“Okay, Lawrence.” Hakim cut in, tired of the cat-and-mouse game taking place. “Trust me now when I tell you this. Right now ain’t the time to be a wiseguy.”
“Naw, Hakim.” Lorenzo frowned, staring the young man directly in his eyes. “If I was him, I’d try my best to distance myself from what’s about to go down too. Now listen. Lawrence, is it? I saw you last night talking to my daughter, her friend, and a guy over at the Fox Theater. Do you know who I’m talking about now?”
“No disrespect, sir.” Lawrence swallowed the huge lump that had been stuck in his throat since entering the room. “I spoke to a lot of people last night. Mr. Reeves demands we greet every guest no matter what venue we’re working at. Ain’t that right, Mr. Reeves, sir?”
“Okay boy, that’s fucking it. I swear for God.” Commissioner Jackson raised up out his seat, coming completely out of character. “I’m done playing games with you, punk! You know Rico Campbell, don’t you?”
“Rico?”
“Yeah, Negro, Rico! Stop acting deaf as well as dumb. I saw you talking to him and my daughter last night. You know Keisha also, don’t you?”
“Oh, Rico and Keisha.” He licked his trembling lips, not knowing what to expect next. After all, he did assist in beating down Rico, and worse than that, he and his cousin had just double-team fucked the man’s daughter. “Umm, yes, I know them—I guess.”
“Well, I got some goddamn questions about your friend, and I need you to answer them. You understand?”
Panicked, Lawrence, who his family and friends called Swazy, was terrified. He was months away from being off parole for a minor marijuana case and had bills to pay at his household. This was the wrong time to lose his job on the humble behind some dumb shit.
“Listen, sir, before you start. Let me explain what happened. Rico was drunk. He came to where my cousin and me were at, starting trouble. He stepped to us first.”
“What?” Baffled with his outburst, Keisha’s father sat back, listening to Swazy’s account of what he claimed went on the night before.
“Yes, sir, I’m not lying. I know he’s your daughter’s boyfriend, but he got outta pocket. He swung first, so it was on.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes, sir, it is.” He continued spilling his guts as Hakim, sitting behind his desk, looked on confused at the verbal exchange his friend and employee were having. “I’m not gonna lie to you. Yeah, we was shooting dice and smoking weed, but he took it there first, pulling out his gun—so my cousin and me finished it. He made us choke him out. If he told you anything else, the nigga is straight lying.”
Standing to his feet, pacing the room, sweat poured from his forehead. “Look, sir, with all due respect, he got his ass stumped outta frame for talking shit like he always do. So, if you gonna arrest me for protecting myself, or if I’m gonna lose my job, then fuck it. It’s all good. That’s just messed up, because he’s your daughter’s boyfriend. I got a family to feed. My girl is pregnant and due in a few months. I need this job.”
Not getting an opportunity to get a word in edgewise about what he originally wanted to ask, Keisha’s father took things in an entirely different direction than first planned.
“Listen, sit down.”
Wanting to throw Rico further under the bus by telling Commissioner Jackson all the times his homeboy had kicked Keisha’s ass or all the times the pair had been involved in freakery was tearing away at his self-survivor instinct. On the one hand, Swazy definitely needed this gig, but on the other, what if the enraged father found out he’d hit Keisha off a couple of times his damn self?
“I’m sorry, sir, I really am, but—”
“Listen, boy! Damn. Sit your talkative ass down!” Keisha’s father yelled loudly, causing Calvin to open the office door.
“Naw, we’re good, Calvin. Don’t worry. This young man, Swazy, who resides on Riverview and Seven Mile, works for us now.”
“Huh?” Confused the man knew his nickname and where he laid his head, a dry-throat Swazy sat back on the couch almost in tears. Watching Commissioner Jackson reach inside his suit jacket for what he assumed would be handcuffs, Rico’s once-best friend saw his freedom flash before his eyes.
