by Tiana Laveen
She made a fist and pretended to sock him in the jaw.
“I know, ya big, crazy loon. You’re the protective type. Like Dad. I swear I was the only kid in school whose younger brother was beatin’ people’s asses for me. So, since I got cha here all alone, I just want to tell ya that rumor has it, my little brother is seeing a new lady!” He laughed and turned away, shaking his head. “Yeah! Look at that smile on your face!” she quipped, pointing at him. “Mr. ‘I don’t give a shit’ has caught feelings! I saw you and her on your social media. So unlike you… You’re usually more private than that. That’s how I knew it was serious.”
“Yeah… I know.”
“Mom said you met her at the funeral home, of all places! She’s the assistant director, I think she said.” He nodded in agreement. “You’re so twisted.”
“I know, right? I must be a little sick in the head. Yeah, her name is Promise. You’d love her, Zina. I’m crazy about her.”
“Yeah? Well, I’d like to meet her then. Maybe if you haven’t kicked her to the curb like all the rest, I can meet her for Christmas dinner or something, huh?”
“That’s a good idea.”
“Give me one more hug for the road, Zake. I have to get going, superstar.”
He grabbed the lady and hugged her tight. It felt like she didn’t want to let go, but she had to.
“See ya.”
“Yeah.”
Soon, she drove away down the street. He watched her go on and on, until she turned the corner and was forever out of sight. His gut tightened as he forced out a ragged breath. When he returned to the restaurant, he caught his father sliding his credit card in the little tray. The man was hunched over, sporting a pinched mouth and furrowed brows. They regarded one another, but once again, no words were exchanged. There didn’t need to be. In that one glance, Dad had said it all…
“Trevor, what are you doing here?”
“First of all, Promise, you look more beautiful than ever.” He showed his pearly whites that popped against smooth, dark skin and dimples one could drown in. He looked even better than before, and Trevor had always been eye candy. He’d even done a bit of modeling in college. Standing six-foot-one, quite slender but healthy, he walked towards her with confidence, head held high. He offered her the bouquet of flowers. “These are for you, baby.”
She hesitated, then took them.
“Thank you. Why are you here?”
“To see you. Look,” he clasped his hands together, “I didn’t know what else to do, Promise. I’ve been trying to reach you for months. I’ve apologized to you over and over, and I’ll do it again and again if it means you’ll at least talk to me.” She exhaled and averted her gaze, needing a breather. “I’ve been doing a lot of traveling for work, and now I’m back home for good. I’ve had a lot of time to think, years to grow up, and look at what happened between us. We were friends before anything else. I miss my friend, Promise.” She slowly turned back in his direction. “At the very least, I want a friendship with you again.”
“Trevor, I appreciate this, I do, but some things are best left undisturbed.” Just then, Daniel sauntered past, a greasy smirk on his face before he disappeared down the hall. She rolled her eyes and continued. “I’m sure we’ve both grown since then, or at least I’d hope so. But that doesn’t mean we need to grow together.”
“Can we talk about what happened?”
“No.”
She began to move around him, clutching the flowers so tight, it was a wonder the stems didn’t break into pieces. She pushed the doors open and the sounds of the city hit her along with a gust of fresh air. She heard him chasing after her, much to her dismay.
“Promise, where are you going?”
“Home.” She kept walking, looking straight ahead.
“Can I call us an Uber and we talk on the—”
“No.”
“Promise, please don’t do this.” He caught her elbow and turned her around to face him. The man’s almond-shaped eyes grew larger and sheened over. “I know… I know what happened was messed up. You can’t even look at me. It still hurts you! Please, just—”
“I’m not talking about this. Please go home, Trevor.”
“I’ll go home if you at least have a conversation with me. We never fully talked about what happened with the—”
“I forgive you. I forgive me. I don’t want to be friends, but I don’t hate you. It was a long time ago, and I’ve all but forgotten about it. I’ve moved on. I suggest you do the same.” She began to walk again at a faster pace, but not as fast as her heartbeat.
