COLD OPEN — SUPER-DUPER UBER VERSION
MUSIC:
Dark, soulful Atlanta instrumental.
Slow heartbeat bass.
Old piano notes with a faint eerie synth underneath.
It should feel nostalgic—but dangerous.
Like somebody remembering the best night of their childhood and the first night that childhood started disappearing.
SFX:
A warm Atlanta night.
Cicadas.
Distant traffic.
Car horns.
Bass rattling from passing cars.
People laughing outside.
A MARTA train rumbling far away.
Let the city breathe for three seconds before the narration begins.
• • •
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Before Bruce Street Projects...
PAUSE.
Before missions...
PAUSE.
Before Pistol...
PAUSE.
Before all the stories people heard...
and all the stories people thought they knew...
LONG PAUSE.
There was one night.
One concert.
One ticket.
One decision.
And one city.
SFX:
A distant car horn.
MARTA train wheels cutting across the tracks.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Atlanta, Georgia.
Summer.
Nineteen-eighty-something.
And I was ten years old.
PAUSE.
Still playing baseball.
Still collecting baseball cards.
Still watching cartoons.
Still reading comic books.
Still listening to Pops like every word out his mouth was law...
even when I acted like I wasn’t listening.
SLIGHT SMILE IN VOICE.
Still getting game from Mama...
even when I thought I already knew everything.
PAUSE.
You know how you are when you ten.
Old enough to believe you grown...
but still young enough to need somebody to tell you when to go to bed.
BEAT.
The streets hadn’t got me yet.
At least...
not officially.
MUSIC:
Add a low, uneasy note.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Back then, I was just a Grady baby.
A dreamer.
A little athlete.
A little leader.
Smart.
Stubborn.
Competitive as hell.
And way too curious to leave anything alone.
If somebody told me fire was hot...
I wasn’t just taking their word for it.
I had to get close enough to feel the heat.
PAUSE.
Sometimes...
too close.
SFX:
A match strikes.
Small flame.
Then silence.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Mama made us read.
And she didn’t just hand us children’s books either.
Nah.
Mama had us reading about the whole world.
So before I knew any real hustlers...
I knew Lucky Luciano.
Al Capone.
Jesse James.
Bank robbers.
Outlaws.
Michael Corleone.
Scarface.
Men who could walk into a room...
say almost nothing...
and still make everybody pay attention.
PAUSE.
Now, let me make something clear.
At ten years old...
I wasn’t fascinated with crime.
BEAT.
I was fascinated with power.
MUSIC:
Bass strikes once.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
The clothes.
The confidence.
The respect.
The way certain people didn’t have to ask for space...
because the whole room made space for them.
I didn’t understand the price of that power yet.
I only understood how it looked.
PAUSE.
And that night at the Omni...
I was about to see power in two completely different forms.
MUSIC:
Faint concert crowd begins rising underneath.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
One was standing onstage...
with thousands of people screaming his name.
SFX:
Distant arena crowd erupts.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
The other one was standing in the crowd...
and didn’t need to say his name at all.
PAUSE.
One of them made me want to become a rapper.
BEAT.
The other one made me want to become something else.
LONG PAUSE.
But before the music...
before the smoke...
before the money...
before I came face-to-face with the man who would change the way I looked at the streets...
the whole night almost never happened.
MUSIC:
The darkness warms slightly.
Transition into a family-memory theme.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Because we only had four tickets...
and there were five of us.
SFX:
Paper concert tickets unfolding.
A television playing softly inside a family home.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
And if one of my boys couldn’t go...
I had already made up my mind.
YOUNG YAYBEZ — FIRM, IMMEDIATE:
Then I ain’t going either.
MUSIC CUT.
TITLE VOICE — DEEP, CINEMATIC:
GRADYBABY’Z.
BOOK ONE: B.S.P.—BRUCE STREET PROJECTS.
EPISODE ONE: THE NIGHT I MET ME.
B.F.T.—BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA.
SFX:
Heavy cinematic impact.
• • •
SCENE 1 — THE FIFTH TICKET
SUPER-DUPER UBER VERSION
MUSIC:
Warm family-memory theme.
Soft soul chords underneath.
Keep a trace of the cold-open darkness in the bass—because this small decision is carrying us toward something much bigger.
SFX:
Inside the house.
Television playing low in the background.
People moving from room to room.
Excited boys talking over one another.
Sneakers squeaking across the floor.
Paper concert tickets being counted.
• • •
OLDER YAYBEZ:
The whole trip almost didn’t happen.
PAUSE.
Matter of fact...
my whole trip almost didn’t happen.
SFX:
Four paper tickets being counted individually.
SHE-SHE:
One...
two...
three...
four.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Hold up.
PAUSE.
Where his ticket at?
SHE-SHE:
What you mean, where his ticket at?
I got four.
One for you...
and three for your little friends.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Problem was...
there were four of us.
PAUSE.
Four friends.
But only three tickets for them.
Which meant one of my boys was getting left behind.
SFX:
The room grows quieter.
Television remains low in the background.
FRIEND — TRYING TO HIDE DISAPPOINTMENT:
It’s cool.
Y’all go ahead.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Nah.
SHE-SHE:
What you mean, “nah”?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
I mean nah.
If he can’t go...
I ain’t going.
BEAT.
We all go...
or none of us go.
MUSIC:
Low emotional chord.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Now understand something.
This wasn’t me trying to sound tough.
I wasn’t putting on no show.
And I damn sure didn’t have no money to buy another ticket.
SLIGHT SMILE IN VOICE.
I was ten.
My financial portfolio consisted of baseball cards...
loose change...
and whatever I could convince Mama I needed from the store.
PAUSE.
But even back then...
some things just didn’t sit right with me.
How was I supposed to stand inside the Omni...
watching the greatest show I had ever seen...
knowing one of my boys was sitting at home...
wishing he was with us?
PAUSE.
I couldn’t do it.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Here.
He can have mine.
SHE-SHE:
Boy, stop playing.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
I ain’t playing.
Give him mine.
I’ll stay home.
SHE-SHE:
After all that begging you did to go?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Yeah.
PAUSE.
We supposed to be going together.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
She-She looked at me.
Then she looked at the four tickets.
Then she looked at the boy standing there pretending he wasn’t disappointed.
PAUSE.
Then she looked back at me.
SHE-SHE:
Boy...
LONGER PAUSE.
You hard-headed just like Mama.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
So we all going?
SHE-SHE:
Didn’t I just say you hard-headed?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Yeah...
but you ain’t answer the question.
SFX:
The boys laugh.
She-She exhales, trying not to laugh with them.
SHE-SHE:
Move out my face before I change my mind.
SFX:
Purse opening.
Money unfolding.
A fifth ticket being secured and added to the stack.
MUSIC:
Family-loyalty theme rises.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
And just like that...
She-She bought the fifth ticket.
PAUSE.
Everybody was going.
SFX:
The boys explode in celebration.
Hands slapping.
Sneakers jumping against the floor.
FRIEND #1:
We in there!
FRIEND #2:
The Omni, baby!
FRIEND #3:
LL Cool J!
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Man, y’all better calm down before she change her mind.
SHE-SHE:
Exactly.
And everybody better stay where I can see ’em.
I’m responsible for all y’all little bad asses tonight.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
That was She-She.
Real.
Loyal.
Ride-or-die...
before I even knew what “ride-or-die” meant.
PAUSE.
She was about nineteen or twenty then.
Tall.
Beautiful.
Amazon-type beautiful.
The kind of woman who could walk into a room...
and make somebody forget what they were talking about right in the middle of the sentence.
BEAT.
But don’t get it confused.
She wasn’t just pretty.
She was strong.
Protective.
And she didn’t scare easy.
PAUSE.
She-She was Atlanta’s Wonder Woman...
before Atlanta even knew what it had.
MUSIC:
Warm music rises slightly.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Looking back...
that fifth ticket told you everything you needed to know about her.
But it also said something about me.
PAUSE.
Long before I understood leadership...
I understood loyalty.
If I called you my brother...
I wasn’t walking through the door and leaving you standing outside.
BEAT.
We all go...
or none of us go.
PAUSE.
That fifth ticket didn’t just get another boy into a concert.
It completed the crew.
It opened the door to the night.
MUSIC:
Begin shifting from warm family soul into rising downtown excitement.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
And once all five of us stepped out that house...
there wasn’t no turning back.
SFX:
Front door opens.
Atlanta summer-night ambience rushes in.
The boys spill outside, talking and laughing.
Door closes behind them.
Transition into MARTA station ambience.
Train approaching.
Escalator humming.
Downtown crowd growing louder.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Because for the first time in my life...
I was going downtown Atlanta...
PAUSE.
at night.
SFX:
MARTA train doors open.
• • •
SCENE 2 — FIRST NIGHT DOWNTOWN
Third Section — Super-Duper Uber Version
MUSIC:
Low nostalgic Atlanta beat continues.
Add brighter drums and a little excitement.
Keep it youthful here.
The danger has not arrived yet.
This part should feel like freedom.
SFX:
MARTA train doors opening.
Transit announcement echoing through the station.
Escalator humming.
Tokens and change clinking.
Sneakers hitting the station floor.
Five excited boys talking over one another.
She-She keeping everybody together.
• • •
SHE-SHE:
Come on.
Everybody off.
And don’t nobody get separated.
FRIEND #1:
We know.
SHE-SHE:
I ain’t talking to “we.”
I’m talking to all five of y’all.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Man, come on.
We ain’t no babies.
SHE-SHE:
Then stop acting like one and keep up.
SFX:
The boys laugh.
MARTA doors close behind them.
Train pulls away.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Growing up...
I always heard stories about downtown Atlanta at night.
PAUSE.
The lights.
The women.
The music.
The cars.
The clubs.
The people.
The city.
PAUSE.
My people would leave the house after dark...
go downtown...
and come back with stories that sounded like movies.
Everybody was dressed up.
Somebody got into a fight.
Somebody met a woman.
Somebody lost somebody.
Somebody found somebody.
SLIGHT SMILE IN VOICE.
And somehow...
no matter what happened...
everybody claimed they didn’t do nothing.
PAUSE.
I wanted to see it for myself.
SFX:
Footsteps enter the station tunnel.
Street noise grows louder ahead.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Now, I had been downtown before.
I used to sneak downtown in the daytime.
But daytime downtown...
and nighttime downtown...
were two completely different Atlantas.
PAUSE.
In the daytime...
downtown belonged to workers.
People catching buses.
People carrying briefcases.
Folks handling business.
BEAT.
But after dark?
PAUSE.
Downtown belonged to everybody.
SFX:
Escalator carries them upward.
The city gradually opens around them.
Car horns.
People shouting.
Music from passing vehicles.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
At night...
the city took its work clothes off.
Put on something sharp.
Turned the music up.
And came outside.
PAUSE.
And normally...
my little ass had to be in the house before any of that started.
Mama and Pops didn’t play that.
When the streetlights came on...
you better already be close enough to hear Mama call your name.
PAUSE.
But this night was different.
This was my first time going downtown Atlanta at night...
BEAT.
with permission.
SLIGHT LAUGH.
Man...
do you know how grown you feel at ten years old...
when you outside after dark...
and nobody can tell you to take your ass home?
SFX:
The boys reach the top of the escalator.
Full downtown ambience rushes in.
FRIEND #1:
Damn!
Look at all these people!
FRIEND #2:
Forget the people.
Look at all these girls.
FRIEND #3:
Boy, you ain’t getting nobody.
FRIEND #2:
Watch me.
FRIEND #3:
Watch you do what?
Ask somebody what time it is?
FRIEND #1:
He gon’ tell ’em his mama let him stay out late.
SFX:
Everybody laughs.
FRIEND #2:
Man, shut up.
Y’all just hating.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Man, all y’all shut up before She-She hear you.
SHE-SHE — FROM A FEW STEPS AHEAD:
I already heard him.
FRIEND #2:
I ain’t say nothing.
SHE-SHE:
Exactly.
And keep it that way.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
We thought we were grown.
But the truth was...
we were five little boys trying to walk like men...
with She-She ten feet ahead making sure none of us got lost.
PAUSE.
And everybody was fresh.
Shoes clean.
Haircuts sharp.
Clothes picked out like somebody might pull us onstage.
SLIGHT SMILE.
None of us knew what was about to happen...
but we knew we had to look good when it did.
SFX:
The crew starts walking through downtown.
Music pours from a passing car.
A horn blows at someone on the sidewalk.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
To us...
downtown Atlanta felt like another planet.
Everything was bigger.
The buildings.
The lights.
The crowds.
The noise.
Even the night felt bigger.
PAUSE.
Every direction I looked...
something was happening.
A car rolling by with music shaking the windows.
Women dressed like they were going somewhere important.
Men standing on corners looking like they owned the concrete beneath their feet.
Streetlights reflecting off windshields.
People laughing.
People arguing.
People selling things.
People looking for things.
PAUSE.
And I was taking all of it in.
MUSIC:
Drop the drums slightly.
Let the older narrator’s reflection come forward.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
That was always my gift.
And maybe...
part of my curse.
I watched everything.
Faces.
Clothes.
Body language.
Who people moved out the way for.
Who had to ask.
Who looked nervous.
Who didn’t.
PAUSE.
Even at ten years old...
I was studying the room.
Only this time...
the room was the whole city.
SFX:
The distant roar of the Omni crowd becomes noticeable.
FRIEND #1:
Yo...
you hear that?
FRIEND #3:
That’s coming from the Omni!
FRIEND #2:
Man, we ’bout to be in there!
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Come on, then!
SHE-SHE:
Don’t start running!
Stay together!
SFX:
The boys quicken their pace but try not to run.
Excited footsteps.
Crowd noise grows.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
The closer we got to the Omni...
the thicker the crowd became.