Chapter Eleven
Six days, nine hours, and twenty-five minutes later, a clean-shaven, bald-headed Rico was busy in the kitchen making a huge pitcher of grape Kool-Aid. As he stood in sagging jeans, wife beater, and unlaced Tim’s slicing up a lemon, Keisha came into the room. With a smile of contentment on her face, she was strangely almost thankful over what had taken place the week prior. While not fully wrapping her brain around Rico’s true motives for electronically fucking up her life, the fact that he had seemed to change his way of thinking over the past week was more than enough reward.
After she’d hit her head, blacking out, Rico managed somehow to get her to their bed. Not realizing how long she’d been out of it, she awoke from her nightmarish dreams of things she didn’t truly recall happening in real life. The first thing she saw was a blurry sight of him, with a makeshift bandage wrapped around his own head. Devoted, with the I’m-worried-about-you face, he was posted at her bedside, holding her hand.
True to the statements he was making in the bathroom prior to that, he had seemed to be keeping his word. Waiting on Keisha hand and foot, Rico was running around the small rented house, acting like Keisha was the best thing created since hand-packed ice cream. Everything she wanted, including getting her cat licked, he was making happen.
After a long discussion, followed by what appeared to be a heartfelt apology, Keisha decided to try to get over it and let it go. Besides, at that point, he was all she had left. The rest of the world had abandoned her, so she felt.
Besides being aware of the police looking for him for reckless driving and destruction of property, Rico was still very much pissed off at Swazy for the bullshit he’d pulled at the dice game. Embarrassed to be seen outside the house, let alone off the block, he only crept to the gas station and the Coney Island Restaurant late at night. Any calls he received from Swazy or any of his other once-tightknit crew, he immediately shot straight to voicemail, not even bothering to listen to the messages. As far as he was concerned, their friendships were done. He was over dealing with them.
Keisha, just happy to have some attention, couldn’t care less what his motives were for being so nice. She was feeling completely ostracized and cut off from her family and friends. Rico, conniving, convinced her to change her cell phone number and just make a new start. She deactivated her Facebook page and deleted her Twitter account. Her email accounts were closed as well. To show Keisha he meant what he was saying, Rico eagerly volunteered to do the same, vowing no female he dealt with in the past, the present, or even the future would have his new contact information.
Little did the couple know at that time, Keisha’s father, Commissioner Jackson, was busy doing the same thing, ordering his overly loyal secretary, Robin, to change every phone number linked to him, excluding the office number, which, if his daughter was to call, she’d get denied access to him. Hell bent on making Keisha pay emotionally for what he felt was betrayal by dealing with the likes of Rico Campbell in the first place, Mr. Jackson made sure any possible way his only child had to get in touch with him was severed.
* * *
With contempt and malice in her heart, a half-naked Keisha finally found the inner strength she’d remembered having that morning, months ago, when she should’ve bashed Rico’s head in with that bat. Now not in the mood to endure any more of her so-called man’s sexual, physical, and emotional abuse, Keisha got off the floor. As Kilo rushed from the other side of the bedroom, excitedly jumping up on Keisha’s side, she pushed him off his hind legs and back onto all four. In the midst of the dog’s echoing barks, Rico stepped back, bending his hard dick back inside his jeans.
“Oh, peep game. So, you tough, huh?” Rico taunted, knowing they had been down that “I’m tired of you” road before. “What, you ain’t tryi
ng to be a nigga’s bottom bitch no more, is that it?”
“Rico, them foul-ass outlandish mind games you been playing is fucking over.” Keisha tried closing her ripped blouse to cover her exposed breasts. “I’m over it. I swear I am. I’m done. I knew you wouldn’t change.”
Smushing Keisha dead in the face, he laughed. “Girl, you act like you call the shots. I done told you it’s one boss around this motherfucker, and you looking at it. So, shut your mouth and get back on your damn knees.”
“I ain’t getting on shit. Fuck your fake ass!” Keisha screamed, causing Kilo to bark even louder. “I’m out this motherfucker.”
Rico laughed once more, grabbing her by the throat and squeezing. “You think I’m playing? I can show you better than I can tell you.” As he lifted her body with one hand slightly off the floor, she struggled to breathe. Using the other one, he pulled his still semi-hard dick back out. “I’ma teach your ugly big ass who’s boss.”
