Cecil Adebanjo (sr.)
(Circa 1994, age 20)
November 1994
In November of 1994, the youngest member of the Detroit City Council was elected following the brutal murder of his father. His efforts in putting away the police officers who committed the crime against his family and his people got twenty year old Cecil Adebanjo so much attention both locally and nationally that he'd be fresh out of Michigan State with just a Bachelors in Sociology and Business and already secured a job most could only dream of. He'd even been invited to the white house for a photo op with President William Clinton to prove he wasn't racist like the cops who killed Adebanjo's father.
On the plane ride from DC back to his hometown, Detroit, MI he took a nap. The most delicious, refreshing, deep, crusty red eyes sleep he'd had in a long time. It was like he finally had the chance to just chill. Everything had worked out. Winning trial, check. Deposit settlement funds, check! Dirty cops in prison, check. New government job, check. Life was great. Hard work was paying off. But with the silence and calm came clarity. The type of clarity you only get in silence. All the hustle, bustle, rage and war had kept him busy. But it was all over. It had all ended.
The people were gone— cameras, news anchors, followers and friends. With his solitude came a great noise and shinning. It shook him from his sleep. He's dead. He thought to himself. He never again slept as good as he did on that flight. Once he exited that airport, life was on. Life had been turned on inna way that made him wonder if he had ever been alive before then.
The sun was brighter, unbearable. Chatter, hustle and bustle rattled his brain, making him anxious. Every eye and smile was towards him, he felt. The laughter— oh the laughter. No one could laugh beside him without him shrinking, seething, scoring himself to find where the joke was because it had to be on him. He opened the door to the one bedroom apartment located on campus and rolled himself up into the blanket on his bed and lied there for three days.
He was awakened by a knock on the door. Repeatedly rather. And, instead of knocking it was actually banging. Repeated banging on his door woke him from his three day coma which he still, yet, was unaware of. He groaned, untangling himself from his cocoon. He tapped the keyboard on his computer desk to check the time but noticed the date first. Cecil scratched his head in confusion as the banging continued until the guest began yelling his name as well.
"Cecil!" He heard a familiar voice from the front of the apartment. "C! It's me! Mav." He said his own name a bit lower in volume. Cecil opened the door to his friend. "Dawg, where you been at?"
He scratched his head again. "I uh, just got back from D.C."
"You was supposed to be back like two days ago. I been looking for you. Somebody obviously forgot that we had shit to do. Got me driving all the way up to the boonies to see if yo ass is still alive. Congratulations by the way." Maverik tapped Cecil's arm with the back of his hand as he passed by him to enter the apartment. "I don't know whatchu gon' don with all that money, but, I got some ideas." He chuckled sitting on the couch, picking up the remote control on the coffee table.
"I ain't giving you shit but a cup of water if you're thirsty." He replied, declining his friend's request for the settlement money while displaying hospitality in offering a cool beverage to his visitor.
"Sure, why not. Long ass drive." Mav mumbled, leaning back on the couch, crossing one leg over his lap watching his strangely solemn friend move about the apartment. "Yo, whats up witchu?"
"What are you talking about?"
"You, mister motor mouth mabel, quiet as hell. Walking all slow and shit. I don't even smell a fucking candle, a got damn incense stick, weed, nothing! You sick?" He asked, "Or sad?"
"I don't know, man. I got something some weed and incense ain't gone help, I know that."
"What you saying mister politician man? You tryna get high?" He joked.
"I'm not saying shit." He said, nodding his head in contradiction.
"One thing I won't do is give you shit but a cup of water if you're thirsty." He looked at him seriously. "What happened in DC?"
"I met the president. He told me I was a very competent and intelligent Nigger and I would grow to become very wealthy in my lifetime."
Maverik laughed, clapping his hands, amused. "And you just took that shit." He excessively nodded his head.
"He's the president of the United States of America." He pointed at his friend and stood, looking at him seriously. He shook his head, "But that cracka ain't the president of me." He slammed his glass of water on the coffee table.
They laughed, obnoxiously, slapping their hands together.
"One thing about it." Maverik added, calming down reclaiming his seat, "He a good judge of character because motherfucker we gone be very rich soon."
"Is that right?"
"You trust me?"
"With my life."
"Good. You remember Holle?"
Cecil sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes. "Man, hell no. I refuse to get caught up in they shit."
"Caught up? Nigga, you sell weed."
"I do not." He raised his eyebrows at his friend.
"When you said you met the president." He huffed, "You won' lying huh?" He looked around suspiciously.
"I got one last final exam." He offered, "I'll drive back up to the city tomorrow afternoon and we can talk."
"You think i'm leaving here without you?" He shrugged, "I got nothing but time."
"Your graduation is tomorrow."
"Fuck graduation. My mom ain't gone be there anyway. Said she can't get off work."
"That's fucked up."
"Nah, I understand. I wouldn't want her to lose out on a days pay for a raggedy ass piece of paper."
"It's not just a piece of paper. You defied the odds brother. Graduated high school. That's huge."
"Yeah, yeah."
"No for real, Maverik. I'm proud'a you. Nobody else might know how big of a deal this is to you. But, I do. And imma celebrate you just like you deserve to be celebrated."
"I guess a little Ice Cream sundae ain't gone hurt nobody." Maverik smiled. "They got that at your little cafeteria?" He huffed.
"Nah, but there's an ice cream parlor about a mile away." He offered, "I need like fifteen minutes though. I just woke up."
"So there's this party." Maverik started over a wide glass bowl full of icecream and fruit, "It's at a warehouse in the industrial district. It's up for sale."
"Okay?"
"Holle's pops is top contender. Yeah, he got the money for it, but I know somebody who got better use for it."