First it was a few people walking in the same direction.
Then twenty.
Then fifty.
Then hundreds.
PAUSE.
It felt like every street in Atlanta...
was pouring people into one building.
MUSIC:
Build with the crowd.
Add distant arena bass.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Then we turned the corner...
LONG PAUSE.
and there it was.
SFX:
The full Omni crowd opens up.
Vendors shouting.
Police whistles.
Car horns.
Music leaking from the arena.
Thousands of voices overlapping.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
The Omni.
Glowing against the Atlanta night...
surrounded by more people than I had ever seen in one place.
PAUSE.
That’s when I knew...
this wasn’t just a concert.
BEAT.
This was an event.
• • •
SCENE 3 — OUTSIDE THE OMNI
Super-Duper Uber Version
MUSIC:
Downtown excitement continues building.
Add heavier drums and distant concert bass.
The music should make the audience feel like they are walking toward something historic.
SFX:
A massive crowd outside the arena.
Street vendors shouting.
Cars creeping through traffic.
Police whistles.
Horns.
People laughing, yelling, and calling to friends.
Music leaking through the Omni walls.
The thick hum of an Atlanta summer night.
• • •
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Then we turned the corner...
PAUSE.
and there it was.
SFX:
The crowd opens up.
Arena noise swells.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
The Omni.
Sitting there in the middle of downtown Atlanta...
glowing like a spaceship.
PAUSE.
To a ten-year-old Grady baby from the east side...
it looked like the center of the whole damn universe.
YOUNG YAYBEZ — UNDER HIS BREATH:
Man...
this place huge.
FRIEND #1:
I told you.
FRIEND #2:
Look at all them people.
FRIEND #3:
How we supposed to find anybody out here?
SHE-SHE:
That’s why I keep telling y’all to stay together.
Don’t make me have to come looking for nobody.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
We right here.
SHE-SHE:
Stay right there.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
The closer we got...
the more the city attacked every one of my senses at the same time.
PAUSE.
The air smelled like hot dogs.
Popcorn.
Beer.
Cigarettes.
Weed.
Cheap perfume.
Car exhaust.
And summer heat...
trapped inside the concrete.
SFX:
Hot dogs sizzling on a vendor grill.
A bottle drops into a trash can.
Someone nearby coughs through smoke.
STREET VENDOR — CALLING OUT:
Hot dogs!
Cold drinks!
Get ’em before you go inside!
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Vendors were selling food.
Bootleg T-shirts.
Pictures.
Glow sticks.
Anything somebody might buy before walking through those doors.
PAUSE.
Police were blowing whistles...
trying to control a crowd that had already decided it couldn’t be controlled.
Cars were barely moving.
People were hanging out the windows.
And everywhere I looked...
somebody was dressed like tonight might be the night they got discovered.
PAUSE.
We weren’t even inside yet...
and the parking lot already felt like part of the show.
SFX:
A loud group passes by laughing.
Music pumps from a nearby car.
FRIEND #3:
Yo...
we missed Fat Boy.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Fat Boy?
FRIEND #3:
Yeah.
He already performed.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Man, I ain’t come to see no Fat Boy.
FRIEND #1:
Who you come to see then?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Run-D.M.C.
BEAT.
I came to see the King of Rock.
I came to see Jam Master Jay.
FRIEND #4:
Man, forget all that.
LL finna come out.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Who?
FRIEND #4:
LL Cool J.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Who the hell is LL Cool J?
FRIEND #4:
Ladies Love Cool James.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Ladies love who?
FRIEND #4:
Cool James.
LL.
He hard.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Man, I don’t know nothing about no LL.
I came to see Run-D.M.C.
FRIEND #2:
You gon’ know after tonight.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
We’ll see.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
And I meant that.
SLIGHT SMILE IN VOICE.
I wasn’t impressed because somebody told me I was supposed to be impressed.
I had to see it.
That was me.
You could tell me somebody was cold all day long.
But until I saw it with my own eyes...
the jury was still out.
PAUSE.
I didn’t know it yet...
but in a few minutes...
LL Cool J was about to walk onstage and completely rearrange my understanding of what a rapper could be.
SFX:
A wave of marijuana smoke drifts past.
One of the boys sniffs the air.
FRIEND #2:
You smell that?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Smell what?
FRIEND #2:
Weed.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Hell yeah, I smell it.
The whole damn city smell like it.
FRIEND #1:
Where your sister at?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
That’s what I’m trying to find out.
PAUSE.
Black said he got something for us.
MUSIC:
Introduce a faint, darker undertone beneath the excitement.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Black.
PAUSE.
At that point...
Black was just my sister’s boyfriend.
A name I had heard.
A face I was looking for.
A man who said he had something for us.
BEAT.
I didn’t understand yet what came with that name.
Or what seeing him that night was about to unlock inside me.
PAUSE.
But that would come later.
Right then...
we were still just five boys outside the Omni...
trying to take everything in at once.
SFX:
The crowd shifts forward.
Police whistle sharply.
POLICE OFFICER — DISTANT:
Keep it moving!
Have your tickets ready!
Keep the entrance clear!
SHE-SHE:
Come on.
Get your tickets out.
And don’t lose ’em.
FRIEND #2:
I got mine.
FRIEND #3:
Me too.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Everybody straight?
FRIEND #1:
We straight.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
That was us.
Wide-eyed.
Loud.
Curious.
Trying our best to act grown...
but still looking around like kids at the fair.
PAUSE.
Every few steps, one of us stopped to stare at something.
A car.
A woman.
A hustler.
A fight trying to start.
A gold chain catching the streetlight.
PAUSE.
We thought we were studying the city.
BEAT.
The whole time...
the city was studying us.
MUSIC:
Concert energy rises.
Darker undertone remains beneath it.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
We thought we were just going to a concert.
We didn’t know we were walking into the first scene...
of the rest of our lives.
SFX:
Tickets tearing.
Arena doors opening.
The indoor crowd explodes through the doorway.
Bass becomes louder and deeper.
SHE-SHE:
Stay close!
FRIEND #4:
Come on!
LL finna come out!
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Man, let’s see what all this LL shit about.
SFX:
The boys enter the arena.
The doors close behind them.
Outside noise disappears.
Inside crowd becomes enormous.
Lights dim.
A radio-tuning effect begins sweeping across the sound field.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Then the lights went down...
the radio came alive...
and a man I had never heard of...
came out of it.
• • •
SCENE 4 — LL COMES OUT THE RADIO
Super-Duper Uber Version
MUSIC:
Live concert energy.
Heavy drums.
Deep bass.
Raw arena sound.
The music should feel enormous compared to everything heard outside.
SFX:
Thousands of people talking and screaming.
Feet stomping against concrete.
Whistles.
Stage equipment moving.
Microphone feedback.
Bass shaking the seats.
The crew pushing through people while She-She keeps them together.
• • •
SHE-SHE — RAISING HER VOICE OVER THE CROWD:
Stay close!
If you can’t see me...
you too far away!
FRIEND #1:
Man, where we sitting?
SHE-SHE:
Just keep moving!
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Walking into the Omni...
was like walking inside a living creature.
PAUSE.
The whole building had a heartbeat.
SFX:
Bass pounds twice like a heartbeat.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Every beat shook the walls.
Every scream rolled through the building like thunder.
People were packed everywhere.
Standing in the aisles.
Leaning over rails.
Trying to find their seats.
Trying to find their friends.
Trying to get closer to the stage.
PAUSE.
And there we were...
five little boys swallowed up inside thousands of people.
FRIEND #2:
Yo, I can’t see!
FRIEND #3:
Move your little ass, then!
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Man, stop pushing me!
SHE-SHE:
All of y’all better calm down!
OLDER YAYBEZ:
I was looking around at everything.
The lights.
The speakers.
The stage.
The crowd climbing all the way toward the ceiling.
PAUSE.
On television...
a concert looked big.
Inside the Omni...
big wasn’t even the word.
BEAT.
It felt impossible.
SFX:
Arena lights begin powering down one section at a time.
Crowd anticipates what is coming.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Then...
the lights dropped.
SFX:
All lights cut out.
One second of darkness.
Then the crowd erupts.
CROWD:
AHHHHHHHHHHHH!
SFX:
People screaming.
Feet stomping.
Whistles.
Seats shaking.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
The whole building exploded.
Not got loud.
Not got excited.
EMPHATIC:
Exploded.
PAUSE.
I could feel the bass punching me in the chest.
Smoke started floating across the stage.
Lights sliced through it from every direction.
Everybody stood up.
Everybody started screaming.
And half the people screaming...
didn’t even know what they were screaming at yet.
FRIEND #4:
This it!
This it!
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
What’s happening?
FRIEND #4:
Just watch!
SFX:
Mechanical stage rumbling.
Equipment rolling.
A giant object emerges through the smoke.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Then...
out of all that smoke...
a giant radio started coming onto the stage.
PAUSE.
Not no little boom box.
This radio looked big enough for somebody to live inside.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
What the hell is that?
FRIEND #1:
That’s the radio!
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
I see it’s a radio!
Why is it so damn big?
FRIEND #4:
Just wait!
OLDER YAYBEZ:
The lights hit it.
The crowd got even louder.
And for a second...
everything froze.
MUSIC:
Cut nearly everything except one low bass tone.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Then LL Cool J came bursting out of that radio...
like he had broken through the wall between television...
and real life.
SFX:
Massive pyrotechnic-style impact.
Full concert sound slams back in.
The crowd reaches its loudest point.
CROWD:
AHHHHHHHHHHHH!
FRIEND #1:
OH SHIT!
FRIEND #4:
I TOLD Y’ALL!
I TOLD Y’ALL!
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Yo!
BEAT.
This nigga just came out the radio!
FRIEND #2:
That shit hard!
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Who is that?!
FRIEND #4:
That’s LL!
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
That’s the dude from the videos?
FRIEND #4:
Yeah!
That’s him!
OLDER YAYBEZ:
I had seen his face before.
On television.
In videos.
But we didn’t have cable like that.
We weren’t sitting around watching MTV all day.
So I wasn’t fully in tune with who everybody was yet.
PAUSE.
I knew the face.
I didn’t know the name.
BEAT.
But seeing him in person?
That changed everything.
MUSIC:
Concert performance continues loudly, then slowly lowers beneath the narration.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
He didn’t just walk onto that stage.
He took it.
PAUSE.
The confidence.
The energy.
The way he moved.
The way thousands of people reacted to every step he took.
The women screaming.
The men watching.
The whole building giving him its complete attention.
PAUSE.
That was the first time I understood that a rapper could be more than somebody standing behind a microphone.
A rapper could be a superhero.
A movie star.
A sex symbol.
A businessman.
The biggest person in the building...
without physically being the biggest person in the building.
PAUSE.
LL had control.
BEAT.
Real control.
SFX:
Crowd begins chanting LL’s name.
CROWD:
LL!
LL!
LL!
LL!
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Thousands of people...
saying one man’s name.
PAUSE.
And I remembered all those books Mama made us read.
All those men who walked into rooms...
and made the whole room react.
BEAT.
This was that same power.
Only this time...
it had drums behind it.
YOUNG YAYBEZ — AMAZED:
Man...
I could do that.
FRIEND #1:
Do what?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Rap.
FRIEND #3:
You can’t rap.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Shit, neither can you.
FRIEND #3:
I ain’t say I could!
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Well, I’m saying I can.
FRIEND #2:
Then spit something.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Man, I ain’t rapping right now.
I’m watching the show.
SFX:
The boys laugh.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
That was me.
I had been a rapper for about six seconds...
and I was already refusing freestyle requests.
SLIGHT LAUGH.
But underneath the jokes...
something real had happened.
PAUSE.
The man from the videos had stepped off the television...
walked out of a giant radio...
and onto the stage.
PAUSE.
And suddenly...
being a rapper didn’t feel like some fantasy reserved for people in New York.
It felt possible.
BEAT.
If he could make a whole building scream...
maybe one day...
I could too.
PAUSE.
For that moment...
I wanted to be LL Cool J.
MUSIC:
Let the arena energy remain high.
Slowly introduce a darker, heavier bass beneath it.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
But while everybody was watching the star onstage...
my eyes started drifting through the crowd.
PAUSE.
Because LL wasn’t the only man inside the Omni...
who could make people move out of his way.
SFX:
Concert sound becomes slightly muffled.
A slower heartbeat enters.
Crowd voices pass:
“Black!”
“What’s up, Black?”
“Yo, Black!”
OLDER YAYBEZ:
LL had everybody’s attention.
BEAT.
But there was another man...
who had everybody’s respect.
PAUSE.
LL Cool J was the star onstage.
LONG PAUSE.
Black...
was the star in the crowd.
• • •
SCENE 5 — BLACK IN THE CROWD
Super-Duper Uber Version
MUSIC:
LL’s concert performance continues.
Keep the arena loud, but slowly introduce a smoother, heavier bass underneath.
This new musical layer belongs to Black.
It should feel calm, confident, and powerful—never frantic.
SFX:
Concert crowd roaring.
People moving through the aisles.
Handshakes.
Men greeting one another.
Women laughing.
Gold jewelry lightly clinking beneath the noise.
• • •
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Then I saw Black.
PAUSE.
And everything changed again.
SFX:
Concert sound becomes slightly muffled.
Heartbeat enters.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
He was standing a few rows over...
right beside She-She.
PAUSE.
Clean cut.
Nice fade.
Brown skin.
About six feet tall.
Thick build.
Gold chain resting across his chest.
PAUSE.
He looked more like a rapper than a hustler.
BEAT.
But Black was a hustler.
A real one.
MUSIC:
Black’s bass theme deepens.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Mechanicsville.
His name rang bells.
His crew rang bells.
And inside that Omni...
everybody knew him.
