Episode 2: "A Brotha Named Carlos?"

Kareem almost jumped into Andre's lap after turning around to see his big-head brother cheesing in his face. Carlos didn't look anything like the skinny brother he did thirteen years ago. He was twice the size he was when he got locked up at the age of twenty. Hell, three times the size that Kareem could remember! He never once visited Carlos in prison...could have cared less. Kareem figured he would never have to deal with his jailbird bro in his lifetime. But here he was, ready to ride shotgun with Michael Clarke Duncan.


"Well don't leave a brotha hanging," Carlos said to Kareem, holding out his hand for a soul shake. The brothers reluctantly got out the car. Kareem timidly obliged, and almost got the life squeezed out of him. After what seemed like forever, he was finally able to breathe. Andre knew he was next. He managed to get out "Oh my G-" before he got a bear hug from Carlos. With the awkward reunion out the way, it was time to head south.

All was quiet as they pulled onto the Turnpike. Carlos had kept his duffel bag with him as he sat in the back seat while Andre drove and Kareem checked his iphone. Carlos took out a notebook and pen, propped the duffel bag up under his head, and began to write. Andre watched Carlos through the rear-view mirror, noticing how strangely content he was taking notes. He also though it strange how little emotion Carlos showed for someone who just got sprung from a thirteen year stint in prison. He decided to break the ice.

"So Carlos man, it's good seeing you again. Um, mom and pops asked about you," Andre uncomfortably stated. Carlos chuckled as he continued writing in his notebook.

"Oh did they...what were they asking? 'Why the fuck would they let that no good son-of-a-bitch out of jail'? Please. Do me a favor, and drop the concerned mom-and-pop crap." Carlos concentrated a few minutes more on his notes, then sat up and wedged his head between the front seats. "Tell you what, pull in to the next service stop so we can get some grub, gas up and make tracks to the ATL. I know you two are dying to know what I got in store for you. Trust me, it'll be well worth your time. He sat back in the seat, this time he pulled out a fat cigar from his bag, clipped the end and began lighting it up. Andre started to protest but Carlos cut him off.

"So, you're not a real talkative cat, Kareem. The way you're looking at me tells me you got a thousand and one questions," Carlos said, taking a couple of short drags from the cigar. "Fire away." Kareem turned around to face Carlos. He wanted to find out everything that had to do with this gig...why all of a sudden he was chummy with him and Andre...and what was he writing about. But the first question he asked was none of those things.

"A Brotha named Carlos? Tell me that's your street name," said Kareem. Carlos laughed hard at Kareem's question, so tickled that he choked the last bit of laughter out while trying to take another pull from the cigar.

"Believe it or not little bro, that is my real name," said Carlos. Andre was pulling off the highway to the service stop. "Let's get something to eat, and I'll tell you how I got that name."

Andre was having a salad, and Kareem was munching on some chicken tenders. They stopped eating when they saw Carlos's tray of three Whoppers, two fries, and an onion ring...along with two extra large cokes, making his was from the counter towards the tables.

"Damn, I guess he ain't that big for nothing," Andre rumbled in his low voice to Kareem.

"Word," Kareem whispered. "I don't know about this, Andre. How much money is he talking about us making? I could use any extra cash, but I'm satisfied with the money I make being a tekkie at the computer store. And I know you aren't struggling, being a hotshot lawyer and all."

"Make that a struggling lawyer with bills that need paying. From what I gather, we're talking a quick $30,000...each! So, yeah I could use that," said Andre as Carlos was making his way through the tables.

"I don't know, man. My instincts tells me that this might not be legit," Kareem whispered.

"Kareem," Andre said, while still watching Carlos. "believe me bro, this is big, and I'm not talking about Fios." Kareem turned to Andre, trying to figure out what the scheming tone was all about. Carlos finally sat down, and polished off his food in record time. Before they left Carlos told them the story about his name.

