by Tya Marie
“Told my girl the person she reconciled with was responsible for trying to have her raped! Quill, this isn’t the first time you’ve violated my trust. How many more times do you have to lie while lying in bed with me to realize that you aren’t out for anyone but yourself?”
Quill sighed. “If I thought telling you the truth would benefit you, I would have. Briana expressed remorse over pulling that stunt. Since I already handled the nigga, I made the decision to leave it in the past, with a promise to myself that if she betrayed you again I would tell you.”
“That wasn’t your decision to make!”
“I didn’t make it for me! I made it because I was tired of seeing you hurt, Kelsey. Five years later and I could still see that weekend in your eyes. You could heal from an attempted rape; I wasn’t sure you could handle another family member betraying you.”
His analysis was right. Knowing Briana set me up would’ve had me running back to DC, vowing to never return to New York. That kind of deception cut deep, and mixed with my unresolved issues, I would’ve broken down.
“I’m sorry, Kelsey,” Quill said, his voice thick with emotion. “I am sorry for repeatedly letting you down at every turn. I keep pushing you, bending you with my bullshit, and one day you’re going to break. With all the wrong in my life, my biggest fear is losing you.”
My voice caught in my throat. “It’s too late.”
“Kelsey—”
I hung up. Peace slid the balcony door open, poking his head out. “Everything good?”
“Mmmhmm,” I said, nodding my head profusely. “I’m fine.”
His brows furrowed with concern. “You spoke to him?”
Nod.
“What did you tell him?” he asked, leaning in the doorway.
“That it was over.”
Peace held his arms out to me. “Come here…” I walked into his arms, leaning my head on his chest. “It was all for the best, baby.”
“I need you to make a promise to me,” I said, looking up at him. “Peace, don’t ever lie to me. I don’t care how ugly the truth is, be real with me. Don’t betray my trust.”
He planted a kiss on my lips, solidifying our union. “Never.”
15
Quill
The last piece of my life worth living for was gone. I had been shot over ten times on two occasions, died on an operating table, and placed my life on the line more times than I could count, but losing Kelsey made me give up the will to live. The morning after she broke up with me a moving company showed up at the door, taking anything with a feminine touch to it. I managed to steal one of her stuffed animals—a tiny unicorn I won for her at Coney Island—by stuffing it in my pocket while no one was looking. It went everywhere with me, including pickups and drops. For the first time in his life, Eric had sympathy for the destruction of a relationship. One night we were tossing them back and he admitted that he had some regrets of his own with a certain Mackenzie.
“I fucked her up,” he said, taking a swig from the pint of Hennessy we brought for the occasion, passing it back to me. “Her actions, the depression after Malone died, all the signs were right there and I ignored them. I sent her to jail. By the time they released her she was a cold one, Quill. I wasn’t the one to set up Kelsey, but I feel like maybe if I would’ve been there for her she wouldn’t have felt the need to lash out at people.”
I finished off the bottle in three gulps. “What’s done is done. Can’t go back and change anything. All we can do is live in the now,” I replied, chucking the empty bottle into the New York Bay. I leaned against the railing of the pier, gazing at the Statue of Liberty in the distance. “What did you bring me out here for?”
“To give you some good news.” Eric smiled at me, nudging me with his shoulder to take a guess. “C’mon, you have to know what this is about.”
“Enlighten me.”
“How long have you been moving weight for Amos?”
I shrugged. “Seven, eight months.”
“And how much weight have you been moving?”
“With the Jinetes gone I clear a decent amount. Kelsey broke me off with an extra piece of some leftover territory she had; I push through there as much as possible. Your point?”
Eric reached inside of his jacket, pulling out a bottle of Moet and two Solo cups. “You did it.”
“Did what?”
“You set Amos up. Your work is done, my nigga. I crunched the numbers ten times this morning. This last drop made you break even.” Eric popped the cork off the bottle, spraying me with foam as he shouted, “My boy did it! He ain’t nobody’s bitch no more!”
