by K'wan
True shrugged. “I’ve been here, man. Writing.” True nodded at a stack of papers in the corner. He must’ve written about fifty songs sitting up in the studio. “Thinking and trying to make sense of it all.”
“Looks like you’ve been letting yourself slip.” Don B snatched the bottle away from him. “True, what the hell are you trying to do to yourself?”
“I ain’t trying to do nothing to myself that God ain’t already done to me, Don,” True slurred. “The whole click is gone, my nigga, our team!”
“True, I’m fucked up about this shit, too, but I ain’t letting myself fall to pieces over it. Business still gotta be handled.”
“How’re we supposed to go on like this?” True sobbed. “Don B., we only half a unit.”
Don B. put his arm around the weeping man and spoke softly. “True, we were strong as a unit, but our strength came from our individual gifts. Our niggaz is gone, but that don’t mean we gotta forget them. We’re gonna honor their memories and still push forward with this music thing.”
True laughed insanely. “Dawg, Lah, and Jynx ain’t no fucking rappers, they two candy-ass niggaz you snatched on some marketing shit. Me, Pain, and Lex was the fire behind it. How the hell are we gonna honor their memories?”
“By you shaking this shit off and stepping up!” Don B. smashed the bottle against the ground. “True, now is the time for you to be the leader I always knew you would, and carry the torch.”
“Don B., that’s a heavy load to carry.”
Don B. chuckled. “Little brother, you were always the heart of the group. Since day one, people have always looked at you as the front man, so just continuing doing what you do best.” He patted True on the back and smiled broadly. “Shine, my nigga, shine.”
* * *
By the time Yoshi had finally dropped off to sleep, Billy was almost out on hers. For the last few days, she had been up almost constantly, either worrying about Yoshi or making sure she was comfortable. Her job let her take the take time off, but she had to do it without pay. The loss hurt her, but she sucked it up. Her friend’s well-being was worth more than the few dollars she would lose.
Marcus was on the couch, snoring away. He had his head tilted at an awkward angle and the joystick was still resting on his lap. She couldn’t help but admire how peaceful he looked at that moment. He had been by Billy’s side through the entire ordeal. While she was sitting by Yoshi’s bedside, he was the one on the streets doing what needed to be done. Whether it was going to the pharmacy, or making dinner runs, he held Billy down. The past few days she had spent with Marcus had given her a chance to see what he was really about.
Marcus must’ve felt her standing over him because his eyes immediately popped open. He glared at her for a minute as if he didn’t know who she was, but his eyes softened when recognition set in. “Hey,” he said groggily.
“How ya doing?” she said, sitting down beside him.
“A little stiff,” he said, leaning his head from side to side. “How long have I been sleeping?”
“A couple of hours.”
“Shit, I din’t mean to fall out. I’m ’bout to get out of here.” He started getting up.
“It’s already late,” she said and touched his arm. “It’s cool if you crash here tonight and go home in the morning. Your ass is sleeping on the couch, though.” She hit him playfully with one of the pillows.
“Girl, don’t you know I was the pillow-fighting champ in ’89,” he said and hit her with the other pillow. Before long they were giggling like schoolkids and hopping around swinging pillows.
Billy tripped on the coffee table, sending her into an awkward spiral. Marcus caught her midfall, but the momentum sent them both crashing to the floor, with Billy on top. When the two of them locked eyes, time seemed to slow. The sound of their separate heartbeats melded together to make a strange symphony. Marcus started to say something, but she placed a finger over his lips. The moment was so perfect that words would’ve ruined it. Her insides felt as if God had laid a warm hand on her heart and melted the ice away. In a sense, it was as if he was telling her it was okay to love again.
Marcus was pleasantly surprised at Billy’s aggressiveness. Initially, he had tried to put some distance between them, but she pressed her body closer to his. Billy kissed Marcus so deeply that his breath felt short when it was broken. Her pleading eyes said what her mouth would not and Marcus honored her request.
