by T. Styles
“If you not talking about Fortune who you talking about?” I asked, trying to act uninterested in the only person who has kept my attention for the last few weeks.
“I’m talking about Everest. Be real with me if you not with nobody else.”
“Man, I’m not thinking about that girl,” I lied trying to look at everything except her pretty face. “First off, she not my type. Second of all I don’t have no time to be liking nobody these days. The only thing on my mind right now is getting this murder beef off my back and staying out of jail. Who gives a fuck about anything else?”
“I do,” he said looking at Gage. “I would give anything for it. Love that is.”
I knew he was attracted to her, but this was the first time I saw it in his eyes. “Spirit, how come you never just go at her? If you want it go get it, man, before somebody else do.”
“She’s not interested,” he said in a low voice. “I wish she was though. Because I would never hurt her feelings and I would give my life for her.” He looked at me. “You know?”
“So you never told her you liked her?”
“Whenever I tried to go at her in a soft way, she manages to bring up how happy she is to have a friend like me in her life. She put me in the friend zone, Mad, and I can’t get out of it.”
“Maybe you should stop beating around the bush and go straight at her, man. The way you doing it is making you look soft. Walk up to her and say, I want to do right by you. Are you gonna let me or not? You act like you not a catch, Spirit. You practically run The Catacombs. If you wasn’t down here running shit it would be total chaos. You have power and women love that. Look at all of the other chicks who go at you.”
“But what if I go at her and she shoot me down?”
“Then at least you’ll know you tried, Spirit.”
“But I know she’s in love with you,” he said looking at me closely. I guess he was trying to pick me apart to see where my mind was.
“Listen, I like Gage. As a matter of fact I care about her a lot. But it’s no different than how I feel about all of ya’ll. I got so much going on right now that I can’t be in a relationship anyway. And even if I did have time it wouldn’t be with her. Trust me, you safe as far as I’m concerned.” I looked at Gage. “That’s all you, young.”
When I said that WB walked out with seven cupcakes sitting on a piece of cardboard box. A candle sat in the middle of each of them and the glow lit up his chocolate face.
“Happy birthday, baby,” he said walking up to Fortune.
I’m not going to lie; the look on Fortune’s face had me feeling some kind of way. She’s good people and it’s about time one of the good guys got what they wanted for a change.
“Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Fortune, happy birthday to you,” Everyone sang and they were even able to get a note or two out of me.
When we were done Fortune wiped the tears out her eyes and went to hug WB. WB welcomed the embrace but not before pushing more hair into her face to cover it. It was a lot to look at her full mug.
After Fortune took off the old wig and put on the new one, WB reached into his back pocket and handed her some fake diamond earrings. I didn’t know he had those.
“Oh my, God,” she cried putting the earrings on. “They are prettier than the ones my dog ate. She got sad again but we cheered her up. I wish we knew where the dog was.
Fortune floated around The Pit swinging her hair from left to right while the fake diamonds sparkled in her ears. I was feeling good until I looked behind WB and noticed something was off.
“Hey, man, where’s Pickles?” I could feel my heart kicking at the walls of my chest. “I thought he was with you.”
“What you talking about? He said he wanted to read you a story so I let him—”
“You let him what?” I pushed his chest, and the cupcakes fell out of his hands and to the ground. “Walk into The Catacombs by himself?” I pointed into his face. “I asked you not to take your eyes off of him when you said it was okay for him to come with you, and help with Fortune’s gift. And you said you had it. So where is my little man?”
“I’m sorry, man, I—”
“Fuck sorry, that’s why I can never trust you mothafuckas. Always telling me you got my back when you don’t.” I walked away from him.
I felt like committing murder.
“Where you going?” WB asked.
“To go find my son,” I said.
“Your son?” I heard WB say as I disappeared into The Catacombs. “But he’s not your kid.”
****
After I spent two hours looking for Pickles in The Catacombs I still couldn’t find him. I had a flashlight in one hand and a pan in the other. It wasn’t until I heard soft whimpering down the South Wing where the shit pots were that I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Pickles, is that you?” I asked flashing the lights down the South Wing. The smell was sickening but I didn’t care.
The whimpering was louder as I walked deeper into the darkness, but I couldn’t hear any words. When I finally got to the area that he was in I almost couldn’t hold the contents of my stomach. I shined the flashlight into the area and there Pickles was, in a dog cage with gray duct taped on his mouth and wrists.
“What the fuck?” I dropped the flashlight and the pan to open the cage. Once I had him in my arms I snatched the tape off of his mouth and hands.
“Thank you,” he said shivering. “T-they, took me.”
“Who took you, Pickles? You gotta kick shit real with me now because this is serious.”
“I see you found him,” someone said.
When I saw it was Pop Kill and Wicked, I jumped up, grabbed the flashlight and the pan. I pushed Pickles behind me and banged the pan against the walls. I scraped it from left to right, knowing that the sound would ring throughout The Catacombs and everybody would hear it. This was a known way to send a distress signal because the sound could be heard over everything, even the radio that we rocked sometimes at The Pit.
