by K'wan
“Everything okay?” Persia asked.
“Yeah, I just gotta go out and handle some work-related stuff,” Richard said.
“But it’s Saturday,” Persia pointed out.
Richard mustered an awkward smile. “Oh, right. One of my students needs to complete an extra credit assignment so they can graduate on time and I promised I’d help them out.”
“I wish they had teachers like you at St. Mary’s,” Persia said.
“They do, you just have to stop giving them a hard time long enough to find out which ones are which. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Do you need me to bring you back anything?”
“No, I’m fine. Thanks for asking though.”
“Okay, you kids have fun in the city.” Richard walked out the door.
“Hey, Persia, I thought you said your daddy was some kind of professor?” Rissa questioned.
“He’s not my daddy, he’s my stepfather,” Persia corrected Rissa. “And he is a professor. Why do you ask?”
“Then he must teach at a rough school for him to need to take a pistol with him,” Rissa said.
Persia looked at the girl as if she was crazy. “Richard is a square, and the last person in the world who would ever touch a gun. Are you high or something?”
“No, I’m sober and I’ve been around enough dudes who pack to know a concealed gun when I see one. I spotted the holster on his belt when he was putting his jacket on,” Rissa insisted.
“Rissa, I don’t have time for whatever hallucinations your withdrawal is causing. I know Richard, and he doesn’t do guns. He wouldn’t even know which end to hold if you handed him one.”
“Whatever you say, Persia.”
“Look, just come on so I can get dressed and go see what that pain in the ass Chucky wants.” Persia led the way up the stairs. “And try not to steal anything while we’re in my room.”
CHAPTER 19
It didn’t take Persia too long to get dressed. She traded her sweats and T-shirt for a tight-fitting shirt, leggings, and construction Timberlands. She ran a comb and bumping iron through her hair and splashed on some lip gloss, puckering her full lips in the mirror to make sure they had just the right amount of shine to them. A quick sift through her mother’s jewelry box scored the perfect accessories: a pair of puffy bamboo earrings that were almost as old as Persia. She wasn’t trying to get fly, but she wanted to make sure she looked cute in a hood sort of way. She knew what Chucky liked and wanted to look the part. Not to please him, but to grab his attention. It was time to show her one-time lover that he wasn’t the only one who knew how to play mind games.
As she was getting dressed her phone rang. She thought about picking it up, but then decided against it. It was probably Chucky looking to harass her further. She let the machine pick up and was surprised to hear Vaughn’s voice come over the speaker.
“Hey, Persia, it’s Vaughn. Listen, I was just checking on you to see if you were feeling better.” Vaughn paused for a minute as if he was trying to think of something else to say. “Ah, well, I’ve got to dip back to Philly, but I’ll be back in New York later this week. We’re playing the Giants at home next weekend. If you maybe wanted to hook up for dinner after the game or something . . . I dunno, just give me a shout when you can I guess. Okay, bye.”
“He sounds a lot smoother giving television interviews than he does leaving messages,” Rissa joked.
“What he sounds like ain’t none of your concern,” Persia snapped.
“For someone who is supposed to be just a friend, you sure sound defensive.”
“Whatever, bitch. Let’s just go.” Persia grabbed her keys.
It had been decided that Persia would drive Rissa’s car back into the city. Rissa claimed it was because she was tired after the big meal Michelle had made, and wanted to relax instead of fighting traffic on the expressway. Persia knew better though. She had been watching Rissa twitch and constantly keep wiping at her nose for the last few hours. Persia hadn’t been free from her monkey that long where she couldn’t recognize the 400-pound gorilla climbing up Rissa’s back. She hadn’t gotten her wake-up high and the sickness was starting to kick in. This was as good a time as any for Persia to make her play.
“You okay?” Persia asked from behind the wheel.
“I’m good,” Rissa assured her, blowing her nose into a wilted piece of tissue.
“If you’re feeling sick and you need me to pull over—”
“I said I’m good!” Rissa snapped.