SFX:
Different voices greet Black while moving past.
MAN #1:
What’s happening, Black?
BLACK:
What’s up with you?
MAN #2:
My man!
SFX:
Handshake and shoulder embrace.
WOMAN:
Hey, Black.
BLACK:
How you doing?
MAN #3:
Black! I been looking for you!
BLACK:
I’m right here.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Every few seconds...
somebody stopped to speak.
Men shook his hand.
Women smiled before they even reached him.
People leaned across seats just to make sure he saw them.
PAUSE.
And Black gave everybody the same energy.
He didn’t brush nobody off.
He didn’t look over anybody’s shoulder for somebody more important.
He looked people in their face.
Shook their hand.
Said their name.
Made everybody feel like they mattered.
FRIEND #1:
Damn, shawty...
your sister boyfriend working, ain’t he?
FRIEND #2:
Everybody in here know that dude.
FRIEND #3:
He might be more popular than LL.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Man, look at him.
FRIEND #1:
What is he selling?
FRIEND #2:
Nigga...
what ain’t he selling?
SFX:
The boys laugh.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Man, y’all stupid.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
But they weren’t wrong about one thing.
Everybody did know him.
PAUSE.
LL Cool J had thousands of people screaming his name from the stage.
Black had people speaking his name in every section he walked through.
BEAT.
LL was the star onstage.
PAUSE.
Black was the star in the crowd.
SFX:
LL’s crowd surges loudly.
Then Black receives more greetings underneath.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
And I was watching both of them.
Studying both of them.
Comparing two completely different types of power...
without even realizing that’s what I was doing.
PAUSE.
LL controlled the building with a microphone.
Black controlled his section...
without raising his voice.
BEAT.
LL had fans.
Black had respect.
PAUSE.
And to a ten-year-old boy...
respect looked stronger.
MUSIC:
Lower, thoughtful bass pulse.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
The crazy part was...
Black never acted important.
He didn’t poke his chest out.
He didn’t make people move just because he could.
He didn’t have to announce what he had.
He didn’t have to explain who he was.
PAUSE.
Everybody else did that for him.
BEAT.
That’s real presence.
When you don’t have to tell the room you somebody...
because the room already knows.
SFX:
A man approaches Black.
MAN #4:
Black, you straight?
BLACK:
Always.
You good?
MAN #4:
I’m good.
BLACK:
That’s what’s up.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
He was just Black.
Cool.
Calm.
Comfortable.
Like everything happening around him...
was happening exactly the way he expected it to.
PAUSE.
Money didn’t make him.
BEAT.
He made the money.
PAUSE.
That difference mattered to me.
Even before I knew how to explain it.
SFX:
Concert energy rises again.
Black turns back toward the children.
BLACK — CALLING OVER THE MUSIC:
Y’all good?
KIDS:
Yeah!
BLACK:
Stay close.
FRIEND #2 — QUIETLY:
Man, we ain’t going nowhere.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Shut up.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
A few minutes later...
he checked again.
BLACK:
Everybody straight?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
We straight!
BLACK:
Stay close.
PAUSE.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
At the time...
I thought he meant the crowd.
Stay close so nobody gets lost.
Stay close so She-She can keep up with us.
Stay close because the Omni was packed.
PAUSE.
Years later...
I understood something different.
MUSIC:
Concert sound fades lower.
Black’s theme moves forward.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Sometimes “stay close” ain’t about distance.
Sometimes it means stay close to your people.
Stay close to the ones who protect you.
Stay close to the ones who know who you were...
before the world started telling you who to become.
PAUSE.
Because once life starts moving...
it becomes real easy to lose people.
BEAT.
And even easier...
to lose yourself.
SFX:
Crowd swells briefly.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
That night...
Black told us to stay close.
LONG PAUSE.
We had no idea how far apart life would eventually pull everybody.
MUSIC:
Let the reflective tone sit for two seconds.
Then bring Black’s confident theme back.
SFX:
She-She approaches through the crowd.
SHE-SHE:
Yaybez!
Come here.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
What?
SHE-SHE:
Black wanna meet you.
SFX:
Young Yaybez moves through the row.
People shift aside.
The concert continues behind them.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Then She-She brought me over to him.
PAUSE.
The man everybody in the Omni seemed to know...
looked down at me...
smiled...
and said—
BLACK:
So this Yaybez?
• • •
SCENE 6 — BLACK MEETS YAYBEZ
Super-Duper Uber Version
MUSIC:
Smooth, bass-heavy Black theme.
Low and confident.
The concert remains underneath, but this moment should feel tighter and more personal—like the giant arena has temporarily shrunk down to only Black, She-She, and young Yaybez.
SFX:
Muffled concert performance.
Arena echo.
People squeezing through the row.
Women laughing nearby.
Plastic cups.
Lighters flicking in different sections.
Heavy bass hitting in the distance.
• • •
SHE-SHE:
Yaybez!
Come here.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
What?
SHE-SHE:
Black wanna meet you.
SFX:
Young Yaybez steps through the crowded row.
People move aside.
Concert music continues behind them.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
She-She brought me over to Black.
PAUSE.
And that was the first time he really looked at me.
BEAT.
Not around me.
Not past me.
Not over my head like most grown people did when they talked to kids.
PAUSE.
He looked directly...
at me.
BLACK:
So this Yaybez?
SHE-SHE:
Yeah.
That’s him.
BLACK:
What’s up, little nigga?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
What’s happening?
BLACK:
You enjoying yourself?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Hell yeah.
This my first concert.
BLACK:
First one?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Yeah.
BLACK:
What you think?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
That LL shit was hard.
He came out a whole radio.
BLACK — AMUSED:
Yeah.
LL got that shit.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
I ain’t even know who he was.
I came to see Run-D.M.C.
BLACK:
You know who he is now, though.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Hell yeah.
BLACK:
Then enjoy it.
PAUSE.
This what it’s supposed to feel like.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
That was Black.
Cool.
Smooth.
Never trying too hard.
Never loud just so somebody would hear him.
PAUSE.
He didn’t talk to me like I was stupid.
He didn’t give me that fake little-kid voice grown people use when they don’t think what you’re saying matters.
BEAT.
He talked to me like I belonged in the conversation.
PAUSE.
And at ten years old...
that stayed with me.
SFX:
A man stops beside Black.
MAN:
Black, I’ma catch you before we leave.
BLACK:
I got you.
SFX:
Handshake.
The man walks off.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Everybody in here know you.
BLACK:
I know a few people.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Man, you know everybody.
BLACK:
Nah.
Everybody know She-She.
I’m just standing next to her.
SHE-SHE:
Boy, please.
SFX:
Black and She-She laugh.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
See...
that was the thing about him.
Everybody inside that building treated Black like he was somebody important.
But Black never needed to say he was important.
PAUSE.
He could laugh.
Make a joke.
Stand beside She-She like a regular man.
And still...
everybody knew.
BEAT.
Real power don’t always have to introduce itself.
SFX:
The other boys edge closer, curious.
FRIEND #1:
What’s up, Black?
BLACK:
What’s happening, young blood?
Everybody enjoying themselves?
KIDS:
Hell yeah!
BLACK:
That’s what’s up.
SFX:
Lighter flicks.
BLACK:
Y’all smoke?
KIDS — TOO QUICKLY:
Hell yeah!
SHE-SHE:
Black...
don’t be giving them nothing.
BLACK:
Man, relax.
SHE-SHE:
I’m serious.
Mama find out, you dealing with her.
Not me.
BLACK:
They straight.
I got ’em.
SHE-SHE:
That’s what I’m worried about.
SFX:
The boys laugh nervously.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Now, every last one of us answered way too fast.
SLIGHT SMILE IN VOICE.
“Hell yeah.”
Like we had been smoking for twenty years.
Like we had ashtrays in our bedrooms and bills in our names.
PAUSE.
We wanted him to think we were grown.
But grown people usually don’t have to work that hard to prove they’re grown.
SFX:
Something is passed between them.
A lighter flicks.
Brief coughing is immediately hidden.
FRIEND #2 — TRYING NOT TO COUGH:
I’m straight.
FRIEND #3:
Nobody asked you.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Man, pass that.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Black showed love.
Passed us something.
Then he pulled out a little half-pint of Remy VSOP.
SFX:
Small bottle pulled from a pocket.
Cap twisting open.
FRIEND #1:
What’s that?
BLACK:
Remy.
FRIEND #2:
Let me hit that.
SHE-SHE:
Uh-uh.
Y’all already doing too much.
BLACK:
They just tasting it.
SHE-SHE:
That’s what everybody says right before something stupid happens.
BLACK:
Relax.
SFX:
Lemon being squeezed.
Bottle and plastic cup shifting.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
He showed us the lemon squeeze.
A little Remy...
then the lemon behind it.
PAUSE.
That liquor hit my chest like somebody had lit a match inside me.
YOUNG YAYBEZ — REACTING:
Man...
that shit hot!
FRIEND #2:
Give me some.
FRIEND #3:
You just said it was hot.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
I ain’t say I ain’t want no more.
SFX:
The boys laugh.
BLACK:
Take it easy.
Y’all got plenty of time to be grown.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
That might have been the truest thing anybody said to us all night.
PAUSE.
But when you’re ten...
you don’t believe you have plenty of time.
You want everything now.
The clothes.
The respect.
The women.
The money.
The freedom.
BEAT.
All the rewards of being grown...
without understanding any of the weight that comes with it.
MUSIC:
Black’s theme becomes more reflective.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
We thought we were grown.
PAUSE.
We weren’t.
PAUSE.
We were children...
standing too close to a life we didn’t understand yet.
BEAT.
Close enough to see the shine.
Not old enough to recognize the shadows behind it.
SFX:
Concert crowd erupts as the performance reaches another high point.
BLACK:
Y’all good?
KIDS:
Yeah!
BLACK:
Stay close.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
We right here.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
That night...
Black gave us a small taste of his world.
The smoke.
The liquor.
The attention.
The feeling that we had been accepted by somebody important.
PAUSE.
To him...
it might have been nothing.
Just showing love to his girl’s little brother and his friends.
BEAT.
To me?
It felt like the door had cracked open.
PAUSE.
And I had already started looking through it.
MUSIC:
Concert energy rises toward its conclusion.
Black’s theme remains beneath it.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
But the concert wasn’t over yet.
And neither was Black.
PAUSE.
Because after the lights came back on...
after the crowd started leaving...
and after everybody began saying their goodbyes...
Black pulled me away from the others.
SFX:
Concert music stops.
Arena lights power up.
Crowd begins pouring toward the exits.
BLACK:
Aye, shawty.
Come here for a minute.
• • •
SCENE 7 — BLACK GIVES THE BAG
60% Atlanta Hood Memoir / 40% Classic Mafia-Cinema Pressure
MUSIC:
The concert music ends.
Replace it with a slow, cinematic bass line.
Muted piano.
Soft strings.
A faint soulful sample underneath.
The sound should feel expensive, controlled, and dangerous—like street business wearing a tailored suit.
SFX:
Arena lights humming back to life.
Thousands of people pouring toward the exits.
Trash and plastic cups crunching beneath shoes.
Women laughing.
Men shouting across sections.
Gold chains moving.
Leather jackets brushing past.
Money changing hands somewhere in the crowd.
• • •
OLDER YAYBEZ:
The concert ended.
PAUSE.
The lights came back on...
and everybody looked different underneath them.
BEAT.
Sweaty.
Loud.
Happy.
Drunk.
High.
Still trying to hold on to whatever they had felt while the building was dark.
PAUSE.
People were talking about LL.
Run-D.M.C.
Jam Master Jay.
The clothes.
The women.
The entrance.
The giant radio.
SFX:
Crowd voices overlap.
MAN #1:
That LL entrance was crazy!
WOMAN:
I told you he was fine!
MAN #2:
Run tore that shit down!
OLDER YAYBEZ:
But while everybody else was discussing the show...
Black was already thinking about the ride home.
PAUSE.
That’s how men like Black moved.
Enjoy the moment...
but never forget the business waiting behind it.
SFX:
She-She gathers the boys.
SHE-SHE:
Everybody got everything?
Check around your seats.
I’m not coming back for nothing.
FRIEND #1:
I’m straight.
FRIEND #2:
Me too.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
We all here?
FRIEND #3:
We here.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
We started saying our goodbyes...
when Black looked over at me.
Not at all of us.
BEAT.
At me.
BLACK:
Aye, shawty.
Come here for a minute.
SFX:
Concert crowd begins fading into the distance.
The music tightens.
Footsteps enter a quieter concrete passage beside the seating section.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
He pulled me away from everybody.
Just far enough that nobody else could hear us.
PAUSE.
Just me and him.
BEAT.
It wasn’t some big dramatic meeting.
No long speech.
No crowd standing around watching.
PAUSE.
Real business usually don’t need an audience.
SFX:
Distant arena echo.
A metal door closes somewhere nearby.
BLACK:
Them your partners?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Yeah.
BLACK:
They older than you, ain’t they?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Most of ’em.
BLACK:
That’s what I thought.
PAUSE.
I noticed something tonight.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
What?
BLACK:
They follow you.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Huh?
BLACK:
Your partners.
They follow you.
PAUSE.
Everywhere you went...
they went.
Every time you moved...
they moved.
When you stopped...
they stopped.
When you said come on...
they came on.
PAUSE.
You ain’t notice that?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Nah.
I mean...
we all together.
BLACK:
Nah.
It’s more than that.
BEAT.
They looking at you to see what’s next.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
I glanced back toward my friends.
They were still standing with She-She...
waiting on me.
SFX:
The boys laugh distantly.
One of them calls out.
FRIEND #1 — DISTANT:
Yaybez!
We finna go!
YOUNG YAYBEZ — CALLING BACK:
Hold on!
