She jerks herself out of her reverie. “Anyway. Thank God, Willow never took after me. She’s definitely more like her father. She’s tough—and she’s going to pull through this with flying colors. You’ll see. The doctors say that the swelling hasn’t gone down that much, but it will.” She sniffs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ramble on. I’ll leave you girls alone with Willow for a few minutes. It’s good to talk to her. There’s a good chance that she can still hear us, you know.”
“Okay.” I sniff and wipe my eyes. “We will.”
“Good.” She pats me on the shoulder and then exchanges smiles with Mack and Romil and heads out of the room.
I look at Mack and Romil. Their long faces look like they’re attending a funeral. Suddenly I’m aware that we have no business in this room. Lucifer and I are hardly friends. We are just two women in love with two brothers.
“Should we say something?” Romil whispers, creeping closer to the bed. “You know, in case she really can hear us?”
Mack and I say nothing while Romil starts with, “Heeey, Lucifer. Um, Romil here. I just want to let you know that the Flowers are all rooting for you. We know that you’re going to come through this with no problem.”
“Yeah,” Mack adds, and then falls mute. She’s clearly more uncomfortable than I am. She’s more of a warrior than a nurturer, and sadly, it shows.
“You know, I think I’m ready to go back to my room now,” I say, spinning my wheels around to head out.
“Hold up. I’ll take you back.” Mack races to take up the handlebars on the back of my wheelchair.
“Wait. Uh, I’m coming too,” Romil announces, bolting from Willow’s side to take up the rear.
None of us says anything during the journey back to my room. That is until I make the mistake of saying that I need to go to the bathroom.
“Oh. I’ll roll you over there,” Mack offers.
“No. That’s all right. I’ll go later,” I say.
“Later? Why? It’s just right over here.” She rolls me to the door of the adjoining bathroom and then locks the wheels. “Here you go.” She waits for me to get up.
“I said that I’ll wait,” I tell her.
“What? You need some help getting up?” she asks, ignoring me. “I’ll help you stand up.” Before I know it, her arms dig underneath my armpits and she starts pulling me up. “Geez, girl. You’re heavy.”
“Mack, please. Stop.”
She grunts. “C’mon, girl. Push yourself up. I can’t do all the work.”
“MACK. STOP!”
Reggie’s thunderous voice startles us. “What the hell is going on in here?”
Mack drops me, and the wheelchair’s wheels must not have been locked in place after all, because it rolls backwards and I hit the hard linoleum floor like a brick.
Olivia screeches. “Dear God, she’s trying to kill her.”
Despite the pain shooting up from my elbows, I announce to everyone, “It’s okay. I’m fine.”
Reggie scoops me up from the floor. “I got you.”
I catch Mack and Romil’s confusion.
Olivia digs in. “What’s the matter with you? She’s paralyzed. What were you trying to do?”
“Paralyzed?” Mack repeats, looking at my dangling feet and then back up at me.
“Please,” I say beseechingly, “don’t tell Profit. Please. Don’t tell anyone.”
When Olivia realizes that I hadn’t told my friends, she purses her lips angrily.
“You got to promise me,” I plead to Mack. “Promise me that you won’t tell.”
Romil bobs her head. “We won’t tell.”
“Mack?” I ask.
She snaps out of her shock. “Yeah. Of course. We won’t say a word.”
41
Cleo
Kingdom Records
My hand is trembling when I sign my name on the dotted line. Everyone in the room is grinning and probably congratulating themselves for their part in making this happen. Hell, I can’t believe that it’s happening.
“That’s it! You’re officially a part of the Kingdom Records family,” K-Bone declares, throwing open his big arms. “Congratulations!”
More shouts of congratulations and well wishes go up all around me.
I don’t have time to say thanks before I’m being wrapped and squeezed in his arms. And it lasts a bit too long, too.
I push away the second I feel K-Bone junior bump against my leg. However, I am released from one set of arms only to be wrapped in another until I am passed around the entire room.
Diesel stands gloating like a panther who already knows what he’s having for dinner. “I told you that I’d make all your dreams come true, didn’t I?” he asks, once he’s broken away from his ever present Amazon, Nefertiti.
“That you did,” I say, bracing myself for when he pulls me into his arms. I haven’t forgotten how my body reacted to him during our Atlanta trip. I’ve only had one lover in my entire life, and I was both shocked and disgusted by the way my body melted beneath his touch. Actually, the disgust came after I had time to think about it. In the moment, I allowed myself to be swept away by the Cinderella fantasy date.
Diesel’s arms wrap around my shoulders as he murmurs, “Congrats, Cleo. This is just the beginning.”
I know I’m not crazy in hearing the double meaning in his words, but I put up a big smile because I really am happy as shit that this day is happening. “Thank you. This wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t for you.”
“I’m sure we can think of a few ways that you can show your appreciation.”
That one was straight and to the point. I keep a big smile on my face and allow my family, all dressed in their Sunday clothes, to sweep me up and congratulate me.
