by King, Deja
Bearing no more love, having no emotions and showing no sympathy, Quasim didn’t even look at her. “Then I guess you better go crawl in a hole somewhere and die, because we’re done. Now get the fuck out of my life before I change my mind and take you out.”
The threat sent chills running up and down Semaj’s spine and she could feel the hatred in the tone of his voice. There was nothing she could say or do that would change his mind. It was over. They were finished. He cut her off from a supply that seemed to be a necessity. Like a person with a breathing condition connected up to an oxygen tank, she too couldn’t survive without air… her air…Quasim Santana.
He was disconnecting her from a solace which she hadn’t felt since her mother was in her life. But after she got killed at least she had somebody. Now she had nobody. Semaj knew Quasim’s word was bond. She was now shut out of his life. The past had finally caught up with the present and she was reaping what she sowed. The door was closed and she had to find a new way to enter into the pleasures of life all over again. It was something that she seemed to never escape…it was her story.
As she made her way through the club, Semaj tried her hardest to walk with balance, but still struggled with each stride that seemed like one million baby steps. Her mind was plagued with thoughts and she was unable to think clearly.
Emotionally drained and physically exhausted, she was defeated. Without an ounce of energy left inside of her bones, she forced herself to her car. Reaching her vehicle, all she heard was, “Three two…one… Happy New Year!” and noises went off in the building loudly as her shaky hands struggled to unlock her car door.
After several attempts, it finally popped open and she fell into her seat where the tears began rolling down her face. This was how her New Year began. Fucked up!
Chapter 19
Semaj hurriedly packed her belongings into two large, leather duffel bags, not knowing her next move. Keeping up with Quasim’s lifestyle trying to pose as an independent chick, had her pockets damn near on empty. Having access to his funds as wifey made financial limitations nonexistence for her. In the beginning, she carried herself having blood money, but even with the advance from her film contract and endorsement money, Semaj was now broke as an 1891 guitar. The money was long gone being that she used it as leverage to help clean some of the dirty money from Quasim’s drug profits. Accounted for money lessened any inquires about the source of unaccounted for funds. At the time it was the perfect power move, but now she was suffering in more ways than one from the unexpected outcome.
I gave him damn near all my money for this house. It’s mine too, she thought. But I deserve everything that’s happening to me for my wrongdoings. With only forty-eight hundred left in her bank account, Semaj didn’t know what to do or where to go. Quasim was supposed to be her meal ticket out of the ghetto lifestyle, but from the looks, her ticket to Hollywood had turned out to be a nightmare instead of a fairytale story. More like a ticket to Hell! How could I go on? Where would I start? She’d trusted Quasim to the fullest and put him in charge of her business ventures, but now he was a thing of the past.
Al-B and Chris aren’t gonna deal with me after Qua put word to their ear, Semaj thought disheartened as she stuffed her bags to the brim. Qua is a silent partner in that business, so they gon’ clip all ties with me, and with their legal connections, it’s not even worth fighting a case. Besides, I can’t afford a decent attorney if I wanted one.
With an aching body and a shattered heart it broke Semaj down to know that this was the end of them. After all that they’d been through, she couldn’t possibly understand how he could end things so easily knowing she didn’t have anybody. Semaj felt it would last forever. He was so good to her. She just wished she could turn back the hands of time.
Her heart cried out loudly, making it feel as if it had been crashed with a deluxe grinder device. She hated that it had to come down to this. Being logical, Semaj knew deep inside her soul that no nigga could forgive someone with so much treachery. Knowing Paris, she probably laid the emphasis on thick too, painting a fictitious picture of her being corrupt with no honor.
Hurt and heartbroken, Semaj scrutinized what was once her room. Tears streamed down her face from the sight of the picture that caught her eyes. It had been taken at her premiere party where they seemed like the happiest couple. She went over to the picture, kissed her two fingers and then kissed the frame. I’m so so sorry baby, she mumbled solemnly as she grabbed her bags and left.
