Trapstar Read online

  *****

  Chapter 2

  Hard Knock Life

  Brianna Campbell always had been a dreamer. She loved fairytales with happy endings. Ever since she was a child she loved to pretend. Brianna was a latchkey child, raised on an unhealthy amount of television and movies. She idolized black actors and actresses, to the point that she could quote and re-enact some of the most famous parts, line for line. Her room was like a sanctuary.

  Life in the Campbell household wasn’t the same for Brianna as it was for her two younger siblings, Jonathan and Charisse. Almost from day one, she sensed that there was preferential treatment shown to her younger sister and brother. It wasn’t until she was around nine years old that she found out the reason why. At Brianna’s ninth birthday party things finally came to a head. And the truth was revealed.

  ********

  “…..How old are you now? How old are you now?” The partygoers chanted.

  In the darkened kitchen, the nine candles on the store bought chocolate birthday cake, illuminated the room. Brianna hovered dangerously close to the cake, staring into the candles as if she were hypnotized. She enjoyed being the birthday girl, the center of attention. Sadly, she knew that her moment in the spotlight would fade quickly. Still she lived in the moment. Like any good actress Brianna played her part well. Outwardly, she grinned ear to ear at her adorning guests. Inwardly, she hurt badly.

  As she scanned the room, looking at each familiar face, one was noticeably absent, her Dad’s. For some strange reason, he never participated in anything dealing with her. By now it was routine, still it didn’t hurt any less. She always noticed that he constantly shied away from her. Often Brianna wondered what she had done to deserve this.

  “Brianna blow out the candles baby and make a wish!” Her mother urged her.

  “Ok.”

  Inhaling deeply, Brianna summoned all the air her tiny lungs could hold and blew out the candles. Momentarily the kitchen went pitch black; the partygoers began to cheer loudly. When the lights came back on tears could be seen running down Brianna’s rosy cheeks. Despite how it appeared, these weren’t tears of joy.

  “Oh, look at her she’s so happy she’s crying.” One parent suggested.

  But Loraine Campbell knew otherwise. If there was one thing she knew, it was her children. She knew their temperaments and tendencies. And this was completely out of character for Brianna. She wasn’t emotional at all. Loraine sensed that something was very wrong.

  Gently her mother took Brianna by the hand, and whisked her away from her guests. She led her straight to the bathroom.

  “What’s wrong with you?” She asked. “What are you crying for?”

  Though she tried her best to keep her composure, Brianna couldn’t. Her tears continued to flow freely, and her body was racked by long hard sobs. Young Brianna merely stood in front of her mother unsure of what to say or do.

  Her mother replied, “Don’t just stand there looking all sorry. Say something! How else will I know what’s the matter with you?”

  After shedding a few more tears, finally Brianna mustered up the courage to tell her mother exactly what was bothering her.

  “Where my Daddy?” She began. “How come he never comes to my birthday parties, huh? He always there for Jonathan’s and Charrise’s.”

  Her question caught Loraine off guard. She hadn’t expected this at all. But in the back of her mind she knew this day would come.

  It was Loraine’s turn to be dumbfounded. She didn’t know where to begin. But she knew that she had some explaining to do and fast.

  “Brianna,” She began. “The man you know as your father is not your father. He’s your sister’s father and your brother’s father. But he’s not your father.”

  Brianna exclaimed, “Huh? I don’t believe you. You’re a liar mommy!”

  Brianna began to have a temper tantrum; she flailed her arms wildly at her mother. Dozens of light blows rained down on her mother’s mid-section.

  Unable to control her daughter’s violent outburst, Loraine reached down and viciously slapped Brianna across her face. This seemed to bring her back to reality. Pain exploded across her cheek. She stopped her antics and clutched the side of her face.

  Through clenched teeth her mother spoke, “Listen Miss and listen good. Herman is not your father. He is nothing to you. You and him have no blood relations. And that’s that!”

