Fed up with love by Franklin Covington

Camera pans down a narrow, dimly lit alley. Rain drips from rusted fire escapes. Headlights from a black SUV cut through the shadows. Ty stands in the middle, phone pressed to his ear, wearing all black — calm, but ready for whatever’s coming. On one side of the SUV, Jazmine leans against the hood, dressed to kill. On the other, Vanessa stands straight, heels planted, eyes cold. A figure lurks behind the dumpster, gun in hand, watching. Ty (Narration): “Funny thing about life — it don’t always ask what lane you wanna ride in. Sometimes, it throw you in the fast one… and sometimes, it throw you straight into oncoming traffic.” It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Tyrel Johnson wasn’t the type of man you could put in a box. On paper, he was the golden boy — top of his high school class, articulate, the kind of young Black man that made guidance counselors beam with pride. But that paper didn’t tell the whole story. It didn’t tell you that Ty’s mama was gone before his fifth birthday, and that his pops — Marcus Johnson — raised him alone. Didn’t tell you that Pops worked two jobs and still came home with tired eyes, smelling like sweat and metal, his hands rough from a lifetime of hard labor. And it definitely didn’t tell you that Pops knew the law better than most lawyers in the city. Not because he went to school for it. Because he’d spent six years in a cell, reading law books like they were gospel. Marcus (flashback, kitchen table): “Son, you gotta know two things in this world — how to count every dollar… and how to keep the law off your back while you do it.” Ty, maybe twelve years old, nodded like he understood. Truth was, he did understand. Pops didn’t sugarcoat nothing. If Ty wanted something, he had to earn it — or take it, but know exactly what taking it would cost. By seventeen, Ty had mastered both languages — the language of the streets and the language of the boardroom. In the morning, he wore honor cords. At night, he wore hoodies. Pops found out about the hustles one summer. No yelling, no cussing — just a stare across the kitchen table and an ultimatum: “School… or the streets. You can’t be half in, half out. That’s how people end up dead.” Ty chose both. Now, standing in that alley, phone to his ear, with two women on either side and a masked man creeping behind a dumpster, Ty wondered if this was the day Pops’ warning finally came true. Ty (into phone): “Yeah… I’m here. But if you want this deal, you better hurry… I ain’t got all night.” He hung up before they could respond. Somewhere behind him, Jazmine popped her gum, rolling her eyes. Vanessa, on the other side, didn’t flinch — she just adjusted her blazer like they were in some corporate parking lot instead of a back alley that smelled like piss and trouble. Chapter Two – The Setup The man behind the dumpster thought he was slick. Black ski mask, all-black fit, gun clutched like he’d been practicing in the mirror all week. But the way he moved told Ty everything — this wasn’t no professional. This was somebody desperate. Desperate people make the funniest mistakes. Ty (narration): “When you grow up where I’m from, you can spot a stick-up before it even happen. The hoodie too tight, the walk too slow, the way he keep peekin’ around the corner like his mama told him to be careful crossin’ the street. That ain’t danger… that’s comedy with a trigger.” Jazmine spotted him too. “Uhh, Ty? You see what I see?” she said, adjusting her hair like it was just another Saturday night. Vanessa, on the other hand, didn’t even blink. “If he’s gonna do it, he better do it fast. I have a 9 a.m. meeting tomorrow.” Ty smirked. “See… that’s why I like y’all. Jazmine gon’ scream, Vanessa gon’ file a report. I get the best of both worlds.” The man finally stepped out from behind the dumpster. Gun raised. Voice shaking. “Don’t move! Wallets… phones… now!” Ty held up a finger. “Uh-uh. First of all… you ain’t gon’ rob me and sound like you ordering a latte.” Jazmine laughed so hard she had to bend over. Vanessa? She just crossed her arms. The