“You mean on me? He ain’t never even met you. And I got you, bruh. Trust me.”
“Till we beef out, then my name gon’ be all over your mouth.”
“What we gon’ beef out over?”
T.C. sighed, shook his head. “Look, man, it’s not that I don’t trust you. I just don’t trust the industry. I’m out after this. Go head, you and Kevin sell this lil’ bit, and however long it takes, that’s fine, but when it’s over, it’s over.”
“What, Winn-Dixie calling for you?” Tiger started singing the theme song. “Hey, by the way, While you’re at the marketplace—”
“Shut that shit up,” T.C. cut him off. “Nah, as a matter of fact”—T.C. paused, not sure if he wanted to continue—“as a matter of fact, bruh, my auntie offered me a job.”
“Who, that lawyer?”
“Yeah, she want me to start working by her firm.”
Tiger bust out laughing. “What, you trying to be some lawyer now? Oh shit, now I know you crazy. They ain’t gon’ let you through the front doors of no law firm. If they do, if they do, they damn sure not gon’ keep you the whole first day.”
T.C.’s head was down, but he raised it before he spoke. “Well, maybe so, but I owe it to myself to try. I owe it to everybody, Licia, the baby, shit, my mama. She suffered enough over me.”
Tiger didn’t say anything to that, just started scooping up bags and piling them in his duffel bag.
T.C. studied him for a little while. “Actually, why don’t you leave that with me?” he motioned for the weed.
“How I’m a sell it then, bruh?”
“You not gon’ sell more than a few bags today. Most of the customer base already bought, and they gon’ be straight for a couple weeks. Take a bag or two, then come back for the rest, but I don’t want all that gas out on the street.”
Tiger shrugged, fronting as if he didn’t care, but T.C. could tell he was irritated.
“Have it your way,” he said. He slipped the bags in his pocket and stood up. “I’ll call you when it’s time for more. Make sure you answer your phone, nigga.” He walked toward the door.
“Ain’t you forgetting something?” T.C. asked.
“What? Oh. My bad, mothafucka.” Tiger handed him a rack and watched T.C. count it, his tongue dangling from his mouth while he flipped through the crisp dirty bills.
“It feel good, huh, nigga? It feel good, don’t it?”
T.C. tried not to smile but couldn’t help it.
“You say you owe it to your people to go work for the white man. I say you owe that baby some milk. And that will buy plenty of it.” Tiger walked toward the door.
“I’ll holla at you this evening,” he went on. “Niggas stay talking shit early in the morning. You feelin yourself, you got the whole day ahead of you, but let’s see what you sayin’ tonight, the world weighing on your shoulder. Shit look different in the twilight, don’t it?”
T.C. sat back down on the mattress and counted it all out again.
T.C. paid MawMaw back, not so fast she got concerned but in spurts that in a few weeks added up to it all. He bought his mama a pea coat. Winter would be here before he knew it, and he was tired of her leaving the house with that one missing button and the lining sticking out the back. She wasn’t as excited as he expected.
“Where you get all that money from, boy? You started with Sybil already?”
He changed the subject. “Mama, the expression you’re looking for is thank you.”
“I just don’t want to see you getting in trouble. Ain’t no coat worth that much.”
He reassured her, while she twirled around in the mirror. Then they sat and watched her stories together.
“Why you bother with this crap, Mama? Nothing has changed since I got locked up.”
“Yeah, it’s similar to life that way,” she said, and he kept quiet after that ’cause that was the thing about his mama. She’d drop some knowledge sometimes that made you think. With his own baby around, he had stopped being so hard on her. Yeah, she still went ham on him sometimes, but she’d had a hard life, raised him all by herself really. He’d heard rumors from Aunt Sybil when she had too much wine that his daddy had been the love of his mama’s life, that he was in and out the first year of T.C.’s life, but something happened after that, and he was just out. T.C. wanted to compensate for all the pain that man had caused her, make enough in life so she’d be comfortable. He knew that level of wealth wasn’t going to come from dealing, but he was starting to seriously consider his auntie’s offer. She had texted that he had another couple of weeks to decide, and it was all he thought about most days, to go or not to go. He knew it seemed like an obvious decision from the outside. A wide-open plain versus a dead-end hallway, but there was something holding him back from calling her and accepting, a knot in his chest that formed every time he imagined himself in that office, representing his auntie on any level, the certainty that he would find a way to fuck it all up.
