right now.”

Kenneth released her arm.

“Now I want you to apologize to them right now.”

“For what?” asked Kenneth.

“For being so rude,” responded Cassandra, noting the defiant expression on her younger sibling’s face. “Boy, don’t have me call Mama and tell her that you’re up here acting a fool.”

“I ain’t gonna say a damn thing to these little motherfuckin’ bustas,” he replied.

Before Cassandra is able to respond, she is interrupted by Doug, “Excuse me, Cassandra. I don’t mean to interrupt you, but it’s getting late, and Charles and I have to go to my house to meet some of my mom’s family that just came into town.”

Cassandra responded to the understanding tone in Doug’s voice by nodding her head in agreement.

“It was nice meeting you,” said Doug, extending his hand to Kenneth in a gesture of kindness.

Refusing to take Doug’s hand, Kenneth stormed angrily into the kitchen.

While Cassandra walked Doug and Charles to the front door, Kenneth used this opportunity to slip outside through the side door of the kitchen. Running along the side of the house and down the driveway, he positioned himself at the end of the pathway, directly in front of the street. It was there that he waited with plans of intercepting the two boys as they came out of the house.

“I’m really sorry for the way that my brother acted,” she said as they stood on the front porch. “I don’t know what’s gotten into that crazy boy.”

“Aw, don’t worry about that, Cassandra,” said Charles. “We had to go anyway, so we’re not trippin’ on him.”

Casandra smiled and gave them each a hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, smiling one last time before entering the house and closing the door behind her.

“Man, she’s beautiful,” said Doug. “It makes you wonder how a woman like that could have a brother like Ken.”

“Yeah, he’s a real asshole,” said Charles.

As they stepped off the porch, they could see someone standing in the shadows at the end of the pathway.

“Uh-oh, do you see him?” Charles whispered to Doug.

“Uh-huh,” replied Doug. “Just stay cool.”

As they continued down the pathway, it became apparent to them that Kenneth was intent on blocking their passage onto the street.

“So, what’s up?” said Kenneth, in a hostile voice.

“Nothing much, Kenny,” replied Charles as he and Doug casually stepped off the path in an attempt to enter the street by walking around Kenneth.

“Nigga!” said Kenneth, stepping directly in front of them. “My name ain’t Kenny, motherfucker. It’s Kenneth. You heard me tell my sister not to call me that, Cuz, so why you think I’d let a little ass busta like you disrespect me?”

“Sorry about that man,” Charles said, raising both hands up attempting to calm Kenneth down. “I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

“That’s right motherfucka. Cause I needs my respect,” Kenneth said, pointing his right index finger to his chest. “I’m twenty-one years old. I’m a man. I takes cares of myself.”

Kenneth points at a late model blue-colored Cadillac, which is parked in the driveway. “You see that over there? I bought that. I paid for that.” His voice became louder with each angry word.

Just at that moment, the front door of the house swung open, and Cassandra stepped out onto the front porch. She looked toward the driveway and saw Doug, Charles, and her brother, Kenneth, standing next to his car.

“What’s going on out here?” she asked.

“Nothing,” replied Charles.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing,” she said. “It sounds like you’re out here fighting.”

“No, we’re not fighting,” Charles said, trying to sound convincing. “We were just talking to your brother about his car.”

As Charles takes a few steps in Cassandra’s direction, Kenneth, seeing that Charles’s back is turned, swings his right fist, sending it crashing into the back of Charles’s head.

Charles felt his body jolting forward from the impact of Kenneth’s fist hitting him. Extending his left foot forward and placing it firmly on the ground, he is able to quickly regain his balance. Instinctively pivoting on his left foot and stepping out with his right foot, Charles uses his right hand to backhand Kenneth across the face. Now spinning on his right foot, Charles executes a spinning left rear kick into Kenneth’s stomach, catapulting him into the side door of his Cadillac.

Bouncing off the Cadillac, Kenneth bends over, clutching his stomach in pain.

Using an upward golf-swing motion, Charles uses his left backfist to strike Kenneth in his forehead. The impact causes Kenneth’s body to jerk upward, setting him up for the next strike. Jumping into the air, Charles executes a spinning right crescent kick into Kenneth’s face, knocking him onto the ground.

Cassandra screamed. She jumped from the porch and ran toward them.

Thinking that her scream was a concern for him, Charles reaches out his arms to receive Cassandra’s embrace; instead, he feels the sting of her hand slapping him in the face.

“What was that for?” the shock evident on his face.

“You beat up my little brother, nigga!” she shouted.

“But he hit me first,” Charles said, still unsure why Cassandra had slapped him. “You saw that.”

“I don’t give a fuck, motherfucka!” yelled Cassandra. “Get out of here before I get my gun and blow your punk ass away.”

“Come on, Charles,” Doug said, grabbing him by the arm.

“But, Cassandra,” said Charles.

“Get out!” she screamed “Get out. Get out!”