  Though Brianna couldn’t comprehend everything her mother had said, she understood enough. She got the message loud and clear. From that moment on Brianna was forced to grow up fast. She didn’t like her mother’s explanation but she had to accept it. For now it would be the only one she would get. It would be years before she knew the whole story.

  Her mother and her step father, Herman, were high school sweethearts. When Herman went off to the army, following graduation, Loraine had gotten weak and had a one night stand. Brianna was the product of that affair. But since Herman came home on leave around the same time she had gotten pregnant, and they too had intercourse, she chose to blame Herman for the paternity of the child.

  The other guy was a local thug, who had nothing going for himself, other than being handsome. On the other hand, Herman had plans and goals that he was working towards. He was merely using the military as a stepping stone.

  Some years later, unable to deal with her guilty conscious any more, Loraine admitted her mistake to her husband. She received a sever beating as a reward for her honesty. Still Herman couldn’t bring himself to leave his family. Against his better judgment, he stayed. Herman too was the product of a broken home. To his credit he wouldn’t let one act of infidelity break up his family.

  Even though Herman had forgiven Loraine, he could never forget. Everyday he was reminded of her infidelity when he looked at Brianna. He grew to despise her. As the years went on he became abusive towards her. Not physically but mentally. Sometimes that was just as bad. His harsh words stung Brianna.

  ‘You ain’t cute. I don’t know what you stay in the mirror for all day?’ He commented.

  ‘You ain’t shit! And you ain’t never gonna be shit! Your sorry ass daddy wasn’t shit! Look he don’t even care about you!’

  Brianna was an A/B student, passing her classes with flying colors. One marking period she hadn’t done so well. She received two C’s. And her step father seized the opportunity to criticize and degrade her.

  He spat, “Look at this shit here! You’re so stupid. How you gonna fail gym?”

  Her step father had degraded her time and time again, right in front of her mother. When she looked to her mother for support, she got none. Not once did her mother come to her aid and defend her. She did what she always did; Loraine pretended not to hear it. Little by little this caused Brianna to have animosity and resentment towards her mother.

  Since Herman had money, he got away with murder around the house. Loraine tolerated his cruelty towards her daughter because he was a good provider. A local businessman, Herman owned a string of soul food restaurants throughout Charlotte. She was just as much a dependent as her children were on her husband. She dared not voice her opinion in any way shape or form. She did her best to avoid the wrath of Herman. Loraine knew when Herman got mad he got even financially by withholding funds.

  Even though her younger sister and brother weren’t nearly as bright as her, they always seemed to get the benefit of the doubt. When they failed a class, they failed because the teacher didn’t like them. When she failed it was because she was just too dumb.

  Over the course of time, her step father succeeded in slowly stripping her of her self esteem. Brianna’s grades began to suffer. She became a prisoner in her own home. She chose only to leave her room for one of three things, to go to school, use the bathroom and to eat. She avoided her step father as if he had an infectious disease.

  Loraine felt her daughter’s pain, but truthfully she was powerless to stop the abuse. With her husbands blessing she decided to seek out Brianna’s father.
Secretly Herman had hoped that the girl’s father would take her to live with him.

  One day Loraine walked into her daughter’s room and surprised Brianna. She told her to hurry up and get dressed, that her father was coming over to meet her. Instantly Brianna’s face lit up, she felt reinvigorated as if a burden had been lifted off her.

  Brianna got dressed in her best clothes; she raced downstairs and sat on the front porch eagerly awaiting her dad. Each passing car carried Brianna’s hopes for a better life. And with each passing car, she was devastated more and more. Hours went by, with no sign of her father. Still Brianna didn’t move from that spot, she never gave up hope. She sat there till the sun began to set. Finally her mother had seen enough, she summoned Brianna inside the house. Loraine was just as disappointed and heart broken as she.

  “C’mon in the house Bri. That nigga ain’t coming!” She cursed. “Don’t worry about it baby. He missed out on a good thing not meeting you. It’s gonna be alright! I promise, it’s gonna be alright!”