"Who you?"
"Yeah, well not just me. Me, Holle and you."
"To do what?"
"Cecil. We gotta think about the future. What we gone do when we start having kids? Raise em how we was raised? Poor? Hungry as shit? Unprotected?"
"You ain't poor. I know you been stacking up with your brother. Y'all doing good out there. Better than good."
"But I can't put that shit on paper, brother." He emphasized. "You, you got hella opportunities to cover your ass. Me? I go to buy a house with my shit I gotta do it in cash. I wanna buy a house with a debit card and a credit history Cecil. Like Hollywood. I can't marry Holle when she's used to that nigga's lifestyle. I'm poor compared to him. He already got four clubs. What he need another one for?"
"He's fifty. Hollywood better have more than you." Cecil laughed, "Maverik, you're eighteen."
"But I already found my forever thing. We gonna be together forever. And have ten kids. All of em gonna be named after me." He huffed with a smirk.
"Shit, me too brother. Can you imagine? Me and Adjoa, married."
"Hell no."
"Fuck you man. I'm about to propose to her in a minute. Now I got enough to get a beautiful ring."
"And then what you gone do after that? That little settlement money gone run out C."
"So now you tryna be a gangster."
"No, I'm tryna be smart. It's an investment. We can put it in your name. Have it for your kids. Me and Holle will just own like a bit of it. We can have this shit for generations. It's land, Cecil. Land is worth more than money. Haven't you learned that in your little history classes?"
He let out a deep breath.
"I learned alot in my little history classes." Cecil chuckled. "But I need more information."
"Cool, so that's a maybe." He said, geeked.
"Whatchu gon' do for me?"
"Nig-"
"Mav, be honest, this is your thing. You know what I want. Get it for me and I'll come to the party. I got more to lose than you do anyway."
"You gone lose your shit messing with that stuff, C."
"I'm too smart for that. I can handle it."
"You become a fiend it ain't on me." Maverik blew out a breath of defeat and pushed the bowl away from himself, slouching down in his chair.
Present day
"Cecil!" Cole called from the long end of the parking lot, "Over here!"
Cecil followed his brother into the warehouse that looked abandoned on the outside. "Where are we?" Cheyenne asked him to which he shrugged. "This shit looks...." She trailed off until she entered the first door. She looked around, confused and disgusted at the old worn down building. Busted windows. Peeling paint. Falling, water damaged ceilings. "Where did Cole go?" She asked.
"Here I am." He startled them through a small incision in a door beside them that only his eyes were visible through. Cheyenne side eyed him. "What's the password?" He asked jovially.
"Open the damn door." Cecil complained, kicking the door.
"Why yo ass always so mad?" Cole asked, opening the door and letting them into the hidden nightclub.
"What the fuck?" Cecil asked, walking through the door. "What is this?"
"It's ours." Cole cheesed, watching the awe on their faces. "I know. It's crazy right?"
"When you say 'ours'?"
"Cecil Assata Adebanjo junior your father loved you!" He yelled obnoxiously loud and domineering. "We have a meeting with Johnson in the morning."
"Arnold Johnson? Pops' lawyer? Why?"
"Because our father was a very very very wealthy man."
"Duh."
"No sir. I mean WEALTHY. He got land all over." He stopped himself, disappointed with Cecil's lack of response. "You been knew huh?"
Cecil shrugged.
"So, you skipped out on his life and his death— didn't talk to him for years. But, you already got your hands on his shit?"
"Johnson called me. I didn't go searching for shit, Cole."
"Oh yeah? Why'd he call you before me?"
Cecil coughed.
Cole huffed, "I always knew you didn't really consider me your family for real."
"Cole, don't start nigga." He brushed off the accusations that he felt they were only related legally. Allegations that he's never addressed.
Cole shook his head at his brother. "You prolly only back because you being forced to."
Cecil rolled his eyes.
"What? Is it like a clause or something that you gotta be back in Detroit to getcho money?" He laughed, "Shit, prolly say you gotta take care of your son too. Cheyenne told us you started talking to her right after you came back to Detroit." Cole smiled gradually as his ideas went on and started making actual real sense to himself, "Lemme guess, you going into politics next? You have to carry on pops legacy to get whatever else he left you? You gotta get married?"
Cheyenne pressed her lips together in a thin line remembering the conversion they'd just recently had. She stared at Cole in disbelief. Then she turned her head to Cecil. "That shit make too much sense Cole. I mean, I mean it's making sense to me. What about you Cecil? Huh?"
"Damn, I might need to go to Law school or something because that shit was too easy." Cole mumbled, amazed at himself.
"You're using us." She whispered, "That's— fuck." She grumbled still trying to gather her thoughts.
"He was gonna cut me off, Chey ." He finally admitted.
"It's all about the money." Cole added.
"I got money, Cole. I don't need pops' shit. I always been good." Cecil defended himself.
"Fuck the money!" Cheyenne screamed dramatically, catching Cole off guard making him stumble back. They both looked at her quizzically. "And fuck you." She pointed in Cecil's face.
"Cheyenne."
"Don't call my name you piece of shit."
"Oof." Cole adlibbed.
"Is what Cole said true?" She asked calmly.
"It's close."
"So what you're telling me is that if your father didn't die and force you to take care of your son you would've never came for him. Or me."
It was silent in the club.
Cole's phone rang, interrupting the tense moment and giving him an excuse to leave the thickness allowing his brother and brother's baby moms a moment alone. The door clicked behind Cole's exit like a queue for Cecil to start pleading damage control but Cheyenne had already been convinced and didn't want to hear anything further. Both young people thought the night couldn't get any worse but their wild secret filled night hadn't even really begun.
P: 11.07.2023