Charles felt embarrassed, but he wasn’t sure why. He felt Doug pulling on his arm and allowed himself to be directed toward Doug’s car. After taking a few steps, he turned to look back toward Cassandra. He watched as she struggled to help Kenneth to his feet. He felt a sharp pain inside himself as he watched her look towards him with eyes filled with hatred.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and shook his head, still confused by what had just happened. “Let’s go Doug.” He said, as they both entered the car and drove away.

Part 3

Neither of them had spoken a word since leaving Cassandra’s house ten minutes ago. Glancing over toward the passenger seat, Doug watched as Charles began massaging the area of his face where Cassandra had slapped him.

“Well, that was fun,” Doug said, trying to make light of the situation.

“I just don’t get it,” said Charles. “What happened back there? I mean, one minute her brother attacks me for no reason, and then when I defend myself, Cassandra up and hits me and threatens us?”

“I don’t know, Charles,” said Doug. “It was an explosive situation from the moment we met that guy. He definitely had a big chip in his shoulders.”

“Yeah, well I hope I knocked it off,” replied Charles.

“I think you did a little more than that,” responded Doug. “In fact, I think you went a little overboard, Charles. I mean, he was beat after the first few hits. You could have either stopped at the rear kick or the backfist.”

“I don’t know what came over me,” replied Charles. “Everything started flowing, Doug. After I hit him in his forehead with the upper backfist, before I knew it, I was in the air, and my foot was on its way to the target.”

“Well, one thing’s for sure,” said Doug, “this will be a night that old Kenny will never forget.”

“His name is not Kenny, remember?” Charles responded jokingly. “It’s Kenneth.”

“Well, after tonight,” said Doug, “I’d be surprised if he remembered what his name was.”

“What about Cassandra?” asked Charles. “I thought I knew all about girls. But after tonight, I think they’re just plain crazy.”

“First of all, she’s not a girl, Charles. She’s a woman. And secondly, you know how that old saying goes, ‘blood is thicker than water.’ It didn’t matter that Ken started the fight. In a situation like this, the only thing that mattered to her was that Kenny is her brother, and you are not. It was instinctive for her to come running to his rescue.”

“Yeah, but a gun?” responded Charles. “She threatened to shoot us with a gun. I thought she was supposed to be our friend.”

“Well, I guess that’s just the way that they handle things over here in EPA [East Palo Alto],” replied Doug.

“What does living in East Palo Alto have to do with it?” responded Charles, his facial expression showing that he was offended by the statement. “If you’re inferring that because they live in EPA and they’re black, then I don’t buy it. Look at my dad. He’s black, and you don’t see him going around threatening to shoot people with a gun.”

“Come on, Charles. I’m not prejudiced, you know that,” Doug said defensively. “I’m not trying to talk bad about black people. I am talking about East Palo Alto in general. You and I both know that it’s a fact that, due to guns, the murder rate in EPA is the highest in the state of California. Like it or not, most people consider EPA as a ghetto.”

“Yeah, well we both go to Ravenswood High School and it’s in EPA,” replied Charles. “Most of the people that we know at school are cool and would never act crazy like that.”

“That’s because of Sequoia Union High School District’s mandatory busing program,” said Doug. “They try to make sure that all the schools are ethnically balanced and socially integrated. That’s why some of the kids living in EPA are bused to other schools, and we were sent from our neighborhood to attend a school in East Palo Alto.

“Charles, you cannot compare the six hours that we spend at school every day with actually living in EPA. Even at school, we all tend to gravitate and socialize with people from our own neighborhoods. At the end of the day, Charles, you go back home to your parents’ nice big house in the very affluent neighborhood of Atherton. Unlike other black fathers, your dad is a senior vice president at Xerox Corporation, and your neighbors are Willie Mays and Shirley Temple.

“Now could you ever imagine Little Miss Good Ship Lollipop Temple pulling out a .45 Magnum or a twelve-gauge shotgun to settle a dispute at a crumpet party?”

“I can see your point,” said Charles, as they approached Doug’s house.

“We’re here!” Doug said, pulling into the driveway and shutting off the engine to the car.

“Turn on the interior lights,” Charles said, while lowering the visor so that he could look into the mirror. “She didn’t leave any scratches on me, did she?”

“You’re fine, man,” Doug said impatiently. “Let’s go.”

“Okay,” said Charles, “but one thing’s for sure. I never want to see that crazy Cassandra ever again in life.”

“You’ll get over it,” Doug said, losing patience. “Now let’s get inside. My mom is probably furious that we’re so late, so you know what that means? We are going to have to make a good first impression on the relatives to keep her happy.”

“So in other words,” Charles replied with reluctance in his voice, “I’m going to be stuck entertaining any girl that your mom sets me up with.”

“You got it, buddy.”

Charles looks toward Doug. “Can this night get any worse?” he asked, his face showing defeat.

“You haven’t met my cousin yet,” Doug chuckles silently under his breath as they walk into the house.