“It’s nice to meet you, Nandy. Trice, why don’t you get this girl a plate, she looks hungry.”
And suddenly I was embarrassed for the top I was wearing, which gave a nice peek at my belly button.
I took Tyson’s hand and followed him to where an older man, Gerald, was grilling by a table full of food. It was like nothing we had back home, so much sauce on one portion of the barbecue, and then there was the fried food. Not to mention the array of desserts, cobblers, the pound cake, and what looked like banana pudding.
“Help yourselves, kids,” Gerald said with a friendly wink.
Prophet and Asiah came over, and I leaned more into Tyson.
“We got some dogs fresh off the grill,” Gerald pointed out. “We got beef, we got pork, pick your poison.”
“Does it matter?” I asked.
Asiah rolled her eyes while Prophet politely smiled.
“Some of us don’t partake of the swine, so beef is more adequate. Or it’s a taste thing, like pork ribs are far superior than beef ribs,” he explained.
Asiah grabbed a paper plate and faced Tyson. “I’ll make your plate, Trice.”
I squeezed Tyson’s hand and pulled him toward me. “No, I can do it.”
Asiah lifted a brow as her nostrils flared. “You don’t even know the difference between beef and pork, and you think you can make his plate?”
Her accusatory tone made me bite my lip, feeling uneasy over my lack of knowledge about the foods before me. In Pacific Hills, I didn’t back down from anyone or anything. Then again, I didn’t have to, because no one questioned me. Here in Lindenwood, I was out of my element.
How could I question this girl? A girl who Tyson once knew fondly and intimately.
Prophet looked between me and Asiah as Tyson appeared caught in a war. “Nandy can help Trice, Asiah. You can make Read’s plate, since y’all came together.”
“I think I want dessert first.” Tyson finally spoke. “Just to get it out of the way. Who made the carrot cake?”
Asiah took a step back. “I did.” She tossed the paper plate aside as her voice got a little hollow. “Prophet told me you were coming, and I wanted to make it, just like your mom used to.”
Things got quiet as she walked off and took her seat next to Read.
Tyson dropped my hand and eyed the cake, frowning.
“You better eat a slice,” Prophet said. “She spent all week making different versions of it to get it right.”
“I don’t want any.”
“Trice.” With anyone else, I had the feeling Tyson would’ve gotten mad and argued, but one look at Prophet, and Tyson kept quiet.
“I just lost my appetite,” Tyson said softly, eyeing the cake.
“Cool off,” Prophet instructed.
“Come on over here with me, Trice,” Gerald added. “You got far too many people to greet.”
Tyson leaned close to whisper to me. “Guess.”
Together he and Gerald went around the party, while I was left to guess what he liked to eat.
There was so much food before me, but I refused to back down from the challenge.
It wasn’t that Trice couldn’t make his own plate, it was just something I noticed couples sometimes did for each other. My father for my mother and vice versa. It was a love thing.
“Beef hot dogs are the best,” Prophet said as he came and stood beside me. “Pork ribs are better than beef, and—”
“I wanna guess,” I told him. It felt like a test. Tyson didn’t know how he felt about me, and I didn’t want to lose him before I had a chance to show him who I was and could be.
Prophet held up his hands and stood back to observe me as I began making Tyson’s plate.
“I hope you don’t mind me crashing,” I spoke up. “I got dumped back home, and Tyson wanted to make me feel better.”
Prophet seemed to understand. “He spoke of you when he came to see us last month. Now I see why Trice puts up with you.”
I stopped making Tyson’s plate and stood back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Prophet smiled. “Have you looked in the mirror lately?”
Oh. It was almost comical. I was a mess. “Didn’t you hear? I just got dumped.”
“You shouldn’t sell yourself short.”
“Why is that?”
He gestured to where Tyson stood holding a boy I learned was named Rain, Cherish’s son, and looking absolutely adorable as he played with the baby. “I never thought I’d see him smile and be genuine and happy. You’re doing something right down there in the Hills, Nandy. Keep at it.”
I wasn’t doing anything for Tyson; instead, he was just frustrated with me. “But then you called him to come back.”
“I know, and I apologize for that error. It won’t happen again. He can do more than this, more than us. He got too much pain here, too much struggle.” He began making his own plate. “And what I meant was, beyond the fact that you’re pretty, you’ve got spice, an attitude—no, fortitude. He’s always had a thing for that.”
I bowed my head. “He doesn’t like me. He says I make him crazy.”
“You might, but you’re the only person I’ve ever seen call him by his first name.” He studied me with compassion as he threw me a bone. “And he let you hold his hand. I don’t remember him ever being so touchy before.”
Cherish came over, and Prophet said something playful to his sister before joining Tyson and the other boys.
Asiah was watching Tyson as well, and having caught me watching her watch him, she mean-mugged me before turning back to Read.
Cherish nudged me as she peeked between Asiah and me. “I don’t know why she acting like that,” she said. “Anybody can tell y’all ain’t doin’ nothing.”
“We’re not.”
Cherish went on. “Trice is cool people, Nandy. I just hope while he’s up in the Hills he’s opening up. I want him to believe in something again, something good. He was so dark the last time I saw him. I hope it all works out.”
