Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Danger whipped his Range Rover through the busy Church Hill streets with the windows down. He had grown up a few blocks away in Mosby Court, but Church Hill had always felt like a second home. He continued his drive past his grandmother’s old house on Q Street, out of habit.
After more than fifteen years of renting, the owners sold the house, and his grandmother moved into a retirement home until she passed away.
Determined to break the cycle, one of the first things he did after earning big money was to move his mom out of the projects and into her own house in Church Hill.
Finally reaching his destination, he parked and sat for a moment.
Church Hill didn’t look like the same neighborhood he knew.
It still caught him off guard every time.
Every day, a new shop popped up. A Yoga studio where Dre’s barbershop used to be.
More dog parks than playgrounds. The most ironic thing of all, back when this neighborhood was considered dangerous, white people wouldn’t dare catch a white person past M Street.
Now they were pushing strollers down it.
Shit was different.
This was why the move he was ready to make was so important. How many niggas ran the streets all day and night, saying this was their hood but didn’t own a damn thing on the street? He was determined to have ownership in his neighborhood; he had done his research and found a diamond in the rough.
He circled the boarded-up building, which was known as the Robinson Theater.
Though it still stood, it was slowly decaying.
Built in 1937, the building was named after the famous Richmond native, Bill “Bojangles” Robinson.
After serving as a pillar of entertainment in the Black community, the theater closed its doors in the 1980s and has since been left to rot.
“You must be Dmitri?” a white woman clad in a gray business skirt called out from behind him. Her long blonde ponytail swung from left to right as she strutted up to him.
He turned to her with a grin. “Yes, I am.”
She immediately reached out to shake his hand. “I’m Rebekah. Nice to meet you. Let’s look inside, shall we?”
They walked around to the back of the building. She quickly unlocked the padlock and pulled on the wooden door handle. The door swung open, revealing a dark hallway.
Danger followed her inside, pulling out his phone to use as a flashlight.
After stepping over trash and overgrown vines, they made it to the main theater room.
He felt like he had just stepped into a time capsule.
Rows of faded, worn velvet seats, as if they had once been filled.
The main stage was now warped by rotten wood, once a place of joy for Black performers.
With wide eyes, he surveyed everything, holding a small notebook and pen, jotting down notes. Assessing any major damage. So far, the only thing that was concerning was the roof, which was caving in.
“As you can see, this place could use a little TLC, but it is in a prime location. There are plenty of opportunities here.” Rebekah smiled at him, revealing red lipstick smeared on her teeth.
Danger rubbed his beard thoughtfully. The property’s asking price was just over $100,000.
He had enough cash to buy it outright, but he was confident the renovation costs would wipe out his funds.
Mentally calculating, he estimated the total would be at least five hundred thousand dollars.
The initial expenses alone would likely drain his savings; contractors would eat into his emergency fund, and recording equipment would consume the rest. He was risking everything he had to launch his record label.
“So, you’re serious about this?” Havoc walked down the aisle. He introduced himself to Rebekah, who excused herself to take a phone call.
“Stop asking me a question that you already know the answer to. I can’t be one foot in and one foot out.”
“You can’t wait a little longer? I know you wanna stack some mo’ bread first.” Havoc used Danger’s own words against him, wanting to be the voice of reason.
“You think we’re gonna keep getting lucky? We got a chance to walk away from this shit for good.”
Danger only stepped up to ensure his family was secure.
Havoc needed someone he could trust. Havoc handled the coke, and Danger sold the pills.
He had made thousands, nearly millions, selling X, Molly, and Addy’s to the college students while getting his degrees.
But all that will end soon. Danger couldn’t end up like his father, spending life in jail or worse.
..dead. He knew not everyone made it out, so now he had a clear path to launder his money and go legit.
Havoc had a way out, too, but he was too addicted to the lifestyle to take it.
They spent another hour or so walking around the place, making small talk and gaining insight from Rebekkah.
Since he was the only interested buyer at the moment, she let him know it would be to his advantage during negotiations.
