The Curse of 1977 (Book 2)

Even before she could enter Jimmy's that evening, Lynnette could already hear The Brothers Johnson, 'Strawberry Letter 23',
blasting loudly inside the building.
With two jittery legs the young woman steadily ventured towards the establishment like she was heading for a prison term. She
was wearing only a short-sleeved shirt that read Topaz High Drill Team on the front in bright glitter, and a pair of bell-bottomed
blue jeans. Her fists were balled up so tight that sweat was glistening on both the insides and out.
The young lady stepped up on a ledge before approaching the front door where a large black man was standing. Without saying
a word to each other, Lynnette pulled out two dollars and handed it to the man before the man opened the door to allow her
inside.
Once she was in, the woman was bombarded by not only the loud music but also by legions of young black men and women
roller skating, dancing and playing video games. But rather than become engulfed in all the chaos, Lynnette simply glided past
one merrymaker after another on her way towards the rear of the building.
On her way back, she just happened to take a very quick glance at a certain familiar booth. The booth was empty, and that was
the only glance she required. She could hear her own heart beat in her ears.
Before Lynnette could even reach the rear, she immediately saw another large black man standing at a door speaking to a young
woman. Lynnette barged her way past scores of skaters just to get to the man.
"I'm here to see Clavell!" Lynnette raised her voice to the man.
For a second or two both the man and the woman he was speaking with appeared offended by her presence.
"Is he expecting you?" He spoke out loud.
"He told me to meet him here around eight! I'm Lynnie!"
The man stood and stared at the young lady, contemplating his next move. He then sighed and opened the door behind him.
"Follow me!"
Lynnette did as she was told and followed the man down a long, dark corridor. Down the hallway was just one light bulb that was
burning faintly in a corner all to itself.

The man then stopped at a door that was at the very end of the hallway. He knocked four times before the door swung open to
reveal a young, angry looking, slender black man named Wendell behind it.
"I got a Lynnie here to see Clavell."
Lynnette held her breath for what seemed like countless moments while waiting for the man behind the door to reply.
"Oh yeah, we've been waitin' for her." Wendell said as he opened the door all the way.
Sidestepping the larger man, Lynnette entered into the smoke-filled room that reeked of marijuana from one corner to the next.
Seated in a corner was an older black woman with grey dreadlocks who was sifting through bags of white powder, while clear on
the other end of the room was another black man named Marvin who was counting money and cutting his own stash of white
powder on a table.
Lynnette's emaciated frame stood at total attention. The woman honestly could not make a single move. It was as if she no
longer possessed the will to operate her own body. She hadn't stopped shaking since before she entered the parking lot.
There was another door just two feet away from her. Behind that door emerged an older, caramel skinned man with a perfectly
manicured mustache and finger waves in his hair. He was wiping his hands clean and smiling as he came out.
The woman and the two other men all stopped what they were doing at that moment to take notice of the man.
"Well, if it ain't little Lynnie." The man smiled gregariously.
She probably should have become relaxed at that stage, but all Lynnette could do was continue to stand in the middle of the floor
while the music up above her head vibrated down into her feet.
Sitting himself down in a chair, the man said, "Come closer so I can see you better."
Unclenching her body, Lynnette dragged herself from the middle of the floor to the man. Once she was standing directly in front
of him, the man sat perfectly still and eyed the woman from her sneakers all the way to her face. Once he got to her face,
Lynnette immediately began to shiver all over again.
"How long is your eye gonna be like that?" He pointed.
He was referring to Lynnette's right eye that had a deep, red scar in the middle. Lynnette cut her face away momentarily before
replying, "The doctor said that it was permanent."

