A Love Hate Thing

by Whitney D. Grandison

  Kyle’s parents liked me. Travis’s parents loved me and had dubbed me a good influence on their wild son. In fact, everyone’s parents seemed to like me. Life in the Hills wasn’t as bad as I’d thought it would be when I was first shipped there.

  The best part, though, was Nandy and the Smiths. I hadn’t thought I’d fall in love with her. I hadn’t thought I’d love her family as my own when I’d stepped foot in their door. I’d never thought I’d want something for myself, but I did. With Nandy, and just for myself in general. Waking up each day felt like a challenge, one I was becoming happy to accept. Maybe I would be a writer, or maybe I wouldn’t. Who knew, but I needed to push forward. There was no going back, and there was no standing in place.

  Shayne’s little Rumi quote caused me to smile as I pulled into Khalil’s driveway and turned off my car.

  Prophet looked at all of us as brothers, and like him, I viewed Khalil as a younger brother, even if we were the same in age.

  He came to the door a moment after I rang the bell. He was dressed in a large baseball jersey and black pants, a gold chain around his neck, and I knew he probably was sporting the gold bottom grill he liked to wear in his mouth.

  “Yo, what’s up,” Khalil said as he greeted me with a hug.

  “Can we talk?”

  Khalil nodded as he stepped outside and shut the door behind himself. “What’s goin’ on?”

  “How are things with Mexico?” I hadn’t spoken to Money since our phone call, and I hadn’t spoken to anyone about my plan.

  Khalil sighed. “Prophet wants to lay low for a while. He’s talking about school and how I should apply myself more. You know Prophet.” He rolled his eyes and waved me off.

  His words humored me for a moment. He never wanted to listen to anyone’s guidance. I let it go.

  I reached into my jeans, procured the envelope I was carrying and handed it over. “Here, it’s for you, and your mom.”

  Khalil accepted the envelope and looked inside, his eyes growing. “Damn, fam, how much is this?”

  I shoved my hands into my pockets. “Five thousand.”

  Khalil looked through the money anyway. “Word?”

  “And my phone number and address are in there too, in case you ever need me. The Smiths don’t judge. If you ever need a place, they’d take care of you. They took care of me.” He was the only one I was reaching out to, the only one I wanted to save. Because of Prophet, and because Khalil needed it. “If things get tight, I want you to have that money.”

  Khalil gave a lopsided smile as he tried to hand it back. “My mom is doing better, T, man. I don’t steal because we’re poor or some shit. I do it because... I don’t know, that’s just what we do.”

  I knew he wasn’t hard off, but whenever his mother was sick, which seemed often, she lost hours at work and money on her paycheck, making it hard to cover their bills. Khalil’s father had stepped out when he was a kid, and it was just them two, though sometimes his grandparents would help. I almost wanted to take him with me to Pacific Hills, to show him a better life and to have him prevail.

  “Keep the money, in case she gets sick again,” I said.

  “She quit her old job,” Khalil said. “She’s at the hospital now, making better money. You sure about this?”

  “Positive.”

  “Good looking.” He stared at the money some more. “Ay, can I buy some jewelry?”

  Dude really had a thing for that flashy shit. I never could get into accessories.

  “Yeah, man,” I said with a shrug. “But save some of it, in case.”

  “Definitely. All gold, no diamonds. Gotta leave that to the motherlands.”

  “You just don’t go around bragging. I don’t wanna hear about you getting jumped. You know Money and them would bring havoc on whoever touched you.”

  We were like brothers, and if someone ever touched one of us, they were going down. Khalil was as tall and nearly as big as me, but I wouldn’t put it past anyone to try him if he came around with expensive shit.

  “Nah, that ain’t me, T, man. Prophet would put a boot in my ass. You tryna come through, though? Mom’s in here cooking up a late dinner before she heads off to work, and you know she can throw down.”

  I shook my head. “I just wanted to come and give you that. Stay out of trouble, ’Lil.”