As people started coming into the area we were in, Pop killed looked at me and said, “Smart, very smart.” He tucked something in the back of his shirt and I knew it was a weapon. “Because it was going to be your final night.” He looked down at Pickles. “Both of you.”
We were surrounded by a lot of people now.
****
After we had our barbeque, the West Wingers threw a barbeque celebration that we weren’t invited too. The meaty odor of something cooking on the grill caused my stomach to rumble. But unlike when we had some extra food, Wicked and his crew didn’t share with us. Even if they did I wasn’t in the mood. I was too busy trying to put Pickles to sleep after what happened.
After two hours of rubbing his head, he finally dosed off until WB rushed frantically into my room.
“What is it?” I asked.
“You didn’t hear, man?
“Hear what?”
“Fortune’s real fucked up. Them West Wingers took shit too far now. They killed Leave Me Alone and…and…”
“And what?”
WB held onto his stomach and said, “They ate him. They fucking put him on the grill and ate him.” He threw up in my doorway.
CHAPTER 21
MAD
After the shit they tried to do to Pickles and what happened to Leave Me Alone, Pickles stayed with me like vinegar to a cucumber. I would wake up in the morning, way before he did, and stay up until he went to sleep at night. He was a sleepwalker so I wanted to be sure he didn’t go off and leave me. Since I had to go out and scramble up some money, Everest would help me keep an eye on him. She was as fucked up as I was about what Wicked and Pop Kill tried to do to us so I appreciated her help.
“He’s sleep,” Everest said sitting next to me on the bed. “Are you okay? I know that tossed your head around about what happened down the South Wing.”
I shrugged. “I’m gonna to always be alright but I gotta think of something. Shit is getting
out of hand down here.”
I looked over at the small loveseat that Mad MaXXX helped me move into my cubby. Pickles looked peaceful, like nothing bothered him in the world. I wondered how he managed to be so strong despite people trying to get at him just to hurt me.
“You’re good to him,” she said, her voice sounded like notes from a piano.
“You say that shit all the time. I wish you’d stop.”
“That’s because I’m serious. He’s lucky to have you.”
I stood up. She was too nice sometimes and I needed to get away from her. “I’m sorry, Mad.” She looked down at her hands and then up at me. “I have to keep reminding myself that you aren’t mine.”
“I’m nobody’s.”
She smiled. It was a half smile that only rose up on one side. “I know.” She looked over at Pickles. “So what is your plan? I know you can’t live up top right now because of everything that’s going on up there too.”
I sighed and sat next to her again. “For now I’m gonna keep an eye on him while we’re down here. But I do gotta bounce soon. If I don’t leave either I’m going to hurt Wicked or I’m going to kill him. Or I’ll hurt him first and then kill him. At this point there’s nothing else in the cards for me but death.”
“He wasn’t always that way. As a matter of fact when I came back I was surprised at how different he was. How hateful he was. I don’t recognize him anymore.”
“What happened?”
“Before you moved down here he was in control of everybody. He was the one who everyone went to if they needed something, despite Daze being the father figure. It was back in the day when he was with Gage and I guess when you came along he felt threatened.”
“But I never said shit to this dude out the way before. I never wanted Gage either. And as far as running shit, that’s the last thing on my mind. All I want to do is stay out of jail.”
“You don’t have to do anything to him. Before you came to The Catacombs, Gage and everybody else took his shit. But since you got here people started acting differently. It was like a cult before you got here and now people are realizing they can exist without him. Without submitting to his rules.”
“Whatever change you talking about them making was on them not me.”
“It’s not wrong that people are changing, Mad. It’s just fact. You did that for a lot of people and they look up to you for that. You need to be proud of it.”
I decided to offer her a drink so that she would stop all the mind talk. Besides it was driving me crazy.
When the drinks were poured we spent the rest of the night talking about life down here and what we missed about the real world. I started to realize she wasn’t the bitch I thought she was. She was a cool person who was just different. Just like me.
After some days she moved into my cubby to help me out with Pickles. At first I didn’t know how I would feel about it. But before long I started to like her around and that scared me.
****
I was wide awoke after having another dream. It was of my mother again. I knew at that moment I had to tell somebody because it was driving me crazy. Why would she come to me in a dream since she didn’t do shit for me in life?
This dream was just as weird. I was standing in front of a mirror, and my mother was brushing my face with the back of her hand. Every time she touched me instead of being repulsed I felt high. Like I was floating. When I was so high I could barely open my eyes she kissed me on the face and I woke up.
While Pickles and Everest were sleep I decided to go see Old Man Young about the nightmares, I wanted answers. When I walked into his cubby I was surprised to see him up already. It was like he was waiting on me.
I stood in his doorway and pulled my cap down. “Can I ask you a question?”
