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stepping away.
    “Excellent,” the attorney says, standing up and claiming the file. “I’ll be right back to collect the defendant for his arraignment. I assume we’re entering a guilty plea and should be out of there in a few minutes.”
    “You assumed wrong, fool,” Mickey’s ex says between his gritted teeth. “I already told your punk ass I’m innocent.”
    The attorney looks surprised at his client’s intensity. He nods his salt and pepper head in acknowledgment of his clients’ plea before leaving. I’m sure Daddy has a favor or two to call in from a few of his congregation members with law practices in the hood. I hope one of them takes this case because this lawyer is definitely the wrong one if we plan on winning.
    “What’s your name, child?” Mama asks, attempting to lock onto his eyes but he refuses to look directly at my grandmother for too long.
    “I’m like the Gladiator; you can just call me Gangster,” he says to an un-amused Mama.
    “You do realize gladiators were slaves, don’t you?” Leave it to my grandmother to attempt to educate the chosen ignorant.
    “Whatever, old lady,” he says to Mama who now looks like she wants to slap the gold teeth out of his mouth. “You can call me G.”
    “You know what, G?” I say, stepping to the center of the small square and standing directly in front of him. “You need to be grateful my grandparents care enough about your sorry ass to show up when it’s obvious no one else does.”
    Mama and Netta put their hands on my shoulders to calm me down but I’ve had enough. I know I’m not supposed to cuss in front of my elders but this jackass has gone too far.
    “I love it when you talk dirty to me, baby,” G says, smiling wickedly.
    There’s the fool we all love to hate. Before I can fully tear into his ass, the officer gets the signal from the attorney.
    “Well, G, you’re up next,” the smug officer says, taking G by the arm and leading him toward the courtroom. “I’m sure you know the drill.” Unfortunately, he knows the way this part of the system works all too well.
    “That boy should be a lawyer or detective or something as elusive as he is,” Mama says, trying to calm herself down. She looks frustrated, scared and pissed off—all of the common symptoms after an encounter with the gangster kind.
    “G’s the closest thing to a name I’ve ever heard him refer to himself by, and I’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of knowing him for over two years,” I say, wrapping my right arm around Mama’s shoulders. She looks completely worn out. I’ll remind her later to pay Dr. Whitmore a visit as soon as possible.
    “Have you visited the good doctor yourself lately?” My grandmother asks, responding to my thought aloud.
    “Touché, Mama. Touché,” I say.
    Netta smiles at us both as we collect our purses ready to roll.
    “Where’s that boy’s family?” Netta asks, still concerned about public enemy number one. “No one should have to face a murder trial alone.”
    After a few minutes, Daddy steps back inside the room and waves for us to leave. It’s about time. A sistah’s got homework to do, and if I can fit in a couple of heads this afternoon I can make my gas money for the week. I’m back to eating Top Ramen for the time being until I can stack my cash back up. If Mama let’s me get my hustle on, one good weekend should put me back on top.
    “That young man’s going to need more than his relatives to get him through this,” Mama says, leading the way out. “He needs all of God’s army on his side as self-destructive as he is.”
    Daddy ushers us into the hallway and toward the exits where the neighbors have dispersed for the day. “Do you know that boy was inside threatening to kill the real murderer once he finds out who he is?” Daddy says.
    “Or she,” Mama says, her green eyes aglow.
    “With an inevitable war brewing between Esmeralda and that boy there’s more evil threatening the neighborhood than