Built to be strong, Semaj felt that nothing happened by chance so she had to suck up her fucked up predicament and charge it to the game. She understood that he didn’t want to start over with her and rebuilding wasn’t even a possibility. With the truth surfacing, Semaj knew that he’d fallen in love with a different person, and he wasn’t willing to take her as she was. Their relationship was built on a lie in a sense and now there was no turning back. Quasim was no longer the center of life, and the security he provided had already seemed to be in a past lifetime. All she had now was herself.
They never lied when they said karma was a muthafucka and the bitch would catch up to you, she thought regretfully as she headed down the stairs to a destination unknown. Just as she hit the foyer, Quentin had come through the door. He must know I had something to do with his brother’s death, Semaj thought as she stood frozen in fear. Not knowing if he was there to end her life, her heartbeat thumped rapidly as her guilt-filled eyes spoke a wordless poem of sorrow.
“What happened to your face, sweetheart? Are you okay? Where is Qua?” Quentin asked in concern as he probed for answers. “You don’t look too good. Maybe you need to take a seat. Let me get you some ice for your face.”
“Can you get me some ice for my heart, because that’s where the worst pain is?” Semaj felt her heart shattering with each passing second and it felt as if it were bleeding profusely.
“Tell me what’s troubling you.” He grabbed her and pulled her into his consoling embrace.
“Let me go, please. I must go,” she choked her tears back.
“You can tell me anything. What did my nephew do?” he wanted to know.
Quentin guided her to the kitchen and motioned for her to sit down. He got a small bowl of warm water and cleaned her face up and then fixed her an ice pack where she held it up to her swollen face. He put some hot chocolate on and sat across from her at the island. “Now, I don’t know what’s going on between you and Qua, but there are several things that I need to lift off my chest about your life in the past.”
“Huh?” her heartbeat quickened.
As Quentin stared into her eyes, even as a man it had hurt him to look at her ever since the moment he’d figured out who she really was. Knowing about her fucked up upbringing had Quentin filled with guilt; he felt like shit. Her mother had been snatched away from her life and then her father, leaving her to be raised by the streets. Quentin knew that she’d been raised in the world with no proper parental guidance. “Do you remember a woman named Sabrina?”
“Sabrina?” she repeated. “No, I don’t think I do.” “Well, Sabrina was your mother’s best friend.” “My mother? How you know my mother?” “Listen sweetheart, Sabrina is my deceased sister.”
It was as if a light bulb had immediately gone off inside her head, and the night of her mother’s murder relived in her current mind state. Tears instantly ran rapidly down her cheeks like a rainstorm had approached, and the water poured endlessly from its confinement. A mental image came to her mind where her mother’s body lay slumped over and she screamed begging for her to wake up. But it never happened and the blood poured from her head onto the innocent child’s tiny hands. Semaj shut her eyes and squeezed them tightly. The memory had been buried so deep inside her, making the acknowledgment of how the murder had occurred be erased from her recollection; but it was coming to haunt her now. No…please…no…please… leave…God
…make them go away. Please!
“Are you okay?” Quentin rose fro
m his chair and prodded her leg.
Reopening her eyes, Semaj shook her head wildly as if shaking off the memory. “Yes, I’m okay,” she let out a deep sigh. “I do remember her.”
“Well, your mother took Brina in and put her underneath her wings and hipped her on to the dope game. She went from absolutely nothing to running blocks and fucking up people that got in the way of the dope business. One day she came up with the idea of murdering your mother so she’d be the HBIC. She promised that me and Qua’s father would run the business with her as equal partners. Brina was a jokester back in the day so I thought she was bullshitting, and brushed it off because she and your mother were closer than Thelma and Louise. But when she called and told me it was done, I was shocked and couldn’t believe she went through with it.”
“So she killed my mother thinking she’d take her place?” Just the thought of it sickened Semaj.
“I’m sorry to say, but yes, Semaj. That was her intention. I’m very sorry for how things turned out for you. I promise, sweetheart, if I would have known that she was serious, I would have talked her out of it.”
