Chapter Forty-Two

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Chapter Forty-Two

Ten years earlier

1992

Lake City, LA

Lincoln’s life had come full circle since moving in with Moses. On New Year’s Eve, two years after his house arrest sentence began; Moses finalized Lincoln’s adoption and announced his engagement to a wonderful, loving woman named Lois Payne. For the first time in his life, Lincoln was part of a real family. Lois had a child from a previous marriage, six-year-old Brandon who idolized Lincoln from the moment he entered the house.

Lincoln was a senior at St. Louis Prep, popular and well liked—the Fresh Prince of Lake City. His exploits on the basketball court had become legendary and rabid, cheering fans packed the Crusader’s gym every game night.

Now that he was somewhat of a local celebrity, he had a lot of new friends and associates, chief among them—Kris Lafitte. Lincoln had never met a crazier white boy in his whole life—and he’d never befriended or trusted a white person, ever. Despite their differences, they forged a bond almost as strong as his gang brotherhood because Kris had his demons as well. They never discussed Kris’s suicide attempt, but every so often, Lincoln would glance at Kris and see a tortured shadow pass over his friend’s face.

After Lincoln led the Crusaders through the Class 5A state playoffs to the championship game, reporters, agents, scouts, and college coaches started calling the house every day. Everyone started treating him as though he was the second coming of Michael Jordan. People speculated about whether Lincoln would go to some college powerhouse or do the unthinkable and leap straight from high school to the pros, something no high school player had done since Moses Malone in the late seventies.

Kris constantly talked about them attending North Carolina, Stanford, or Duke together and how big they would be living. “Imagine living on our own, Link. College girls, our own supped up dorm room, no curfews…”

Lincoln loved seeing Kris making plans for the future, but didn’t share his friend’s joy. Lincoln, having been largely ignored most of his life, was not used to being the center of attention. He couldn’t verbalize how terrified he was of leaving Lake City and the sanctuary of Moses’ home.

As the deadline for him to declare his eligibility for the NBA draft approached, Lincoln was unable to sleep, eat, or concentrate in class. One afternoon, he and Kris left school early and went out to Barton Coliseum near the airport to smoke a little weed and talk.

They drove Kris’s car into one of the horse stables next to the domed building and parked. “So what are you gonna do?” Kris asked, firing up a joint.

“I really don’t know, bruh.”

Kris passed the joint to Lincoln, then reached into his backpack and produced an envelope.

“What’s that?” Lincoln asked.

“Open it.”

The letter was from the Louisiana State University registrar’s office. Lincoln patted Kris on the back excitedly. “Congrats! You’re a college man now. I thought for sure you’d end up at UNC though.”

“LSU is gonna let me play ball.”

Lincoln nodded. Another thing they had in common—their love for the game. Being able to play ball was their reason for breathing. Basketball was life. “Look, Link,” Kris said, growing serious. “I know you’re worried about leaving Lake City, but you gotta get the hell outta here before something bad happens.”

Kris was referring to fallout from the brawl during the semifinal game against crosstown rival Lake City-Boston. Several Scorpions were standout athletes on that team and a bench-clearing brawl had broken out in the middle of the third quarter. Lincoln and Kris were both suspended for their role in the fight and ever since, Kris had been obsessing over whether or not the gang would retaliate.

“I think they’re planning something, man, I really do.”

Lincoln laughed. “Kris, what the hell do you know about gang activity? Are the gardeners going to war with the butlers in your hood?”

Kris wasn’t laughing.

Lincoln took another puff off the joint. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack, man. If you stay around here, they will get you back eventually.”

“I ain’t worried,” Lincoln said with a shrug. “The Skulls still have my back.”

“I hope so, for your sake. Anyway, man, you coming with me to LSU or not?”

“Kris, I been meaning to talk to you about that. You’re my boy so please don’t take this the wrong way, but we didn’t come from the same place, and we ain’t goin’ to the same place.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you got it made, bruh. You’ve always had it made. Look, you’re prob’ly gonna go to college, meet some spoiled rich girl, graduate, go to law school, get married, build a huge house, and live happily ever after. Ain’t none a’ that gonna happen to me.”

Kris stood. “It’s always the same thing with you, man. It always comes back to my family’s money. Yeah, I come from money and yeah, you don’t, but that doesn’t give you an excuse to ruin your life, does it? You people are so dense sometimes.”

You people? Fuck you! You’re just like the rest of these corny whitebread trust fund motherfuckers. Go home and count your money, rich boy. Even if I decide to go to college, ain’t no way in hell I’m following your lame ass to LSU. Forget about me. Go get some new friends…”

The next day was Senior Skip Day and Lincoln was grateful. He couldn’t deal with any more questions about his decision and desperately needed to get the fight with Kris off his mind. He met up with some other senior skippers and headed out to Prien Pines Beach for an afternoon of sun and fun.

Everything was going fine until Kris stumbled into the party, disheveled and drunk. Lincoln felt a pang of sorrow for his friend, but his pride wouldn’t allow him to break the silence between them.

Kris, bolstered by his belligerence, was on a warpath. When he spied Lincoln, he went on the attack. “Hey, look at the big star everybody! Big Link Baker, number one draft pick. He’s a fucking coward everybody! Look at’m!”

Lincoln tried to ignore the venomous accusations pouring from Kris’s lips, but that only made Kris angrier.

He headed toward Lincoln. “Yeah! Fucking Lincoln Baker, the savior of Lake City! Everybody loves Link, right? He’s a fuckin’ fraud! You’re a fuckin’ fraud, Link, you hear me?”

Lincoln had heard enough. He attempted to remove Kris from the premises.

Kris swung at him. His punch landed just below Lincoln’s eye. Then it was on.

It took four football players to pull Lincoln off Kris.

Kris, bleeding from a busted lip, continued to scream as they escorted him away. “Bet I got your attention now, Link, huh? Bet now you’ll hear what I gotta say! You ain’t got any friends, Link! None of these people give a damn about you! You’re a joke, man. A bad fuckin’ joke!”

Lincoln nursed the cut under his eye and stared at Kris from across the sand with murder on his mind. As embarrassment and hurt set in, Lincoln couldn’t resist a final verbal jab as Kris left. “I shoulda let you kill yourself that day, Kris. You know that, you ungrateful motherfucker! I shoulda let you die!”

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