BLACK — QUIETLY AMUSED:
See what I’m saying?
PAUSE.
You told ’em hold on...
and every last one of ’em standing there holding on.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
They my boys.
BLACK:
Exactly.
PAUSE.
You already moving like a boss.
MUSIC:
Low string note rises.
Let the statement breathe.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Nobody had ever told me that before.
PAUSE.
People had called me smart.
Hard-headed.
Competitive.
Bad.
Stubborn.
Too curious for my own good.
BEAT.
But a boss?
PAUSE.
No grown man had ever looked me in my face...
studied how people moved around me...
and called me a boss.
PAUSE.
Not like that.
BLACK:
You know what a boss is?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Somebody with money.
BLACK:
Money part of it.
But money don’t make everybody a boss.
PAUSE.
A boss is somebody people trust to make the next move.
Somebody who look after his people.
Somebody who don’t leave nobody behind.
BEAT.
Your sister told me about that fifth ticket.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
She told you that?
BLACK:
She tell me everything.
Said you wasn’t going unless all your partners could go.
PAUSE.
That’s leadership, shawty.
You ain’t even know you was doing it.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Black saw something in me...
before I had a name for it.
PAUSE.
And when somebody powerful tells a child he has power too...
that child remembers it.
BEAT.
Sometimes forever.
MUSIC:
Add a subtle ominous note beneath the elegance.
BLACK:
We ’bout to ride back to the Swats.
PAUSE.
I got this shit on me...
and I ain’t trying to ride all the way back with it.
SFX:
Fabric shifting.
A heavy bag being lifted.
The handles tighten.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Then he handed me the bag.
SFX:
The bag settles into young Yaybez’s hands with weight.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Damn.
BLACK:
Got it?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Yeah.
BLACK:
Don’t drop it.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
It was heavy.
PAUSE.
Heavier than it looked.
The kind of heavy that immediately makes you stop playing...
put both hands on it...
and pay attention.
PAUSE.
I didn’t ask what was inside.
BEAT.
Black didn’t tell me.
PAUSE.
And in his world...
understanding when not to ask questions...
was probably the first lesson.
SFX:
Black reaches into his pocket.
Folded money comes out.
Bills unfold slowly.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Then he reached into his pocket...
and pulled out a fold of money.
PAUSE.
Not crumpled-up little bills.
Not change.
Not money folded into a childish little square.
BEAT.
Clean money.
Crisp money.
Fresh bills that looked like they had never belonged to anybody before him.
SFX:
One bill separates from the stack.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
One crisp hundred-dollar bill.
SFX:
The bill is placed into Yaybez’s hand.
Then five more bills are counted slowly.
BLACK:
Twenty...
forty...
sixty...
eighty...
one hundred.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Five crisp twenties.
PAUSE.
Two hundred dollars cash...
sitting in my little ten-year-old hand.
MUSIC:
Piano note lands.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Now...
two hundred dollars might not sound like some giant fortune to a grown man.
PAUSE.
But to me?
At ten?
BEAT.
That wasn’t money.
That was evidence.
Evidence that Black’s world was real.
Evidence that the power I saw around him could be touched.
Folded.
Counted.
And placed directly into my palm.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
This for me?
BLACK:
Yeah.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
All of it?
BLACK:
All of it.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Why?
BLACK:
You want some money, don’t you?
OLDER YAYBEZ:
I just looked at him.
The bag in one hand.
Two hundred dollars in the other.
PAUSE.
My mind couldn’t process both things at the same time.
BLACK:
Get you some money.
PAUSE.
And keep your mouth closed about what don’t concern everybody else.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
I got you.
BLACK:
I know.
That’s why I gave it to you.
MUSIC:
Strings rise slightly.
Keep the moment powerful, but introduce a warning underneath.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
There it was.
Trust.
Money.
Responsibility.
Secrecy.
All handed to me in less than one minute.
PAUSE.
That’s how the game reaches some people.
It doesn’t always kick the door in.
Sometimes it pulls you aside...
speaks softly...
puts money in your hand...
and tells you that you’re special.
BEAT.
That’s the seduction.
PAUSE.
Black didn’t threaten me.
He didn’t pressure me.
He didn’t make some long speech about the streets.
PAUSE.
He did something more powerful.
BEAT.
He recognized me.
PAUSE.
He saw the leader in me.
Then he placed something in that leader’s hands.
BLACK:
Put that money up.
Don’t be out here flashing it.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
I ain’t.
BLACK:
And keep that bag close.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
I got it.
BLACK:
Good.
Now go catch up with your people.
SFX:
Black gives Yaybez a firm hand clasp.
Not a child’s handshake—a man’s handshake.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
That handshake felt different.
PAUSE.
A few minutes earlier...
I had been She-She’s little brother.
One of five kids at a concert.
BEAT.
Now I felt like Black had welcomed me into a private room...
without opening a single door.
SFX:
Yaybez walks back toward the group.
Arena crowd grows louder again.
SHE-SHE:
What he want?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Nothing.
He just told me to hold something.
SHE-SHE:
Well, hold it.
And don’t lose it.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
I ain’t.
FRIEND #2:
What’s in the bag?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Don’t worry about it.
FRIEND #2:
Man, I’m just asking.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
And I’m just telling you.
Don’t worry about it.
SFX:
A brief silence from the boys.
Then they begin moving.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
That might have been the first time they heard something different in my voice.
PAUSE.
Or maybe...
it was the first time I heard it.
MUSIC:
The elegant gangster theme begins dissolving into downtown-night ambience.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
At the time...
I thought Black had given me a gift.
LONG PAUSE.
I didn’t know he had just given me my first responsibility in the streets.
BEAT.
I thought he put money in my hand.
PAUSE.
I didn’t know...
he had just put me in the game.
SFX:
Omni exit doors open.
Atlanta night rushes back in.
Traffic.
Crowds.
Distant sirens.
The crew’s footsteps move toward downtown.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
And when we walked out of the Omni...
I had the bag on me.
I had two hundred dollars in my pocket.
PAUSE.
And I hadn’t told anybody.
BEAT.
Not yet.
• • •
SCENE 8 — DOWNTOWN TO FIVE POINTS
Super-Duper Uber Version
MUSIC:
Downtown Atlanta night groove.
Smooth drums.
Warm bass.
A little celebration from the concert remains...
but there is now a quiet mystery underneath it.
The gangster-cinema pressure from Scene 7 stays present—but subtle.
SFX:
Omni exit doors opening.
A massive crowd pouring outside.
People yelling.
Women laughing.
Car horns.
Distant sirens.
Street vendors packing up.
Shoes striking the sidewalk.
Traffic crawling through downtown Atlanta.
• • •
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Then we stepped back out into downtown Atlanta.
PAUSE.
Same streets.
Same buildings.
Same lights.
BEAT.
But the whole city felt different.
PAUSE.
Maybe downtown had changed.
BEAT.
Or maybe...
I had.
SFX:
The boys emerge into the crowd.
People shout about the concert.
Cars pass with music playing.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
The concert was over...
but the night wasn’t.
People were everywhere.
Laughing.
Smoking.
Drinking.
Flirting.
Looking for rides.
Looking for parties.
Looking for somewhere else to go...
because nobody wanted the night to end yet.
PAUSE.
The energy from the Omni had spilled out into the streets.
It felt like the whole city had been plugged into the same electrical socket.
FRIEND #1:
Man...
LL tore that shit down.
FRIEND #4:
I told y’all!
Didn’t I tell y’all?
FRIEND #3:
Man, you done said that about fifty times.
FRIEND #4:
Because y’all wasn’t listening the first forty-nine.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
I give it to him.
That radio shit was hard.
FRIEND #4:
Just “hard”?
Man, you said you wanted to be a rapper!
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
I ain’t say I wanted to be no rapper.
FRIEND #2:
Yes, you did!
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
I said I could rap.
That’s different.
FRIEND #3:
You ain’t spit nothing yet.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Man, the night still young.
SFX:
The boys laugh and keep walking.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
We walked through downtown like we owned it.
Five little boys...
fresh from the biggest concert of our lives...
talking shit like we had been backstage with the performers.
PAUSE.
We spoke to girls.
Girls who were way too old for us.
Women, really.
But we weren’t calling them women.
Not then.
FRIEND #2 — CALLING OUT:
What’s happening, shawty?
WOMAN — AMUSED:
Boy, if you don’t take your little ass home...
SFX:
The woman and her friends laugh.
FRIEND #3:
I told you!
FRIEND #2:
She was feeling me.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
She was feeling sorry for you.
FRIEND #1:
She called you little!
FRIEND #2:
She ain’t know me.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
She knew enough.
SFX:
The crew erupts laughing.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
That was us.
Loud.
Happy.
Free.
Acting older than we were...
while every grown person who looked at us could see exactly how young we really were.
PAUSE.
But underneath all that laughing...
something had changed.
MUSIC:
Bring in the quiet, cinematic bass from Scene 7.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
I had the bag on me.
PAUSE.
I could feel its weight with every step.
I had two hundred dollars folded inside my pocket.
One crisp hundred.
Five crisp twenties.
PAUSE.
And I hadn’t told anybody.
BEAT.
Not my friends.
Not yet.
SFX:
Yaybez adjusts the bag.
Fabric shifts.
FRIEND #1:
Man, what Black got you carrying?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Something for him.
FRIEND #1:
What’s in it?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
I don’t know.
FRIEND #2:
Yes, you do.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Then why you asking me?
FRIEND #2:
Let me see.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Nah.
FRIEND #2:
Man, come on.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Black gave it to me.
Not you.
BEAT.
So leave it alone.
SFX:
Brief silence.
Then the group continues walking.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
There it was again.
That different tone in my voice.
PAUSE.
Black had told me they followed me.
And now...
I had started noticing it.
BEAT.
I said leave it alone.
They left it alone.
PAUSE.
A secret changes the way you walk.
Money changes the way you stand.
And responsibility...
even the kind a ten-year-old doesn’t fully understand...
changes the way people look at you.
MUSIC:
Let the bass ride beneath the downtown atmosphere.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Before that night...
I was carrying baseball gloves.
Comic books.
School papers.
Maybe a football.
PAUSE.
Now I was walking through downtown Atlanta...
carrying something grown men didn’t want to ride across town with.
BEAT.
And instead of being scared...
I felt trusted.
PAUSE.
That’s how backwards a child’s mind can make danger look.
SFX:
Crowd starts thinning slightly.
Five Points street ambience begins replacing the Omni crowd.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
We kept walking toward Five Points.
Still joking.
Still replaying the concert.
Still pretending we knew exactly where we were going.
SFX:
An older man approaches.
Footsteps slow.
OLDER DUDE:
Aye!
What up, boy?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
What’s happening?
OLDER DUDE:
How your pops doing?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
He good.
OLDER DUDE:
Tell him I asked about him.
Your sisters straight?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Yeah.
Everybody good.
OLDER DUDE:
That’s what’s up.
Y’all coming from the concert?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Yeah.
FRIEND #4:
LL came out a giant radio!
OLDER DUDE:
A giant radio?
FRIEND #4:
Man, that shit was crazy!
OLDER DUDE — LAUGHING:
Sound like y’all had a good time.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Hell yeah.
PAUSE.
Lemme ask you something.
OLDER DUDE:
What’s up?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
You got some papers?
OLDER DUDE:
Papers?
PAUSE.
What you need papers for?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
You got some or not?
SFX:
The older man laughs.
OLDER DUDE:
Yeah...
I got some.
SFX:
He searches his pockets.
A pack of rolling papers comes out.
OLDER DUDE:
But you got something to put in ’em?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Nah.
OLDER DUDE:
You sure?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Yeah.
OLDER DUDE:
Then why you need the papers?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
For later.
OLDER DUDE:
“Later,” huh?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Yeah.
Later.
SFX:
Rolling papers handed over.
OLDER DUDE:
Aight.
Y’all be safe.
And tell your pops I asked about him.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Bet.
SFX:
The older man walks away.
Downtown crowd returns around them.
FRIEND #2:
You slick.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
What?
FRIEND #2:
Talking about you ain’t got nothing.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Man, keep walking.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
The older dude kept walking.
PAUSE.
And so did we.
BEAT.
But what he didn’t know...
was that I already had enough weed in my pocket...
to fill every paper he had just given me.
MUSIC:
The downtown groove darkens slightly.
Introduce the rhythm of an approaching MARTA train.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Less than a few hours earlier...
I didn’t even have a concert ticket for every one of my friends.
PAUSE.
Now...
I had a heavy bag.
Two hundred dollars.
Rolling papers.
And enough weed to use them.
BEAT.
All at ten years old.
PAUSE.
That’s how fast a life can turn.
Not over years.
Not over months.
BEAT.
Sometimes...
between one train ride...
and the next.
SFX:
Five Points MARTA station grows closer.
Train rumbling underground.
Escalator machinery.
Transit announcement echoing from below.
FRIEND #1:
Come on.
We finna miss the train.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
We ain’t missing shit.
Let’s go.
SFX:
The boys descend toward Five Points station.
Downtown street sounds fade above them.
MARTA echo takes over.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
We walked into Five Points...
still laughing about the concert.
PAUSE.
None of us knew...
the most unforgettable part of the night...
hadn’t happened yet.
• • •
SCENE 9A — FIVE POINTS MARTA STATION
Super-Duper Uber Version
Urban-Street Tension + Classic Family-and-Power Weight
MUSIC:
Dark MARTA rhythm.
Train-track percussion.
Low bass.
Muted piano notes.
Add a faint, elegant string arrangement underneath—the sound of young boys walking through a grown man’s world without understanding the rules yet.
SFX:
Five Points station entrance.
Downtown traffic above.
People descending concrete steps.
Escalator humming.
MARTA train rumbling beneath the ground.
Turnstiles clicking.
