The Scammer(15)

“But believe me,” he continues. “There will be a day where we, Black people, will inflict the same violence that was done upon our people to them. No one should be surprised when that day comes very soon. A few burnt buildings will be the least of their problems.”



* * *




Kareem sits on the sofa next to Vanessa and, for a change, is not mesmerized by her beauty, but fascinated with Devonte.

“Okay, tell me again how you helped produce Kanye’s album,” Kareem says. “’Cause that’s my favorite album of all time!”

Devonte sits on a love seat arm, trying to hold back a coy smile, as if he’s nervous about being the center of attention.

“Albums,” he corrects. “I know people think Kanye ain’t right in the head but they said that about every genius who walked on this earth. We’d be in the studio for hours, vibing to a beat, and I make a suggestion then . . . POOF! Art.”

Kareem leans forward like a little boy eating up a good picture book. Can’t say that I blame him. I, too, wanted to hear more about his time with Kanye. Kareem spread word about Devonte helping us the night of the uprising and some of his friends were eager to meet him. With a city-wide curfew still in effect, we hunker in our suite, riding out another wave of protests as the National Guard struggles to maintain control.

“What was it like, being locked up?” Legacy asks. “And couldn’t Kanye help get you out? Pay for lawyers and stuff.”

He shrugs. “He knew the real reason, he knew what I was up against. Sometimes the mission needs its strongest soldier.”

I glance at Vanessa who nods in agreement. The way she admires her brother . . . seems unearthly. Their relationship doesn’t fit the traditional mold of big brother/little sister. They don’t make fun of each other, roll their eyes when one or the other is being annoying. They’re like a team, one unit.

That could’ve been us. . . .

“What you mean by ‘the mission’?” Legacy asks from his seat on the floor.

Devonte stares at his palms. “It’s hard being a Black man in this country. Damn near impossible. Haven’t you ever wondered why? I bet your pops had ‘the talk’ with you once or twice. You know, the talk about what to do if you’re stopped by an officer?”

Kareem and Legacy nod.

“You ever wonder if white boys ever had to have ‘the talk’? You ever wonder why you’re treated so different? Why your fathers, grandfathers, uncles, cousins were all treated so different? Aren’t you tired that no one is able to answer the question why?”

The room falls silent.

“The moment you start questioning a system that’s aimed for your demise is the moment you become an enemy of that system. Then the mission becomes clear. You can’t be sold or indoctrinated. That’s when you learn none of this shit is real and you got to wake the people up!”

Legacy nods. “Like in The Matrix.”

The room giggles. Everyone except Devonte.

“Funny you should say that. Did you know the original creator of The Matrix was a Black woman?”

“What?”

“Yep. White people stole her idea. Think about all the other inventions and ideas white people stole and took credit for. But when they stole her shit, they didn’t know they were sending a secret message . . . the truth, to Black kings and queens everywhere.”

“Damn, that’s deep,” Kareem mumbles as Vanessa rubs his knee.

Kammy, scanning the room, lets out a sigh. “Anyone need anything to drink? More ice?”

The evening carries on, Devonte sharing more of his adventures in music, handing out life advice like sweet candy. The way he’s able to command attention, while his points fly over heads, is fascinating.

Around two a.m., as the boys get ready to leave, Devonte has one more thing to say.

“Hey brother, before you go, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah! What’s up,” Kareem says eagerly, his face lighting up.

Devonte wiggles a finger at Kareem’s arm. “What do those letters on your jacket mean to you?”

Kareem looks down and laughs. “Oh! They’re from my fraternity. Kappa Kappa Psi.”

“Hmm. Why do you think you need to be in a fraternity?”

Kareem laughs, eyes toggling from us then back to Devonte. “Well, why not? It’s a brotherhood. And there are fraternities all over the world.”

“Fraternities were originally founded by white men exclusively to trade secrets.”

That’s not true, I think but don’t say out loud.

“You ever question,” he continues, “why after all these years, Black folk still trying to live up to an image of them?”

Kareem blanches. The thought never crossed his mind.

“Wooo Lawd, answer that question and we’ll be here all night,” Kammy says, trying to interject humor into the moment. Not that it feels tense. It feels as if we have still so much to learn.

Exhaustion begins taking over. I slyly move away from the group saying their goodbyes, dumping my plate in the sink. Devonte volunteers to clean up. He’s always cleaning, straightening, even offering to iron our clothes.

As I head to my room, I notice Kareem, Legacy, and Devonte in the corner, whispering. Devonte seems to be explaining something and Kareem’s face pales.