  He slapped my hand and we did our group’s handshake for the final time. I gave him a brief hug before beginning to go down the front walk.

  “Ay, Trice,” Khalil called from behind me. “What if I don’t have an emergency, you know?” He raised the envelope in the air for emphasis.

  “Call me up and come through anytime you want. It’s a different world there, but it’s not so bad.”

  “I don’t think I could make it in the Hills. I’ma need me a hood girl with attitude every day of the week before one of them bougie chicks.”

  I managed to laugh, thinking of Nandy and some of her friends. If Nandy could hang out in Lindenwood, I was sure Erica, Edi, and Shayne could, too.

  “We’ll see. Stay up, okay?”

  “Always. See you later, man.”

  I got back in my ride, the gears turning in my head. The drive to Mexico’s wasn’t long enough, and the aura for this run felt far graver than any of the others. This time was different. This time was all or nothing.

  The garage looked vacant when I pulled my car to a stop in front of it. Usually the place held a few lights when we were delivering cars.

  The sign on the front door said the place was closed, and I almost believed that Mexico really had closed up shop and forgotten the deal. But that would be too simple.

  The front door was unlocked, causing me to pause and wonder if something was up. Through the glass door the front room was dark, going along with idea of the garage being closed.

  I headed inside, finding the lobby empty as well as the air. There was no talk, no music, and no sounds of cars being worked on.

  Something didn’t feel right.

  I stepped around the front desk and went back into the garage area. Instantly, I froze.

  Mexico lay on his back on the ground. From the blood pooling beneath him, I knew he was dead.

  Still, I went to check on him, just to be sure. Had my neighbors assumed I was dead and left me that way, I wouldn’t be alive now.

  Feeling for Mexico’s pulse, I found that he wasn’t lucky. He was dead.

  Shit.

  “Ain’t no saving him.” Money’s voice made me jump, and I looked up to see him stepping from the shadows.

  I shook my head. “I had it covered.”

  Money tossed me a Cheshire cat smile. “Really?”

  Gazing at him, I didn’t want to be right, but I knew.

  I hung my head, staring at Mexico. “How long have you been planning this, Money?”

  “I thought about taking you out when you first came back to town and was acting all brand-new. But I really started thinking about it when you brought that girl around and took up for her.” The smile was gone and the full menace was on display.

  Something in Khalil’s earlier words had tipped me off. He acted like Mexico hadn’t threatened him, just like Prophet, which made me think it was a hoax. I hadn’t wanted to think that of Money. We should have been beyond that.

  Looking at Mexico, I guessed it wasn’t like that at all.

  “Get up, Trice. No man deserves to die down on his knees,” Money ordered as he pulled a gun on me.

  A chill ran down my spine as I got to my feet. I’d suspected Money was playing me, but to pull on a gun on me? Would he kill me?

  This cut deeper than my father.

  I’d expected Tyson to be evil, but Money, my friend?

  “This is how you wanna do this?” I asked as I raised my hands.

  “What, you think you was just gon’ r
ide off into the sunset and live happily-ever-after down there?” Money snorted. “They change the name of the town to Tyson’s Hill or some shit? Roll out the welcome carpet?”

  “It’s not like that!” I snapped.

  “Fuck it ain’t. You come through here each trip actin’ all holier-than-thou. Fuck you, Trice. I wanted to pop you so bad after that first visit. Everybody thinks Trice is so special. He’s the one. He’s gonna make it. Nobody speaks that shit about me, Pretty, Read, or Khalil. Why you so special?”

  “I’m not.” I hadn’t asked to be “the One” for my town or my friends; they just picked me to be.

  “Damn right you not. You just like everyone else. A stupid fool destined to live and die here. I knew you’d try to be all loyal and come back here. Shit, I almost expected you to call Prophet and the jig be up, but of course not. You wanted to save everybody and be Mr. Hero.”

  I couldn’t lie and say that things were going to be okay. He had killed Mexico, and shit would only hit the fan from there.