Tyson was smiling and making cute faces at Rain, and I felt like Prophet was right. A month prior, I wouldn’t have pictured Tyson smiling or playing with a baby, but here he was, so cute and carefree.
Cherish went and sat down at a table, and I cut Tyson a slice of the carrot cake for dessert, smiling at the sight of it. I wanted to know him. To be able to know things about him and to go out of my way to do them for him, like Asiah had done with the cake. I couldn’t recall doing a personal thing like that for Chad, and I felt bad about it.
Chad was so normal and clean-cut, and I’d expected to be with him forever. Tyson was a newfound mystery who needed help and compassion, and I finally felt the drive to give it to him.
Perhaps that was the biggest difference, the thing I felt with Tyson that I hadn’t with Chad. I loved Chad, yes, but not enough to where I could stop myself from crushing on Tyson. It was something to learn from. I wanted to go home and talk things out with Chad, but I still wanted to explore Tyson and to learn about him. I hadn’t given him a chance to know me, but we still had enough summer left for us to get there. I hoped.
I made our plates and set them down at the table side by side, and Tyson soon joined me while Prophet and Gerald took their places as well. Tyson took one look at his plate and tossed me an appreciative smile before digging in.
Everyone was talking as “Ain’t No Woman” by the Four Tops serenaded us in the background. I didn’t have anyone to talk to, so I ate and listened to bits of conversation going on, admiring the group’s closeness and the way that they spoke and lived. Tyson rubbed my knee, letting me know he was there.
When Prophet spoke, Tyson really listened and looked on with admiration and respect. I loved seeing that expression on his face. Home in Pacific Hills, the closest he seemed to content was when he was with Travis, and that was proba
bly because Travis wasn’t like my friends and me—he wasn’t afraid to just be, fuck-up and all.
Across the table I could sense Asiah shooting daggers at me. After growing up in Pacific Hills, I knew how to put on a mask and act fearless. So I put up a cold front and ignored her.
“Man, when I go out, I’m going out like Scarface. I’ma be a godfather with mines,” a guy they called Money was saying as he and Pretty rambled on about nothing.
“Hell yeah,” their friend Khalil ad-libbed. I’d been shocked to learn that he was seventeen, because he seemed so much younger as he went along with whatever Money or Pretty were saying or doing.
Pretty pretended to have a gun and shot at Money multiple times, and Money died dramatically as a result.
Ugh.
Both Prophet and Tyson shook their heads.
“You guys don’t like those movies, do you?” I wanted to know.
Prophet shrugged. “The thing these young brothers fail to realize, as they’re idolizing those men, is that the Italians were racists. They didn’t like our black asses, and yet these rappers, and fools like them, are paying them homage and treating them like gods.”
Tyson looked at me, and I felt my heart stutter when I stared back.
“Do you wanna get out of here?” he asked, whispering the question in my ear. His lips were so close to my skin, causing me to shiver.
“Where?” It didn’t really matter where, I was ready to go anywhere with him.
“Somewhere to learn,” he said, “later.”
I nodded.
“Shit, it ain’t about the Italians, Proph,” Money spoke up. “It’s about the image, the power, the empire. That’s what we want.”
“And then they all die or live constantly watching their backs,” I said.
Money smirked as he glanced at me. “So? You gotta die for something.”
“Why not go out on top?” Pretty added.
“You two are so stupid.” Asiah sighed as she leaned into Read, who was also shaking his head in disdain. I liked Read for his quiet demeanor, unlike the three of his friends, who were loud and apparently clueless.
“You can be so much more,” I mumbled.
“Not all of us come from the suburbs like you,” Money said with a meanness to his tone, stilling me. “Don’t sit there and act all high-and-mighty with them diamonds in your ears and on your wrists. The world wasn’t handed to us, so we gotta take it.”
“Money,” Tyson cut in. “Stop.”
Money clicked his tongue. “For what?”
“Stop it before I body slam you in front of the girl you’re trying so hard to embarrass.” He spoke so calm and level that the threat seemed even scarier.
Money stared at Tyson and then at me. “Okay, you right. My bad.”
“I just don’t think aiming to die is a way to live,” I said.
“It’s not,” Prophet agreed. “You just gotta understand that around here, Nandy, living ain’t promised. It ain’t easy, and I’m glad Trice got out.”
I felt disheartened. Rain was just a baby, and the idea of him having to grow up in a world aiming to die hurt my soul. No child, boy, or man should have to live in a reality like that. I thought of Tyson’s mother and these people around me, and hoped maybe, just maybe, there was more out there for them.
“Maybe all of our daddies will shoot us and we’ll all get a ticket out,” Money mumbled.
A curtain of silence settled over the table.
Oddly, Tyson smiled, like the comment amused him.
And then he shot up from the table, despite my pleas not to do any damage.
It was Prophet who got through to him and caught Tyson, stopping him from laying a hand on Money, who sat back, enjoying the drama he’d just orchestrated. Gerald got involved and took Tyson into the house while Prophet went on to reprimand Money.