Once I was soaked to his satisfaction, he poured us a cup each, tossing the bottle into the ocean. We toasted to my completion. I sipped as Eric chugged. It was one thing to lay up some nights thinking of this moment, and a different feeling to experience it. The first person that came to mind was Kelsey, who would be ecstatic to hear the news. I should call her, I thought.
“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” Eric said, taking my cup from my hand and finishing it off. “It’s been two weeks, Quill. Give her some time. I don’t typically insert myself into other people’s relationships, but you and Kelsey are meant for each other. You did what you thought was best for her, and there’s no way she can be mad at your reasoning.”
I sighed. “You’re right. I’m not doing myself any favors by moping around.”
“Exactly,” Eric cosigned. “You know what you need to do? Go home, shower off all that depression, put on something nice, and come out to the club with me. We need to celebrate your freedom.”
“Just because I broke even doesn’t mean I can walk away that easily. Amos will move me somewhere else to set up shop for him and if he doesn’t…”
Eric’s brows drew in, hiding his eyes over the rim of his cup. “Quill, is there something you ain’t tell me?”
“Bull is the father of Drea’s child,” I revealed. “They wanted me to set everything up in Brooklyn. Once it’s done, I die in some mysterious accident…or a shootout…”
“No!” Eric shouted, storming toward the car. “Fuck outta here with that bullshit, Quill! I just got you back and you mean to tell me niggas plan on killing you? Find out where they at; I’m airing it the fuck out—”
“Eric—”
“Don’t fucking ‘Eric’ me, William! I’m sick of your life being fucked up by other people’s greed. You’re a living pawn, and I know you have to be sick of it,” Eric spat, yanking on the handle to the driver’s side door. “Open the door!”
“You’re not driving anywhere,” I said, pointing to the passenger’s side. “I’m not going to let you do anything that would prevent you from being around to raise your son. Plus, I need to tell you something else.”
In the privacy of my car I told Eric the rest of my plan. If the news of Bull’s deception upset him, he was livid at what I had planned with the FBI. He was sure there was a better way to fix this situation, and went as far as to list solutions, all of which I shot down. I got a call from Bregman telling me that the FBI made the decision to charge Adrian as an adult. My little brother would go away for life if I didn’t execute my plan.
“This ain’t the way to go, Quill. Why don’t you use the one favor Urban gave you? I know he has some connections that can get Adrian out.”
I shook my head. “No, this is bigger than Adrian. If I do this my way and I’m successful, I solve everyone’s problems. There’s no going back either.”
We spent the rest of the ride in silence, the radio speaking on our behalf. I knew I fucked Eric’s head up with my plan—I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone—but he was my best friend and I couldn’t hurt him the way I planned to hurt the ones I loved.
“Make a turn here,” Eric said, pointing to a block heading away from his apartment. “I need to show you something.”
I did as he asked, following his directions until we reached a building. It was five stories, with the first level covered in ren
ovation paper. Eric climbed out of the car, rummaging through his pockets, mumbling under his breath on his walk to the storefront. He let himself in, holding the door open for me before disappearing into the darkness.
“Lock up, and make sure you don’t mess with any of the paper; niggas been tryna see what I got cooking in here for a minute now…”
I stood in the middle of the dark store, trying to make out the odd shaped boxes and wall displays. The lights cut on, giving birth to color in every direction. Sneakers—from Jordan’s to Vans—covered the far right wall, propped up by orange holders contrasting against a navy blue wall. Throughout the room were designer sneakers—Balenciaga’s, Giuseppe’s, and other limited edition kicks—shown off through protective glass cases. On the back wall were cash registers, the glass bottoms boasting an assortment of custom durags, socks, and other last minute accessories people might need for a night at the club. Eric motioned for me to follow him to the next room, separated by an archway decorated with classic collectible Jordan’s. We were now in an upscale clothing boutique equipped with a sitting area adjacent to the changing rooms. I could see Drea having a good time in a spot like this, I thought as I fingered the hem of a short Gucci dress.