The man only rubbed his chin and said, "I'm sorry to hear that. Don't take it personally, but I heard that you looked a whole lot
worse months ago. I'm glad to see you doing better."
"Thank you, Clavell." Lynnette meekly muttered.
"Have a seat, Lynnie." Clavell motioned to a chair that was already seated beside her. "You don't have to stand before me; I ain't
no drill sergeant." He smirked.
Wendell pulled the chair up to where Lynnette could sit down right in front of Clavell. She sat only twelve inches apart from the
man.
"I'm sorry for not being here a few weeks back when you first arrived." Clavell said as he began shuffling hundred dollar bills on
the table he was seated at. "I was busy taking care of business up in N.Y."
"It's okay." Lynnette blushed with knocking knees.
Right in the middle of his stacking duty, Clavell all of the sudden paused to turn and look at Lynnette.
"Tell me, how have you been doing all these months?"
It was as if the question had sawed right through her body like a chainsaw. In her mind, time was something that didn't exist.
Biting down on her bottom lip, Lynnette answered, "I've been fine."
Shaking his head, Clavell said, "You gotta forgive me for being so nosey, but when they told me what Isaac did to you, I almost
couldn't believe it. I mean, I didn't know the cat all that well, but I never imagined he would end up losing his mind like he did."
Bashfully turning her head, Lynnette said, "Yeah... me neither."
"I heard he was dealing with some Jamaican cats." Wendell cut in.
"Yeah, we also heard that those same Jamaicans knocked off both Larry and Marvell." Clavell said. "But then again, Larry was
such a simple nigga, he would've slipped on a banana peel and killed himself. That's the number one rule in this business, never
get high on your own supply."
With the exception of Lynnette, everyone gathered inside the room began snickering. Lynnette only pressed her lips together
while holding on to a courteous smile as though her life depended upon it.

"Well, at least he's gone now. He can't hurt anyone anymore." Clavell patted Lynnette on the knee. "How's that boy of yours
doing?"
"He's fine." Lynnette rushed to say. "I, uh, I really have a long night to get back to, with work and school and all."
"Okay, okay, just calm down, you can't rush perfection." Clavell smirked as he bundled his wad of bills inside a rubber band. "So
tell me, how did your meeting with my contact go last night?"
Lynnette hurriedly tried to collect her thoughts on the question that she knew full well was going to arrive sooner or later in their
meeting.
"Uh...I didn't get a chance to get what I needed." She stammered.
Clavell's smirk immediately shrank into a frown at that stage as he stared Lynnette in the eye.
"Nita, come over here and do your thang."
At once, the older lady in the corner dropped what she was doing and proceeded to step up behind Lynnette. From there, she
stuffed her hands down Lynnette's blouse and into her pants and panties.
Lynnette could have melted away in sheer fear at that moment. She couldn't even shut her eyes.
Once Nita was through with her invasive inspection she raised her hands to Clavell and went back to her table in the corner.
Nodding his head in approval, Clavell said, "Just checking, that's all. Now, tell me why you didn't get what you needed last night."
Wiping sweat from her forehead, Lynnette replied, "I just didn't feel right last night. I felt like someone was watching us. The
meeting place we were in felt hot."
Clavell sat and eyeballed Lynnette ever so carefully before steadily saying, "I see. But I was under the assumption that you really
needed my stuff. I mean, my contact was a sure thing."
"I know, and please don't think that I don't need your stuff, Clavell, I just get real nervous every now and then." Lynnette quickly
blurted out.
"I guess I could understand that, with all that happened months ago. But you have to understand, I can't have my people meeting
you all over town just for you to up and ghost them. They get real nervous, too."