“Imagine my surprise to find out that my ex-wife is dating Gutter, the sensation outta Brooklyn! Red Hook! Don’t have time for little ol’ Trevor anymore, huh?” he yelled. She slowed down, then stopped all together. Keeping her back towards him for a spell, she took a deep breath and spun in his direction. “That’s right, I know about it. I’m proud of you though. I guess that’s the upgrade Beyoncé was talkin’ about, huh?” He smiled, an expression filled with darkness and ill intent. “What?” He threw up his arms. “It actually makes me feel better. Maybe I wouldn’t be in love with my ex anymore if I were in your shoes, either.”
“We were over a long time ago, Trevor. Have you been watching Hallmark movies? We’ve got no fairytale here! This isn’t a second chance romance. That bridge is burned to the ground. It doesn’t matter if I was dating Gutter, the guy next door, the delivery man, or no one at all. MY ANSWER WOULD BE THE SAME. The love ended a long time ago. My personal life is not up for discussion, even with a man I shared some of my most intimate moments with. And for the record, it’s not about an upgrade, downgrade, or middle grade. It’s about learning from my mistakes and choosing more wisely. Not because you were lesser than, but because we were toxic! We had to have been for something so horrible to happen. Now please, just leave me alone!”
Tossing the flowers in the trash, she started jogging down the sidewalk in her heels. Hot tears blurred her vision, but she refused to turn around and look back…
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Fight Fire with Fire
“Hey Christina, it’s Zake. Thank you for callin’ me back.” Gutter sat on a park bench with his black hoodie covering the upper part of his face, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible as people jogged past him, walked their dogs, and conversed with friends in Washington Square Park. It was a perfect Saturday afternoon. Not a cloud in the sky.
“No problem! It’s so nice to hear from ya, Zake. I’m so sorry about you getting shot! I called Zina immediately when I saw it on the news that night, and she told me you were okay. Thank God.”
“Yeah, it was a crazy night, that’s for sure. I’m fine though.”
“Goodness, what’s it been, Zake? Like five years since I last saw you?”
“Yeah, something like that. How’s everything going?”
“Pretty good! Evie turned six last month. They grow so fast. Speaking of kids, Zina didn’t mention it, I’m sure if she was an aunt by now I’d know, but on the off-chance you snuck one by us, do you have any children?”
“Nah, not yet.” He slipped his hand under the material of his hood and gave the side of his head a good scratch. “Maybe one day. Hey, I’m not going to hold ya, but I had a few school-related questions I thought you could answer for me.”
“Sure, what are they?”
“Would you say the kids in the public school system in general have a harder time than kids in private schools?”
He sat back and listened as the woman jumped right in, delivering her expertise on the similarities and differences between the two establishments. He stifled a yawn, not giving a shit, but he knew he had to make his intentions less obvious by muddying the waters with other questions.
“All right, cool. So, let me ask you this, then. Is it the same as when we were in school, you know, that if a fight happens, the teachers have to write an incident report?”
“Yup. Still the same.”
“W
hat if a teacher has to break up the fight?”
“Occasionally, we do need to break up the fight if verbal warnings don’t work so there is not difference either way. A report of the incident is documented regardless.”
“Okay, and uh, do you recall any fights recently? Like, I dunno, with teachers having to jump in, maybe the gym teacher, or hell, even a custodian or secretary?”
“Hmm… there’s always some verbal stuff constantly, Zake. PS 122 has quite a few students, so it occurs daily. They’re children, ya know? It happens. They are still struggling sometimes with how to express themselves in healthy ways, so we definitely have to stop altercations when things become physical. I remember some verbal stuff recently. Now, I can’t give names but—”
“I don’t want names. I’m just doing a little research for something.”
“Well, why didn’t you ask your sister? I’m certain she knows just as much as I do about this sort of thing.”