“What you think?” Eric asked, holding his hands up in pride. “The sourcing for this place was out of this world. Pushing the paperwork to become a stockist, fighting for the Nike license, keeping niggas from tryna break into the place… Say something, Quill.”
I took my hat off, placing it over my mouth to hide the surge of emotion. “You did good, man. Better than good. This place is fucking amazing, Eric. I told you you’re more than the streets, and I meant it.”
“I didn’t do this for me alone, Quill; I did this for us,” Eric said, taking a seat at the edge of an end table. “Knowing you won’t be here to run this store with me… I can’t do this on my own.”
“Yes, you can. While I’ve been slacking, who makes sure everything keeps running? Who came up with a business plan and pitched it to Koi? Who has taught me everything I know about grinding until the day my heart stops?”
Eric placed his head in his hands. “There has to be another solution, Quill. You ain’t supposed to go out like this.”
“Isn’t it?” The question was sobering. Eric rose to his feet, pulling me in for a hug, our last one before shit popped off. “Why don’t we go out, pop some bottles, and celebrate this achievement?”
“Nah, I’m not in the mood to celebrate shit now…”
“This is the last time I’ll get to celebrate with you. We can stress over the small things tomorrow. Tonight, we’re buying out the bar. You might meet some new bitches too.”
Eric did the Birdman hand rub. “I do love new bitches…”
I headed for the door, drinking in every detail to keep me sane on future nights. Eric called my name. He was standing with his hand on the light switch. “Yeah?”
“I don’t know what the bigger plan is, but you better come out on top,” he said, flicking the switch, immersing us in darkness.
I nodded. “Bet.”
__________
I sat on my side of the car watching Drea preen herself, dusting some shiny stuff over her cupids bow and reapplying her Yves Saint Laurent lip gloss for the third time in half an hour. On top of taking two hours to get ready, I was staring to regret inviting her out. She flung her long ponytail over her shoulder to reach for the bottle of champagne I had on ice, popping it open and pouring both of us a flute.
“Drink,” she ordered, damn near shoving the drink down my throat. “I need you to perk the fuck up and get out of your feelings. Want some molly? I got a few from LaKeith.”
“What the fuck are you doing popping mollies, Drea?”
She cackled at my statement. “Nigga, I’m not using them; I’m a mother with a child to live for. I brought them along to make a few sales at the club. A bitch gotta eat too.”
“Since when do you sell drugs?” I asked, sipping on the champagne before she got up in my ass again. “Better question: since when do you give a fuck about making your own money?”
Drea rolled her eyes. “Since I did the math and you should be breaking even any day now. If I know my father well enough, he’s going to make you move somewhere else and I can’t go because I have roots here.”
“Roots with the Feds?” Drea choked on her drink, coughing and sputtering all over her Chanel dress. “I saw you in the park with that nigga a while ago. How long you been plotting on your people?”
“I’m not plotting on anyone…well, I’m not plotting on my father. Justice does work for the government, but that’s not my reason for fucking with him. I’m in love with another man, Quill. The only way I’ll be able to be with him is if—”
“Bull is dead,” I finished.
“I can’t think of any other way he’ll let me walk away with my son to live with another man.” Drea reached for my hand, taking it in hers. “I don’t deserve your help, but I need it, Quill.”
“What’s the plan?”
Drea’s eyes widened. “Plan? Quill, I—”
“Don’t insult my intelligence, Drea. You always have something up your sleeve. Tell me: how did you plan on getting rid of my brother?”
“Battered Wife Syndrome. Justice knows the way ‘my boyfriend’ treats me. I’ve been laying the foundation for a while—”
“Why not go that route? It’s clean enough.”
A single tear dropped from her eyes. “For starters, it’s hinged on you being dead. You’re the only father Legacy knows, and whether we’re ‘together’ or not, I don’t want him to lose out on the first man to ever love him. I’m woman enough to say that I fucked up by agreeing to Bull’s plan, but I only went along with it because I knew you were a good man. Quill, if you do this for me I will owe you for the rest of my life.”