Tokens dropping.
Transit announcements echoing through the station.
• • •
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Five Points.
PAUSE.
If downtown Atlanta was the body...
Five Points was the bloodstream.
BEAT.
Everything passed through there.
Workers.
Hustlers.
Students.
Preachers.
Thieves.
Women going home.
Men who didn’t have a home to go to.
People running toward something.
People running from something.
PAUSE.
And that night...
five little boys walked straight into the middle of all of it.
SFX:
The crew descends the station steps.
Street noise fades behind them.
MARTA echo grows stronger.
FRIEND #1:
Man, hurry up.
FRIEND #2:
The train ain’t even here yet.
FRIEND #1:
How you know?
FRIEND #2:
Because I don’t see no train.
KELLY FORD:
That don’t mean it ain’t coming, stupid.
FRIEND #2:
Man, shut up.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
All y’all shut up.
Just keep moving.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
The deeper we went into the station...
the farther away the Omni felt.
PAUSE.
Upstairs...
there had been lights.
Women.
Music.
Gold chains.
Thousands of people screaming.
BEAT.
Down inside Five Points...
everything was concrete.
Steel.
Fluorescent lights.
Long shadows.
And strangers trying not to look at one another.
SFX:
A train passes on another level.
Metal wheels scream against the rails.
FRIEND #3:
Damn!
FRIEND #4:
Boy, you scared?
FRIEND #3:
I ain’t scared.
That shit just loud.
KELLY FORD:
Sound like the train eating somebody.
FRIEND #2:
With your big ass, it’ll be full for a week.
SFX:
The boys laugh.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
We were still joking.
Still loud.
Still carrying the concert with us.
PAUSE.
But Five Points had a way of reminding you that the city was bigger than whatever good time you had just left.
BEAT.
Every corner had eyes.
Every platform had rules.
Some rules were printed on signs.
PAUSE.
The important ones weren’t.
MUSIC:
Subtle strings rise.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Don’t stare too long.
Don’t show all your money.
Don’t tell strangers where you live.
Don’t let nobody separate you from your people.
And never let anybody know you’re carrying something worth taking.
PAUSE.
Nobody sat us down and taught us those rules.
We learned them by watching.
BEAT.
That’s how street knowledge gets passed down.
Not from books.
From glances.
From warnings.
From watching somebody else make a mistake...
and remembering what happened to him.
SFX:
Turnstile ahead.
People moving through.
FRIEND #1:
Everybody got their token?
FRIEND #2:
I got mine.
FRIEND #3:
Hold on.
FRIEND #2:
Aw, man.
This nigga lost his token.
FRIEND #3:
I ain’t lose nothing.
It’s in my pocket.
KELLY FORD:
Then why you touching every pocket but the right one?
FRIEND #3:
I got a lot of pockets.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Check your little watch pocket.
SFX:
Fabric searching.
A token drops onto the floor and spins.
FRIEND #3:
See?
Told y’all I had it.
KELLY FORD:
You ain’t have it.
The floor had it.
SFX:
Everyone laughs.
Token is picked up.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
For one second...
we were just children again.
Laughing over a dropped token.
Making fun of each other.
Trying not to miss the train.
PAUSE.
But then I felt the bag shift against me.
MUSIC:
The laughter lowers.
Black’s bass theme quietly returns.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
And I remembered.
PAUSE.
The bag.
The papers.
The weed.
The money.
BEAT.
One hundred.
Twenty.
Forty.
Sixty.
Eighty.
One hundred.
PAUSE.
Two hundred dollars.
Still folded inside my pocket.
SFX:
Yaybez presses his hand against the money through his clothes.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
I kept touching it to make sure it was still there.
Not pulling it out.
Not counting it.
Just pressing my hand against my pocket...
feeling the shape of the bills.
PAUSE.
Because when you’ve never had that kind of money...
you don’t trust that it won’t disappear.
BEAT.
Even when nobody has touched you.
FRIEND #2:
Why you keep grabbing your pocket?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
I ain’t grabbing nothing.
FRIEND #2:
Yes, you is.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Worry about your own pockets.
KELLY FORD:
He probably got that girl’s number from outside.
FRIEND #3:
What girl?
KELLY FORD:
The one that called him a baby.
SFX:
Everybody laughs.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
She wasn’t talking to me.
She was talking to his ugly ass.
FRIEND #2:
Man, fuck y’all.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
I laughed with them.
But I didn’t tell them about the money.
PAUSE.
And I still hadn’t opened the bag in front of them.
BEAT.
Black trusted me with it.
That meant something.
MUSIC:
Elegant strings and bass settle together.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
When you’re raised around family...
loyalty starts before you know the word for it.
You protect what belongs to your people.
You don’t expose family business to strangers.
And when somebody gives you responsibility...
you don’t make them regret choosing you.
PAUSE.
Black wasn’t blood.
Not yet.
BEAT.
But he was with She-She.
She-She was blood.
And to me...
that connected the chain.
PAUSE.
That was how my ten-year-old mind understood it.
Black trusted She-She.
She-She trusted me.
So now Black trusted me too.
BEAT.
And trust...
in any family...
is more valuable than money.
PAUSE.
It can also be more dangerous.
SFX:
A transit announcement echoes.
MARTA ANNOUNCEMENT — MUFFLED:
Eastbound train approaching.
Please stand away from the platform edge.
FRIEND #1:
That’s us.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Come on.
Everybody stay together.
SFX:
The boys move onto the platform.
Train grows louder in the tunnel.
Wind pushes through the station.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
We stepped onto the platform.
The tunnel in front of us was black.
Not dark.
BEAT.
Black.
Like the city had cut a hole through itself...
and dared us to walk inside.
PAUSE.
Then two lights appeared in the distance.
SFX:
Train horn.
Rails begin singing.
Wind builds.
FRIEND #4:
There it go!
KELLY FORD:
Back up before your dumb ass get hit.
FRIEND #4:
I see the train.
KELLY FORD:
The train see you too.
That’s the problem.
SFX:
Train rushes into the station.
Metal wheels scream.
Air blasts across the platform.
The train slows.
Doors open.
MARTA ANNOUNCEMENT:
Doors opening.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Come on.
Let’s get in the back.
SFX:
The boys board together.
Shoes hit the train floor.
Doors close behind them.
MARTA ANNOUNCEMENT:
Doors closing.
SFX:
Train pulls away from Five Points.
Station disappears behind them.
Track rhythm begins forming a beat.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
We found space toward the back.
Five boys.
Still high off the concert.
Still high off everything else.
Still carrying enough excitement to turn an ordinary MARTA ride...
into our own private show.
PAUSE.
My friends thought the night had already given us everything it had.
BEAT.
They didn’t know what Black had placed in my hands.
PAUSE.
But once that train started moving...
I reached for the bag.
SFX:
The heavy bag shifts.
A zipper begins opening.
The boys’ laughter stops.
• • •
SCENE 9B — MARTA / BACK-OF-THE-BUS CYPHER
Revised With Locked Character Names
Super-Duper Uber Version
MUSIC:
MARTA train rhythm.
Metal wheels and track noise become percussion.
Deep bass underneath.
Keep it playful and youthful, but place one quiet, darker note beneath the laughter.
SFX:
MARTA train rattling.
Metal wheels screaming around curves.
Fluorescent lights buzzing.
Doors opening and closing.
The heavy bag shifting.
A zipper slowly opening.
• • •
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Once that train started moving...
I opened the bag.
SFX:
Zipper finishes opening.
The train continues rattling.
The boys go completely silent.
PAUSE.
O:
Yo...
KELLY FORD:
What the fuck?
G-BO:
Man, where you get all that?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Black.
TRU SON:
Black gave you that?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Yeah.
O:
All of it?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
That’s what it look like.
KELLY FORD:
That nigga really like you.
G-BO:
What he want you to do with it?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Hold it.
O:
That’s it?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
That’s what he said.
So that’s what I’m doing.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Nobody laughed at that answer.
PAUSE.
Not because they were scared.
They weren’t.
These were my friends.
Older than me.
Civilian boys.
Fresh from the Omni...
still carrying themselves like nothing in Atlanta could surprise them.
BEAT.
But the bag surprised them.
PAUSE.
And for the first time that night...
they looked at me the way Black said they looked at me.
BEAT.
Waiting to see what I was going to do next.
MUSIC:
Black’s quiet bass theme briefly enters beneath the train rhythm.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
That’s the thing about leadership.
Nobody holds an election.
Nobody passes out ballots.
Nobody stands up and announces who the boss is.
PAUSE.
The group just gets quiet...
and starts watching one person.
BEAT.
That night...
they watched me.
SFX:
Pack of rolling papers comes out.
Paper rustles.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Here.
Everybody get a paper.
KELLY FORD:
Let me get two.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
You can barely handle one.
KELLY FORD:
Man, give me the papers.
TRU SON:
Kelly finna roll one shaped like a pencil.
KELLY FORD:
Man, fuck you, Tru Son.
SFX:
Papers being passed around.
The boys laugh again.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
I passed out the papers.
Broke everybody off a little something.
And just like that...
the silence disappeared.
PAUSE.
The bag had been a secret.
BEAT.
Now it was something we shared.
PAUSE.
And to young boys...
sharing can feel like loyalty.
Even when what you’re sharing is leading everybody somewhere none of you understands.
SFX:
Lighter flicks.
Somebody coughs hard.
The others laugh.
KELLY FORD — COUGHING:
I’m straight.
TRU SON:
Ain’t nobody ask you.
O:
Nigga coughing like his lungs trying to run away.
KELLY FORD:
Man, this shit strong.
G-BO:
Give it here before you hurt yourself.
KELLY FORD:
I said I’m straight.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Everybody always “straight” while they dying.
SFX:
The train car erupts with laughter.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
We were loud as hell.
Too young.
Too excited.
And just high enough to believe we were the funniest people in Atlanta.
PAUSE.
Then G-Bo started beating on the seat.
SFX:
G-Bo’s hands slap the seat rhythmically.
Tru Son adds bass sounds with his mouth.
The MARTA tracks lock into their beat.
G-BO:
Hold on.
Tru, keep that going.
TRU SON — BEATBOXING:
Buh-kah...
buh-buh-kah...
SFX:
The improvised rhythm builds.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
The train gave us the drums.
Steel wheels.
Loose windows.
Doors slamming.
G-Bo hitting the seat.
Tru Son making the bass with his mouth.
PAUSE.
And after watching LL...
everybody suddenly believed they could rap.
BEAT.
Everybody.
SLIGHT LAUGH.
They could not.
O:
Move.
Let a real player show y’all how it’s done.
KELLY FORD:
You ain’t no player.
O:
My name Omar Howard.
BEAT.
But the ladies call me O.
TRU SON:
The ladies don’t call you at all.
SFX:
Everybody laughs.
O:
Man, keep the beat going.
BEAT RESUMES.
O:
I need me a girl with some legs and some hips,
A cute little smile and some burgers and chips,
She ain’t gotta be rich, she ain’t gotta be fine,
Just don’t eat my fries while she telling me she mine.
EVERYBODY:
Ahhhhh!
KELLY FORD:
Boy, shut your hungry ass up!
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Nigga rapping about a value meal.
O:
I’m serious.
BEAT RESUMES.
If she got a cousin, tell her bring her too,
We young, fresh, fly—got important shit to do,
Concert just ended, but the night ain’t through,
And if she don’t like me, then her homegirl do.
SFX:
Everybody explodes laughing and yelling.
G-BO:
Move.
Y’all talking about girls.
Let me put some sports on this shit.
O:
G-Bo finna give us a halftime speech.
G-BO:
Just keep the beat going.
BEAT:
Faster, athletic rhythm.
G-BO:
Quarterback sneak and I’m gone for six,
Coach call my number, I’m breaking they hips,
Catch me a pass, I’m gone downfield,
Give me one block, whole crowd get thrilled.
KELLY FORD:
Boy, ain’t nobody recruiting you.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
You dropped three passes yesterday.
G-BO:
That was the sun!
TRU SON:
We played at night, nigga!
SFX:
The train car explodes with laughter.
G-BO:
Man, fuck y’all.
TRU SON:
Move.
Y’all weak.
O:
Tru Son finna rap like he just got out of prison.
TRU SON:
Just keep laughing.
BEAT:
Slower.
Heavier.
More street-minded.
TRU SON:
East-side youngin with a don’t-play grin,
If trouble walk up, then trouble walk in,
Talk all that crazy, get checked by your chin,
Then next week we probably all friends again.
EVERYBODY:
Ooooooh!
G-BO:
Okay, Tru!
O:
That was actually hard.
TRU SON:
I know.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Nigga got one good rap and finna retire.
TRU SON:
You just mad because you ain’t went yet.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
I’m producing.
KELLY FORD:
Producing what?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
The show.
O:
Boy done seen LL one time and hired himself.
SFX:
Everybody laughs.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
That was me.
Ten years old.
Already calling myself the producer...
because standing behind the operation felt just as powerful as standing in front of it.
PAUSE.
Maybe Black had planted that word “boss” too deep.
BEAT.
Or maybe the word had simply landed...
where it already belonged.
KELLY FORD:
Move.
Y’all ain’t talking about no real money.
G-BO:
Here come Kelly with another lie.
KELLY FORD:
It ain’t a lie if it ain’t happened yet.
TRU SON:
That’s exactly what a lie is.
KELLY FORD:
Man, keep the beat going.
BEAT:
Smooth, imaginary luxury groove.
KELLY FORD:
Miami nights and the boats by the bay,
A hundred big packages coming my way,
White linen suit with the gold on my back,
Then I woke up broke riding MARTA right back.
SFX:
The entire train car erupts.
G-Bo pounds the seat.
O can barely breathe from laughing.
O:
Boy said he woke up on MARTA!