Lindenwood wasn’t as ugly as I’d always thought, and it probably wasn’t as bad either, but it was clear to me that not everyone was happy for Tyson, not everyone had his best interests at heart.
Tyson had to get away and stay away.
Something had to give.
27 | Trice
Gerald was weak. Old and weak. It would’ve taken little to no effort to overpower him and go after Money.
But because of one thing, I didn’t. I would admit it only to myself and to my composition book, but I was angry.
Tyson had killed my mother and nearly me before getting away with it with one shot to the dome.
It left me feeling powerless and angry.
That was why I didn’t fight Gerald or Prophet, because deep down I knew I wouldn’t be able to control myself. It would be the first time I let the anger out, and I feared I would love its release if I went to town on Money.
Still, as I sat in Alma’s kitchen, I found my knee bouncing, giving way to my overpacked rage. From Chad to Money, it was building, and knowing there was no way to let it out made me distraught.
There was blood in my eyes, and no amount of blinking could clear my vision.
“He’s an ass,” Gerald assured me as he patted my back.
I stiffened, and he moved away.
“Don’t let him ruin your good time, boy. You’re here with a nice-looking girl, and you live in a better environment. Don’t let him get you down.”
I continued to sit in silence.
Destruction. I craved it.
Prophet came inside a moment later, and Gerald and he exchanged a nod before Prophet took over.
“You know how Money gets. Fool never knows when to shut up.” Prophet shook his head. “You straight, or do you need another minute?”
“I think I should go,” I decided.
Prophet frowned. “It’s probably for the best.”
“I can’t come back here.”
This place, it wasn’t so bad, but the company I kept, and the world I involved myself in, wasn’t good for me. Prophet and his family would always be supportive and a crutch for me, but the others, not so much.
“I know, and it hurts. You’re getting out.” He gave a dry chuckle. “Shit, take Khalil with you.”
Khalil wasn’t as far gone as Money or Pretty. There was still a chance for him, but the thing was, he had to want it. The stealing, the girls, and parties—Khalil lived for it all. He had accepted this town for what it was, and more just wasn’t in the cards for him.
I hung my head, staring down at the tiled kitchen floor. This was it, goodbye. Ever since I was nine, it had been about these guys and this world. We grew up watching Menace II Society, pretending to be that shit. And even though we knew the fates of our favorite characters, it was what it was. This was our city, this was our destiny, there wasn’t supposed to be a way out.
And yet, I was getting out.
Prophet sat at the table with me. “Hey, at least you got her.” He thumbed a finger over his shoulder toward Nandy. “We oughta call her Feisty. I like her.”
I couldn’t find it in me to lighten up. “She’ll drive you insane if you get to know her.”
Prophet made a face. “That must be your type, considering Asiah.”
“I hope Read takes care of her,” I said.
“He will. He’s had a thing for her for a while. If anyone will do her right, it’s him. I’ll be around to make sure things are on the up.”
The back door opened and Money came inside, holding a cup more than likely filled with beer. He came to the table and gave a smug smile as he reached out and shoved my shoulder. “Man, you know it wasn’t like that. I ain’t mean it like that, Trice. You know me, man. I was just buggin’ because I swear that’s ol’ girl you was clownin’ a month ago.”
I didn’t care to get that deep with Money. “Things change.”
He chuckled. “I’ll say. Dude moves area codes and acts like a whole new person
.” He tilted his head back and drank from his blue plastic cup. “I’m sorry for what I said. It was low, and I know you hate him and it wasn’t right.”
Money’s tone changed as he spoke to me, going from playful to serious. In some ways, we were like brothers, able to fight and argue, but still be down for each other no matter what.
But I still couldn’t stay or come back. Crabs in a bucket and all that.
Letting it go, I bobbed my head. “It’s whatever, man. We straight.”
“Come on back outside, then.” He tilted his head toward the door. “Ain’t seen you in a month, we gotta catch up.”
I shook my head. “I gotta get going. Her parents are looking for her.”
Money smirked. “Bet they is.” He peered out the kitchen window, where Nandy sat holding Rain as Cherish seemed to be arguing with Pretty. Everyone else was carrying on and fussing, and Nandy was just playing with the baby. I had suspected in the beginning that she might recoil upon meeting my people, but seeing her adapting and making light of the situation almost made me smile.
“I’ma holla at you next time, then.” Money came over and slapped my hand, and we did our group’s handshake before he headed back outside.
Prophet stood and I did as well, knowing what was coming next. He scratched his head, half smiling. “I’m not good at these things.”
“I usually never get a chance to say goodbye, except for in Pops’s case,” I said.
Prophet pulled me into a hug, slapping my back before stepping away. “It was nice knowing you, Tyson Trice. Maybe you don’t believe in God anymore, but if you start to...maybe we’ll meet up there someday.” He gestured toward the ceiling, but I knew he meant more. “Maybe they’ll make a little hood just for us. We can all get together and play cards, and joke around like we used to.”
“And if we go to hell?”
Prophet shrugged. “Then hopefully some fine-ass angels sneak out and meet us and we’ll have a party.”
I cracked a smile. “I’ll bring the ice.”
Prophet stared at me a moment longer before nodding and going back outside.
A Love Hate Thing Page 23