Still he needed to do something; the baby was growing. One month already, and Malik had his daddy’s same big lips, wide-open nostrils, thick nappy hair, and red skin. T.C. slept at Alicia’s most nights. He didn’t feel an obligation to, he just wanted to be there to see her wake up out of instinct right before the baby started crying, hear her coo with the baby though she must have been dog tired. She held Malik as though the inside of her elbow had been crafted to fit this specific child. And something about seeing her nurture his son made T.C. feel as if he was being nurtured, made him feel as if he would be nurtured for the rest of his life.
He didn’t mean to start looking for rings, he just did it. The plaza used to be the place to go for all things ranging from Girbaud jeans to leather sofas. T.C.’s first job was at Spencer’s, a gag gift store on the second floor, and he and his boys would meet at the food court every day after work, walk up and down the brown tiled floors, hit up the arcade, the ice cream shop, the Chick-fil-A. Sometimes if he had a little money, he’d go to the movies or buy a girl a record. Then crime spiked, stores closed, and a few years later, Katrina finished what white flight started. Now the only legitimate shopping center was in Metairie, so he borrowed his mama’s car and headed over. His boy worked at a jewelry counter up in Macy’s, a place T.C. couldn’t afford to buy socks from ordinarily, but his friend hooked T.C. up with a discount when he bought his diamond earring, and T.C. was hoping for similar treatment today. He skimmed the rows and rows of rings. Some gold, some white gold, some round, some square, some sapphire, some emerald, some solitaire, some with two diamonds. It was overwhelming as fuck, as if the world were conspiring against him, as if maybe it were all a setup keeping the black family apart. His friend walked up then.
“Yo, T.C., what’s up, I didn’t know you was out.” He was hyped at first, but he lowered his voice when the other customers turned to him.
“Yeah, bruh,” T.C. talked low too, “It’s been a few months. I had a baby boy and everything.”
“For real? Lemme see pictures.”
T.C. pulled out his phone and flipped through its memory.
“Damn, bruh, you ain’t got to worry if that’s your kid, huh?”
T.C. shook his head.
“You lucky like that. I’m still not sure with my second one. My first one, no question. His mama loyal like a mothafucka. But the second one don’t really look like me. She dark for one.”
“Her mama dark?”
“Hell, no, you know that’s not my type. And you see I’m light as a mothafucka. So it don’t compute, but what the hell?” He shrugged. “All this time, and I ain’t had no test done, I might as well just accept it. What I’ma do, get her tested at her high school graduation?”
They both laughed and shook their heads.
“Anyway, what can I help you with, bruh?”
“Well, say, bruh, I was wondering if you could hook up a discount
for a nigga.”
“Hell yeah, anything for you, bruh, and then since we celebratin’, you could get my employee discount too,” he whispered that last part. “What you getting? Your lil’ boy got his ear pierced yet?”
“Nah, he only a month.”
“Getting close then. A lot of ’em getting pierced after their two-month shots now. You should see how many women bring their kids in right after that appointment, knock it all out in one day. It’s easier then ’cause they ain’t got no fear.”
T.C. nodded. “Licia wouldn’t go for that though,” he said. “She could barely handle the vaccinations.”
“Well, what you lookin’ for then? Another earring for you? I got these studs just came in.” He motioned for T.C. to follow him across the display.
“Nah, nah, that’s not it.” He didn’t know why, but he felt embarrassed saying why he was really there.
“I’m lookin’ for something for Licia.”