G-BO:
Miami drug lord my ass!
TRU SON:
Nigga ain’t never been to Miami.
KELLY FORD:
Y’all laughing now.
Wait till I get rich.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
You better wait till you get off this train first.
SFX:
More laughter.
Beatboxing fades back into the train’s natural rhythm.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
That was us.
Yaybez.
G-Bo.
Omar Howard—O.
Tru Son Jones.
And Kelly Ford.
PAUSE.
Just kids.
Talking shit.
Dreaming big.
Rapping about girls.
Football.
Gangsters.
Money.
Miami.
PAUSE.
We borrowed our dreams from everything we saw.
Television taught us what wealth looked like.
Rappers taught us what fame looked like.
Hustlers taught us what respect looked like.
And family taught us who we were supposed to protect.
BEAT.
But nobody had taught us how quickly all four of those things...
could turn against each other.
MUSIC:
The comedy lowers.
Soft strings enter beneath the train.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Kelly Ford was laughing so hard...
he had tears in his eyes.
PAUSE.
None of us knew...
that before the ride was over...
those same eyes would be looking at a grown man...
who had forgotten we were children.
BEAT.
But not yet.
PAUSE.
Right then...
everything was funny.
Everything was simple.
Everything was still innocent.
SFX:
MARTA train slows.
Brakes squeal.
Doors open.
The crew steps off and moves through the transfer station.
Footsteps.
Bus engines idling outside.
• • •
TRANSITION — THE 86 LITHONIA BUS
MUSIC:
Low late-night riding beat.
Loose drums.
Warm bass.
Keep it funny...
but let tension sit underneath.
SFX:
MARTA bus doors folding open.
Farebox.
Bus engine.
Windows rattling.
Suspension squeaking.
The boys move directly toward the back.
BUS DRIVER:
Eighty-six Lithonia.
Let’s go.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Come on.
Back here.
SFX:
The boys claim the rear seats.
The bus pulls away.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
By the time we got on the 86 Lithonia bus...
we were already floating.
PAUSE.
High.
Hungry.
Loud.
Laughing at everything.
PAUSE.
The train had been our recording studio.
Now the back of the bus became our clubhouse.
G-BO:
My mama got fried chicken at the house.
O:
We got spaghetti.
TRU SON:
Man, I hope somebody cooked at my crib.
KELLY FORD:
Ain’t nobody cook for you.
TRU SON:
How you know?
KELLY FORD:
Because they knew you was coming home.
SFX:
The boys burst out laughing.
TRU SON:
Man, fuck you, Kelly.
What you got at your house?
KELLY FORD:
Food.
TRU SON:
What kind?
KELLY FORD:
The kind you ain’t getting.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
I don’t even know what we got.
KELLY FORD:
You got two hundred dollars.
Buy us something.
SFX:
The laughter stops for half a beat.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Who said I got two hundred dollars?
KELLY FORD:
I’m just saying.
If you did.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Well, I don’t.
G-BO:
Leave that man’s money alone.
O:
He ain’t no man.
G-BO:
He the one holding the bag, ain’t he?
PAUSE.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
G-Bo said it like a joke.
BEAT.
But everybody got quiet again.
Because somewhere between the Omni and that bus...
the balance had shifted.
PAUSE.
We were still friends.
Still boys.
Still equal in all the ways that mattered.
BEAT.
But Black had handed me the bag.
Not them.
PAUSE.
And whether anybody wanted to admit it or not...
that meant something.
MUSIC:
Subtle classic strings beneath the bus beat.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
In every group...
somebody holds the secret.
Somebody protects the money.
Somebody decides when the joke is over.
PAUSE.
That night...
it was me.
SFX:
Lighter flick.
A cough.
Bus windows vibrating.
Warm air blowing through cracked windows.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
The back of that bus smelled like weed...
sweat...
old vinyl seats...
and trouble.
PAUSE.
We just couldn’t smell the trouble yet.
SFX:
Bus rolls steadily.
Laughter returns.
O:
Aye, Kelly.
Hit that Miami rap again.
KELLY FORD:
I’m charging for encores.
TRU SON:
Charging what?
You owe us money for listening the first time.
SFX:
Everybody laughs.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
That laughter filled the whole back of the bus.
PAUSE.
And for a few more minutes...
we belonged only to ourselves.
No parents.
No teachers.
No coaches.
No grown men telling us who to be.
BEAT.
Just Yaybez.
G-Bo.
O.
Tru Son.
Kelly Ford.
A moving bus...
and one night that still felt like freedom.
MUSIC:
The fun beat slowly thins.
A low tension note enters.
SFX:
Bus begins slowing.
Turn signal clicking.
Air brakes hissing.
BUS DRIVER:
Rainbow Drive.
Candler Road.
SFX:
The boys’ laughter continues faintly.
Bus doors fold open.
Street noise enters.
A pair of heavy construction boots steps onto the first stair.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
We were still laughing...
when trouble got on the bus.
PAUSE.
Six-foot-four.
Two hundred and fifty pounds.
Bald head.
Construction-worker hands.
A grown man...
walking toward five boys...
who had no idea the joke was over.
• • •
SCENE 10 — WILLY JACKSON GETS ON
Rainbow Drive and Candler Road → Panola Road
Super-Duper Uber Version
MUSIC:
The loose riding beat fades.
A low cello note enters.
Slow heartbeat beneath it.
Keep the bus engine dominant.
The danger should arrive quietly.
SFX:
MARTA bus idling.
Air brakes hissing.
Doors folding open.
Warm nighttime traffic.
Heavy construction boots climbing the steps.
• • •
BUS DRIVER:
Rainbow Drive.
Candler Road.
SFX:
One heavy boot.
Then another.
The farebox rattles.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Then he got on.
PAUSE.
Willy Jackson.
BEAT.
Six-foot-four.
Two hundred and fifty pounds.
Dark-skinned.
Bald head.
Clean-shaved face.
Mid-forties.
Construction-worker body.
PAUSE.
The kind of man who looked like he had spent the whole day carrying bricks...
and arguing with life.
SFX:
Willy walks down the aisle.
Bus suspension groans beneath his weight.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
His work clothes carried the day with him.
Dust.
Sweat.
Concrete.
Heavy boots.
Hands that looked like they had been built before the rest of him.
PAUSE.
He stepped onto the bus...
stopped...
and sniffed the air.
WILLY JACKSON:
Damn.
SNIFFS AGAIN.
Somebody got that killer on this bus.
SFX:
The boys laugh from the back.
KELLY FORD:
You smell it too?
WILLY JACKSON:
Hell yeah, I smell it.
Shit smell like a whole mechanic shop back there.
O:
Might be your work clothes, OG.
SFX:
The crew laughs.
WILLY JACKSON:
Oh...
I see where it’s coming from now.
PAUSE.
It’s y’all little niggas.
G-BO:
What’s happening, OG?
WILLY JACKSON:
What’s happening?
Y’all crazy.
Back here smoking on MARTA like y’all own the bus.
KELLY FORD:
Man, this the last stretch anyway.
WILLY JACKSON:
Y’all don’t care about nothing, do you?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Not tonight.
SFX:
The back of the bus laughs again.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
At first...
everything was cool.
PAUSE.
Everybody laughing.
Everybody joking.
Willy included.
BEAT.
That’s Atlanta.
Complete strangers can talk like family for thirty minutes.
PAUSE.
Or fight like enemies for thirty minutes.
BEAT.
Sometimes...
both.
SFX:
Willy reaches the rear section and grabs the overhead rail.
The bus pulls away.
WILLY JACKSON:
Y’all coming from that concert?
O:
Yeah.
WILLY JACKSON:
Who performed?
KELLY FORD:
Everybody.
WILLY JACKSON:
Everybody ain’t no name.
TRU SON:
Run-D.M.C.
LL Cool J.
KELLY FORD:
And me.
WILLY JACKSON:
You performed?
KELLY FORD:
Yeah.
On the train.
G-BO:
Don’t listen to him.
KELLY FORD:
I had an encore and everything.
SFX:
Everybody laughs, including Willy.
WILLY JACKSON:
Y’all little niggas funny.
KELLY FORD:
We know.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
That could have been the end of it.
A grown man jokes with some boys.
Everybody laughs.
Everybody gets home.
PAUSE.
But some moments have two doors.
One leads home.
BEAT.
The other one leads into a story you’ll tell for the rest of your life.
PAUSE.
Then Willy looked at what Kelly had in his hand.
MUSIC:
Tension note rises slightly.
WILLY JACKSON:
Let me hit that.
PAUSE.
KELLY FORD:
Nah.
WILLY JACKSON:
Nah?
KELLY FORD:
Nah.
WILLY JACKSON:
I just want to hit it.
KELLY FORD:
And I just said no.
SFX:
The bus windows rattle.
Nobody laughs.
WILLY JACKSON:
Aight, then.
Sell me something.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
We ain’t selling nothing.
WILLY JACKSON:
I got twenty dollars.
SFX:
A bill snaps lightly between his fingers.
WILLY JACKSON:
Twenty dollars.
Lemme get a little something.
TRU SON:
We said we ain’t selling nothing.
WILLY JACKSON:
Why not?
G-BO:
Because we ain’t.
WILLY JACKSON:
Y’all little niggas selfish.
O:
Call it whatever you want.
SFX:
One small laugh.
Much less confident than before.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
The laughter got quieter.
PAUSE.
Not gone.
BEAT.
Just different.
WILLY JACKSON:
For real, though.
Let me hit that.
KELLY FORD:
Nah.
PAUSE.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Kelly didn’t say it louder.
He didn’t have to.
BEAT.
The answer was still no.
WILLY JACKSON:
Do y’all know who I am?
KELLY FORD:
Nope.
G-BO:
Should we?
SFX:
The back of the bus laughs.
WILLY JACKSON:
I’m Willy Jackson.
From Mister Ward.
PAUSE.
KELLY FORD:
Congratulations.
SFX:
The entire rear of the bus erupts.
G-Bo slaps the seat.
O shouts.
Tru Son laughs.
CREW:
Ooooooh!
OLDER YAYBEZ:
That was the moment.
PAUSE.
Not the slap.
Not the fight.
Not Panola Road.
BEAT.
That was the moment...
when everybody should have shut the hell up.
PAUSE.
And nobody did.
WILLY JACKSON:
Y’all funny, huh?
KELLY FORD:
A little bit.
WILLY JACKSON:
I see.
SFX:
Bus engine humming.
Windows rattling.
The laughter dies one person at a time.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
That’s when I noticed something.
PAUSE.
Willy wasn’t laughing anymore.
BEAT.
His face had changed.
The joke had touched something inside him.
Something tired.
Something angry.
Something that couldn’t accept hearing “no” from children.
PAUSE.
A certain kind of man mistakes fear for respect.
So when he doesn’t see fear...
he believes he’s being disrespected.
MUSIC:
Low strings enter.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Willy wanted us to recognize his name.
Recognize his neighborhood.
Recognize his size.
Recognize that he was grown...
and we weren’t.
PAUSE.
But names only carry power...
when the people hearing them agree to carry the fear too.
BEAT.
We had never heard of Willy Jackson.
And Kelly Ford made sure he knew it.
SFX:
Bus continues rolling.
Turn signal.
Street noise passing outside.
O — QUIETLY:
Kelly...
leave that man alone.
KELLY FORD:
I ain’t bothering him.
He bothering us.
G-BO:
Just chill.
TRU SON:
Panola coming up anyway.
KELLY FORD:
I am chill.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Kelly was not chill.
PAUSE.
Kelly Ford wasn’t built to let somebody else have the last word.
Even when the somebody else was six-foot-four...
two hundred and fifty pounds...
and old enough to be his father.
SFX:
Willy moves to another seat, but stays close.
Bus rattles through the night.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
The ride from Rainbow Drive and Candler Road...
to Panola Road...
wasn’t long.
PAUSE.
But that night...
it felt like forever.
BEAT.
Nobody passed anything.
Nobody rapped.
Nobody talked about fried chicken or spaghetti.
PAUSE.
The same back seat that had been our clubhouse...
had turned into a courtroom.
Willy sitting there like the judge.
Kelly refusing to act like the accused.
And the rest of us waiting on a verdict...
nobody had asked for.
SFX:
Bus begins slowing.
Air brakes hiss.
BUS DRIVER:
Panola Road.
MUSIC:
Heartbeat becomes clearer.
• • •
PANOLA ROAD — BY THE ONE-WAY
SFX:
Bus doors fold open.
Night insects.
Warm East Atlanta air.
Sneakers striking pavement.
The bus remains idling behind them.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
We all got off together.
PAUSE.
Me.
G-Bo.
O.
Tru Son.
Kelly Ford.
BEAT.
And Willy Jackson.
SFX:
Loose gravel beneath shoes.
Bus engine idles.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
We were off Panola Road...
right by the one-way.
PAUSE.
Still high.
Still young.
Still believing the argument had stayed on the bus.
BEAT.
But Kelly was still popping it.
KELLY FORD:
Man, fuck you.
You don’t know us.
WILLY JACKSON:
What’d you say?
KELLY FORD:
I said...
fuck you.
PAUSE.
You don’t know us.
G-BO:
Kelly...
come on.
O:
Man, leave it.
TRU SON:
We off the bus now.
Let’s go.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Everybody gave Kelly an exit.
PAUSE.
He didn’t take it.
BEAT.
And Willy Jackson stepped closer.
SFX:
Heavy construction boots approach across the gravel.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Six-foot-four.
Two-fifty.
Grown-man strength.
Construction-worker hands.
Bald head shining beneath the streetlight.
PAUSE.
He had been asking to hit the joint...
since Rainbow and Candler.
We told him no.
He offered twenty dollars.
We told him no.
BEAT.
Now there was no bus aisle between us.
