Tyrell by Coe Booth

locked up again? And why my pops ain’t plan to take care of his family? What kinda man do that to his wife and kids?
    Jasmine shake her head. “Why’s your father in jail? Selling?”
    â€œNah, not this time,” I say. I don’t really wanna tell her too much, not ‘cause I don’t trust her, but ‘cause I don’t really know her. “He violated his parole,” I tell her. I know that ain’t really saying nothing, but it’s the truth.
    The whole truth is my pops been in and out of jail three times. He a DJ and he be throwing these wild, off-the-hook parties. The first time he got locked up was for selling drugs at hisparties. I was only four or five then so all I knew was one day he was there, and we was living in the projects all happy and shit, and things was good and then the next day my pops was gone and my moms was crying all the time. My grandmother was still alive back then and she came to live with us. She helped my moms out and took care of me, so it wasn’t so bad even though I still missed my pops. He got out the day before my eighth birthday, and that night we all went out to dinner and I got to sit next to him. I thought everything was gonna be back to normal.
    That feeling ain’t lasted long. A couple years later he was locked up again. This time the police was callin’ him a pimp, which he ain’t and never was. He just threw some real wild parties, and hos would show up just so they could work the men in the crowd. He said they would make more money at one of his parties than they did in two or three days on the streets. And the men ain’t had no problem with them being there.
    But the police did. They got my pops for selling drugs, selling alcohol without a liquor license, running numbers, and pimping girls. He had to serve three years of a five-year sentence. By the time they let him out, Troy was already five and I was thirteen, and me and him was already in the system.
    We get to a corner, and this time Troy wait for me and grab my hand. We cross the street and then he go running off again. He still making footprints in the snow, but now he trying to walk backwards in them same prints. He fall twice, but least he havin’ fun. And his coat is already beat down, so it don’t really matter none.
    And now I’m here thinkin’ ‘bout my pops and them parties he used to run. He started letting me go to the parties after he got me and Troy outta foster care. I’ll never forget seeing my pops upthere playing all that old-skool shit like Cameo and Maze. Just jammin’. The place he rented was packed. Niggas was in there getting they party on, like they ain’t never been out before. Everybody was drunk and high, and there was the finest females there working them niggas for every cent they had in they pockets.
    First time a girl ever blew me was at that first party. Girl was, like, eighteen or nineteen, and she ain’t care that I was only thirteen. She pulled me behind one of them big speakers and got down on her knees. She ain’t want no money or nothin’. She told me she was doing it just ‘cause I was Tyrone kid. I had a smile on my face for two fuckin’ weeks after that.
    Jasmine is staring at me. “What are you thinking about?”
    â€œNothin’,” I say. “Nothin’.” We get to another corner and Troy try to grab my hand again, but this time I don’t let him. He too old for that to be a habit. He gotta start taking care of hisself. I watch him look for cars, then run ‘cross to the other side.
    â€œI need to stop at that bodega over there,” Jasmine say while we crossing the street.
    â€œMore cigarettes?”
    â€œThat was my last one.”
    We go in the store and I buy my moms a Pepsi so she won’t send me to the store later. I buy a big bag of Cheez Doodles for Troy, but I tell him he can’t have none ‘til after he finish doing his