Over the last year, I witnessed the many faces of Drea. Bratty, condescending, livid, lazy, humorous, but desperation was a surprise to me. The next one was gratitude when I told her I would take care of it. We pulled up to the club in good spirits, meeting up with Eric and Chastity in the VIP section overhead. The girls were well acquainted, with their first discussion of the night being their boys, who were being watched by Chastity’s sister. Next was clothes. While the two of them made plans to shop, Eric and I posted up against the balcony, watching the happenings below.
“Remember when we used to be the hungry niggas down below? Living to be in the mix of shit. I can’t imagine being down there now, grinding on some random bitches in the name of a Snap,” Eric mused, shaking his head at his words playing out right in front of our eyes. “I’m only twenty-two and I feel like I’ve lived five lives. I think it’s time for me to settle down, do the right thing for Chastity and my son.”
“You mean?”
Eric nodded. “I’m popping the question tomorrow over dinner. I invited our families, all her homegirls, you and Drea if you’re not…”
“I’ll be there,” I promised him.
For the first time since I told him the news, Eric smiled. His excitement was contagious. I called a bottle girl over and told her to let the bartender know that drinks were on me for tonight. Drea overheard my order, making sure to place her own for two more bottles, giving me an if you’re paying look. I responded with an incline of my head and went back to watching the show onstage. An aspiring rapper by the name of Lullabye was tearing the club down. From her bronze skin to the mane of curls on her head, it was clear why she had such a large following. Kelsey played her whenever she thought I wasn’t around, her explanation being that she didn’t want me to hear her cosigning the “niggas ain’t shit” movement. I clapped extra hard at the end of her set.
“Excuse me, ladies and gentleman, I have an announcement to make,” the DJ said, giving Eric and I his undivided attention. “I just got word from the bartender that some ballers are in the club tonight and they wanted to make sure everyone had an extra special time. My boys, two of Brooklyn’s Finest,
Quill and Eric, have bought out the bar! Drinks are on them for the rest of the night!”
The entire lower level of the club turned to us, cheering and raising their drinks to us. It was crazy how my life had come full circle. I remember seeing my brother and other big time hustlers from around the way buy the bar hundreds of times over. They were larger than life, untouchable even, and given the utmost respect. I had the love of my hood, infamy in the streets, and a bankroll to take care of the rest. Then why did I feel so empty?
“I was supposed to share this moment with her,” I said, raising my glass to the crowd.
Eric’s attention remained on the lower level, furrowing at someone. His hand brushed his waist where he kept his Glock. “Something’s not right,” he said, wrapping his hand around the grip of the pistol. “I saw that nigga earlier today, driving around asking questions. He’s sitting at the bar.”
I repositioned myself, my eyes roaming over the new stage setup, the women still shooting furtive glances our way, finally resting on the man sitting at the bar. All I could make out was his profile, partially obscured by the dim lighting and the drink he was sipping on. Eric was right though; he looked familiar. Where I had seen him, I couldn’t put my finger on.
“Get the girls out of here,” I said, finishing off my drink.
Eric scoffed. “You think I’m leaving you here alone? Nah, if niggas want smoke we’ll—”
“Those are the mothers of our children. They can’t lose all of their parents in one night. Have one of the guys get off of their post and—”
“What are the two of you over here whispering about?”
Chastity appeared out of thin air, nestling a cocktail in one hand and a blunt in the other. Drea was on the couch Snapping herself smoking hookah. She glanced over her shoulder at Drea before giving us her undivided attention.
“Grab your stuff; I’m taking the both of you home,” Eric said, pointing at Drea with his drink.
“For what? We’ve only been here like an hour!” Chastity was in full tantrum mode. “What was the point of taking me out if you’re going to rush me to go home? You see one of your other bitches in here tonight?”
