Thicker Than Water

by Takerra, Allen

  She went to protest but he stopped her.

  “Nah, let me finish. I’m hurting more than you can even fucking imagine right now. You know why, baby? Because I love you. And when I say that shit, I don’t mean that shit like all these niggas and bitches be saying that shit to each other, then they turn around and say it again to another muthafucka! Nah, I love you, I love you like I love the fucking blood in my fucking veins, like you the fucking bones in my body. I love you with all my fucking heart, nah, fuck that, you are my heart. You are my heart, girl. Nothing can ever, ever be bigger than you.”

  She didn’t know what to say, again. It seemed to be a habit of hers lately.

  “Chauncey, I love you too . . . But I can’t forgive this, like you fucked my best friend. Repeatedly. How would that look?”

  He looked up at a nigga walking into his cell that was staring at him, one look at Chauncey and he quickly turned his eyes straight ahead.

  “Princess . . . Sasha,” he corrected himself. “I don’t give a fuck how it looks. I mean I know it was fucked up, baby, it was so, so fucked up and I know. But I didn’t want her, I swear. It was just me making a dumb-ass decision to keep you from finding out about that one time, which was a big-ass mistake. But baby, you not being with me ain’t gonna change the fact that I love you and you love me. What, you gonna go get somebody else that won’t cheat? Baby, I won’t cheat. So why not stay wit me? I wont hurt you again, and I think you know I wouldn’t, you just think that this is what you’re supposed to do. But punishing me, it’s not gonna change anything. I’m still gonna want you, and you still gonna want me.”

  She felt dizzy from his words. He was always capable of making her think. He always made her feel like they were the only two people in the world who spoke the same language. He was so mystifying. But he was poison.

  The guard returned with a look that Chauncey knew meant he had to get off soon. There must’ve been another guard coming or something.

  “I don’t know, Chauncey,” she spoke softly, about to crush his hopes. He cut her off.

  “I know, baby. Listen, just think on it. I know I hurt you and I know it’ll take a miracle to make it right. But I’ll spend my life on that, because I know I can never feel with nobody else what I felt with you.” She remained quiet and he knew she was crying. He felt so powerless behind these bars, he couldn’t even comfort her. “How was the funeral?”

  She sniffed.

  “It was—It was bad, Chauncey. It was so bad.”

  He bowed his head and shook it lightly. Although he didn’t care for Kim much, he felt bad for Sash and Tatum, not to mention her family. Plus, Kim really did love her friends, and she was a real chick. She didn’t deserve to go out like that. The guard held out his hand for the phone. Right as Chauncey was about to wrap it up with Sash, she asked him one last question.

  “What made you do that to her?”

  Chauncey wanted to explain that as well, and prove to Sash that Neli was a grimy-ass chick; she had to be for him to damn near kill her. But he couldn’t speak on that, especially not now. Not on a guard’s phone, hell no!

  “No, baby . . . Listen I gotta go, I’m gonna call you tomorrow okay. Please pick up . . . I love you and I love our baby . . . Please, Sasha, please. Keep our baby.”

  And with that he was gone. And so was all of Sasha’s sense of judgment.

  Chapter 16

  Loyalty

  “You want a soda or something, kid? How’s ’bout some coffee?”

  Chris sat in the hard metal chair, sweating bullets and tapping his foot at a rapid pace. His heart was pumping a hundred beats a second. He wasn’t dumb, he was aware that the two officers who had dragged him in this tight room from his cell were putting on a show. It was a show that everyone who knew anything about police was familiar with, the good cop–bad cop performance. Chris shook his head no, and stared down at the closed manila envelope on the table. The bad cop intervened.

  “Enough of this shit, Frank. I don’t even know what we’re talking to this punk for. The bastard opened fire in broad daylight, killed a seventeen-year-old kid, and shot at police officers, let’s throw his black ass under the jail!”

  Chris looked up with a face filled with confusion, shock, and fear.