“Umm hmm.” Persia turned her attention back to the road. “Your mouth says one thing, but the fact that it’s fall and all the windows are rolled down yet you’re still sweating says something else.”
Rissa touched her fingers to her face and they came away damp.
“You ain’t had your medicine today, have you?” Persia asked. It was a rhetorical question that Rissa’s body language had answered a long time ago.
“No, but I’m good. I dabble here and there, but I don’t need to get high just to function. I’m not like Chucky and my sister,” Rissa said proudly.
“Not yet, but how long do you think it’ll be before your pet habit turns into a raging monster?” Persia asked.
“Listen to you. You danced with the devil for a few months and now you think you can school a bitch who has had it bad all her life. What you supposed to be, some kind of counselor?” Rissa asked sarcastically.
“Nah, I’m just somebody who has already visited the bottom of the barrel you’re about to scrape so I’ve already seen what’s down there waiting,” Persia said seriously. “I don’t know you real good, but you seem okay. You’re not bad looking, and got a decent head on your shoulders, so I gotta ask: how did you manage to get caught up with a piece of shit like Chucky?”
Rissa shrugged. “I’m just rolling with my big sis. When she decided to ditch Philly with Chucky I left with them.”
Persia gave her a look. “That’s a great line to use if the police ever question you about your relationship with him, but you gotta come a little better with me. How long have you been fucking Chucky behind your sister’s back?”
“You bugging out, I’d never do my sister like that!” Rissa declared.
“I hope you’ve got some other hidden talent that I don’t know about because you’re a poor liar. I see the way you look at Chucky; it’s the same way I used to look at him before I found out who he really was. Don’t bullshit a bullshitter.”
Rissa looked at her, wondering if Persia was just that intuitive or if she was just that transparent. “It ain’t what you think. I ain’t no skank bitch who would step over her family for some dick, especially if it was someone she cared about.”
“So you’re saying Maggie doesn’t really care about Chucky?” Persia questioned.
“No, I’m not saying that. It’s just that for Maggie everything is a come up. We was barely making it in Philly until Chucky came along with all his flash and talk about cash. He was slinging big game and big dick and Maggie saw him as our way out of Pennsylvania, but I saw something else. For all his faults, Chucky has his moments where he can make you feel like you’re the only girl in the world. You’ve been with him so I’m sure I don’t have to tell you.”
“Indeed you don’t. I’ll be the first to admit that me and Chucky had some good times, but we had more bad ones than we did good. I loved that man more than I loved myself, and in the end all I got for my love was a few broken ribs and a cracked skull. Look, I ain’t judging you, Rissa. The heart wants what the heart wants. I just don’t wanna see you end up like I did.”
“I won’t,” Rissa said.
“Why, because you think Chucky loves your pussy more than he loves getting high?” Persia laughed. “Tell yourself whatever you need to if it helps you sleep at night, but you and I both know you’re really not that naïve. You’ve been on the streets long enough to know that people like Chucky don’t change.”
“Even if I were to leave Chucky, I know my sister wouldn
’t and I can’t abandon her. We’re the only family we’ve got left.”
Persia glanced at her. “I’m going to tell you something, and I don’t want you to take it the wrong way, but your sister is a fiend. She’s out there, maybe to the point of no return. Yeah, you guys roam the country together like two gypsies, but she’s leaving you in spirit. Every time she puts that pipe to her lips she drifts further and further away. One day you’re gonna wake up and find yourself alone out here in the world.”
“Bullshit, it’s always been me and my sister. We all we got. I love my sister and she loves me,” Rissa said.
“Right, you show somebody how much you love them by getting them hooked on the same shit that’s fucking your life up,” Persia said sarcastically. “That ain’t no knock on your sister, she’s sick and in her own way by her giving you drugs that is showing you love, but that doesn’t make it right. I don’t doubt that Maggie means well, but for long as she’s on that shit she’s going to be incapable of loving you in the way you’re looking for it. You’re still young and ain’t too far strung out to where you can’t turn it around, but in order to do that you’re gonna have to stop being a follower and learn to become a leader.”