WILLY JACKSON:
Y’all little boys playing with grown men.
KELLY FORD:
Man, get the fuck on.
WILLY JACKSON:
You got a smart-ass mouth.
KELLY FORD:
And you got bad hearing.
We told you no ten times.
SFX:
O and G-Bo react quietly.
O:
Damn, Kelly...
TRU SON:
Watch him.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Willy’s jaw tightened.
PAUSE.
Then he spit onto the pavement...
right between Kelly’s shoes.
SFX:
Spit strikes concrete.
KELLY FORD:
Man...
fuck you.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Willy stepped within arm’s reach.
PAUSE.
And before anybody could move—
SFX:
A VIOLENT SLAP CRACKS THROUGH THE NIGHT.
PAUSE.
The joint flies onto the pavement.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
He slapped the absolute shit...
out of Kelly Ford.
PAUSE.
Kelly’s head snapped sideways.
For half a second...
everything froze.
BEAT.
The bus.
The street.
The insects.
All of us.
PAUSE.
Then Kelly fired back.
KELLY FORD:
Man, fuck you!
SFX:
Kelly swings.
A body impact.
Shoes scrape concrete.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
And that was it.
PAUSE.
No meeting.
No vote.
No plan.
No counting.
Nobody yelled, “On three.”
BEAT.
Everybody moved.
All at once.
SFX:
Multiple boys rush forward.
Bodies collide.
The bus driver shouts from a distance.
G-BO:
Get him!
TRU SON:
Don’t let him grab Kelly!
O:
Watch his hands!
WILLY JACKSON:
Get off me!
OLDER YAYBEZ:
G-Bo came in like an athlete.
Low.
Hard.
Driving forward.
PAUSE.
Tru Son was already with it.
No hesitation.
No wasted talking.
PAUSE.
O moved with the group.
The player disappeared.
The partner showed up.
BEAT.
And Kelly...
the one who got slapped...
was throwing everything he had.
SFX:
Grunts.
Punches.
Feet striking pavement.
Willy struggling against the group.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
At first...
Willy was bucking.
Swinging.
Trying to throw us off him.
Trying to become the giant he thought we would see...
when he stepped off that bus.
PAUSE.
But he had made one bad calculation.
BEAT.
He thought we were only children.
PAUSE.
He didn’t understand how we had been raised.
He didn’t understand loyalty.
He didn’t understand that in our little family...
if you put your hands on one...
you had just touched all five.
MUSIC:
Strings rise beneath the chaos.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
We weren’t BSP.
Not then.
These were my civilian friends.
Boys who had come downtown for a concert.
BEAT.
But blood ain’t the only thing that creates a family.
Sometimes family gets chosen in classrooms.
On ball fields.
At bus stops.
In the back of MARTA.
PAUSE.
And once that family closes around you...
it can be harder to escape than blood.
SFX:
Fight continues.
The outside sounds begin muffling.
Heartbeat grows.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Then my training took over.
PAUSE.
People like to say I snapped.
But that ain’t exactly what happened.
BEAT.
I didn’t forget what I knew.
I remembered all of it.
MUSIC:
Military-like low drum enters beneath the heartbeat.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Pops was military.
He had us working since we were little.
Baseball.
Football.
Basketball.
Boxing.
YMCA.
Golden Gloves.
Push-ups.
Drills.
Conditioning.
Discipline.
PAUSE.
And Lips?
BEAT.
Lips was a state-champion wrestler.
An original fighter.
She had trained me.
Worked with me.
Made sure I knew what to do when somebody bigger tried to use size as fear.
PAUSE.
Pops taught me to compete.
Lips taught me how bodies moved.
BEAT.
And Willy Jackson had just given me somewhere to use every lesson.
SFX:
The group fight becomes distant and muffled.
Only Yaybez’s breathing and heartbeat remain clear.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
The problem wasn’t that I didn’t know what I was doing.
PAUSE.
I knew exactly what I was doing.
BEAT.
Fast.
Hard.
Calculated.
PAUSE.
I wasn’t the biggest person out there.
I was the smallest.
The youngest.
BEAT.
But small targets learn to move.
Young fighters learn to watch.
And trained children don’t always respond like untrained grown men expect.
SFX:
Several heavy impacts.
Willy falls.
WILLY JACKSON:
Get off me!
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Then Willy stopped bucking.
PAUSE.
Then he stopped talking.
SFX:
One last body impact.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Then his eyes closed.
PAUSE.
And everybody else started slowing down.
G-BO:
Aight, Yay!
He down!
SFX:
One more heavy impact.
TRU SON:
Yo, he done!
O:
Yaybez!
Come on!
KELLY FORD:
Yay!
That’s enough!
OLDER YAYBEZ:
I heard them.
PAUSE.
But I wasn’t listening.
BEAT.
That’s the difference.
PAUSE.
I heard G-Bo.
I heard Tru Son.
I heard O.
I heard Kelly.
BEAT.
But something inside me was still playing the game.
PAUSE.
And where I came from...
you didn’t stop until the whistle blew.
BEAT.
Only problem was...
there was no whistle on Panola Road.
PAUSE.
No coach.
No referee.
No Pops.
No Lips.
No scoreboard.
BEAT.
Just me.
A grown man on the ground.
And all that training...
finally pointed at a human being.
SFX:
One final impact echoes.
Then silence.
MUSIC:
Heartbeat becomes enormous.
Everything else disappears.
PAUSE.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
The bus driver was yelling.
The engine was revving.
The doors were starting to close.
SFX:
Bus driver shouting indistinctly.
Bus doors fold.
Engine revs.
G-BO:
Yaybez!
Run!
TRU SON:
Come on!
O:
Move!
KELLY FORD:
Let’s go!
SFX:
G-Bo grabs Yaybez.
Five pairs of sneakers launch across the pavement.
The bus begins pulling away behind them.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
And just like that...
the same five boys who had walked through downtown like they owned Atlanta...
were running through the night...
with a MARTA bus pulling away behind them...
and a grown man lying underneath a streetlight.
PAUSE.
The joke was over.
BEAT.
But somehow...
we were still laughing.
• • •
SCENE 11 — RUNNING FROM THE BUS
Super-Duper Uber Version
Psychological Dread + Dark Street Humor + Cinematic Pressure
MUSIC:
Fast, pounding heartbeat.
Sneaker rhythm.
Low bass pulsing with every stride.
Let the music feel exciting at first...
then slowly twist the same rhythm into something darker.
SFX:
Five pairs of sneakers pounding pavement.
Heavy breathing.
Boys laughing and shouting.
The MARTA bus pulling away behind them.
Loose gravel kicking across the street.
Night insects scattering into silence.
• • •
G-BO:
Run!
TRU SON:
Come on!
O:
Move, nigga!
KELLY FORD:
Don’t leave me!
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Come on, Kelly!
SFX:
The five boys sprint through the night.
The bus engine fades farther behind them.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
We ran.
PAUSE.
Not because the bus was chasing us.
It wasn’t.
BEAT.
The bus was pulling away...
carrying everybody who had witnessed what happened.
PAUSE.
We ran because running was the only thing left to do.
SFX:
The boys race directly forward.
Their laughter grows louder.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
And somehow...
we were laughing.
PAUSE.
Not regular laughter.
Not because anything was funny.
BEAT.
That wild kind of laughter that climbs out of your body...
when fear, adrenaline, shock and excitement all try to escape through the same door.
G-BO — RUNNING:
Y’all keep up!
O:
I’m right behind you!
TRU SON:
Kelly slow as hell!
KELLY FORD:
Nigga, I just got slapped by a construction worker!
SFX:
Everybody explodes laughing while running.
O:
That slap added ten pounds to your head!
KELLY FORD:
Man, fuck you, O!
G-BO:
Willy slapped the Miami out your ass!
TRU SON:
Kelly got slapped all the way back from Miami to MARTA!
SFX:
The crew nearly loses control laughing.
KELLY FORD:
Y’all laughing...
but I fired back!
O:
After he turned your face around!
KELLY FORD:
I still fired back!
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
You did, though.
KELLY FORD:
Thank you!
At least somebody telling the truth!
OLDER YAYBEZ:
That was friendship.
PAUSE.
Your face could be swelling.
Your life could have just changed.
A grown man could be lying underneath a streetlight behind you.
BEAT.
And your boys would still find one detail...
to clown you about for the next twenty years.
SFX:
Running continues.
The laughter echoes through the empty street.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
From the outside...
we probably looked like children playing.
Five boys running toward the camera.
Laughing.
Pushing one another.
Trying to see who was fastest.
PAUSE.
The MARTA bus getting smaller behind us.
BEAT.
Nobody looking at that picture would know...
what we were running from.
MUSIC:
The fast beat begins thinning.
Heartbeat remains.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
We weren’t just running from Willy Jackson.
We were running from the bus driver.
The passengers.
The possibility of police.
The possibility that somebody knew our families.
PAUSE.
And maybe...
without understanding it...
we were running from the version of ourselves...
that had stayed behind on Panola Road.
SFX:
The crew turns a corner.
Their footsteps change from pavement to grass, then back to pavement.
G-BO:
This way!
TRU SON:
Where we going?
G-BO:
Away from the bus!
O:
That ain’t a destination!
G-BO:
It is tonight!
SFX:
More strained laughter.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
G-Bo took the lead.
That sports shit kicked in.
He could run forever.
PAUSE.
Tru Son stayed alert.
Looking over his shoulder.
Watching every car.
Every shadow.
PAUSE.
O was still talking...
because O could turn anything into a performance.
Even fear.
PAUSE.
Kelly kept touching the side of his face...
making sure all his teeth were still where they belonged.
PAUSE.
And me?
BEAT.
I ran with the bag bouncing against my side.
Two hundred dollars still folded in my pocket.
My hands aching.
My heart punching against my ribs.
PAUSE.
And one sound following me...
no matter how fast I ran.
SFX:
One final impact echoes from Scene 10.
Then returns to running.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
That last hit.
BEAT.
I could still hear it.
SFX:
The impact echoes again, quieter.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Every time my foot hit the ground...
I heard it again.
SFX:
Footstep.
Impact.
Footstep.
Impact.
Footstep.
Impact.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Like the street had recorded it...
and was playing it back underneath me.
MUSIC:
Psychological tension rises.
The laughter begins sounding farther away.
O:
Aye, Yay!
PAUSE.
Yaybez!
SFX:
Young Yaybez snaps back into the moment.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
What?
O:
You straight?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Yeah.
O:
You sure?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
I said I’m straight.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
There it was again.
PAUSE.
Everybody saying they were straight...
while nothing about the night was straight anymore.
SFX:
The crew finally slows beneath a streetlight.
Five boys gasp for air.
Hands on knees.
G-BO:
Hold up.
Everybody here?
TRU SON:
I’m here.
O:
I’m here.
KELLY FORD:
Unfortunately...
I’m still here.
G-BO:
Yay?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
I’m right here.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
G-Bo counted us without using numbers.
A name.
A voice.
A face.
PAUSE.
That’s how you count family after something goes wrong.
You don’t ask how many.
BEAT.
You ask who.
SFX:
Everybody breathing heavily.
The laughter fades completely.
TRU SON:
Aye...
PAUSE.
Y’all think that nigga dead?
MUSIC:
Everything drops except one low note.
PAUSE.
O:
Man...
why the fuck would you say that?
TRU SON:
Because he stopped moving.
G-BO:
He ain’t dead.
TRU SON:
How you know?
G-BO:
Because he ain’t.
TRU SON:
That ain’t an answer.
KELLY FORD:
Fuck him.
He shouldn’t have put his hands on me.
O:
That don’t mean we was supposed to kill him.
KELLY FORD:
Ain’t nobody kill him.
PAUSE.
Yaybez?
SFX:
Everyone shifts their attention toward Yaybez.
KELLY FORD:
He ain’t dead...
right?
PAUSE.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Nah.
BEAT.
He ain’t dead.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
I said it fast.
Too fast.
PAUSE.
I didn’t know if Willy Jackson was dead.
I didn’t know if he was awake.
I didn’t know if he had gotten up.
BEAT.
I didn’t know anything...
except what I needed my friends to believe.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
He just got knocked out.
That’s all.
G-BO:
That’s all.
O:
Yeah.
That’s all.
TRU SON:
Aight.
KELLY FORD:
Good.
Fuck him, then.
PAUSE.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Five boys standing underneath one streetlight...
agreeing to a truth none of us could prove.
BEAT.
That was our first little family meeting.
No table.
No suits.
No grown men whispering in a back room.
PAUSE.
Just sweat.
Fear.
A swollen cheek.
A heavy bag.
And an agreement.
G-BO:
Don’t nobody say shit.
O:
Say what?
TRU SON:
Exactly.
KELLY FORD:
I don’t know no Willy Jackson.
O:
From Mister Ward.
KELLY FORD:
Congratulations.
SFX:
The entire crew breaks into laughter again.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Even then...
Kelly couldn’t leave it alone.
PAUSE.
Maybe that was courage.
Maybe it was stupidity.
BEAT.
Most of the time...
the difference depends on how the story ends.
SFX:
A distant siren becomes audible.
MUSIC:
Dread rises immediately.
TRU SON:
Y’all hear that?
O:
Police?
G-BO:
Could be anything.
KELLY FORD:
Well, whatever it is...
I ain’t staying here to meet it.
G-BO:
Come on.
SFX:
They start running again.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Every siren sounded like it was coming for us.
Every pair of headlights slowed my heart.
Every porch light felt like somebody watching.
PAUSE.
The city hadn’t changed.
BEAT.
But guilt makes ordinary things look alive.
A parked car becomes somebody waiting.
A curtain becomes somebody watching.
A shadow becomes somebody following.
PAUSE.
Fear doesn’t need proof.