“How could she think she’d get away with murdering her anyway?”
“It beats me, because your old man killed her.” He hated to admit it but there was nothing that he could do because Sabrina called her own hand. “I’m assuming she wasn’t expecting you to be with Kasey or even comprehend well enough to let your father know what led up to the murder. Her plan backfired in the end.”
My father killed his auntie and his dad. Daddy killed two of his family members, Semaj thought confusingly. She knew with all that mess connected there was definitely no way the two could have ever become one forever. It was too much bad news to carry along with them in a relationship. It couldn’t grow with them. Because their kin that weren’t here would always be a memory, and there was no way it could be forgotten.
For a second, Semaj debated with herself if she should reveal her secret, and after noticing the kindness in his eyes and a look of sorrow, she decided that it was necessary for her own relief. Whatever the outcome would be she would have to live or even die with the results. It was her turn to confess. “Well there’s something that I have to admit, too.” She inhaled and wiped away the tears that trickled down her face. “Quasim left me because…” Semaj went on to recount the events with Big Pat and left out no details. She even admitted to the part that she contributed to, and how she treated robbery as her full time occupation.
Quentin took what seemed like an eternity to respond. He was trying to digest Semaj’s story. Damn, this girl has it in her just like her grimy ass father, he thought knowingly. He was aware that Semaj had lived a life of hardship and knew how living “the life” could affect an innocent child the worst. With a father like Mitch, he couldn’t expect anything less. He was a hit man and in a killer’s mind there were no exceptions of who got murked. For some reason, he couldn’t blame the girl for playing the dirty game with her father. Knowing Murder Mitch’s background, Quentin felt that it was only normal for Semaj to lead a life of self-destruction. That was all Murder Mitch knew and all he could teach his daughter.
Semaj looked at him and searched for something in his gestures.
But when he reached over and hugged her tightly she felt his care was sincere. “I really understand where you came from. I came from nothing too, and did whatever, whether it was right or wrong to survive. I can understand your hunger and in the game there are no rules,” he spoke truthfully. He knew in the dope game came the grimy chicks and the robbers. It came with the territory. “But there’s one more thing that I think I should let you know.”
“What?” Semaj asked, not knowing what was next.
“Well, you know Gio?” he asked. “My nephew’s drug connect?” “Yes, I met him today.”
“Really? He didn’t recognize you?” he asked with a perplexed look on his face.
Semaj found the question rather odd. “Why would he recognize me? I don’t know him.”
“Gio is a huge drug plug. Actually only a few good ones are left in America.”
“Okay…” Semaj said, wondering why he was providing her with this information.
“Well, he is your grandfather. That’s Kasey’s father.”
Semaj took a couple of minutes to absorb what Quentin was telling her. “Fuck out of here! No way!” She covered her mouth, astounded. “Excuse my language, I just can’t believe it!” But the more she thought about it, the more it all made sense. She started to remember his name…she started to remember him. Giorgio…Gio Milano…Giorgio Milano.
“True story. When your mother had died he put a ticket on your father’s head. Any person with information on you or your whereabouts would get a reward.”
That’s why he said I looked familiar. He’s my grand poppa. How ironic can this world be? It’s crazy! Semaj was flabbergasted by the fact that her grandfather was the infamous Dominican Mafia boss—the dope king of America. That’s why my Daddy never mentioned my other family and he never wanted to discuss my mother’s death.
“Do you still love my nephew?” Quentin inquired, jarring her from her trance.
“Yes, I love him. But I know we could never be together again. Too many bad crosses invaded what was supposed to be a happy life.” “Sweetie, sometimes destiny comes in a form that we may never
be able to understand.” He knew that it was more than likely true though. They could never be. It was written and the only true love they would ever share was what it was before this occasion. The past had killed their future. “Quasim never loved before and when he brought you around I knew that it was real because I had never seen him that happy. For you, my nephew decided to leave the game alone. Tonight, on your birthday, he was going to ask for you to be his wife.”