  Her mother’s reassuring words did nothing for her. If anything they contributed to her ill feelings. Silently she cursed the day she was born. All she ever wanted was a mother and a father. Was that too much to ask for?

  Tears began to well up in Brianna eyes. Suddenly she took off like a rocket, racing up the stairs. When she reached the second floor, she spotted her step father exiting the bathroom. He had a shit eating grin pasted to his face as their eyes met.

  Brianna continued to run, racing past him to her room. She slammed the door and locked it. Throwing herself on the bed, she cried herself to sleep.

  All throughout her formative years, Brianna had to endure this treatment. She became a stranger in her own house to everyone but her younger sister Charrise. The two had to keep their friendship a secret. She was the only person in her household that showed her genuine kindness. Maybe she wasn’t going to be shit after all.

  ******

  The Westside of Charlotte had long been a breeding ground for top flight hustlers and ruthless killers. That was where Treshawn Ellis, aka Tre, hailed from; LaSalle Street, the Betty’s Ford section to be specific.

  Almost from the time he was born, his life revolved around the streets. Both of Tre’s parents were hustlers. His father Wally was a low level drug dealer. And his mother Inez was a booster, who stole clothes, for the entire neighborhood to buy. At one point or another, one or both of Tre’s parents were in prison serving time for their parts in some botched crime. Subsequently, young Tre was raised by his maternal grandmother, on and off.

  A day young Tre would never forget was the day his parents were killed. Fresh out of prison, Inez was looking extremely beautiful; Wally concocted a scheme to make money. He sent her out into the night clubs of Charlotte, with form fitting clothes, in search of hustlers. Inez would then bed the hustlers, sexing them on a regular basis. As she did so, she gathered information on them. Like where they lived, what kind of guns they had or how much money was in the house. Their plan met success the first few times. Wally and his friend successfully robbed a few weak hustlers. With each conquest the couple grew greedy for more.

  Word had quickly spread on the street about the duo. They had gone to the well one too many times. After robbing one big time hustler, a hit was placed on them. Shortly after the order was given, Wally and Inez were found dead in the trunk of a car. They were both shot execution style in the back of their heads. There were no witnesses to the crime and police never captured the triggerman.

  Death seemed to further complicate Tre’s already nomadic life, leaving a void in it. The murder of his parent’s left him feeling more vulnerable and broken than ever. He grew up thinking that life wasn’t fair.

  From that point on, young Tre knew that life had no happy endings in store for him. He figured that his life could be only what he made of it. With both sources of income gone, Tre slowly began to gravitate towards the street. His neighborhood was filled with negativity and eventually he felt obliged to engage in it.

  Originally Tre got into the game to provide for, not only himself, but his grandmother too. He saw her struggling for the basic necessities, food, clothing and shelter. He didn’t want to become another added burden upon her.

  Around that time Tre began to have a strange fascination with streets. With negativity all around him, he began to look up to the local drug dealers. They had money, the finer things in life, jewelry, pretty women and expensive rides that they flaunted on a regular basis. There was one drug dealer in particular that Tre idolized, named Petey. Tre worshipped the ground Petey walked on. After all, Petey was a ghetto superstar.

  Petey believed that life came down to dollars and cents; either you had money or you didn’t. It was as simple as that. He was prepared to hustle to get it.

  Only five years older than Tre, Petey carried himself like a much older hustler. Just like Tre, he came from a family of hustlers; his daddy ran a pool-hall speakeasy and his older brother was a dope boy. Petey’s entire family was involved in the game, in one way or another. It was almost expected that he would follow suit. And when he did no one even raised an eyebrow.

  Out of all the kids in the neighborhood, Petey took a liking to Tre. This was because Tre would do anything he asked of him. Petey was no fool, he knew a soldier when he saw one. For the disenfranchised black youths like Tre, he was a godsend.

  Petey was a smooth dude, he was a lover and fighter, a gangster and a gentleman all rolled up into one. He was everything Tre wanted to be. But most of all he was a character who had game for days. There was always a reason behind everything he did.