"You remember how pops would be gone for weeks at a time, riding those damn eighteen wheelers? And moms would say she didn't feel comfortable being in the bed whenever he was gone? She would always sleep on the sofa in the living room. Well, one night I had to use the bathroom real bad, and with pops gone and moms sleeping on the sofa, I figure I'd go in their bedroom to use their bathroom. Got in the room, and the closer I got to the bathroom, the more I would hear someone moaning. I'm thinking something's wrong with moms. I open the door, and there she was...sucking on some Puerto Rican cock." The brothers' jaws hit the table, while Carlos was enjoying their reactions.

"Don't be talking about my mama ," exclaimed Kareem. I don't wanna hear that shit!"

"Too bad, little bro, 'cause I'm gonna finish telling you the rest of it. You see, I had to go really bad, and I just stood there, waiting for them to leave. I was a bad ass, and wasn't afraid of shit, let alone two naked fools keeping me from peeing. Moms ran out as fast as she could, and dude-man took his time. I glared at him while peeing. He smoothly put his clothes back on, washed his hands and face, and combed his hair. He turned to me and spoke in a smooth spanish accent:

"Listen, you know your mother is a good person. Don't hold this little...moment against her. She has her needs like anybody else. She loves you and your brothers. So, with you being the oldest, try understanding that."

"We talked a little more, and I come to realize what a cool man this is...even though he was getting his pecker wet by moms. Before I left the room to go back to bed, I asked how long he's been knowing moms."

"I would say about thirteen years...how old are you?"

"When he asked me that question, my head was going a hundred miles an hour. When I told him I was twelve, he smiled, and started to leave. I was curious, so I asked him his name."

"Carlos...My name is Carlos."

"He winked at me and left, giving moms a kiss on the forehead before leaving. Mom shamefully looks at me. I didn't need to say a word, but to just give her that look, and I got my answer when she pitifully nodded 'yes'."

Andre and Kareem stared at each other in disbelief. "You mean to tell me you're not our pop's...Henry's...son," asked Andre.

"Nope. And get this. He doesn't know a damn thing about it. Moms passed me off to pops thinking I'm his son, and then names me after her lover. Ain't that some shit for your ass?"

Episode 1: "Brothers Gonna Work It Out"

The cream-colored Mercedes M-Class bounced erratically along the dirt road. Small pebbles finding there way into the wheel-well caused a racket, making it hard to listen to Snoop Dogg's "I Wanna Rock" joint that was pumping out the booming speakers. Clouds of dust obscured the fading skyline of New York City that Kareem witnessed in the rear-view mirror. He pushed the car over fifty miles per hour while bouncing to the music, continuously hitting bump after bump. Evidently he didn't care about the road conditions, or the well-being of the Mercedes...since it wasn't his to care about. The owner of the Mercedes sat next to Kareem in the passenger seat. Andre was none too pleased on how his younger brother was treating his ride.


"Don't you think you oughta slow it down," Andre calmly asked in his deep baritone voice.


"Learn to pay your parking tickets on time, and I wouldn't have to be your chauffeur," Kareem came back without missing a beat. He was still cruising over fifty.


"Do me a favor, and just slow it down," Andre demanded. "As far as my suspended license, they have me mixed up with another Andre Jenkins," he said unconvincingly. Kareem laughed.


"Tell it to the judge, don't tell me," he said as the car made a heavy dip to one side.


Andre stared at Kareem. He couldn't stand his brother's lack of respect for anything that wasn't his. The cocky attitude was going to get him in big trouble one day. With just four years separating them, he just couldn't figure out why they were so different. Kareem was over six feet tall, had dreadlocks, neatly tied back into a ponytail. He stayed clean-shaven, showing off his smooth dark complexion. He was sporting some major bling on four of his fingers, and on his wrist. Always had to have on shades, even in the evening. The problem with him was that he knew he was a pretty boy. Being black, twenty-four years old, and conceded was a bad combination, Andre thought.