After completing the tour, he made an offer slightly below the asking price, and Rebekkah told him she would be in touch after speaking with the property owner.
After seeing Rebekkah off, Danger and Havoc walked over to his Range Rover. Havoc leaned against it and picked Danger’s brain about his big business plan.
“You ready for that ass-whooping on Saturday?” Danger teased, then held up his fists and air boxed.
“Stop playing, that lil’ alien-looking ass nigga ain’t whooping shit.
” Havoc waved him off dismissively, but Danger could tell he was nervous.
Not from a lack of confidence in his fighting ability, but from the mounting pressure.
He was moving ranks from Amateur to Pro.
The first match he managed to get after going undefeated in the amateur ranks was against Torrian Gates, a cocky, undefeated Heavyweight from Newark.
“Yeah, yeah. I got money on this, so don’t fuck up.”
Danger was greeted by the scent of sweet vanilla as he stepped into his mother’s home and took his Armando shoes off at the door.
Breezing through the living room, he noticed a new, fancy abstract painting hanging over her emerald-green couch.
He was still getting used to seeing the interior design side of his mother.
The decor, the art, the smells, the music… it was cozy.
After closing, for the first six months, she didn’t decorate, just furnished the house with necessities. Growing up, they had gotten used to moving so much that she never decorated. She was so used to hopping from place to place that it became easier not to keep much furniture.
Her historic row home was massive, with three bedrooms, three and a half baths, and over 3,000 square ft. She told the boys that when they bought it for her, she didn’t need all that space, but they didn’t listen. Over time, she had learned to appreciate every square foot of the home.
In the kitchen, Annabelle scooped cookie dough into small balls and placed them in her greased baking dish. The sweet tunes of Anita Baker serenaded her through her Bluetooth speaker.
Danger stood in her doorway, watching her in awe.
Happiness looked good on her and was one of the many reasons he hustled so hard.
He loved his mother in her newly retired state—baking, cooking, and enjoying her life.
She no longer needed to cook up work for the family business; she could cook, bake, or do whatever her heart desired.
She deserved this. She deserved a stress-free life.
After putting the cookies in the oven, she turned the music on her speaker off.
Without looking up, she said, “How can I help you, son?”
He smirked. “How did you know I was here?”
“I can sense your energy.” Like any mother, she had eyes in the back of her head.
Taking a seat at the bar, he told her, “You gotta start locking your door, Ma.”
Annabelle waved him off. “It’s daytime, plus, I only left it unlocked because I knew one of my lovely sons would make their way over to my house… when I was making my world-famous chocolate chip cookies.”
A cluster of laughter broke out between them.
Who was she fooling? Danger was sure she had just learned about this world-famous chocolate chip recipe on Pinterest last week.
The soft life of being a homemaker was never what she was raised to be.
Annabelle was a “project baby” through and through.
She could fry chicken, cook crack, braid hair, beat a bitch ass, and then come home to help her boys with their homework.
She was never a perfect mother, but she played her hand with the cards she was dealt at an early age.
Just a few months shy of her high school graduation, she had become pregnant with Havoc at only seventeen years old.
She had been forced into full motherhood mode before she had time to enjoy adulthood.
“How did today go?” Annabelle asked with a coffee mug nestled in her hand.
“I put in an offer. So now we wait to see if the owner accepts it,” Danger said.
“Good. It’s about time y’all let this lifestyle go.” She brought her coffee mug up to her lips. “Where is your brother?”
Danger shrugged. “He said he had to handle something. He’ll be over later.”
“I talked to your father today. He asked about you.” Annabelle wore an empathic look.
Danger frowned. “For what, Ma’?”
“He just wanted to check on you. He said he hasn’t talked to you in a while.”
Danger kissed his teeth. He was a grown-ass man. He didn’t want or need his so-called father for anything. He had years to build a bond with him, as he had with Havoc.
Annabelle placed a hand on her hip. “You can’t act like he doesn’t exist.”
“Technically, he doesn’t.” Danger’s jaw clenched. “We out here, and he stuck in there.”