“You’re just trying to fuck with my head to get me on your side because Chucky is blackmailing you,” Rissa accused her.
“Honey, trust and believe you couldn’t help me out of my situation even if you wanted to. Chucky is a vengeful bastard and he isn’t gonna stop until he gets what he wants from me, or somebody kills him; either way I just want this all over with. You can take my advice or don’t, and honestly I don’t give a fuck either way.” Persia turned her attention back to the road ahead. By Persia planting the seed of doubt in Rissa’s head it was the first crack in the foundation of the plan Chucky was building. Before it was all said and done she would bring the whole thing down around his ears.
Persia had assumed that they’d be going into Manhattan to meet Chucky, but Rissa had directed her to Brooklyn, Flatbush to be exact. Traffic was horrible on the congested block and Persia ended up parking the car two blocks away and walking to the spot where they were to meet Chucky.
It had been awhile since Persia had stretched her legs in the hood, especially Brooklyn. There was a time when she loved coming to Brooklyn. Persia lived in Long Island City and was a Harlem girl at heart, but there was something she loved about coming to Brooklyn. It was very different than either of the places she had grown up and sometimes when she went there it felt like she was in a different city all together. The shopping, the food . . . Persia always got sucked up in it. Karen and her girls from uptown didn’t like coming to Brooklyn. They didn’t like leaving the block at all for that matter, but Marty was always down to take the ride with Persia.
Thinking about her friend made Persia sad. Marty was a white girl, but she had a universal soul. Everyone who came into contact with her loved her. She was young, rich, and sexy and down for whatever. Marty was a reckless girl who lived carefree and as she pleased, but in the end it was her wild ways that proved to be her undoing. Persia often wondered, if she hadn’t left with Chucky that night and stayed with Marty and Sarah, would things have ended up differently, or would she have been a victim too?
Persia pushed away the thoughts of her deceased friend and busied herself window shopping in some of the stores along the strip they were walking. As she was looking in the window of a boutique at a killer dress, she spotted a familiar face. “No way,” Persia said and stepped inside the store.
Inside the store, Meeka was sitting on a stool trying on a pair of boots. She turned her foot this way and that trying to make up her mind about buying them, when she felt someone standing over her. She looked up and her chocolate-painted lips smiled when she saw Persia.
“Now this is a surprise.” Persia bent down and hugged Meeka. “What are you doing in Brooklyn?”
“Trying to find the bargains. What are you doing so far from that mansion you live in?” Meeka shot back.
“There you go gassing it.” Persia laughed. “I’m out here meeting a friend for lunch, but I saw you in here and you know I had to come shout my girl out.”
Meeka shook her head. “It’s a damn shame that the only time we run into each other lately is at funerals or by accident. We gotta do better.”
“You ain’t lying about that. I still got the same phone in my bedroom with the same number. You need to hit me up so we can hang out,” Persia suggested.
“Word, I’m gonna do that. As a matter of fact, let me see if they got a pen in here so you can write my cell number down.” Meeka pulled out her Nokia flip phone.
“Oh, you got a cell phone now? Let me find out you blowing up and getting all Hollywood on me,” Persia teased her.
Meeka laughed. “Nah, I ain’t Hollywood just yet, but I did run into some good fortune.” Meeka asked the salesgirl who had been helping her with the boots to get her a pen and she scribbled her number down on a torn sheet of paper. “You better make sure you call me, too.”
Behind them Rissa cleared her throat, reminding Persia that they had business to attend to.
Meeka cut her eyes at the rude girl. “This broad with you?” She sized Rissa up.
“Ah, yeah, this is my homegirl Rissa,” Persia introduced her.
Meeka nodded in greeting, but Rissa just rolled her eyes. “Some bitches,” Meeka mumbled. “Well I ain’t gonna hold you up. If you’re gonna be in Harlem later, hit me up.”