Flipping Billy onto her back, he began to pull her T-shirt over her head. Erect nipples taunted him through the fabric of the sports bra she was wearing, causing a throbbing in his groin. Using both hands, he pulled the bra up over her breasts and admired them. Billy had breasts the color of honey and nipples like milk chocolate. His mouth sucked at them greedily as she purred under the sensation.
Neither of them were sure when it happened, but at some point they both ended up on the floor as naked as the day they were born. Wild hands explored nude flesh without pattern or destination. She reached down and pulled on his dick, appreciating the hardness and length.
“Be easy. I haven’t had sex in almost two years,” she warned him.
“I will,” he said. Marcus ran his fingers across her pussy and they came up soaked. Not being able to hold back, he attempted to enter her, but Billy stopped him.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” She looked down at his unprotected penis.
“My fault,” he said, rolling off her. Marcus snatched a condom from his pocket and reassumed his position. He rolled the condom on, careful to make sure it was done correctly to lessen the chances of it breaking. Using his thumb to navigate, he tried to penetrate Billy. Just getting the head in was like trying to fit an elephant into a doghouse. She hissed in his ear and dug her nails deep into his back, but never asked him to stop. When he finally managed to work his penis in, it was pure heaven. He could tell she wasn’t bullshitting about not having had sex, because the pussy was way too tight for her to be fronting. His forced entry was halted when he looked down and saw tears in the corners of her eyes.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he whispered.
Billy reached up and touched his face. “Baby, these tears ain’t got nothing to do with pain.” Billy pulled Marcus back down on top of her and they made passionate love. It had never once occurred to them that Yoshi might come out of the bedroom and catch them. In truth, it didn’t matter. That night the balance was restored to two lives.
36
When Paul got off the elevator the first thing he heard was the loud music. The walls were damn near vibrating from the bass coming out of Rhonda’s house. Rounding the corner, he found himself engulfed in a cloud of weed smoke. Kelvin and some dudes Paul didn’t recognize were standing in the hallway, passing a blunt.
“Uncle Kel!” P.J. squealed, running to the young man.
“What up, li’l dude?” Kel rubbed his head. “What’s popping, Paul?” he addressed Rhonda’s former lover.
“Chilling,” Paul said. His tone was neither friendly nor hostile. He and Paul had never been the best of friends, but they always had a mutual respect for each other. Paul didn’t knock him for being gay, and Kel didn’t hold a grudge for Paul leaving his sister. They both understood Rhonda’s character well enough to know it was bound to happen. “Your sister in there?” Paul nodded at the door.
“Yeah.” Kelvin let out a cloud of smoke and passed the blunt to the kid standing closest to him. Paul nodded and walked his son inside.
The interior of the house didn’t smell as strongly of weed as the hall did, but the air was rank with cigarette smoke. Rhonda seemed to be having a party of sorts, and it was a packed house. People were either sitting at the table playing cards for money or lounging on the couch drinking. In the center of it, running her mouth, was Rhonda.
“What’s up, baby daddy?” She raised her glass. Paul just nodded. “You want me to pour you a drink?”
“Nah,” he said, looking around at the assortment of grimy-ass me
n and women scattered throughout the house. “I just came by to drop P.J. off, ’cause I got some shit to do. These people gonna be here all night?”
“I can’t call it, you know how parties can get.” She toasted Reese, who was sitting next to her, wearing a spaced-out look on her face.
“Well, you might wanna think about shutting it down early tonight, being that your children are here,” he pointed out.
“Please, they love to party just as much as their mama. P.J., show your daddy the dance you learned.” The little boy bust out into the latest rap video move, drawing applause from the crowd. “That’s my boy!”
“Rhonda, is that what you spend your time teaching our son?” Paul was clearly irritated.
“Stop acting like that, Paul. He’s just a kid,” Reese said, adding her two cents.
“I don’t recall ever fucking you, or us having a seed together, so mind your fucking business.”
“Y’all knock that shit off in front of P.J.,” Sheila said. She was a brown-skinned girl who lived next door to Rhonda. “Paul, why don’t you have a drink and hang out for a minute?” she suggested, trying to defuse the situation, but of course Rhonda wouldn’t let her.