Wondering why she was fool enough to stay with him as long as she had, Keisha fought to stay conscious and alert, thinking about all the lies Rico had told, the money she’d spent, the family and friends that had cut her off, along with the degrading, crazy drama he’d put her through.
* * *
It was like any other Tuesday evening when Keisha got off the Davison Avenue bus. Blessed by finally finding a new job after posting her resume on Craigslist, she and Rico were getting along as well as could be expected. Both cutting themselves off from their family and friends—although Keisha’s separation was involuntarily—was what it was. Besides the eight- to ten-hour days she’d put in at the downtown office, the pair spent their spare time together.
Rico, of course, had plenty of spare time. Refusing to get a job or leave the house to at least monkey-hustle up on a couple of dollars, every minute was spare time he spent smoking weed, watching bootleg DVDs, and playing video games, which Keisha sponsored. Rico might have been more attentive to his woman, including giving her some of the best nights of actually making love she’d experienced since they first met, yet his I-ain’t-working-no-fucking-nine-to-five attitude was the same. That characteristic would never change, so Keisha would either have to deal with it or not. Left with only him in her life, she did.
Overly tired from an employment training class she was taking in hopes of rapid job advancement, cooking for Rico’s lazy ass was not on her agenda. Desperately trying to stay ahead of the ever-mounting household bills, Keisha hated to spend money on fast food. However, today marked the one-month anniversary since she and Rico recommitted to each other. He seemed to be keeping in line with what they both vowed, so she had no intention whatsoever of rocking the boat. And Rico, selfish as he was, left with a hungry stomach and munchies, was sure to cause friction.
“Hello, Sam. How are you?” Keisha smiled, greeting the middle-aged Middle Easterner who ran the Coney Island.
“Aww, Miss Keisha.” He returned the smile, cleaning both hands on his knee-length, grease-stained apron. “I am doing fine. You are a little late this evening getting off the bus.”
Checking her watch, the only piece of expensive jewelry she wasn’t forced to sell or pawn to make ends meet, she realized he was correct. “Sam, you always watch out for me every morning and evening. I appreciate it.”
“Anytime, Miss Keisha, anytime. You know that is a rough neighborhood, and you’re not like—”
“Don’t say it, Sam.” She leaned over toward the bulletproof glass so none of the other folk in the crowded restaurant would overhear their conversation. “I already know what you’re going to say. And in reality”—she glanced at most of the foul-mouthed, ill-mannered patrons—“I can’t say that you’re wrong.”
Placing her order, a double bacon cheeseburger deluxe with chili fries and a grilled chicken pita, she was told it’d be no more than ten minutes. Standing over to the far side of the doorway, Keisha read over the training manual from her job, hoping to do well on tomorrow’s test. With her head down and her eyes focused on the pages, she failed to see two familiar faces enter the building, but almost instantly after hearing their voices, Keisha hesitantly looked up, locking eyes with A.J. first, then Swazy.
“Well, I’ll be damned. If it ain’t ole girl shawty from round the way. What it do, girl?” A.J. grinned, showing his gold tooth. “Where you been hiding?”
Keisha, still ashamed of what she let both of them do to her sexually, not to mention the fact she knew nine outta ten Rico had shown them the video of her and Kilo, just nodded her head without speaking.
“Yeah, hey, Keisha.” Swazy stepped a little too close for comfort, making her lean backward. “Dang, sis, you can’t speak?”
Now, with all eyes on her, she had no choice but to answer. Standing there like they would magically disappear wasn’t going to happen. “Hey, Swazy.”
“What about me, shawty?” A.J. winked, still smiling. “No hey for me? I thought we was better than that.”
“Hey,” Keisha replied, holding the coiled manual clutched to her chest.
Not completely sure if she knew what had jumped off that night of the concert after they left, especially considering the lies Rico was known to tell and the way he had Keisha wrapped around his finger, Swazy took the opportunity to set things straight. “Look, Keisha, can I holler at you for a few?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Knowing she had no other option since she was waiting for her and Rico’s food to be ready, Keisha decided to hear him out.