man waved the gun. “I said now!” Ty slowly reached into his pocket, but instead of pulling out a wallet… he pulled out his phone. “You on i********:?” he asked. “No? Cool, ’cause I’m finna go live. Folks love a good robbery story.” The man froze, confused. “Wha—? Man, put the phone down!” “Nah,” Ty said, stepping closer. “See, you don’t understand. My pops raised me different. He taught me two rules: never gamble what you can’t afford to lose… and never point a gun at somebody who’s smiling back at you.” Before the man could react, Ty slapped the gun out of his hand so fast it clattered to the ground. Jazmine gasped. Vanessa didn’t move — she just said, “Well, that escalated quickly.” Ty picked up the gun, flipped it in his hand like he’d done it a hundred times. “You lucky,” Ty said, tossing it in a nearby trash can. “Tonight, I’m in a good mood. But next time? Learn to rob people who ain’t been robbed before.” The man took off running so fast, his ski mask slipped halfway off his face. Jazmine was still laughing. Vanessa checked her watch. Ty just looked at them both and said, “Y’all hungry? I could go for wings.” That’s when Ty saw it. The glint of metal. The slow shift of a shadow. And he smiled. Because if there was one thing Pops had taught him, it was this: “Ain’t no such thing as a fair fight.” If you want, I can keep going and make Chapter Two the first funny-but-dangerous scene — the robbery attempt where Ty turns the tables in a way that’s both smart and hilarious. That’s where the comedy and danger really start mixing. Chapter Three – Pops Always Knows Ty didn’t even make it home before the call came in. No “hello,” no “how you doing.” Just: Pops: “Boy… you out here fightin’ the Nighttime Ninja in a alley?” Ty paused mid-step on the cracked sidewalk. “…How you—?” “Don’t play with me. I know everything. You think the streets don’t talk? I raised the streets. One of my old cellmates just FaceTimed me laughin’ talkin’ ‘bout, ‘Your boy just disarmed a fool like he was takin’ a TV remote.’” Ty sighed. “It wasn’t that serious.” Pops barked out a laugh. “A gun to yo’ head ain’t serious? Boy, you sound like a man who ain’t been shot at enough.” When Ty walked in the apartment, Pops was already waiting in his recliner — feet up, remote in hand, TV muted. “You tryna die young?” Pops asked. Ty smirked. “I handled it.” “Yeah, handled it… like a i***t. What if he had two guns? What if his cousin was waitin’ around the corner? You act like you the only one that’s smart in these streets.” “I ain’t say that.” “You ain’t have to. That’s the problem with you — you think just ‘cause you graduated top of your class, you bulletproof. Lemme tell you somethin’… I seen straight-A kids get zipped up ‘cause they forgot one thing—” “What’s that?” “—Everybody got a plan… ‘til they get hit in the mouth.” Ty leaned on the counter. “So what, I was supposed to give him my stuff?” Pops shook his head. “No. You was supposed to not be in a alley at night with two women and a SUV like you shootin’ a rap video. You out here lookin’ like a clearance rack 50 Cent.” Ty laughed. “A clearance rack 50 Cent?” Pops waved him off. “You heard me. And them women? Lemme guess — one dress like she live on i********:, the other look like she finna file my taxes.” Ty tried not to smile. “Something like that.” Pops leaned forward, face serious now. “Listen… I ain’t tell you to choose between school and the streets ‘cause I was scared of the hustle. I told you ‘cause I know this life don’t give happy endings. You keep mixin’ ‘em, you gon’ end up in trouble you can’t talk your way out of.” Ty nodded slowly. “I hear you, Pops.” “Good. ‘Cause I got a bad feeling, son. Somebody in your circle? They ain’t for you.” Ty frowned. “What you mean?” “I mean… you better watch who’s smiling in your face. ‘Cause one day, they gon’ be the reason you lookin’ over your shoulder.” The words hung in the air. Ty brushed it off, but deep down, he felt it — the truth in his father’s voice. And somewhere across town, in a dimly lit apartment, someone was scrolling through pictures of Ty on their phone… smiling.