  “I didn’t kill Shakira and I didn’t shoot at no police.”

  “Yeah well we got two bullets from an autopsy and a dirty gun that says otherwise. Not to mention an eyewitness who saw the whole thing.”

  They were completely bullshitting about the eyewitness, no one hardly ever volunteered information to them. They also had not found out which gun the bullets that killed Shakira came from. But Chris didn’t know that. The good cop played on his fear.

  “That’s a lot, kid. Broad daylight, innocent people around, eyewitness, dead girl, you really think you gonna get outta that? We’re talking about a lot of years in prison.”

  “A whole lot of years,” the bad cop added.

  Chris sat in silence wondering how he could get himself out of this. He was sure he would be going to jail for the rest of his life. Just as he was coming to terms with doing his numbers like a man, Good Cop added, “No women, no family, basically no life. You got kids, Chris?” Chris just looked up at him and a tear rolled down his cheek as he thought of Chanel and Tangee. Bad Cop reached in his suit jacket and pulled out a picture.

  “Of course he’s got kids. Two daughters, six and seven. They got no mother, and now no father. Those two girls, gonna be all alone.” Bad Cop said this as he threw down a picture of Chanel and Tangee on the table. Chris wondered how he got that, but immediately realized cops could get whatever they needed when they needed it. Chris couldn’t even look at the picture. He managed to throw on a tough-guy exterior, straightened his back to talk, and looked the cop in the eye.

  “My daughters gonna be all right. They taken care of.”

  Bad Cop laughed almost hysterically as Good Cop sat down.

  “By who, kid? Your sister, Tatum? You think she’s gonna be able to take care of your kids? No mother, no father, no grandparents, these kids won’t stand a chance . . . Just a struggling young aunt to take care of them. No parents to go to and learn from. No daddy to protect them, you call that taken care of?” Chris was surprised by the extent that they knew of his life and he put his head down in defeat. Things were getting worse and worse.

  “Listen, I swear, I will make sure you spend the rest of your life in jail, you little fuck,” the bad cop whispered in rage, turning bright red. “You think I don’t know how you’ve been putting food on you and your sister’s table? I will make sure she does time, too, ever heard of an accessory? I know your sister drove you places, bought that BMW you drive in her name, with your drug money. She even drove you one time to make one of the biggest drops you ever made. She can definitely do some time.”

  Chris became angry.

  “My sister didn’t even know what was going on! She ain’t know nothing about that shit!”

  Good Cop and Bad Cop were both smirking now, standing up with arms crossed and Chris couldn’t tell who was who anymore.

  “Prove it,” one of them said. Another tear dropped from his eye as he realized that he was cornered. They were dirty as hell and they weren’t playing fair, they even had dragged Tatum into this. Chris looked up at them. Good Cop came back into view again.

  “Listen, I know you’re a good kid. We both know you’re a good kid.” Bad Cop rolled his eyes and Good Cop continued. “I know how it is out there. In them streets, you gotta protect yourself. That’s all you were doing, right? Those guys were shooting at you and you were defending yourself. Your occupation? Eh, you were just doing what you had to do to take care of your family, I understand. Don’t you wanna just erase all of this? Get back to your life, fresh air, women, your kids? You’re not really prepared to spend the rest of your life in jail, are ya?”

  Chris put his head down in his hands and could hear his stomach growling. Yesterday and this morning he had gotten
his food stolen and hadn’t eaten anything. Jail was not for him. Two months in this place and he would definitely be somebody’s bitch.

  “What do I gotta do?” he asked solemnly.

  The two officers looked at each other excited and hopeful and then Bad Cop spoke.

  “Tell us everything you know about Sean Knights.”

  “Who?” Chris asked confused as hell. Good Cop proceeded.

  “The man they call Respect.”

  “She can cook, too, son. Smart, beautiful, and can cook like your mother.”

