Something to Die For

1 Guess who's back? Nasir Lassiter pulled into an open spot in front of The "U," the University Homes Apartments, and put the silver Aston Martin in park. He took a deep breath and exhaled. He'd been away for far too long. Nasir looked around and felt a chill roll down his spine. He couldn't count the number of times he had dreamed about this day. It had been five long years since his feet touched these grounds. With the exception of a few minor adjustments here and there, The "U" hadn't changed much since he'd been gone. The housing department finally paid someone to paint the doors the ugliest blue they could find and a short gate was put up, a blatant barrier constructed to separate the ghettofied residents of The "U" from the good-paying students across Fair Street who attended Clark Atlanta University, Spelman, and Morehouse College. A knock on Nasir's car window disturbed his survey of the surroundings. "Ay, man, lemme hold a li'l something?" "Nah," Nasir said, staring at the projects that raised him. "Nasir?" the vagrant said, leaning in for a closer look. "Is that you?" "Yeah." Nasir got out of the car. "Boy, what you doing back here?" Nasir smiled. "I know I know you but I forgot your name." The old man folded his arms, an offended look on his face. Nasir smiled and tried to place a name with the face. "Man, it escapes me." "It escapes ya, huh? Well, just think of the best-looking specimen the good Lawd ever created," the man said, closing his eyes and showing what he probably considered his good side, which really wasn't all that good. "Monroe," Nasir said. He reached out and took the old man's hand and damn near choked on the funk. "Damn, Monroe"Nasir frowned, holding his breath"I see you still boycotting the bathtub." "And I see you still got jokes. I was gonna let you just give me five dollars but since you wanna be Richard Pryor, make it ten. And where you get this fancy ride from?" Nasir reached into his pocket, pulled out a few dollars, and handed Monroe a five. "Here ya go, handsome." Monroe quickly snatched the bill and slid it in his pocket, then nodded. "Thank ya, baby boy. Welcome home." As if the streets could smell the return of their prodigal son, folks started showing up from nowhere and crowding around Nasir. He was backed against his car as little kids and adults alike rushed up to him asking all kinds of questions. "Hey, Nasir, you remember me?" "You seen yo momma yet?" "Damn you fine!" "You still play basketball?" Nasir couldn't explain the joy he felt to be back among his people. Someone handed him a baby and told him the boy was named after him. "Forget LeBron James, you our hero 'round here," the lady who handed him the child said. A loud scream came from behind the crowd and a large woman ran toward them with a raggedy smile and her hair in pink and yellow rollers. "Nasirrrrrr," she yelled, stopping her momentum by slamming right into the shiny car he was driving. "You all right?" Nasir tried to hold back his laughter. "Get your damn hands offa me and give me a hug. Don't act like you don't remember me." "Hunter, Travis is the author of 'Something to Die For', published 2006 under ISBN 9780345481672 and ISBN 0345481674.