“Because I already spoke to her. I wanted more than one perspective.” He shocked himself with how fast he’d come up with that ruse.
“Oh, okay.”
“So, anything physical happen recently? No names needed.”
“Well, I don’t remember anything happening lately. Just verbal stuff like I said. Doesn’t mean it didn’t happen though.”
“I see, I see. And uh, you and Zina both teach eighth grade this year, right?”
“Right.”
“So, it’s the same group of students? Y’all share them?”
“Some of them. There are two social studies teachers, and Zina is one of them. There are two English teachers, and I’m one of them, but we pretty much know all the kids, even if it’s just in passing, or from a prior year when maybe we taught seventh grade. Some of them I’ve known since elementary.”
“So, uh, if any eighth grade kids had been suspended last week, or gotten in trouble for fighting with other kids or for getting into it with a teacher, or accidentally hurting one of the teachers while they were going at it with another student, you’d probably notice, right?”
“Well, more than likely because they’d probably get detention or suspension, or have to see the principal, depending on what happened and why. That type of information tends to travel, especially if a teacher got hurt in the process. Zake, these questions are a little odd.” She chuckled. “What type of research are you doing, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Violence in the New York City public schools.” He coughed into his closed fist as the lie rolled off his tongue.
“For a song?”
“Yes, something like that.”
“That’s really cool.”
“Yeah, that’s all I needed. Just trying to get it all straight in my mind so the song makes sense…”
“What’s the title?”
“Of what? The song?” He noticed a man close by doing some strange spaced-out dance.
“Yes.”
Mama said knock you out… by LL Gutter Jay. “Haven’t come up with a title yet.” They were quiet for a few moments.
“Gracious, I still can’t believe, after all this time, you grew up to be who you are! We grew up together, and who knew you were sitting on a gift like that. Zake, your talent with the way you play those instruments and your singing voice are nothing short of incredible.”
“Thanks. That means a lot.”
“I’m serious. I had no idea you enjoyed writing songs and were going to a music studio and all of that until Zina complained one day about you rehearsing in your room late at night. Full of surprises.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “I’m proud of you. We’re all so proud of you. A megastar right out of our hometown of Red Hook.”
“I’m proud of you guys, too. You and Zina are doing a sometimes thankless job. You two really care about those kids, and I have a lot of good memories of you staying’ over with Zina and the rest of her friends for parties and what not.”
“Oh, I bet you do. Like you and your friends trying to watch us change clothes! You damn perverts!” His face warmed as he suppressed the need to chuckle. He’d forgotten all about that. “You were awfully young at that time to be interested in such things. Your father saw you all huddled by the door, fighting to look under it as we put our nightgowns on, and he beat your asses!”
Those were good times indeed.
“On behalf of myself and my disgusting friends, James, Freddie, Leon, Tony, Doug, José, Brad, and the rest of my pals, I want to formally apologize. If it’s any consolation, Tonya had on granny panties that night, and the imagery ruined my fantasy of her forever.”
Christina burst out laughing.
“I’ll be sure to let her know. She lives in Florida now.”
“Well, thanks for letting me pick your brain today. I’ll be in town for a while, so if you want tickets to my next local show, let me know and I’ll make sure you’re squared away free of charge.”
“I would love that, Zake. Thank you. Actually, I’d like you to come up to the school and speak if you ever have the time. The kids would go nuts! Call me anytime about school questions if you have more, okay? And I can’t wait to hear this song of yours that you’re doing this research for.”
“Yeah, yeah, and I’ll have my manager coordinate my visit to the school, all right? No problem.”
After ending the call, he sat thinking for a bit. An incredible rage burst inside of him, flooding his sensibilities. He snatched his empty water bottle, crushing it as he got to his feet, and tossed it in a trashcan before stomping to his truck.