  They all laughed. Tatum sat at Ree’s dining room table watching the man who created her man devour her oxtails, rice, and cabbage. Ree’s father had flown out from Jamaica to visit his son, and to visit a woman that he had in the States. Not to mention, he came to see how well Ree’s organization was going, and it had to be going good for Ree to continuously deny his father’s request to return to Jamaica.

  As Tatum laughed at another joke his father made, she caught eye contact with Ree and could tell that he was contemplating something. He was looking at her in a very serious but also comforting way that put butterflies in her stomach and made them dance all at once.

  Ree’s father studied the chemistry between his son and Tatum. They were barely able to keep their eyes off each other even on opposite sides of the table. Yes, he recognized this type of chemistry, he had experienced it once and it had been with his son’s mother. He suddenly became serious, a drastic change from his ongoing jokes that had made up most of the evening.

  “Sean, you’ve done well here,” he said with a thick Jamaican accent. Ree looked blankly at his father, knowing what he was going to say.

  “Your home, your business, all is well. But you can have all of this at home.”

  Tatum looked with furrowed eyebrows at his father, not feeling the way he had drastically changed moods and was now speaking of Ree returning to Jamaica as if she weren’t sitting right there. However, she did not show her aggravation; she kept her composure. Ree looked at Tatum again and then back to his father.

  “Pop, this is my home now.”

  “Nonsense, this is not home. The money you have will have you living the life of a king in Jamaica, worry free. Not to mention the resort is yours if you want it.”

  Ree’s father had purchased a whole vacation resort in Jamaica, all with drug money. Dirty money turned clean, and now he was offering it to Ree, along with the mansion that overlooked it. Seeing that his son showed no sign of interest or emotion and Tatum had begun to slightly reveal her discomfort by biting her lip, he decided to put the issue to rest with one final question.

  “Sean, what is keeping you here?”

  Ree’s look read to his father something like, What do you think? but he answered anyway.

  “Well, Pop, besides the fact I’ve built a million-dollar organization here, in America.” He paused and then looked at Tatum and used his fork to point to her. “She is.”

  Tatum opened her mouth lightly and smiled, trying not to show how floored she really was. Ree smiled at her as she looked down at her plate and nothing at all. His father then turned toward Tatum.

  “And what is keeping you here?” Tatum, who was completely caught off guard, cleared her throat, and then after a moment of stuttering she answered.

  “Well, I have my nieces, and I have a friend, I mean we just lost our best friend a couple of weeks ago, so . . .”

  The father just looked at her as if she required more explanation. Ree saved her.

  “Pop, Tatum and I are still getting to know each other. I can’t possibly ask her to drop her whole life and move to Jamaica with me. That’s like the equivalent to marriage, it’s a big step.” His father nodded and took another bite. Ree and Tatum began to eat again as well.

  “She sure can cook.” And that signaled the end of the conversation.

  After his father was safely out the door and in his rented Jaguar, Tatum checked on the sleeping Chanel and Tangee, and then made her way into the den with Ree. Although what Ree had said to his father was true, something about it still bothered Tatum. It was like Ree was saying that he wouldn’t want her to come with him, as if they didn’t know each other well enough. And although that wasn’t necessarily untrue, it bothered her. What am I thinking? He’s right. We’re still getting to know each other.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, noticing she had been quiet since dinner.

  “Nothing.” The female equivalent of You did something wrong but I’m not telling you because you should know.

  “Aw man,” Ree sighed. “What did I do? Let me guess, you didn’t like the answer that I gave my father.”

  How does he do that? Tatum thought to herself but just looked at him blankly.

  “I mean, I agree with everything you said,” she confessed. “We are still getting to know each other and it is a major step. Plus, it’s not like I would’ve said yes anyway.”

  Although Ree knew that her last comment was just an effect of her putting up her wall and hiding her emotions, something she did often, it crushed him. But he didn’t show it.

  “Yea well, see. You wouldn’t have come anyway.”