“Lord, baby. I knew that one day your dreams would come true,” Grandma gushes, her eyes swimming in tears. “I’m so happy. I wish that your parents could be here to see this day.”
“They are here, Granny. I know that they are smiling down on us today. I can feel them.” We exchange a long hug and pepper kisses on each other’s cheeks.
Kobe’s the only one whose grin is bigger than mine. “You did good, sis.” He playfully taps me on the shoulder with a light punch.
“Thanks.” I punch him back—harder.
The small signing party rolls on. The latest hits from Kingdom Records boom from the surrounding speakers. There is cake, hors d’oeuvres, champagne, and even some good weed circulating. Everyone appears to be having a good time—there’s just one person missing.
Kalief.
I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath. I told myself that I wasn’t going to do this mess tonight. If Kalief wants to keep on ignoring me, fine. He’ll come around eventually. He’ll need money or drugs or both sooner rather than later.
“You’re not smiling,” Diesel says, sliding back to my side and handing me a flute of champagne. “Aren’t you happy?”
“Of course. I’m thrilled. You know that.” I sip my champagne and make it a point to avoid making eye contact.
“Oh. Are we going back to playing shy?” he asks, amused.
“I’m far from shy,” I tell him, and then mentally curse myself for allowing him to bait me into looking at him.
“No. I didn’t think so. But it’s a nice act.” He downs his own champagne in one gulp while his gaze caresses my face. Instead of playing this game, I break everything down for him. “It’s never going to happen.”
“Catch me up. What exactly is it?” he asks, grinning.
“You know what it is,” I volley, not buying into his wide-eyed innocent act. “We—you and me—are strictly business.”
“For now,” he says, unfazed.
“Forever.”
A waiter waltzes by and he exchanges his empty flute for a full one. “Let me guess. You’re still pining away for your old manager.”
“I’m not going to discuss Kalief with you.”
His smile grows. “Wow. Such loyalty, though it’s
sorely misplaced. I can’t think of a worse nigga to deserve such loyalty.”
“Again. We are not having this conversation.”
“Why? Are you afraid to admit that I’m right?”
“I’m not afraid of anything—or anyone.” Our eyes lock and once again my body does that slow melting thing it does under his intense stare.
“It will happen between us,” he says. “I promise you that, but lucky for you I’m willing to wait as long as it takes for you to get over your childhood-love thing.” He moves closer, and I will myself to hold my ground. “And when you do, I’ll open up a whole new world for you.”
I hold his gaze. Not trusting myself to speak—but my panties are fucking drenched.
Diesel chuckles, leans forward, and kisses my right temple. “I understand. I can’t wait either.”
42
Mack
The streets are silent. That’s a bad sign.
Ever since LeShelle Murphy’s death hit the newspapers, everyone has been walking around on eggshells wondering what the hell it all means. Some speculate that it was the reason for the Gangster Disciples’ hit on Ruby Cove.
Romil, Profit, and I keep our lips sealed about what happened that night out in Hack’s Crossing. Privately, Romil and I worry about the real retaliation that’s coming.
Surely Python will be able to put two and two together and figure LeShelle’s death had something to do with the Vice Lords for the simple reason that her sister Ta’Shara is one of us. Romil argues that it isn’t necessarily the case. LeShelle had plenty of enemies that crossed a number of color lines. Anyone could’ve knocked her off.
It’s a good argument, but I have a bad feeling. Whoever Python suspects of having a hand in her death will feel his wrath. Today, a handful of soldiers are meeting up in the warehouse of Lewis & Sons Funeral Home. Profit is laying out his plan to smoke Python out of hiding. He wants to take this fight to the head chief while he’s in control. Fat Ace is onboard. He even left Willow’s side for a couple of hours to sit in on Profit’s meeting. It’s good to see him, but he looks like hell.
Profit’s next proposed hit: Club Diesel. We know now that the brothah running that joint is Python’s cousin, Diesel Carver, by way of Atlanta. Hell. There are so many Carver descendants in the South, I doubt the federal census can keep track of them all.
Romil and I keep our mouths shut about that shit, too. Fuck. I’m walking around with so many secrets that I should apply for a job at the State Department.
Our meeting ends early. A few of us hang back to discuss the Shotgun Row hit, but later, as we’re leaving the warehouse, Captain Hawkins strolls through the front door.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Mason barks, spotting her.
Captain Hawkins smiles. “Actually, I came to speak with you. Lucille Washington told me that I could find you here. Do you have a few minutes?”
“No.” He marches past her out the door.
Romil and I exchange looks and follow behind when the captain chases after him.
“Look. It won’t take up too much of your time. I—I just want to share some information with you.”
“More information?” he asks, shaking his head. “What? Have you now mapped out my whole family tree on Ancestry-dot-com?”
“Not exactly.”
We keep walking behind them, mainly because my new car is parked next to Mason’s ride.
