Gritty Park

   I'm posting a teaser from my novel, Gritty Park.  Below are excerpts from chapter one, where we are introduced to Gritty Park, and, following the break, chapter four, where we are introduced to a few of the characters in the story.
   I've not really revisited chapter one, yet, so expect that the finished product would be more expansive.  Also, I trust that by the end of reading you'll see it is intended to be a light-hearted satire, but I felt compelled to make that explicit, since the story is not here in it's entirety.
  Both excerpts have been edited for length--hastily--so I hope there's not too much interruption in the flow.
  And I hope this is an effective tease and will compel you to come back later to find out more.

Hanging from a bracket on the second story of a large brick building in Washington, DC, was a sign that once read '7th Street Donut Shop.'  During its prime, this area, which covered nearly forty city blocks, was full of pastry shops and bakeries and came to be known as Sugar Hill.   Its prime was long gone, the stores closed, and owners and residents moved away, but the name remained.

Like much of the rest of Washington, Sugar Hill began a resurgence during the first decade of the twenty-first century.  Vacant homes were purchased and restored, flowers and trees were replanted along the streets, and people began to sit on their front porches again.  As people moved in, stores and shops opened up, and the hoped-for renewal of years prior began to take effect.

The small park at Second and K streets, once known as Culkin Park, got flowers, benches, a new fence, and a new name, Rhapsody Park.  Most of the residents continued to call it Culkin Park--and some continued to call it by the nickname it picked up during its tougher years, "Gritty Park."

It wasn't perfect, of course, and it took several years for the changes to take place in Sugar Hill.  There was still grit, still drug dealing, and still vandalism.  The small gangs in the different Sugar Hill neighborhoods competed with each other for dominance, posting graffiti to stake their claims.

Still, many of the families that weathered the bad years welcomed the coming of the good.  In fact, many of the families knew each other well, married each other, and worked together.  Even some of the newcomers were already tied-in, encouraged by a family member, co-worker, or friend to reconsider Sugar Hill, and see what it had to offer.

It seemed, at least from outward appearances, that the neighborhoods were teeming with friendly people, yearning to welcome others into their lives and work together, hand-in-hand, to see Sugar Hill become the nicest place to live in DC.

*  *  *

"I'm related to her," Diamond said.

"You're full of shit," Joey replied.

"No, seriously.  Her step-uncle is married to my dad's great-aunt," Diamond insisted.

"You're not really related, then," Joey said.

"Close enough, Man.  If I wanted to, I could talk to her."

"So why don't you?"

"I don't know," Diamond said.

The 'her' in question was Ceinelle Portland, known as just 'Ceinelle' since her run-away pop-music hit, "(You're Not Takin') My Eggs and Bacon."  Her given name was Michelle Porter, and her step-uncle was, in fact, married to Diamond's father's great-aunt.  'Diamond' was not his given name, either; he'd adopted it when his grandmother died and he inherited her diamond engagement ring, which he promptly sold to buy a Cadillac.

On a Tuesday afternoon, a few weeks prior to their graduation from high school, Desmond 'Diamond' Harris and his friend Joey were cruising the streets of Sugar Hill.  Ceinelle's song, distorted in the over-worked speakers, blared through the Cadillac and rattled the rear window.  They had their windows down and billows of pungent smoke gushed from the car.

"Wouldn't it be cool if I could get her to come sing at our graduation?" Diamond asked.

"It'll never happen," Joey replied.

"Watch.  I'll make it happen."

Diamond was in charge of the 5-I gang.  When his grandmother died, in addition to the ring, Diamond inherited a sizable amount of cash.  He used it to buy the gang's leadership role from the Sugar Hill king pin, Clarence 'CC' Coleman.  Diamond believed his cash reserves and his gang's larger area put him in a good position to take over as king pin when CC stepped down.

CC was old.  He had grown up in Sugar Hill when the bakeries still puffed out intoxicating wafts from delicious deserts.  He joined a gang back then and stuck with it through Sugar Hill's decline, failed renewal plans, and the crime waves, and he knew the recent rebirth of the neighborhood would eventually bring an end to his current life's work.  Besides that, he was just plain tired and he had stumbled upon other interests.

Several years ago, when he was making big money, he decided to invest in Tiger Tail, a take-out restaurant and the only store around.  Tiger Tail had bullet-proof glass at the counter, a stench of dirty, over-used grease, and a single formica table at the front window.  After a dozen years of service with an associate, CC was offered the opportunity to get deeper into the cocaine business with no cash needed--if CC could work out a little problem.  His associate, Vincento, had ended up with loads of coffee, used to hide the cocaine during transport, and he needed to get rid of it.  So CC made an offer to the proprietor, Mr. Koh:  he would fund a complete overhaul of Tiger Tail in exchange for serving coffee when the renovated shop opened back up.

It turned out that Vincento's cocaine supply was buried in outstanding coffee.  Within six months of reopening Mr. Koh's as 'Kiosk,' word had spread throughout downtown that the place had the best brew in the city.  With an ever-growing clientele, they reworked the menu five times in the first year, changing from fried take-out in Styrofoam containers to a variety of carefully crafted meals, served on stoneware plates to wooden tables with tablecloths and napkins.

The Sugar Hill gangs still met at Kiosk, but CC was often interrupted by problems from the kitchen or surprise visits from favorite customers.  At a meeting in mid-May, he announced he was stepping down as the king pin of Sugar Hill, and he was looking for a replacement.

Randall 'Honey' Beets was an enormous man with an enormous appetite.  Honey's nickname didn't come from his love of sweets, though; it was because of childhood teasing.  His father called him 'Honey' once and the other nine-year-old boys found it hilarious, so they mocked him.  By the time he'd grown to be a teenager, he'd also grown to be twice as large as any of his friends, so he kept 'Honey' to remind them of who had ended up in charge.
At two in the morning, a week before CC's retirement, Honey was rolling down Seventh Street in his giant black Ford Expedition, surveying his territory.  Monty and Red, his second- and third-in-command, were passing a box of jelly donuts around the cab.

"Raspberry, now," Honey mumbled, his mouth still full from his last treat.

He was brushing powdered sugar off his black tee-shirt when he slammed on the brakes.  Another one of Sugar Hill's gangs had tagged a house in his domain.

Honey led the Seventh Street gang.  Their area was in the middle of Sugar Hill, it included Kiosk, the central meeting place and CC's roost, and, with his shear size and brute force, Honey believed he was destined to take charge.