“Paul, don’t come in my house disrespecting my company,” Rhonda defended Reese.
“Then keep your puppy in check,” he snarled.
“Who the fuck you calling ‘puppy’?” Reese acted like she wanted to get up, but the look Paul gave her changed her mind.
“Paul, we in here having a good time, so don’t start. You’ve dropped P.J. off, so you can go now,” she said, as if continuing the conversation would stop her from doing something important.
“I don’t even have the strength to do this tonight,” he mumbled under his breath.
“Nigga, you ain’t gotta do shit. Your son is home safely, so you can excuse yourself,” she said, giving Reese a high five.
“Rhonda, don’t be in here stunting like I won’t bust ya head for you,” Paul warned her.
“Please, you ain’t shit to me, so you ain’t got no reason or right to put your hands on me!” she said, way louder than she had to.
“Everything okay over here?” Von walked over. He had a half-empty Corona dangling from his hand. He was staring at Paul like he was trying to decide if he was going to frog up or not.
Paul tried to keep his voice calm when he addressed him. “My dude, this ain’t got nothing to do with you, so just go on back in the cut and finish your beer.”
Von screwed his face up. “I’m saying, I see you over here getting loud with my shorty, so I gotta figure it’s something that requires a man’s attention.”
Paul looked from Von, who was flaring his nostrils, to Rhonda who was wearing a smug grin. The old Paul was banging against his chest, begging to be loosed upon the big-lipped kid and his chickenhead baby’s mother, but looking at his son’s confused face, he knew he couldn’t wild out.
“Your shorty?” Paul gave him a sad look. “Whatever, my man. Like I said, this is between me and my son’s mother, so fall back.”
By now, someone had turned the music down and everyone was watching. Von knew he couldn’t go out without making a show of it. “Duke, you don’t know me well enough to be telling me what I should do.”
Paul saw that diplomacy was getting him nowhere, so he changed his tactic. “Sheila, could you please take P.J. next door for a minute?” he said in a voice that was entirely too calm.
“Come on, Paul, let me just walk you to the elevator,” Sheila pleaded, seeing the glare in his eyes. She had known Paul for quite a number of years, so she knew the ugliness when it was about to make a guest appearance.
Paul smiled at Sheila as if everything was cool. “Don’t worry, baby, I ain’t gonna wild out. I just got some things I want to say to Rhonda and I don’t like to argue around P.J.”
Sheila looked from Paul to Rhonda and knew that there wasn’t much she could do to stop the storm that was brewing. “Come on, baby,” she said, leading P.J. by the hand to the door. When she looked back at Paul over her shoulder, he was smiling broadly.
Paul waited until P.J. and Sheila were out of the house before addressing the situation at hand. “Listen, big boy,” he said as he turned to Von, “I don’t know what kind of arrangement you and my son’s mother have, but when it comes to my seed, don’t put your mouth in that,” Paul said in a deadly tone.
“Fuck you think you’re talking to?” Von swelled up. “Son, I eat niggaz food for a pastime!”
Von smiled triumphantly, but his moment was short-lived. Paul fired a right hook that snapped Von’s head back and sent spit flying on Reese. Before Von could recover, Paul followed with a left to the side of the head. Von tried to fall, but a knee to the gut kept him on his feet long enough for Paul to lace his boots with an uppercut. Von bounced off the wall and slid down on his ass.
“No the fuck you didn’t!” Rhonda shouted, charging Paul. She got within three feet of him and received an open-hand slap that busted her lip.
One of Von’s boys caught Paul from behind with a jab to the back of the head. Paul quickly shook it off and fired with a right and a left, landing both on the man’s chin. Another cat came rushing out of the bathroom with a knife in his hand. Paul caught his arm in a vise grip and twisted it, elbow facing up. With a downward strike, Paul popped the joint loose. By then, Von had recovered enough to bash Paul in the back of the head with a beer bottle. Paul staggered, but kept his feet under him.