Trying to find a small bit of privacy from the many nosey neighbors and prying eyes, the two of them headed toward the rear of the dining area. No more than two or three minutes into the one-sided conversation, she soon realized Rico had done it once again. He had played her. Not only were his claims about Swazy and A.J. talking shit behind her back untrue, but much to her embarrassment, she found out he was showing the awful video to everyone that came through the dice game that night.
“I saw his baby mama pushing a new whip, and she said she had seen the bullshit too!” Swazy threw in her face, not to hurt her further, but to bring home the fact that Rico was dead wrong. “Matter of fact, she got it saved on her damn cell phone, so it ain’t no telling who she done showed at the strip club. You know she be out there.”
Completely mortified, Keisha’s inner soul started to ache. It was like the harshness of the coldhearted pain she felt the first moment she’d found out a month ago. Feeling the onset of a full-blown anxiety attack, the only thing saving her from probably passing out cold on the crowded Coney Island filthy floor was Sam calling her name, signifying her order was up.
As she made her way up to the window, Sam could easily conclude Keisha’s overall demeanor had changed. Wanting to ask her what was troubling her, he decided not to. It was much too busy, and besides, his always-insecure second wife was working the cash register.
Leaving out the door, white plastic bag containing food in hand, Swazy and A.J. followed Keisha into the front of the building, letting her know that Rico, and Rico alone, was the reason he got his ass kicked. Swazy then informed her he had tried on several different occasions to get in touch with Rico so they could set shit straight, but his cell number was changed, and he didn’t want to just show up at the crib unannounced.
She was still visibly shaken from what she just heard. A.J. stepped up.
“Listen, shawty, I meant what I said that night. You too good to be rocking with a weak cat like that soft punk. He ain’t got your best interest at heart. You betta come down to the Dirty with me. I’m leaving up outta here tonight on that grey dog. I’ll treat you right!” Writing his cell number down on a Foot Locker receipt he had in his back pocket, A.J. put it in her hand. “Whenever you get tired of that dreadlocked sucker, baby girl, call a real nigga. Remember, real rap, it don’t matter how we started—it just matter how we end, ya heard.” A.J. shook his head at how stupid and naive Keisha was as Swazy took his cell out his pocket to place a call.
Taking a shortcut across the li
tter-filled parking lot, disappearing into the hood, Keisha grew angrier with each passing step she took.
His no-good ass ain’t never gonna change! I was nothing but being dumb again to have believed his lying, sneaky self! Taking up for me my ass! I knew it was too good to be true! Why I keep falling for his bullshit? It seems no matter what kinda bullshit he pulls, I still keep dealing with him. What in the hell is wrong with me? Why don’t I want more for myself? Why don’t I stop putting up with being treated like my life doesn’t matter?
But this time, I’ma be strong. This time I’ma show him and prove to him that I’ma stand on my own and leave. I don’t care if I gotta go to the shelter or be homeless out in these streets. I’m done being his convenient doormat!
With sweaty palms from the plastic bag she swung at her side, Keisha went home. The clicking sounds of Keisha’s heels echoed off the broken concrete sidewalk then the lopsided raggedy wooden stairs to her front door.
* * *
“What up, doe?”
“What up, doe?” she answered in a questionable tone. “Are you freaking serious? Boy, please. Where in the hell you been? I ain’t heard from you since you sent me that video.”
“I been around. Just chilling, laying low. You know how it is.” Rico lit his blunt, inhaling deep a few times before putting it in the ashtray on the coffee table.
“That’s cool, but you had to change your number to do that bullshit?”
“Girl, whatever. So, check, word in the street is you got a new ride, huh? I guess the pole-swinging game ain’t feeling the recession.” Rico held his cell up to his ear with his shoulder. Using both hands on the controller, he tilted his body from side to side, trying to avoid getting out on the new game he was playing, courtesy of Keisha.
“What you got for me?” he asked.
“Who in the hell told your nosey ass what I’m pushing? Ya boy Swazy?” Ocean, Rico’s baby mama, couldn’t do anything but laugh at his brazen statement. “And FYI, dude, is you nuts? First of all, swinging on a pole ain’t never, ever going out of style, and even if it was, I got a wet and juicy rent box between my legs, so a sista like me ain’t never entertaining going hungry.”
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