Starting the engine, he drove on, his heart feeling nothing but pure hatred—the kind that stuck to his bones and became a part of him with each breath. He put his horn to good use, driving more aggressively than usual to reach his destination. When he finally arrived at his sister’s residence, he found a parking spot and sat there.
Deep breath… and another.
He opened the door, got out of the truck, and cracked his neck and fingers, bracing himself. Jogging up the brownstone steps, he rapped on the door. Just as he predicted, the motherfucker who’d invited him in his own special way appeared at the door. Owen leaned against the entrance and smirked, sporting a white T-shirt, gold chain with long star-like pendant, and unbuttoned jeans.
“Look who’s here! My super star brother-in-law!” The guy grinned, showing all of his teeth. “What’s up, Zake? Zina didn’t tell me you were coming by.”
“Yeah? Surprise, surprise.”
“Hey,” the slimy bastard looked over his shoulder, then turned back towards him, speaking in a low voice, “I saw your new girlfriend on Instagram. You lucky son of a bitch! She looks really familiar.” He winked.
“Yeah? My sister’s swollen face looked familiar yesterday, too. Like a fuckin’ soccer ball. I don’t like soccer, and I don’t like you.”
BAM!
“FUCK!”
Blood sprayed everywhere after Gutter punched him as hard as he could in the nose. Owen fell back, knocking the front door wide open. His blue eyes were wild and crazy as he held his face, crawling backwards like a crab. Gutter slammed the door shut, unleashing his inner demons. A fury of fists and kicks, cursing and wishing the motherfucker would just die ensued.
“You fucker! Ya put your hands on my fuckin’ sister! Ya think I was just going to let that shit happen? Let it slide?!”
The man kept screaming and crying out. Gutter heard frantic footsteps approaching, and his sister screaming his name.
“ZAKE! NO! ZAKE!” She began pulling at his arms, but he couldn’t see her—only Owen, who was now cowering on the ground, covered in blood.
He pushed her out of the way and kept pounding him in the face and chest. Smashing him into a pulp.
“Fight me, you pussy! Come on! Don’t just lie there and take it! Fight me like a man!”
“Zake…” he spluttered. It seemed the only thing he could say, the only word he could muster.
“Ya like to go around hitting women?! That’s
what you like to do? Take this L, motherfucker!”
“Zake! Stop it! He’s sorry! HE’S SORRY! PLEASE!!!”
He paused, and looked at her. It was then that he noticed a fresh bruise on her shoulder, and her lower lip was split.
“Jesus Christ…”
He turned in a flash and looked back down at Owen. The man was barely recognizable as he coughed up blood, one eye closed, the other weeping and red.
“I should shoot ya in the fucking chest right now.” He pulled up his hoodie, showing his gun in its holster, lying secure against his hip.
“Zake… please!” Zina’s voice quavered as tears streaked down her reddened cheeks. She gently grabbed his arm, pulling him towards her.
“Zina, you’ve got to do what’s right.” He shot her a brief glance, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off her bastard of a husband. “Me and some of my friends will have ya packed up in no time flat, and I’ll get you an apartment, a place of your own. Immediately. You have choices. You’re not stuck with him.”
“Zake, I—”
“Don’t stay with him!” He could feel the strain in his eyes as he lost his composure. Nothing she said would change his mind. All he could do when he looked at her now was see their mother’s face. Jenny had become a brunette version of Zina, and Zina was Jenny. Never before had he seen the similarities in their facial structures and even in the way they moved and pronounced certain words until that moment, and the realization shook him to his core. He blinked, fighting his natural instinct to obliterate the beast that had tormented his sister under the guise of love. “You’re going to end up dead, like our cousin Susan.” Now his voice was trembling, too.
Susan, who used to babysit them, had been murdered by her obsessive, abusive boyfriend when they were kids. They’d loved her, but one day, a stranger had come to watch them instead. Zina had asked why, and Dad had responded with, “My niece is dead.”