  “We were brothers,” I said.

  Money came closer, nearly right up on me, aiming at my chest. “We grew up together. You remember all that? All those times we would sneak into strip clubs, steal from the gas station, and stay up watching movies? You remember all that, T?”

  Sweat was beading on my neck with the uncertainty of how this would play out. The last time I’d been in front of a gun, it hadn’t ended well. “We thought we owned the streets.”

  “We had a favorite movie we would watch every time we got together. We saw ourselves in the characters, even though we knew how it ended for them.” He aimed at my head. “And this is just like that. You know how it ends for you, Trice.”

  “You think you O-Dog?”

  Money nodded. “Hell yeah, I do.”

  O-Dog’s character fit Money to a T. Money was reckless and cruel, just like O-Dog. I knew who Money pictured me as, and at times, growing up, watching the movie, I saw myself in Caine’s character, too. But now things were different. Now I had something to live for. I had someone waiting on me at home. I had something to fight for.

  “O-Dog wouldn’t do this.”

  “In my movie, he would,” Money said through gritted teeth. “Everybody’s gotta die someday, and today just happens to be your day. I changed my mind. Get down on your knees.”

  I refused to do such a thing. “I’m not going to beg you for my life, Money. So just shoot me and get it over with, because it’s not going down like that.”

  “I’ll tell you exactly how it’s going to go down. I’ma put a bullet through ya head and send you to Tyson and your mom. I’ma mourn you just like everyone else around here, and wonder where it all went wrong. And then, I’ma go to Pacific Hills and fuck yo’ bitch.”

  He’d had me when he mentioned my mother, but I lost it when he addressed Nandy.

  In seconds, I’d knocked the gun out of his hand and taken him down to the ground. Blow after blow, I fed my fist into his face, releasing all of the pent-up anger I’d stored for months.

  Money struggled to get me off him and to swing back, but he was no match for the rage inside of me. His blood was hot on my fists and it soon caked his face.

  I knew if I didn’t stop, I’d kill him, and as much as the situation called for it, I couldn’t.

  I fell back, scooting away from him and breathing hard. “It didn’t have to be like this.”

  Money groaned, coughing up blood and touching at his face.

  I stood, unsure what to do. The right thing and the wrong thing weren’t clear. Leaving him felt wrong, but so did taking him to a doctor. Either way, we were in a world of shit with Mexico’s body lying in the room.

  Peering over at Mexico, innocent and dead, I knew that leaving this town was for the best.

  Right or wrong, Money needed a doctor and the law.

  I turned to step over to him and stopped immediately.

  He had another gun.

  “Fuck you,” he snarled harshly at me as he could barely hold the gun in his hand.

  There was no speech this time, he just pulled the trigger, once, twice, and fell back.

  There was no pain, just numbness, but assessing the wounds, I knew I was a goner.

  I could hear my heartbeat fading in my ears as I sank to my knees, already beginning to die.

  Blinking, feeling the heaviness coming on, I wondered if I was going anywhere. Mostly, I wondered if she’d be there, waiting for me, with open arms.

  40 | Nandy

  Tyson was an incredible writer, I discovered as I lay in his bed in the pool house. Page after page, his story pulled me in.

  The dark picture he painted when it came to his character Tyrin’s youth and his city was both haunting and welcoming. This fictional world of violence, alliances, and hopelessness was enough to make me gasp and fear for the outcome. But then, there was his friendship with the girl from the suburbs of Pacific Heights. It gave me hope. Queen was her name, and when he was with her, a ray of light would shine so bright, eliminating all the darkness of his hometown, Oakwood, that had seeped into him.

  There was a lot I didn’t know about Tyson, and while this was a work of fiction, it was easy to read between the lines.

  I sat up in bed, clutching the composition book in my hands, envious of Tyson’s talent.

  His voice was so strong, detached, yet rich with the pain of his upbringing and losses.

