Chapter 2

      Carmine

      It was fourth period and I was roaming the desolate hallways in search of Antonio Williams. Technically, I was supposed to be in the library being productive during my free period; the school insisted that we go to the library and find an empty study room to review our work, but I had more important things to do…like collect money I was owed. Williams was one of the few people I occasionally fronted drugs to. It wasn’t done out of the kindness of my heart or because I liked him because I didn’t. I did it because it was good for business.

      The kids I went to school with were predominantly rich kids who were used to excess. They were eager to experiment and get higher than they did using the select over-the-counter and prescription drugs they’d been able to get their hands on. With Williams being the school’s star basketball player, it was all in my best interest to have a rapport with him. Antonio was a weed head from way back and instantly gravitated himself and his friends in my direction because I had premium supply that wasn’t laced, unlike most of the dealers in our local. My connect was a wealthy retired senator that was able to legally buy large quantities of marijuana because of an existing medical condition. He often made trips to Amsterdam and Columbia where he brought back exotic strains of pure marijuana and hash that I’d become known for. I made a more than decent profit selling to my peers, but occasionally I had problems, like the one I found myself in now, with people who wanted to get high but didn’t want to pay for it.

      “Carmine?” a female voice called out to me. I turned around and saw a female I kicked it with from time to time. She was a petite blonde whose name I couldn’t remember for the life of me. What I did know was that she gave great head, but talked too much.

      “What’s up?” I asked her as I glanced around the hall.

      “Just getting my psychology textbook. I forgot it earlier. You know Jared and Antonio are having a party this weekend,” she offered.

      People always assumed that because I wasn’t exactly a part of the popular crowd of Richie’s and athletes that I wasn’t invited or knew about the latest parties. The thing was that not only was I always invited, 99 times out of 100 I provided the party favors. The fact was that I wasn’t trying to become friends with my customers. That led to them asking for favors and freebies, which I didn’t give. It was besides the fact that I saw how fickle these people were and had no intention of being anyones fair weather friend. The people I hung with and counted as friends were those I knew would be there through everything. Hardly any of those people went to this school, however.

      “Speaking of Antonio,” I started, “have you seen him?”

      “Yeah,” she answered with a perky nod. “He just went to the bathroom.”

      “Thanks.”

      “You’re here again, Mr. Agnello?” Principal Vernon questioned, exasperation in her tone.

      I didn’t bother to respond verbally; I knew a rhetorical question when I heard one. Williams sat beside me, milking the situation for all it was worth as he pressed a cotton tissue against his bleeding nose while he favored his left side. He liked to think of himself as big man on campus, but he was one of those prep school dudes that used his parents connections to get out of situations. He didn’t know how to handle someone like me who didn’t care about social politics. What I cared for in this environment was having my money and respect. Him not paying me was fucking with both of those things and I wouldn’t have that.

      “Care to explain what happened that led to this?” she questioned, pointing towards Williams whose bruises were beginning to form and the blood that stained my aqua colored Ralph Lauren polo.

      “It was just a fight Williams instigated,” I answered, waving off her concern.

      Principal Vernon glanced beside me where Williams sat with his bruised knuckles, busted lip and nose with his left hand cradling his ribs. I looked at him and dared him to say otherwise. He knew that if he didn’t agree to what I said, I’d most likely get suspended or have my scholarship revoked. If either of those things happened, I’d catch him off of school property and he didn’t want that. We both knew that to be fact. Because of that Antonio nodded his head in agreement, if reluctantly.

      She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose before speaking. “Fine. The both of you will serve a week’s worth of detentions and I’ll be calling both of your parents. Anthony, you’ll serve two hours of detention everyday for a week. Carmine, you’ll serve a Saturday detention. Be at the library Saturday morning at 7 0’clock sharp.”

      “Detention again Carmine?” my mother asked as we walked in the house. “I don’t know what to do with you anymore. Maybe your father’s right and you need a more masculine influence in your life-“

      “Ma, stop,” I demanded. “What happened today didn’t have a thing to do with how you’ve raised me and that man has some nerve telling you I need a more masculine influence when he couldn’t be bothered to be around when I was growing up.”

      She sighed, knowing I was right. My father was an asshole and played my mother like a flute. Being the woman she was, my mom would never speak an ill word of my father in my presence, not wanting her feelings to mold how I perceived my father, but I’d never been a dumb child. I realized early on that my family dynamic wasn’t the normal one and it didn’t take me long to figure out why.

      My mother had met my father when she was a freshman at American University. She’d been attending their nursing program and my father had a high clearance job with the government. He used that as a reason to not share much information with my mother. They were together for three years before she got pregnant and that was when the picture Carmine Sr. had painted for her began to alter. His job wasn’t the reason she couldn’t get his home number or visit his homestead in Northern Virginia instead of his small apartment in DC. The reason was he was already married with two twin girls. He’d had no intention of leaving his wife or really acknowledging me so other than giving my mother just enough money to ensure that she couldn’t take him to court for child’s support, he couldn’t be bothered to comprehend that he had a son.

      “Then what’s going on?” she asked and I didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth.

      Being a single parent with student loans to pay and a baby’s father who was basically out of the picture didn’t give her too many options. Because of that we ended up living in one of the worse parts of DC as she worked on finding a job that gave her a flexible enough schedule to look after a child and finish her last year of school. I wasn’t going to tell her that while she was busting her ass to support me and finish school, that the neighborhood we lived in was basically the hood. What did I look like telling her that though she enrolled me in private schools, which she honestly couldn’t afford, that honed my critical thinking skills and offered a multitude of classes the public schools didn’t have, that I’d gotten jealous of my rich counterparts? I was jealous that they were going on European vacations, living in amazing houses, and afforded the clothes and cars I couldn’t. That I hated to see her struggling because she had me. That because of those things I found a way to get the things I wanted and help provide her the things she needed by less than legal means.

      “Nothing ma,” I answered. There was no way I was going to tell her what was really going on.

      “Talk to me baby,” she pleaded. “Something has to be going on.”

      “I’m fine. Williams and I had words and it led to an altercation. That’s all there is to it.”

      “You father wants you to visit him,” she started.

      “What?” I asked. “He finally told his wife that he had another child and she wants to meet me?” I asked letting her know just how I felt about the situation. I knew this sudden visit had to do more with Carmine Sr.’s wife’s interest than a genuine want to get to know me on his part. “And look,” I said with false excitement, “it only took him almost 18 years to come clean.”

      “Don’t be like that Carmine. I raised you better than that.”

      “I don’t have any desire to see that man,” I told her in no uncertain terms.

      “You don’t like him,” she started, “I know that Carmine, but he is your father.”

      “No he isn’t,” I disagreed. “He’s my sperm donor and that’s it. You want to know who’s been my father?” I asked her. “You have. You’ve been my mother and father all my life. When I wanted a father he wasn’t anywhere to be found and it’s a little too late for his influence now. I’ve become a man without him.”