Scandalous Heroes Box Set (43 page)

Everything is Everything

Pepper Pace

Edited by:

L.S. Lange,

Cover Art:

A.M. Hughes

©
Pepper Pace Publications

This novel is a work of fiction. Characters – including their names, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are otherwise used fictitiously. Any similarity from this book to events occurring in real life – including locations, or persons living or dead is wholly coincidental. The use of musical titles and the naming of musical artists, notwithstanding the provisions of sections
106
and
106A
, the fair use of a copyrighted work, including such use by reproduction in copies or phonorecords or by any other means specified by that section, for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching (including multiple copies for classroom use), scholarship, or research, is not an infringement of copyright.

Copyright © 2014 Pepper Pace.

First Edition appearing in Scandalous Heroes book set
.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever, except for short excerpts appearing in book reviews. For reprint or excerpt permission inquiries, please contact the author by e-mail at:

[email protected]
or
http://pepperpacefeedback.blogspot.com

Author’s Note

As usual I must give many thanks to the Pepper Pace Team for their tireless assistance. Special thanks go out to my editor L.S. Lange for working under my time constraints, as well as to my beta readers; Leslie, Angel and Evelyn for their invaluable insight and encouragement.

This story of Winton Terrace and Garden Hilltop takes an actual place but depicts a fictional tale. In the 70’s Winton Terrace was a predominately white neighborhood and was far from the ghetto that I describe. In fact, I have very fond memories of my early life in Winton Terrace and my use of this actual place is in no way an attempt to suggest anything less.

This story is dedicated to my mother and father who took my sisters and I out of the projects--and to the mean streets of the Cincinnati suburbs.

In1977 Vanessa is 12 years old and lives just out of reach of the projects that both scare and entice her. It’s the year that she meets Scotty Tremont; 14 and one of the few white boys to live in the ghetto. Initially afraid that Scotty intends to beat her up because her cousin called him white trash, Vanessa soon learns that although Scotty is a ‘Trick Baby’ and will probably be a dope boy just like his brother, he’s somehow managed to be compassionate. Scotty is learning something as well; that his path has not been laid out before him and that Everything isn’t necessarily Everything. This 2 part series begins in the 70s where it explores the music, the style,the ghetto and Pepper Pace’s own twist on life and love.

Chapter 1

~1977~

“Jalissa! My mama is going to know if you drink that much!” Vanessa reached for the glass of wine held by her cousin but the other girl quickly downed half of it.

“Just put water in the bottle. She won’t know.”

“Don’t drink any more!” Now she regretted ever telling Jalissa that sometimes when her mama was out she took a sip of her wine. She grabbed the glass from her cousin and then uncapped the bottle and carefully poured the remains back into it.

Vanessa saw that her eleven-year old cousin was pouting. Jalissa sometimes seemed bent on sabotaging things and she wondered if it was because she was mad that she was older. It was only by half a year but Jalissa always brought it up saying things like, ‘You might be older but I’m wiser’. Then she would put her hands on her plump hips and try to look tough.

Well to Vanessa she was tough. She lived at the bottom of the hill in the projects of Winton Terrace and she always told stories about the dope men that hung out on the corner by the store, or some kid getting snatched and then turning up later only to be taken by 2-4-1 KIDS. If  2-4-1 KIDS took you then you had to live in a foster home—which was the most horrible fate that can befall you. In a foster home you were treated just like some grown ups slave.

Van admired her cousin. She knew everything. She forgave her bossiness because they were blood and even if the younger girl sometimes punched her in the arm too hard she didn’t complain. Jalissa was her only friend. And that was no joke. Her mama didn’t allow her to go to the sleepovers at her classmate’s homes and she wasn’t allowed to go to the park or even to someone’s house after school unless it was to Jalissa’s.

But that was not a place that Vanessa ever wanted to go. And since Jalissa loved coming to the top of the hill that is where they mostly hung out.

“Lets listen to Richard Pryor,” Jalissa exclaimed as if she hadn’t just been completely obnoxious. Vanessa ignored her as she concentrated on not spilling a drop of the wine. It would be her getting a whupping and not Jalissa—and her mother would know if it was watered down, she wasn’t dumb.

Jalissa sighed. “Okay I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Pleeeeeeeease? We can listen to Sparkle and you can be Sparkle this time.” Jalissa had her palms pressed together as if in prayer and Vanessa relented and smiled. She already knew that Jalissa really preferred being Sister from the movie but because Van preferred being Sparkle, Jalissa would always take that role. Once Van had made the mistake of saying that she should be Sparkle because her hair was longer and Jalissa had punched her in the face and called her stuck-up!

Jalissa’s hair was hopeless. She couldn’t even pull it into a ponytail and sometimes she plastered DAX in it just to make ‘baby hair’. Jalissa was short and pudgy but she had dimples that Vanessa secretly wished she had—not knowing that Jalissa secretly wished that she was tall and lanky with long ‘Indian’ hair like Vanessa’s.

The two friends went to the stereo and listened to Richard Pryor for a while before putting on the well-used album from their favorite movie. They had gone to the Regal Theater to watch it no less than five times; sneaking in on two occasions one Saturday when mama was out all day.

The two girls began to shimmy and shake mimicking the dance steps perfectly. Jalissa belted out the lyrics to
Giving Him Something He Can Feel
but when
Look Into Your Heart
began to play, Vanessa sang much more quietly but with an intense fervor. Next they played the soundtrack to Lady sings the Blues and pretended to be Billie Holiday. By that time it was getting dark and time for dinner.

