Page 21 of Play Hard
It hadn’t been a full year since Del’s face-off with Mal, who—as a result of that incident—was no longer on the council. Mal’s departure resulted in a special election that Brenden Carter had won.
“You’re not wrong,” Gayla said. “Look, y’all know I’m on your side. I have been since you came back to town and put in your original permits to get this place opened.”
She wasn’t lying about that. Gayla had gone to school with us. She was the same age as me, Rock, and Jeret. At thirty-two, Ethan, Lance and Del were a year younger than us, but due to the timing of our birthdays and the odd admission guidelines to the Providence Public School system, we’d all ended up in thesame graduating class. And once upon a time, during those high school days, Lance and Gayla had been a thing. So yeah, it was safe to say she was on our team, even if right now it didn’t seem that way.
“That’s why I’m telling you about the appeal process. Demi, Keith, and I are the youngest members on the council and we’re the only ones who stood up for you guys in each of the meetings we had discussing this event. But we’re outnumbered, both by the number of council members and their average ages. We got on the council to implement changes and to breathe some life into their old biases and practices. And we’re making strides, but the bulk of power is still on their side.” Her gaze was imploring as she stared at me. Perhaps because at this moment it seemed as if Rock, Del, and I were the only ones still willing to hear her out.
“The way we get our point across is to utilize every available option we have within the system. First step, file the appeal. Second step, one of you—preferably the one with a cooler head—get down to Byran Bailey’s office and hire him to represent the bar at the next hearing. The third step, we sue the council and the mayor’s office for discrimination.” She said that last part with finality and let her gaze roam over each one of us while she waited for a response.
“You want us to sue the town of Providence?” Rock asked.
“Fuck!” Jeret dragged his hands down his face, an act that did nothing to rid him of the frown.
My teeth clenched at her words, but I pushed my hands into the front pockets of my jeans and considered them.
“Byran went to school with Rylan’s sister, Naomi,” Del said.
Gayla nodded. “He’s been making waves with some of the property managers in town who’ve been prominent slumlords for longer than either of us have been on earth. The city solicitor’s office hates to see him coming.”
“He assisted with our business plan and corporation documents when we came back to town,” I said.
Ethan, who’d been quiet, up until now, nodded. “And he put you in touch with his cousin’s design team when you took my advice and started working on the Lofts.”
He loved taking credit for that idea and since it had been a damn good investment, I let him have the glory. “Yeah, he did.”
“By is good people.” Rock nodded. “Always has been.”
“Then we get him on the phone.” Jeret agreed. “Tonight. Now. We get this appeal and all the next steps you just said going. Because I’m sick of them playing in our faces.”
Gayla nodded, one corner of her mouth tilting in a smile. “Good. Good,” she said. “Now, you know I’ll do whatever I can on my end, but once you call Byran and get him on board, this is his show.”
It was my turn to nod. “Got it. We appreciate you, Gayla.”
“Yeah,” Del said. “We’re a little pissed right now, as you probably expected, but we thank you for all you’ve done on our behalf.”
Her smile was full now. “No thanks necessary. You know I’m always rooting for you guys.”
The “even though Lance dumped my ass like a hot potato” was unspoken, but we all knew that’s what she was thinking.
“And we appreciate that,” Del said earnestly.
“So, okay…look, I’ve got a dinner meeting across town. But I wanted to stop by and tell you about this in person. There’s a good chance that Brenden or Emily with her 1940s mentality will show up here to gloat tonight or call you first thing tomorrow morning. No, tomorrow’s Friday and they usually take off giving themselves a long weekend every damn weekend. Anyway, whenever they do approach you, don’t take the bait.” She shook her head. “They’re expecting one, if not all of you, topop off like you used to do when we were young to prove their point.”
“What point?” Rock asked.
“That we’re all still the bad ass little Black boys in town,” I said, my earlier fury threatening to burn a hole in the center of my gut. It hadn’t mattered what any of our parents had, how much they paid in taxes or what they did for the community, when we all started fuckin’ up in school and all around town, the old stereotypes came out of the woodwork with comments from the esteemed and prejudiced citizens: “well, what do you expect from people like them?” “they’ll never amount to anything” “It’s their upbringing” “That’s how those on public assistance act”, and on and on. The comments, disdainful looks and degrading judgements followed us throughout our teen years like a lost puppy.
“Nah,” Ethan frowned, “fuck that. We’re men now. And we’re bringing just as much revenue and resources into this community as anyone else. Hell, probably more than most of the businesses around here.”
And Ethan was right. The non-profit paperwork he needed to get his rec center up and running had just been submitted to the government for approval. But we were all on board to pitch in and help with whatever he needed to get his former childhood home and the surrounding property in shape for the kids in town who were spending more time in the streets than someplace safe with structure and stability. We were all in on this project, just as we had been when the concept of the bar came to fruition. Collectively, we’d all decided that whatever we set our minds to doing, we would make it happen. We had to, because maybe if there’d been places for us to go and receive counseling, mentorship, and just a safe space, we might not have gotten into the trouble that we did all those years ago. We’d all been through some rough shit that landed us in the Grace Housefor Boys. Illegal things that could’ve been the start of a criminal career. Instead, the bond we’d forged there had motivated each of us, it had pushed us to form the pact that we would defy all the naysayers in this town and make something out of our lives. We’d done that and now, after each of us had reached a turning point in the careers we’d chosen, we were back to do what hadn’t been done for us in Providence.
“What are we going to do now?” Jeret asked after Gayla had left. “We have a week and a half before Juneteenth and you’ve already started advertising the event.”
He was right, I had already launched an online campaign as well as a soft media blitz for the event. It was planned as a field day because we wanted to kick off our Active Kids Act Like Kids campaign which spotlighted children’s physical and mental health awareness. Ellis Colby, Rylan’s future brother-in-law, was coming to promote his basketball camp, and Prosper Young, Formula One driver, was coming to promote his foundation. Lance had also gotten R&B singer Willow James to perform.
“We’re not cancelling. We’ll just regroup. Rearrange a few things and make it work.”
“The streets don’t have to be blocked off.” Ethan ran a hand over his chin. “We’ve already talked to the other business owners about the event and since they’re on board, we’ll just proceed with all the booths being set up on the sidewalk instead of in the street. We already had parking covered at the park and Hymond promised three of his coach buses for hourly transport from the park up here.”