“Look, Hawkins. I don’t know how I can make this any plainer, but I don’t care for what you have to say. I’m not interested in meeting any new family members. I’m quite satisfied with the family I have. So please—stop trying to help.”
He snatches open his car door but then jumps back when three fucking snakes fall out, hissing.
“What the fuck?”
Romil and I scramble back as well.
Captain Hawkins, smooth as you please, whips out her gun and fires three rounds. The snakes’ heads explode open. The crisis averted.
“The hell?” Romil wonders, clutching the shit out of my arm.
I lean over and take a long look at the snakes. “Pythons.”
BOOM!
Lewis & Sons Funeral Home explodes.
The blast is so strong that I’m aware of being literally airborne as well as feeling an intense heat at my back. When I land, my face nearly kisses concrete and my knees take a pounding.
The second explosion isn’t as strong but it finishes whatever job the first explosion didn’t complete.
We all stare back at the balls of fire in shock. Seconds ago there was a building and now there’s not.
One thing for sure, we know who’s responsible because he left one hell of a calling card: Python.
43
Hydeya
Holy Shit!
The war has escalated to explosions. Even as I pick myself up off the concrete and stare at the huge orange balls of fire, I can’t believe what I’m seeing. “Is everyone okay?” I check around.
Mason, Profit, and a few other people are picking themselves up. They look as shocked as I feel.What if we hadn’t walked out when we did? What if I had talked Mason into speaking to me in his office? I would be dead right now.
I’m prepared to face life-or-death situations every day as a cop, but something like this is hard for anybody to wrap their head around.
Python.
There’s no sense in laying the blame anywhere else.
“How many people were in the building?” I ask the Lewis brothers.
They have no idea, but they seem fairly certain that it couldn’t have been too many. I scramble to my car and call for emergency responders.
Hours later, I’m still shaken up. I can’t have a drink because of the pregnancy, but I could really use one.
Until the fire can be investigated, the incident plays out on the evening news as maybe a gas-line leak. That is preferable to telling the citizens of Memphis that the gang wars have reached Isis status. All that’s missing now are suicide bombers and beheadings.
I reach out to daddy dearest, but he’s feeling salty about my having arrested him. You’d think he’d get over it since he had no trouble posting bond.
The magnitude of the problem I’m dealing with hits me. For the first time in my career, I contemplate early retirement.
44
Cleo
Club Diesel
I have a record deal with Kingdom Records. Even as I take the stage for my second set, I can hardly believe it. With so much going on, I haven’t been able to celebrate. The one person that I do want to reach out to is still not returning my calls. This is possibly the longest that we have ever gone not talking to one another. It strange, given that I’m the one who ended things. It’s for the best that we are no longer a couple, but I never intended for us to be completely out of each other’s lives.
I brush that aside and give a performance. By the time I hit the last note, the crowd is putty in my hands. Backstage, the band high-fives and pumps up my ego.
“I hope that you don’t forget about us when you hit the big time, superstar,” Stephen says, cheesing.
“How could I ever forget you guys? If I ever go on tour, trust and believe I’m taking you guys with me.”
“We’re going to hold you to that shit.” Milo laughs and swings his arms around me for a congratulatory hug.
“I gotta find Kalief so that I can share the good news,” I say.
The band groans.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask, looking around.
Everyone gets sheepish and avoids making eye contact.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Stephen says, hugging his guitar. “I don’t understand why you’re looking for him so hard. It’s not like he’s ever done anything for you anyway.”
“Yeah. He snatches our money and makes us chase him around town before he pays us—and half the time, he pays us with excuses as to why he ain’t got it. You let him go; let him stay gone.”
“Well, dam
n. Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?” I blast, crossing my arms.
Milo comes back at me. “That’s what I’m doing.” His courage grows as the rest of the band looks like they’re backing him up. “We’ve been sick of Kalief’s bullshit for a long time. We’ve only been putting up with his ass for you. You love his crazy ass and we tried to love him—but enough is enough.”
The band nods with their wide eyes glued on me. The fact is that I know he’s speaking the gospel truth about my ex. It hurts to hear it.
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat
I jump as a wave of terrified shouts and screams erupt from the front of the club. Everyone is in a frenzy to get out of the way.
“What’s going on?” I shout, moving with the crowd.
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat
No one answers me because they are running too. There’s not that much space for everyone to hide. The logical move is to head for the back exits. As the frantic crowd nears the doors, they burst open and a gang of men with gold flags over their mouths rushes inside.
“Where in the fuck do you muthafuckas think y’all going?” a voice thunders before spraying bullets straight up into the air.
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat
I join in on the screaming as I duck and cover my head. Once the initial shock is over, I clamp my mouth shut and pull myself together.
“If everybody would calm their asses down, this shit will be quick and painless,” the leader warns.
I glare up at the imposing man to discern whether I can make out his face. Memphis is a big city, but for the playas in this street game, everyone knows the big dogs.
A waitress pipes up. “What do you want?”
“Glad you asked,” the leader says, swinging his weapon in her direction.
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