“Is your mama coming home to cook dinner?”

Vanessa shrugged. Her mama said one thing but that didn’t mean she would do it. She would say that she was going to pick her up after school and sometimes Vanessa would wait for half and hour before walking home all the way to the top of the hill—and by that time all of the other kids would have already left and she would have to walk by herself past ‘the building’…and then when she got home she would pray that the key would be under the mat. Most times it was…but when it wasn’t then it got scary.

Her mama had moved them out of the projects of Winton Terrace when she was four years old, but only to the top of the hill in new townhomes called Garden Hilltop. Everyone thought that you had to be rich to live there and Jalissa certainly thought that she was rich. Vanessa had her own bedroom with Princess furniture and dolls and her own record player. She even had an easy bake oven--which was broken, and a tea set that she never played with because there was no one to have tea with.

Vanessa decided that they probably were rich. Her mama had the coolest clothes and drove a Cadillac. When they went places she would put a tape in the deck and they would start singing;
‘Diamond in the back, sunroof top, digging the scene with a gangsta lean oooh ooh.’

After dinner of pork and beans and wieners the girls retreated to Vanessa’s bedroom. The streetlights had come on and all the kids that played hide and seek and basketball in the large front parking lot had gone home. Vanessa sat in her window seat while Jalissa played with her Barbie dolls. She wasn’t allowed outside when her mama wasn’t home—which was most of the times, so she watched from the window. Sometimes the kids would spot her and beg her to come out with her toys and in embarrassment she would hide behind the curtains and watch them secretly.

Jalissa handed her a Barbie doll and joined her on the window seat. Vanessa accepted the doll but at twelve she had long ago lost interest in playing dolls.

“If you had binoculars I bet we could see straight down the hill and into my house.” She stated although she didn’t live in a house. She lived in an apartment where it smelled like pee in the hallway.

Vanessa thought that it was strange to look out her bedroom window and be able to see straight down the hill into Winton Terrace. She squinted and saw the distant figure of a boy riding his bike up the hill. He did it most every evening. She knew because she was always in the window watching when he made his circuit up the hill, around their parking lot, up the second hill and then back down to Winton Terrace.

A lot of boys did this but she noticed him specifically because he was white. There were barely any white people in her neighborhood…unless you counted that lady from India but she was blacker than regular black people even if she had white people’s hair.

“Here comes that white boy on his bike,” she said.

Jalissa squinted. And as the figure grew closer and reached the front parking lot Jalissa scowled.

“That’s Scotty. I bet he stole that bike.”

Vanessa looked at her in surprise. “You know him?”

“No!” She hollered in outrage. “He is white trash. They say his mama sale her coochie on Vine Street!” She hid behind the curtains and yelled out the partially opened window. “Whiteboy! Whatchu doing up here?!”

Vanessa gasped and hid behind the curtains too. She peeked out but the boy didn’t appear to have heard them. Jalissa continued to yell at him calling him whitey, honky, cracker as the boy continued up the second hill. He wasn’t really a boy in the sense that he was older than them; probably already a teenager.

Vanessa’s heart was pounding. She had never called anyone names like that and her face felt hot. She knew it was wrong but it was exciting listening to Jalissa cussing.

Soon Scotty came back down the second hill and Vanessa called out trying to think of something to say. “I see you Scotty but you don’t see me! Haha!”

Jalissa slapped her arm and hard. “Why did you say his name?!” She hissed.

Scotty turned his head in the direction of their parking lot for the first time acknowledging their calls.

He never stopped pedaling but she heard him clear as day, “You better turn out your light. Your mama’s coming,” and then he was on his way back down the hill to Winton Terrace.

Vanessa’s eyes widened when she saw Her mama’s Cadillac heading up the hill.

“Oh my God!” Vanessa scampered away from the window seat and hurried to turn out the light.

“He saw us!” Jalissa squealed.

“No we were behind the curtain-” Vanessa stated.

“But the light was on, so he could probably see us!” The girls quickly scampered into bed. There was school tomorrow and they were supposed to be in bed by nine—regardless of whether or not her mama was home.

“Scotty is going to beat me up…” Jalissa whined.

Vanessa was scared. That boy knew who her mama was. That meant he also knew who she was.  

~***~

The next day at school Vanessa stayed on her Ps and Qs. If Scotty was going to beat her up then it would happen at school which is the only opportunity that she got to spend any real time out in the open. Vanessa looked forward to a time when she was old enough to enter the big building for more than just lunch and library. But for today she felt lucky that the older kids had class in the main building while her schooling occurred in one of the many trailers made to accommodate all of the children that crowded the ghetto. Next year she would be in the seventh grade and would finally move into that building which held a type of mystique for her. For now the drafty trailers with their window fans in summer and space heaters in winter was all she knew about school.

Vanessa listened to Mrs. Broachcamp talking about apartheid which she knew was like slave times. She knew about slavery because her and mama had watched that show Roots on TV a few months ago. She felt guilty that she had made fun of a person just for being white. People used to make fun of her for having long hair and not looking black enough even though she wasn’t light skinned at all.

‘Your Daddy white?’

‘No. My Daddy’s black!’

Her mother had told her that her father had Indian in his blood but that he was black and beautiful—only he died when she was still a baby. Black was beautiful. Everybody talked about how proud you should be of being black and how they had come from King’s. But when you didn’t quite fit into that mold you were left feeling not quite as beautiful.