Taking a peek in the side-view mirror, Andre saw the major difference between the two. He was laid back, and on the short side, maybe five feet eleven inches at most. Somewhat nerdy, except for the deep tone of his voice, which seemed strange coming from someone his size. Some would say he looked like Mos Def with the horn-rimmed glasses. He was blessed with a smoothness that attracted all the ladies, but unlike Kareem, Andre was a one-woman man. Always had a clean cut, and the only bling Andre had was a charm he kept on a chain around his neck, for which he was so protective of.


"Why are we still on this dirt road? Why didn't you take the main highway to get to East Jersey State Prison?" Andre asked Kareem, who glanced at him over the top of his shades, then turned up the music without saying a word. That was enough for Andre. He put the gear in neutral, then turned the auto key off, slowing the Mercedes down. Dust surrounded the car once it stopped, eventually settling onto the car to turn the cream color to a dusty tan.


Kareem instinctively grabbed Andre's collar, and slammed him up against the passenger door. Andre countered with a blow to the chest, loosening Kareem's grip. That gave him a chance to get him into a headlock. They both wrestled for a few moments. Not getting anywhere, they stopped. Breathing heavily, the brothers cautiously gave each other a stare and backed off.


"What the fuck, man?!" shouted Kareem.


"You don't listen. You never have! I told you to slow the car down. Why is it you have a problem listening to good advice?" Andre's voice went up a notch while yelling at Kareem.


"I don't listen to punk ass bitches like you. Don't ever put your hands on me again," fumed Kareem. His fists were clinched, waiting for Andre to even hint at throwing a punch.


"Out the driver's seat. I'm driving," demanded Andre. He stepped out the passenger seat, and made his way to the driver's side. Kareem took his time, but eventually opened the door.


"I don't have to do shit!" Kareem took his time getting out the seat. When he stood up, he stared down Andre, who wasn't backing down. Andre was a tough cookie, and Kareem knew it. He moved out the way and paced behind the car. "This is bullshit. Why we even dealing with this joker? I barely know him! He was always in lockup since I can remember. Remind me, why are we even picking him up to travel down south?" Kareem was frustrated. Dust was all on his clothes and in his locks.


"Why am I even dealing with you," screamed Andre. He was also frustrated. Always the cool one, but his brother killed his patience all the time. He took a deep breath to calm down. "Listen, I told you already that he's got a job lined up, and needs partners. That's us. The pay is great from what I hear, and we can use the dough, right? It's only for three weeks, man. Brooklyn's not going anywhere. It'll be the same shit, on a different day. Only, in three weeks, you'll be richer."


Kareem stopped pacing, then looked at his iphone, not really paying attention to what he was seeing. He needed the money for sure, but he had a bad feeling about this. Andre notice all the dust in Kareem's locks.


"When are you ever gonna cut that mess off?" He sarcastically asked Kareem.


"Whenever you get a tat to cover that bald spot, that's when," Kareem shot back. He got into the passenger seat and slammed the door, waiting for Andre to take over.


Eventually, they got going again...Andre driving, and finding his way on to the main road. It wasn't long after that when they spotted the dome of the prison surfacing the horizon. They got to a security area, where the gate man gave them dirty looks.


"State your reason for being here," said the guard. Andre cleared his throat, then spoke.


"We're here to pick up Carlos Jenkins. Here's a copy of his release papers." Andre watched the guard carefully scan through the blurb, then gave the brothers that dirty look again. He suddenly felt nervous, remembering that he didn't have a license to drive.


"Look for the sign that says 'Prisoner Release' on your right. you can't miss it." The guard raised the post, letting Andre and Kareem through. About a quarter of a mile away Kareem pointed to the sign. Andre turned in, and pulled up to a thick iron fence gate. With perfect timing, a hulking figure appeared on the inside of the gate. With a few clinking sounds the gate slowly opened, presenting this huge, muscle-bound man in jeans and a tightly fitted T-shirt. Andre and Kareem turned to each other and silently gasped. When they turned back to this giant, he was already bending down through the passenger's side window.


"Good seeing my brothas again. Let's hit the road, shall we?"