Using the moment to his advantage, Von swooped in. He hit Paul with a barrage of punches, not really allowing him to get his bearings. When Paul finally did manage to get a good shot off, Von’s boy who had caught the two-piece rejoined the fight. Paul was backed into the corner, trying to fend off multiple attackers. Von had just pulled his razor when a clicking sound halted everything.
Kelvin stood in the middle of the living room with a nine pointed at Von. “It ain’t even going down like that, my dude. Not in my niece’s and nephews’ house. Party is the fuck over.”
“Kel, how you gonna side with this nigga over me?” Rhonda barked.
“Rhonda, it ain’t about taking sides. It’s about you allowing niggaz to disrespect where my little ones lay their heads. This is some real chickenhead shit.”
“Fuck you, Kel! Since you wanna side with this piece of shit, you can get the fuck out, too!”
“You a’ight, my dude?” Kelvin asked Paul, who nodded. “Let’s get up outta here.”
Paul stood up straight and flexed his jaw. His face was sore, but it didn’t hurt as bad as it should’ve from the blows Von’s punk-ass friends caught him with. The worst of his injuries was the bump on the back of his head, but there was no skin broken. The three battered men glared at him menacingly, but he matched all their stares. Von was nodding his head as if to tell Paul it wasn’t finished yet. Paul nodded back, and cracked him in the jaw. The others moved for Paul, but the sound of the armed man clearing his throat froze them.
“You a real punk-ass nigga, Paul!” Rhonda said, rubbing her cheek. “This is the last muthafucking time you’re gonna put your hands on me.”
“Eat shit and die, you lowlife bitch!” he spat as he passed her. The crowd parted like the Red Sea when the strange duo passed. Paul looked over his shoulder at Rhonda and saw a look in her eyes that could only be described as pure hatred. He chuckled to himself, thinking how he fixed her and her little boyfriend, but Paul had no idea of the lengths that a woman scorned would go to for revenge.
* * *
“One day your sister is going to make me kill her,” Paul said, pressing the first-floor button of the elevator as if he hadn’t done it five times already.
“Paul, I don’t even know why you keep feeding into it when you already know how she is,” Kelvin said.
“I’m telling you, I can’t do this anymore,” Paul declared.
“My dude, you’ve got to start using your head,” Kelvin told him. “Rhonda is gonna be the way she is for the rest of her
life. I mean, I love my sister, but sometimes I feel fucked up for those kids. P.J. is lucky enough to have two parents, so don’t deny him that by letting her bullshit get you into trouble.” The elevator stopped on the fifth floor and Kelvin stepped off.
“Where the hell are you going?” Paul asked.
“I left something down here earlier that I gotta pick up. Be easy, my nigga.” Kel hit Paul with the peace sign and let the elevator door close.
Paul got off the elevator on the first floor, glad to be free of the piss-smelling box. He hit the lobby door and stepped out into the cooling night air. Rhonda had pissed him off beyond belief and a brisk walk was just what he needed. Paul had just made it to the mouth of the projects when a police car cut him off. Two officers, one chubby and one thin, got out and approached him from opposite sides, both keeping their hands close to their weapons.
“What’s going on?” Paul asked nervously.
“You live around here?” the chubby cop asked. He was looking at Paul as if he were trying to decide whether to hit him in the face first or the gut.
“Nah, I was visiting my son,” Paul said, trying to keep at least a few feet between himself and the cops.
“Let’s see some ID,” the thin cop demanded, looking Paul up and down. Paul slowly reached into his pocket and handed his license over. They studied it as if it might’ve been written in a foreign language. “Where’re you coming from?”
“I told you I was visiting my son, he lives in that building right over there.” He nodded toward the building.
The chubby cop clicked his walkie-talkie. “Central, can we get a location and name of the perp on that disturbance.” The walkie-talkie squawked something in response that caused the officers to share a suspicious look. Paul suddenly felt very queasy.
“Sir, can you please place your hands on the car?” the thin cop asked in a demanding tone.
“What’s the problem?” Paul backed up.
The chubby cop drew his weapon and trained it on Paul. “Sir, if you run, I’ll be forced to fire.”