  Deep down, even though I knew he loved me, I wondered if I could ever reach him, if I could ever touch his soul enough to ease all the bad and give him true hope. If I could—

  “Nandy!”

  A crazed cry shot through the air and I dropped Tyson’s book.

  I recognized the voice as belonging to my mother, but it was the urgency and desperation in her tone that alerted me that something was amiss.

  Under my kimono I was completely naked, but I had no time to be ashamed or guilty as my mother rushed into the pool house. The tears running from her eyes and the worry etched on her face startled me, and somehow, I just knew.

  “Trice has been shot!”

  My heart swelled in my chest, and a fierce pain sent my hand clutching at my collarbone.

  No.

  My eyes drowned in a sea of sadness and I had to blink it away to see my mother. “I-is...is he dead?”

  “I don’t know,” she let out as she hung in the doorway, seeming too overcome with shock to move any closer.

  They got him.

  He’d gone back to that awful place, and they got him.

  I hung my head. “No.”

  There was no time to fully break down as my father entered the pool house next. “We gotta go.”

  Jordy was behind him, looking worried as he studied our mother and then me. “What’s going on? Where’s Trice?”

  My father took charge as my mother began to weep. Just like me, my mom was as tough as they came, and she wasn’t one for tears or weakness. But this broke her, just like it was breaking me.

  “Nandy Alyssa,” my father said, his tone clipped of any emotion. “Go inside and put some clothes on. We have to go, now.”

  I did as told, finding myself in my bedroom pulling on a T-shirt and jeans combo along with a pair of sneakers. I yanked my hair into a ponytail and covered my head with a Cross High baseball cap to conceal myself even more.

  As I reached out to close my bedroom door behind me, I could see that my hand was shaking.

  Oh God, he’s been shot.

  I struggled to keep it together as I quickly made my way down to the first floor, where my family was waiting.

  The whole way to the hospital in Lindenwood, I didn’t speak. All I could do was sit and remember our summer together. I’d been so wrong about Tyson, misjudging him due to his rough roots. In the beginning, I’d been so consumed with my image and vapid wor
ld. I wasn’t sure where I was headed in life, or what my future held. Tyson, he’d been sure of only one thing: that he’d die before he was twenty-one.

  Somehow, we’d fallen in love. But before we could keep it, Lindenwood rang to collect the boy who’d come to mean so much to me.

  It had all been so fleeting.

  Tyson Trice wasn’t a thug from Lindenwood. He was a knight. My knight. My summer knight. And I loved him.

  At the Lindenwood General Hospital, we had barely parked before we all rushed out of the car. My father took the lead, storming across the parking garage to the nearest entrance. It was like a maze, finding our way to the emergency room. My mother was silent, shaking, and somehow I had the sense to hold Jordy’s hand, squeezing extra tight to keep him close and safe.

  In the emergency room, we came to a stop, momentarily surprised at the sight of Travis Catalano arguing with some doctor carrying a clipboard.

  “Sir, for the last time, only family is allowed to know what’s going on with patients,” the tired doctor explained.

  Travis, a bit delirious and frazzled, got in the doctor’s face. “Are you fuckin’ blind? I’m his brother, now tell me how he is!”

  “Travis.” My father stepped forth to deal with the situation.

  Travis moved to where my mother, Jordy, and I were standing. He looked unlike I’d ever seen him before. His shirt was stained with blood, and the sight of it sent my hand to my mouth to keep the sobs from escaping.

  “What happened?” my mother managed to get out.

  Travis hung his head, his face contorting in pain. “I don’t know, Max, I don’t know.” He gestured toward my father and the doctor. “They rushed him into surgery, and they won’t let me know what’s going on.”

  Travis was strong, and yet before us, I could see him breaking. His eyes were wet, but he didn’t cry. Instead he punched the nearest wall, fuming as his face burst red. “They won’t let me see him!”

  I threw my arms around him, knowing we could lean on each other, two halves of a whole.