Normally he charged me a bottle of beer or something, but I was hoping he would answer my question for free this time. Every bit of the money I had now I saved up to make sure Pickles had something to eat.
“You got me a beer?” he asked as he adjusted his eye patch.
“Naw.”
He looked me over. “I guess one question won’t hurt. What is it?”
I walked inside of his cubby and looked down at him. I almost wanted to say never mind because there was nothing to prove that he could actually help me. “I’ve been having bad dreams a lot lately about my mother. We didn’t have a relationship so it’s strange.”
“What was your dream about?”
I told him about the three dreams I had. When I was done he smiled. “You can’t see what she’s saying? It’s as clear as the nose on your face. If your heart was open you wouldn’t need my help.”
I hated when people spoke in circles. “Listen, man, if I knew what she was trying to tell me I wouldn’t be here. Now are you gonna answer my question or not?
He grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. “In your first dream you said your mother was cooking on the stove. On the stove was a pan”— he wrote down something— “You mentioned that a lizard was on the counter”— he wrote down something— “you said that on the table in front of you were eggs”— again he wrote down something— “you also said there was an apple on the stove, and that syrup was everywhere in front of you.” When he was done he handed me the paper.
“I don’t know what this means.”
His eyebrows rose. “You can’t read can you?”
Silence.
He snatched it away. “It doesn’t matter I’ll explain it to you. The p for the pan, along with the l for the lizard, the e for the eggs, the a for the apple, the s for the syrup, along with the e for the syrup being everywhere spells PLEASE.”
“What does that mean?”
He frowned and seemed frustrated. “I’m not done quite yet, young man.”
“My bad.”
“The second dream you said had a Frog, Owl, Rocks, Grapes, Ice, Valentine, and a young lady who kept chanting Ever. If you take the first letter of each of those items you have the word FORGIVE.”
My stomach felt jittery and I wanted to throw up.
“In your final dream you were sitting in front of a mirror. You also said you were—”
“High,” I blurted out. “And as far as I know MH don’t spell nothing.”
“I see you know something about words after all,” he frowned.
“I can spell me,” I said proudly.
“I don’t doubt that, but what you failed to realize is that words often have different meanings. So if you replace the high feeling you felt when your mother touched you, and called it euphoria instead you would have the letter e. Together they spell me. What your mother was asking was PLEASE FORGIVE ME.” He looked at me. “Does that make any sense to you?”
I stumbled backwards. My mother never apologized for shit. She was a selfish bitch until the day she died and I wasn’t trying to hear shit he was saying. He didn’t know the whore, but I did. Personally. I knew it was a mistake to come here. What would make me think that he could tell me anything about life when he was living in the slums too?
“Mad, I don’t know what kind of relationship you had with your mother, but it sounds to me like she’s asking for your forgiveness. So that her soul can rest. Maybe you should give it to her.”
“Fuck my mother and fuck her soul! If I have anything to do with it she will rot in hell forever.”
****
After I left Old Man Young’s spot I went back to my cubby. When I made sure that both Pickles and Everest were okay and still sleeping, I decided to go to The Pit. The moment I walked outside, I was angry when I saw Fierce sitting on the ground next to the trashcan sleep. I guess he burned so many bridges here that nobody wanted him to live in their cub.
I was about to turn around thinking he would try to talk to me when Spirit walked out to The Pit. “What the fuck is he doing here?” he asked me. “I haven’t seen him in weeks.”
“Sleep I guess,” I responded. “Why, you beefing with him too?”
Spirit looked do
wn at him. It looked as if he felt bad for him. “I just don’t trust him anymore. He stole something from me and I never forgave him for that shit.”
I looked at him. Damn, nobody was safe from his thievery. “That’s your man not mine.”
“Well I’m about to wake the nigga up.” Spirit walked over to him and pushed him hard. “Get the fuck up, Fierce. You not supposed to be here anyway! You were voted out.”
“You trying to wake him up or shake him to death?”
Spirit ignored me. He was pushing him so hard that I thought Fierce’s neck would snap. “Get the fuck up!”
“Just leave the nigga alone,” I said about to walk back inside to go to my cubby. “He’s probably high.”
Spirit dropped to his knees and put his fingers on his throat. All of a sudden the look on his face changed from anger to sadness. He scooted backwards on the ground and stopped next to my foot.
“What’s wrong?” I asked looking down at him.
“He’s dead.”
I heard him but I couldn’t understand what he was really saying. “What you mean he’s dead.” I looked over at him. If anything he looked sleep.
In a lower whisper he said, “He’s dead. He’s gone.”
While I was looking at him, Wicked, Pop Kill and some more West Wingers walked outside. “Fuck is up with Fierce?” Wicked asked looking down at him.
Spirit stood up and said, “He’s dead.”
Before that moment I didn’t think Wicked had a heart. But as sure as my name is Madjesty, the dude dropped down on the ground and immediately started performing CPR on Fierce. It was useless though. Because I could already tell he was dead. His body appeared stiff.