“Are you serious?” Semaj’s voice cracked as the tears started up again. “He wanted to marry me?” She held onto her chest.
“Yes. And once I tell him everything he’ll have a better understanding of your life. And to say that you are the granddaughter of Gio Milano would throw him back. Quasim has a great deal of respect for that man. Trust me, if nothing else, he’ll feel at ease since you have a part of a man that he’d lose his own life for in you. Not saying that you will be able to revert back to what y’all were before this incident. I know you won’t be on bad terms though.”
“You think he’ll understand where I came from?” Semaj asked. “You’ll never know if you don’t see. I will call him. But you have
to go back to the club now and try to make it right.” “You sure this will work?”
“That’s what we will see. Now go.” Quentin walked her to the door and watched her pull away as he dialed his nephew to let him in on every detail.
Quasim had been standing at the rails since Semaj had left, overlooking the partying crowd. He was in his own world thinking about what had just happened and how he’d lost his only love in the blink of an eye. His thoughts were boggled and an unstoppable pain ached at his heart. She was my everything. This love was real. Outta all the bitches, I would have never knew that she would be the one plotting against me and my family from the beginning, he thought with bitterness.
Before Semaj, his heart had been off limits. But he didn’t wear
his protective gear when it came to Semaj. He had trusted her and would have killed anybody for her if need be. She had his heart, and bruised it to a place that couldn’t be healed. It would forever be scarred.
If Slim had not reflected back on his memory, Quasim would had never believed a thing Paris had told him about Semaj’s involvements. He loved her that much. How could she be so coldhearted, staring him in the face every day, after all she’d done? She was grimy like many bitches from the ghetto and held phoniness in her persona that he’d never witnessed in all his days. He deemed her worthy of his love and trust, but she faked it and played him the entire time. He had been sleeping with the enemy from jump-street; he could never forgive her.
&nb
sp; But as he continued his deep thoughts somehow a feeling of love crept back into his heart in tiny volumes. Quasim hated that he was allowing himself to still love someone with so much larceny instilled in their heart. It was something that would forever haunt him. He knew that forgetting and forgiving were two totally different things though. To relieve himself from his guilt and his own demons he knew what he had to do and ordering a hit would not be his plan anymore.
Twirling the ring between his forefinger and thumb, Quasim looked at the beautiful piece of jewelry intensely and retrieved the box from his pants pocket to place it back inside. Pulling out his phone, he was preparing himself to say he was sorry for hitting her with his gun, but on second thought, he opted against it for the profound loyalty that he held for his father, even in death.
At that moment, his phone rang. His uncle’s picture flashed across the screen and he pressed the icon to answer. “What up, Unc?” “Qua, Semaj told me everything. But there’s something that I
must tell you, son.” Quentin went on to fill his nephew in on the conversation that he and Semaj had only minutes before.
It was as if the information thrown at him hit him like a ton of bricks. He couldn’t believe it. Gio, is her grandfather? My auntie killed Gio’s daughter? What the fuck? Quasim was tripped out. If Gio, knew any of this, the mu’fucka would try to wipe out everything ever connected to Auntie Brina. He shook his head in disappointment. Gio done cried to me about his daughter’s murder. How could their lives be so intertwined? How could he fall in love with the granddaughter of Gio Milano? How could any of this become one big story? “This shit crazy, yo. Real shit, she Gio’s, granddaughter?”
“This is a small world, son. But, Qua that girl has been through so much she didn’t know any better. All she knew was the streets until you entered her life and made it better. Things work in mysterious ways and don’t ask me how or why because I can’t answer that for you. But even if you will always have that memory embedded in your head, you gotta at least understand where that girl came from. I’m not saying you have to be with her because I know how close you and Pat was, and it hurts me to even feel sorry for the poor girl because that was my brother. But I learned over the years that only God can judge and forgiveness is the key for our own sins.” It was unusual for Quentin to preach the gospel but he felt compelled to.