“Aww, like a push present? White people be doing that, and shit, if it’s good enough for them, it’s damn sure good enough for you. Lemme show you the necklaces.”
“Nah, bruh, I’m actually looking for a ring.”
“Oh?” His friend stopped where he was and looked up at him as if T.C. said he was there for an ice cream cone.
“Like an engagement ring?”
“Yeah, an engagement ring.” T.C. nodded, noticing he sounded defensive rather than happy. But he had been excited before he got there.
“Wow, wow, wow. That’s cool, nigga. That’s real cool. Wasn’t expecting you to say it is all, but it’s cool.”
T.C. nodded again, his shame easing up.
“How much you willing to pay?”
T.C. wrote down the amount.
“Damn, nigga, that much?”
The funny thing was, he had paid half that for his earring, and the dude hadn’t batted an eye.
His friend showed him what they had to offer at that price point. T.C. knew Licia liked gold, and there were four or five options like that. He fingered one he could see her wearing, a princess cut, his friend said, and with the discount he could afford half a karat. He was about to hand it over to be boxed up when he saw another one out of the corner of his eye. Gold too, but the diamond was a little bigger, and it was round. He held it up to the light.
“That’s a little bit more though, bruh,” his friend said.
“How much more?”
“Almost twice as much.”
“Damn,” T.C. said. “They sure don’t make it easy on a nigga.” He twirled it around the tip of his own pinky, imagining Licia’s face when she pulled it out of the box. “It’s real pretty though, and she deserve it,” he said. Then he passed it over to his friend to wrap.
His friend seemed disappointed. “All right, all right, what size ring she wear?” he asked.
T.C. shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“You trying to marry her, and you don’t know what size ring she wear? You sure she ain’t just no Betsy friend, T.C.?”
“Yeah, man, we been together six years, and she got my seed.”
“Shit, if I married every woman that had my seed, but nah, I’m not trying to talk you out of it. You doing the right thing, you damn sure doing the right thing.”
T.C. nodded.
“Well look, let’s assume she a 6.5. Most women a 6.5. We’ll wrap this up, and if she don’t fit it, bring her back to size it. I want to see this woman anyway, the woman who got T.C. to settle down.”
“All right,” T.C. said. Then, “Now look, that price you gave me, it’s good, I mean that’s what she deserve and all that, but I was wondering, y’all got like a layaway plan?”
His friend laughed. “Hell no, mothafucka, this ain’t no Rent a Ring Express.”
T.C. didn’t smile.
“Look, what I could do is put it aside. We ain’t supposed to do that, but I could do it this one time since you my boy and all that. You think you gon’ be able to swing the money in the next few weeks?”
“Fa sho.”
“All right then, come back then. I’ll have it ready for you.”
T.C. thought for a minute. He had enough to get the other one today. Maybe she’d be happier to have it sooner. No, a few weeks would fly by. He wanted her to have something she’d be proud to show off to her friends.
T.C.’s friend gave him the scoop while he bagged the ring up. Spud was running shit. Po-po was on the lookout for him though, and any minute he was going to get busted. T.C. just nodded. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before, rather old shit Tiger had told him months ago when he first got out. This nigga didn’t get around much. T.C. was glad to hear it though. Maybe nobody knew T.C. was the competition now, and if so, that was a damn good thing.
“You heard about Tiger?” His friend tied a ribbon on the box as if T.C. were just going to hand it to her. Even he knew you were supposed to get on your knees and shit.
“What about him?” T.C. asked, looking at his watch. He told Alicia he would meet her for the baby’s one-month appointment today and he was running late.
“He started working for Spud when you caught yo lil’ bid or whatever. He didn’t sell all that nigga gas though, and now they beefed out, he owe him money. Spud been looking for him, said when he find him he gon’ kill him. I heard Tiger don’t even go to his old spots no more, that he be all the way out in Biloxi with some woman, but Spud think he here and he still looking.”
“That don’t even sound right, nigga. Who told you that?” T.C. heard his voice rise and told himself to calm down.