  “Nigga, you got some money in ya pockets?” He would always ask.

  “No.” Tre replied. “I ain’t got nothin’.”

  “Here’s a lil sumthin’ sumthin’!”

  From a thick wad of bills, Petey peeled off a crisp twenty dollar bill and hand it to Tre. His eyes lit up like it was Christmas. There had never been a time in his life that anyone had just given him something without expecting anything in return. That random act kindness went a long way with Tre. It instilled a sense of loyalty in him for Petey. From that day forward, no one could ever say anything bad about Petey; not around him. Talking bad about Petey was like talking bad about his late mother.

  Petey became like a big brother or mentor of sorts. Soon Tre became his sidekick, his ‘little partner’ as Petey referred to him as. Before Tre knew it he was running errands for him. Half of the time he didn’t know the danger he was in. Tre became a drug courier, helping to distribute Petey’s poison all over town.

  For his efforts Tre received little or no money. Petey gave him just enough so that Tre would always need him. When it came to the drug game Petey passed along whatever wisdom he could impart and Tre soaked it all up like a sponge.

  Like so many other young black males in the neighborhood, Tre viewed the drug game as his ticket out of the ghetto. He immersed himself in the murky, shark infested waters. Sink or swim, he was all in.

  “Look nigga, you gotta always make sure you got a least three broads on ya team. The first broad she ain’t a hood chick, should either work or go to school getting’ an education. She wants somethin’ out of life. That’s your future wife. The second broad is a soldier; she holds the money and the work at her crib. She gotta be trustworthy. That’s your vice president; if somethin should happen to you then she can take over. And the third broad she just a hood rat, somebody from the neighborhood you can keep the product at her house if needed. Even turn her house into a dope house if necessary.” Petey explained.

  These were rules to the game that Tre would always remember. He knew that they were tried and true because he watched Petey implement them everyday. As time went on Tre became more valuable to Petey. He carefully played his position while patiently waiting his turn.

  Sadly just like everyone else Tre ever loved, Petey died tragically, but not by an assassin’s bullet. The word on the street was that Petey was poisoned. Although ther
e was no medical evidence to substantiate such a claim, Tre had his suspicions. Women were Petey’s Achilles heel; he was never good with them. So Tre trying to find the killer to avenge him was like finding a needle in a haystack. Petey had too many.

  Tre had been the one to find Petey and rush him to the hospital. He was there at the hospital, along with a few members of Petey’s family, when in the predawn stillness, he took his last labored breathe.

  The mournful sounds of his mother’s cries, along with the steady bleeps and hisses of the life support machines, could be heard throughout the room. It shattered the eerie silence of death. Unable to bear it, Tre exited the room to mourn his mentor’s passing.

  Petey’s death would prove to be bittersweet to Tre. He was thrusted into the role of the man in the hood. His only wish was that Petey was still alive to see it.

  As a result of Petey’s passing, a bloody drug war ensued. The death toll seemed to mount daily. Dealers were scrambling to takeover the turf that once belonged to him. Quickly Tre had organized a team that took on all comers. When the smoke cleared Tre had emerged victorious. But he would forever be a marked man.

  Just like Petey had controlled the neighborhood drug traffic for years, so did Tre. He ruled the neighborhood drug game with an iron fist. His reign of terror enabled him to hold it down for several years by instilling the fear of God in his rivals. Murder was his favorite weapon of intimidation. Whenever there was a problem, he made examples.

  *******

  Seeking to getaway from the house, on the way home from school Brianna made a short diversion to Eastland Mall. It was a trip that would forever change her life.

  For hours Brianna window shopped at every store from Foot Locker, the Downtown Locker Room to Marshall’s. She dreamed of owning all the name brands that she saw in those stores. Her step father treated her like a step-child in every sense of the word. When it came time to buy her school clothes, he made sure she got little or no money. Most times, Brianna’s mother would have to take money from the other children’s shopping allowance.