  They looked at each other long and hard and then they turned and watched television until they fell asleep on the large sofa. That was the first night that week that they didn’t make love.

  Sasha sat in the mirror taking off her headband for the third time. She couldn’t decide for nothing if she wanted it off or on. She couldn’t decide if she wanted this date off or on. She didn’t know why she had said yes in the first place.

  This med student who did his rotations at her hospital had been hawking her for the longest. His name was Mike. He always gave her flowers and candy, which she would throw away before she even reached her door so that Chauncey wouldn’t see them. He would always listen when she talked, often giving her advice, and constantly begging her for a date. Just a date, just one date, beautiful. She had never told anyone, but sometimes she would even let him rub her feet behind the reception desk when things were slow. He was always there at her beck and call, so when he saw a chance to get in there, he took one final shot. And he scored.

  Sasha heard a knock at her door and threw her headband hard; it landed right in the toilet. She contemplated not answering the door but then she would have to see him Monday at work anyway. So she slid on her tan BCBG sandals that complemented her tan sundress, and headed for the door not even looking twice at the mirror—she didn’t care if she was less than perfect.

  And there he was, in his short sleeve knitted polo and khakis. She hated that their colors matched. He smiled at her and handed her a fistful of assorted flowers. She forced a smile and took them, examining them and thinking that her mother would cringe at the sight of daisies and carnations throughout the arrangement. Definitely Pathmark flowers, Terri would call them. Terri loved the way that Chauncey brought nothing but the best, but little did she know, Chauncey’s drug money brought the best and he was nothing but the worst. She forced another smile trying to push her thoughts of Chauncey to the back of her mind and trying to push the vomit in the back of her throat back down to her stomach.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, mesmerized just by her presence.

  She didn’t answer but forced another smile, trying to reject her body’s urge to lose her dinner before she’d even eaten it. She grabbed her purse and locked her door as they made their way down the staircase. Once she got in his car, Sasha noticed that the Maxima was exceptionally clean, sparkling even, and smelled of fresh evergreen. She forced another smile.

  “Is Benihana’s okay?” he asked anxiously, with his usual goofy smile.

  “Mmm-hmm. Benihana’s is great,” she answered, thinking of her and Chauncey’s first date.

  It was a night like this and she was sitting this same way, legs crossed and hands folded on her knee. Except her nervousness then wasn’t out of discomfort, but just out of the fact that Chauncey was so smooth it caused her head to spin
.

  She looked over at Mike but saw Chauncey’s face as it was that night, and the Maxima transformed into the drop-top Benz that Chauncey had two summers ago. Instead of the stale, evergreen air that she had tasted a moment ago, her mouth and hair were filled with sweet summer breeze that surrounded her as they drove topless down the Pulaski Skyway.

  And instead of Mike asking her if Benihana’s was okay, she was asking Chauncey where he was taking her.

  Sit back, ma, I’m taking you for the ride of ya life, he had told her with a smile. And that he did, a two-year ride that still hadn’t taken a stop. Chauncey had brought her to a small restaurant on the water where they had a table set up outside. He fed her lobster in wine sauce as he sat in his jeans amongst rich white folks who wore tailored suits and dresses.

  He had sped all around the city introducing her to any and everybody, as onlookers watched the couple racing up and down 125th as if they were royalty. It was intoxicating to be with him. She wondered if he made Neli feel like that. A single tear dropped down her cheek as she was snapped back into reality.

  “Are you all right?” Mike questioned, knowing a little about her situation. He didn’t have the complete story, but he did know that Chauncey had broken her heart, just as he had predicted. She nodded and gave him as much confirmation as she had so far this evening, another forced smile.

  Somehow after dinner, Sasha ended up back in Mike’s Maxima in another uncomfortable situation. She was in the passenger seat and he was leaning over, with his tongue down her throat. She could taste the wine on his breath, the wine that she had declined several times over dinner.