"I understand, and I'm sorry."
Clavell turned his attention back to counting his money on the table and asked, "So now be honest with me, Lynnie, it's been on
my mind for a while now. Was your man dealing with those Jamaican cats? You see, I need to know if someone is moving in on
my turf."
Rubbing her hands together, Lynnette kept her eyes focused solely upon Clavell. "I swear, Isaac was never into drugs." She
shook her head from side to side.
"He sure could've fooled everyone back in February." Wendell said.
"Yeah, the nigga cut off your damn finger, girl." Clavell turned to Lynnette. "I've seen those Jamaicans do that and a whole lot
worse."
Lynnette placed her hands on Clavell's table. "That man is gone. Do you understand? He's gone." She firmly stated. "You're
people have been dealing with me now for the past four months, and not one time have I double-crossed you, Clavell. I've paid
you every time, on time. You've no reason to doubt me now."
Clavell sat and studied the young woman with such a thoughtful contemplation that it seemed he was feeling sympathy for her.
"Tell me, do you still write poetry?" He asked.
Subtly stunned by the question, Lynnette humbly responded, "A little bit, here and there."
"You oughta come to New York, they got some places there for up and coming artists."
"Yeah, go to CBGB'S." Wendell laughed.
"Nigga, that's for white folks!" Clavell chuckled out loud. "You should go to The Fever, that's where the real black folks hang out."
Smirking, Lynnette said, "With that Son of Sam guy and that blackout, I think Cypress will do me just fine."
"Man, that Son of Sam cat ain't stupid enough to step into the ghetto." Wendell added.
Right then, the front door opened revealing a small, black boy with an afro and a medium sized crate in his skinny arms.
"Little nigga, what did we tell you about coming in here without knocking first?" One of the other men in the room angrily shouted.

Shaking, the boy said, "I'm sorry, sir, but Jimmy wanted me to bring these down to you guys."
"Put it over there, Youngblood." Clavell kindly said as he got up from the table and went over to the boy. "What's your name, my
man?"
"Uh, Sammy, sir," the boy shuddered.
"Tell you what, Sammy, you take this and be on your way." Clavell said as he handed the child a hundred dollar bill.
"I thought I told you—
Jimmy, the overweight proprietor of the establishment barged inside the room like a steaming locomotive. "Oh, I didn't think he
got down here so soon." Jimmy huffed and puffed while his dark face blushed out of control.
"Calm down, big chops," Clavell motioned with his hand. "Why don't you go back upstairs and enjoy yourself, Sammy?"
Without any hesitation, Sammy took the bill and darted back the way he came, out the door. Lynnette watched in silent regret as
the boy took off. He couldn't have been no more than ten or eleven years old at best.
Coming down from his panting tirade, Jimmy said, "My fault, Clavell, that's my nephew Sammy. I told him to wait till I knew that
the coast was clear."
Approaching Jimmy, Clavell said, "So let me get this straight, you got your little nephew working in your club?"
"His mom wants me to keep an eye on him this summer. I just thought that having a job here would—
"I see, I see." Clavell patted Jimmy on the shoulder. "Let me reassure you of something, Jim, I don't like having my operation left
naked like that. You understand?"
"I sure do, Clavell." Jimmy stuttered. "Kids tend to have big mouths when it comes to seeing stuff like this down here." Clavell
then pulled out a handgun from his back pocket before waving it in Jimmy's portly face. "Believe me, I used to be one of those
big-mouthed kids. We need this clean and tight. You got me?"
"Yes, sir, I sure do. It won't happen again." Jimmy stumbled and fumbled before turning and heading out the room, shutting the
door behind him.
Still, Lynnette would not budge from her seat. All she wanted at that point in the evening was for someone to knock her
unconscious.

Slipping his gun back into his pants, Clavell turned to Lynnette. "Well, Lynnie, I'm a very busy man." He sighed. "I've got a couple
of friends stopping by later on, so let's get this over with."
Standing up from her chair, Lynnette pulled out her own wad of bills and fervently said, "I got it right here."
Rubbing the stubble on his chin, Clavell said, "Oh, you didn't hear? The price has gone up."
Lynnette's stomach dropped at that instant to the point where she wanted to break down and cry.
"But this is all I have."
Clavell just stood and stared at the woman before turning his head to the door behind him. "We can always work something
out...you and I."
Everyone of Clavell's crew all paused what they were doing at that moment before going back to their business as if it were
expected of them.
Lynnette saw the door and only the door. Without hesitation, she stuffed her money back into her pockets before walking past
Clavell on her way into the bathroom.
With only her reflection facing her in the cracked mirror inside the tiny bathroom, Lynnette saw Clavell slowly making his way
towards her. She wanted to close her eyes, but the abrasion in her right eye quickly reminded her why she was there to begin
with.
She kept her eyes wide open...and watched as Clavell shut the door behind him.