“I’ll do that,” Persia promised, folding the piece of paper and putting it in her purse.
Meeka watched Persia and the girl she called Rissa leave the store. It seemed to be quite the coincidence that Persia randomly bumped into Meeka, but it wasn’t. Meeka had been camped outside Persia’s house for the past couple of hours. She punched in a number on her cell phone and waited.
“I don’t like that bitch,” Rissa said once they had left the boutique.
“You don’t even know her,” Persia pointed out.
“Yeah, but I know her type. I can’t put my finger on it but something doesn’t feel right with her. Her whole little greeting just felt so phony,” Rissa said, shaking off the chill that had crept over her.
“I’ve known Meeka since I was a kid; she’s one of my oldest friends. And you’re one to talk considering that bullshit-ass front you put on in front of my mother,” Persia capped.
“It wasn’t bullshit; those pancakes really were good.” Rissa smirked. “But seriously, your mom seems like a nice lady. You’re lucky you have someone who cares about you.”
“We’ve both got people who care about us, Rissa, it’s just a matter of recognizing it and doing right by the people who have done right by us,” Persia replied.
“Whatever.” Rissa jammed her hands into her pockets and walked ahead of Persia.
The two of them continued walking past the shops and bodegas until they arrived at a small Jamaican restaurant. Persia followed Rissa in and spotted Chucky and Maggie sitting at a table in the back that had booth-like seats. It was near the window and gave him a view of the street. This was so that he could see anyone coming and going. When you had as many enemies as Chucky did you always had to err on the side of caution.
All it took was one look at Chucky to see that he was geeking. He was sweating heavily and his nose ran like he had a bad cold. When he spotted Persia, Chucky quickly got to his feet, eyes flashing with anger.
“So I gotta send Rissa all the way to that white-ass neighborhood you live in, instead of you just picking up the phone?” Chucky asked in an angry tone, causing a few of the other diners to look in their direction.
“First of all, lower your voice, Chucky. I’m standing two feet away. I can hear you just fine,” Persia checked him. “And second, I turned my ringer off when I came in because I’d had a rough night and needed to sleep.”
“What’s the matter, boyfriend ain’t giving you no dick?” Maggie snickered.
“Fuck you, crack whore. Unlike your u
nwashed ass, I’m selective about my dick. It takes a certain kind of man to satisfy my needs.” Persia glanced at Chucky. “So we gonna stand here yelling at each other or are we gonna sit down so you can tell me what the hell you want?” she asked Chucky.
He glared at her for a few more seconds before retaking his seat, and motioned for her to take the seat on the other side of the table next to Rissa. To Chucky’s surprise Persia slid in on the side next to him, purposely letting her thigh brush against his.
“Ain’t you never heard the expression three is a crowd?” Maggie snapped at Persia. She didn’t like how close she was playing Chucky.
“Then get your ass up and move to the other side,” Persia capped back.
Furious, Maggie sprang to her feet and grabbed one of the forks off the table. “Bitch, I will blind you for trying to talk tough to me!” She lunged at Persia, but Chucky quickly got between them.
“You two knock it the fuck off.” Chucky pushed them apart.
“Chucky, you better put a muzzle on your little pet dog before I spade that ass.” Maggie waved the fork threateningly.
“You ain’t gonna do shit but fall the fuck back like I just told you to. Go sit next to your sister and cool the fuck off.” Chucky gave her a little shove.
Maggie’s head reared back as if she had just been slapped. “Really, Chucky? You gonna choose this bitch over me?”
“Relax, Maggie. I ain’t choosing nobody. You know me and Persia got business to discuss that ain’t for everybody’s ears so I ain’t trying to be shouting across no damn table.” He reached out and touched Maggie’s face lovingly. “Now have a seat.”
Maggie sat down next to Rissa, but continued to stare daggers at Persia.
“Look, Chucky, I didn’t come here to fight with nobody. You asked to see me and so I’m here,” Persia said, shrugging off her jacket so that Chucky could get a good look at her in the tight-fitting shirt.