“This girl I used to mess with. Her brother-in-law used to talk to Spud’s sister.”
“Her brother-in-law used to talk to Spud’s sister, come on now, man, that sound like a game of telephone right there. You sound like a lil’ bitch passing around that half-wit information.”
His friend looked around at the other customers, embarrassed now.
“Awright, awright, calm down. Don’t get so upset,” he whispered. “I’m just telling you what I heard. Maybe it’s wrong.” He shrugged. “Look, you still want me to put this aside?” he asked.
T.C. nodded.
“Then stay cool then, boy, awright, stay cool.”
T.C. made it to the appointment on time. Malik was excelling. He could lift his head up for a few seconds when Licia held him upright; he even cooed a little bit when he saw his daddy walk into a room, but T.C. couldn’t shake what he’d heard about Tiger. The only person he could talk about it with was Licia, but he hadn’t told her he was hustling again yet. He’d wanted to, he didn’t like keeping secrets from her especially now that they were doing so great, but she’d get the wrong idea. She would think it was forever; she would think he was jeopardizing their future when he was just weeks away from cementing it to their past. He tried to advise himself the way she might. Of course there would be the preliminary judgment.
What you fuckin with that stuff for T? You know the definition of insanity, doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results, right? He’d say she was right, and maybe she was, maybe she was. Then she’d look at him with her big brown eyes, really see him in the uncanny way she had of opening him up and reading him on the inside; she’d ask if he really thought Tiger would do that to him. T.C. would shake his head. He didn’t, but what did he know? Tiger was no Daryl.
Why would Tiger fuck with Spud though? she’d want to know. He’s not stupid, he knows how crazy that nigga is about his money. And T.C. would shrug. He had no idea, though it would explain why Tiger was so eager to get him started again, why he was so resistant to T.C. stopping even now. It would explain why he wanted a middleman, why he was so paranoid all the goddamn time, insisting he lock up the place, posting up at the window, hearing voices that weren’t there.
That mothafucka played me, he might say to Licia. A
nd she would tell him to calm down, he didn’t know that for sure.
And he didn’t. He didn’t, and he learned in jail not to jump to conclusions, but damn sure he was going to ask Tiger straight up if he owed Spud money, if he had rigged all this, put T.C.’s life at risk for a little more pocket change. Either way, T.C. felt stupid, stupid and afraid all of a sudden as though he was closer to jail than he had been on his way out, standing in the parking lot with Tiger next to him. He texted his aunt right then and there. When she wrote back, her message full of exclamation points and emoji her interns must have taught her, he showed the phone to Licia. She reached over and kissed him on the cheek.
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you too.”
He would borrow Licia’s car, confront Tiger tonight, see if he could make some sense out of the whole mess. Either way he had only a pound left. He could sell that himself if he needed to. He had done it before.
There was a black Grand Prix in front of Tiger’s house but T.C. didn’t pay it any mind. Probably one of the dealers for the crackhouses across the street. From the front porch, T.C. could have sworn he heard Tiger talking to somebody, somebody else’s voice. Damn he was getting paranoid too. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He didn’t walk two feet before he heard that voice again. He was sure someone else was in here now. He walked back to the front door, kept one hand on the doorknob while he listened. He could hear at least two different men talking. One of them was Tiger, that he knew. He couldn’t tell what either man was saying, but it was obvious they were shouting.
He opened the door again. He didn’t need to stick around for this, whatever it was. No, he’d catch Tiger later; anyway the conversation he was going to have with him was of a private nature. He felt a hand on his shoulder before he stepped out onto the porch.
“Whoa,” the voice said. “Lemme holla at you for a second.”
T.C. glanced behind him at the hand, fat puffy fingers squeezed through four gold rings. He didn’t have a choice but to step backward inside. When he turned around, he saw Spud staring back at him. He told himself to calm down; it was probably like in jail when mothafuckas would start shit—most of the time they were just trying to front. Most of the time.
A Kind of Freedom Page 18