Just imagination.
SFX:
Footsteps continue, slower now.
A dog barks behind a fence.
The boys react.
O:
Shit!
TRU SON:
It’s behind the fence, fool!
O:
I knew that.
KELLY FORD:
Player scared of a poodle.
O:
That ain’t no damn poodle!
SFX:
The dog barks again—small and harmless.
The boys laugh.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
We were children again.
Then we weren’t.
Then we were.
PAUSE.
That’s how the rest of the night moved.
Back and forth.
Child.
Man.
Child.
Man.
BEAT.
Too young for what we had done.
Too proud to admit it scared us.
MUSIC:
Dread and nostalgia mix together.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Eventually...
home started pulling each one of us in a different direction.
PAUSE.
One street for G-Bo.
Another turn for O.
A different way for Tru Son.
Kelly walking off with one side of his face carrying tomorrow’s evidence.
PAUSE.
One by one...
the laughter disappeared with them.
G-BO:
You straight getting home?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Yeah.
G-BO:
You sure?
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
I’m sure.
G-BO:
Aight.
I’ll see you tomorrow.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Bet.
O:
Later, boss.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Man, shut up.
TRU SON:
Keep that bag close.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
I got it.
KELLY FORD:
And don’t spend all my two hundred dollars.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Your two hundred?
KELLY FORD:
I got slapped.
That’s pain and suffering.
SFX:
The boys laugh one final time.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Then they were gone.
PAUSE.
And I was alone.
SFX:
One set of footsteps remains.
The neighborhood becomes quiet.
MUSIC:
Dark piano enters.
Heartbeat slows.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
That’s when the night stopped being funny.
PAUSE.
With my friends around me...
the fight had been a story.
A victory.
Something crazy we had all survived.
BEAT.
Alone...
it became a question.
PAUSE.
What happened to me back there?
SFX:
The final impact echoes once.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Why didn’t I stop?
PAUSE.
Why did everybody else hear “enough”...
and I heard nothing?
PAUSE.
I had the bag.
The papers.
What was left of the weed.
Two hundred dollars.
BEAT.
And hands that no longer felt like the same hands I had left home with.
SFX:
Young Yaybez flexes sore fingers.
Fabric rubs against scraped knuckles.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
A few hours earlier...
those hands had held a concert ticket.
PAUSE.
Then they held Black’s money.
Black’s bag.
BEAT.
Then they helped put a grown man on the ground.
PAUSE.
Same hands.
Same night.
MUSIC:
Piano grows darker.
SFX:
A house door opens carefully.
Young Yaybez steps inside.
Door closes quietly.
House ambience.
A clock ticking.
Everyone else distant or asleep.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
When I finally made it inside...
the house was quiet.
PAUSE.
Too quiet.
BEAT.
Because after a night that loud...
silence doesn’t feel empty.
PAUSE.
It feels like it knows something.
SFX:
Shoes removed.
The heavy bag set down carefully.
Money unfolds once, then is hidden again.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
I put the bag down.
Checked the money.
One hundred.
Twenty.
Forty.
Sixty.
Eighty.
One hundred.
PAUSE.
Still two hundred dollars.
BEAT.
Proof that the night had really happened.
SFX:
Bathroom door opens.
A faucet drips.
Young Yaybez steps inside.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
I went into the bathroom...
to wash Panola Road off my hands.
SFX:
Water begins running.
Hands move beneath it.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
But some things...
water can’t remove.
SFX:
Water stops.
One drop falls.
Then another.
MUSIC:
Everything reduces to one sustained note.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
I lifted my head.
PAUSE.
And standing directly in front of me...
was the only witness I couldn’t outrun.
SFX:
Bathroom light hums.
Young Yaybez’s breathing.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
No hat.
No glasses.
No friends.
No jokes.
BEAT.
Just me...
and the boy in the mirror.
PAUSE.
Only...
he didn’t look like the same boy anymore.
• • •
SCENE 12 — THE MIRROR
“THE NIGHT I MET ME”
MUSIC:
One low piano key.
Let it breathe.
A second key answers from somewhere darker.
SFX:
Bathroom faucet running.
Water striking porcelain.
Yaybez breathing through his nose.
Not crying.
Not calm either.
Just trying to get his breathing back under control.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
When I finally made it home…
the whole house was quiet.
PAUSE.
That late-night quiet.
The kind that makes every little sound feel guilty.
SFX:
Water running.
Young Yaybez rubbing his hands together.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
I washed my hands once.
PAUSE.
Then I washed them again.
PAUSE.
Wasn’t no blood on ’em.
Wasn’t no dirt.
Nothing anybody else could see.
PAUSE.
But I kept washing.
Because something still felt like it was on me.
SFX:
Faucet shuts off.
One drop falls.
Then another.
PAUSE.
Young Yaybez raises his head.
MUSIC:
A low heartbeat enters beneath the piano.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
When I looked up…
I saw myself in that mirror.
PAUSE.
But I didn’t recognize that motherfucker.
SFX:
A faint electrical hum from the bathroom light.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
No Kangol.
No sunglasses.
No partners standing around laughing.
No crowd.
No LL Cool J.
No Black.
No Willy Jackson.
PAUSE.
Just me.
Ten years old.
Standing on a little stool so I could see my whole face.
PAUSE.
But the boy staring back at me…
looked older.
Not in his skin.
In his eyes.
MUSIC:
Heartbeat deepens.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
His face was mine.
His nose was mine.
His mouth was mine.
PAUSE.
But his eyes belonged to somebody I had just met on Panola Road.
Somebody quiet.
Somebody trained.
Somebody who had been waiting behind my face…
for trouble to introduce us.
PAUSE.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Who you supposed to be?
SFX:
Silence.
Then the smallest room-tone shift, as though the reflection breathes separately.
MIRROR YAYBEZ:
You know who I am.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Naw.
I don’t know you.
MIRROR YAYBEZ:
You do now.
PAUSE.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Now, I ain’t saying the mirror started talking for real.
I wasn’t crazy.
At least…
not that kind of crazy.
PAUSE.
But when you’re alone after doing something you can’t take back…
your mind will put a voice on the truth.
Especially the truth you don’t want to hear.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
I ain’t start that shit.
MIRROR YAYBEZ:
I know.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
He slapped Kelly.
MIRROR YAYBEZ:
I know.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
He was grown.
He spit between his shoes.
He put his hands on my partner.
MIRROR YAYBEZ:
I know.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
So what was I supposed to do?
PAUSE.
MIRROR YAYBEZ:
You did what you wanted to do.
MUSIC:
Heartbeat stops.
One cold piano note.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
That one hurt.
Because it was true.
PAUSE.
At first, I moved because Kelly was my partner.
That part was loyalty.
That part was love.
That part was automatic.
PAUSE.
But after Willy hit the ground…
after G-Bo, O, Tru Son and Kelly started telling me to stop…
I kept going.
PAUSE.
And that part wasn’t about Kelly anymore.
That part was about me.
SFX:
Distant memory fragments:
Kelly shouting.
Shoes scraping pavement.
A MARTA bus engine pulling away.
A muffled voice yelling:
“YAYBEZ! THAT’S ENOUGH!”
Then silence.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
I could hear them.
PAUSE.
But I wasn’t listening.
That’s the difference.
PAUSE.
I heard them telling me to stop.
But something inside me was still playing the game.
PAUSE.
And where I came from…
you didn’t stop until somebody blew the whistle.
PAUSE.
Only problem was…
there wasn’t no whistle on Panola Road.
No referee.
No coach.
No Pops.
No scoreboard.
PAUSE.
Just me.
A grown man on the ground.
And all that training…
finally pointed at a human being.
MUSIC:
A deep bass note enters.
Slow.
Heavy.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Pops had trained my hands.
Lips had trained my balance.
Sports had trained my lungs.
The neighborhood had trained my eyes.
PAUSE.
But nobody had trained me on what to do…
once I realized I could hurt somebody.
PAUSE.
That was the dangerous part.
Not knowing how to fight.
Knowing.
PAUSE.
MAMA’S VOICE — MEMORY:
Boy…
PAUSE.
That’s that Apache blood.
PAUSE.
That’s that black rage.
SFX:
Bathroom light hum intensifies.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
Mama had said that before.
Half warning.
Half explanation.
Like something had been passed down through the family…
and somehow landed in me.
PAUSE.
But standing in that bathroom…
I understood something she didn’t say.
PAUSE.
Blood might explain the fire.
But blood don’t control where you point it.
PAUSE.
That part becomes your choice.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
You protected my partner.
MIRROR YAYBEZ:
We protected him.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
Then why they look at me like that?
MIRROR YAYBEZ:
Because they saw what you can do.
PAUSE.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
They scared of me?
MIRROR YAYBEZ:
Maybe.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
I don’t want my partners scared of me.
MIRROR YAYBEZ:
Then learn when to stop.
PAUSE.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
That was the first lesson power ever taught me.
Getting people to follow you ain’t power.
Making people fear you ain’t power.
Beating somebody down ain’t power.
PAUSE.
Power is having the ability to keep going…
and choosing not to.
PAUSE.
I didn’t know that yet.
But the boy in the mirror did.
Or maybe the man I would become was trying to send the message backward.
SFX:
A floorboard creaks somewhere in the house.
Young Yaybez freezes.
Listens.
Nothing.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
My eyes moved toward the bathroom door.
Down the hallway…
sitting on my bed…
was that bag Black gave me.
PAUSE.
And inside that bag was two hundred dollars.
One hundred-dollar bill.
Five twenties.
PAUSE.
More money than any ten-year-old needed in his possession.
PAUSE.
A few hours earlier, that money made me feel chosen.
Like Black had looked over that whole crowd and seen something special in me.
PAUSE.
But after Panola Road…
the money felt different.
Heavier.
PAUSE.
Like it wasn’t just a gift.
Like it was an invitation.
PAUSE.
Or a test.
MUSIC:
Subtle crime-drama strings enter.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
That whole night had been teaching me about power.
LL had power on the stage.
Thousands of people moved when he moved.
Black had power in the street.
Nobody had to announce him.
The crowd made room before he even got there.
PAUSE.
And Willy Jackson thought being grown…
being big…
and being willing to disrespect some children…
gave him power too.
PAUSE.
Every one of us thought we controlled the night.
PAUSE.
But none of us did.
PAUSE.
The night was moving us.
One choice into the next.
One little decision rolling downhill…
getting bigger…
getting faster…
until five boys were running through Atlanta laughing…
while a grown man lay behind them on Panola Road.
PAUSE.
That’s how consequences work.
They don’t always knock on the door looking like punishment.
Sometimes they come dressed like a concert ticket.
Sometimes they sound like your favorite rapper.
Sometimes they look like two hundred dollars in a bag.
PAUSE.
And sometimes…
they look exactly like you.
SFX:
One drop of water.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
What happens now?
MIRROR YAYBEZ:
You live with me.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
For how long?
MIRROR YAYBEZ:
Forever.
PAUSE.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
What if I don’t want to?
MIRROR YAYBEZ:
That ain’t your choice anymore.
MUSIC:
Everything drops out except the heartbeat.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
And there it was.
The real price of that night.
Not getting caught.
Not getting punished.
Not wondering whether Willy Jackson would come looking for us.
PAUSE.
The real price was knowing.
PAUSE.
Knowing that somebody lived inside me…
who could take over when trouble started.
Somebody who could protect.
Somebody who could lead.
Somebody who could calculate.
PAUSE.
And somebody who could destroy…
if I ever confused rage with leadership.
PAUSE.
That night…
people saw something in me.
G-Bo saw it.
Omar saw it.
Tru Son saw it.
Kelly definitely saw it.
PAUSE.
And I saw it.
PAUSE.
It wasn’t that I started trouble.
I didn’t.
PAUSE.
But once trouble started…
something else came out.
PAUSE.
Something trained.
Something angry.
Something calculated.
Something that knew exactly how to hurt.
PAUSE.
Looking back now…
I didn’t lose control because I didn’t know what I was doing.
PAUSE.
I lost control because I did.
PAUSE.
And I didn’t know when to stop.
SFX:
Young Yaybez reaches for the light switch.
Stops.
Looks into the mirror one final time.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
You coming with me?
MIRROR YAYBEZ:
I was here before you knew my name.
PAUSE.
YOUNG YAYBEZ:
What is your name?
LONG PAUSE.
MIRROR YAYBEZ:
Yaybez.
SFX:
Light switch clicks.
Total darkness.
MUSIC:
Dark piano rises.
Low bass underneath.
Slow emotional build.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
I thought I went downtown that night…
to see Run-D.M.C.
PAUSE.
I thought I went downtown…
to see LL Cool J.
PAUSE.
I thought Black was the biggest thing I was gonna meet.
PAUSE.
I was wrong.
PAUSE.
That night…
on Panola Road…
after Willy Jackson slapped the shit out of Kelly Ford…
I met another version of myself.
PAUSE.
Not a stranger.
Not a ghost.
Not some monster hiding underneath my bed.
PAUSE.
Me.
The protector.
The fighter.
The leader.
The rage.
The calculation.
The part capable of saving the people I loved…
and hurting them too…
if I ever stopped paying attention.
PAUSE.
That was the night I learned…
the most dangerous person you’ll ever meet…
might be the person you become when you believe you’re doing the right thing.
PAUSE.
Because once you meet that version of yourself…
you can’t ever pretend he ain’t real.
MUSIC:
Full rise.
Atlanta soul underneath dark cinematic bass.
A faint crowd chanting in the distance.
OLDER YAYBEZ:
This is GradyBaby’z.
PAUSE.
Book One.
PAUSE.
B.S.P.
PAUSE.
Bruce Street Projects.
PAUSE.
And this…
was only the beginning.
MUSIC:
End-credit song begins.
END EPISODE 1.