CHAPTER THIRTY
“Congratulations, Mr. Jackson. I’m sure memories will be made.”
“Yes.” I nodded.
I stood around smiling because a nigga was proud.
This had been a long time coming, and with me approaching another birthday, this was one of the best gifts.
Zeus and the Zoo knew how to come through.
While I embraced the moment, taking it all in, my phone vibrated in my pocket, so I pulled it out to answer.
“Yerp!” I called out.
“Little nigga, where you at? You got us waiting,” Foe said on the phone.
“I’m on my way,” I replied as I hurried outside and hit the alarm on my ride.
I hopped in and took off. During my drive, everything that happened to me from the day my daddy was buried to the first race I watched with my own eyes ran through my mind.
From the day I pulled the trigger on Asia, to Ace, to seeing my mother after years sitting in a mental health facility, to being sent to New York.
From stumbling upon the love of my life, to lying in a hospital bed with a bullet in my head, to living between life and death for months.
From hearing my brother’s sobs to waking up and being given a second chance.
Coming to Toussaint, getting my girl, being accepted into college, and joining a fraternity.
A nigga had been through hell and back, and it was all leading up to today.
I’d made some fucked-up choices, did shit I couldn’t take back, fought through battles alone, but never made excuses, and today didn’t change a thing.
The girls loved me while the niggas hated me, but the one thing neither could say was that Dionysus didn’t stand ten toes down.
I was a realistic blueprint for young niggas like me.
I wasn’t a facade or fictional character.
I was somebody’s son, nephew, cousin, brother, or husband.
I was an average nigga with trauma living through the cycle.
Success was at my fingertips, and it was up to me to get there.
My family was supportive, and friends were a vibe.
The only thing I was missing was my girl.
I was an excellent-ass nigga with the Black for spice.
A demon, a prince, a menace, a god, I was the HBCU, the Historical Black Cultured Underdog.
When I arrived at my destination, I hurried to where everyone was. The entire gang and their women, the kids, and my brother. He gave me a slight nod before I walked over toward Chevy, who stood on the opposite side. He eyed me and nodded.
“Thanks, Chev.”
Chevy, the GOAT. The greatest of all time. The man who was giving me his blessing. Every single talk we had led up to this moment, and I was thankful.
“You’re the prince for a reason.” He winked.
I smiled as I ran my hand over my waves. My nerves were getting the better of me, but shit, I sucked it up because shit could have been worse. It was my time, and I was on real nigga business.
“Let’s go,” I said before blowing out a sharp breath.