by Noire
He caught up with her as she was coming out of the ladies’ bathroom.
“Eva…” He held out his arms. “Whassup, baby doll.”
“What’s up, Reem.” Eva hugged him tightly, kissing his cheek. “I’m cool.”
“Didn’t look that way a few minutes ago.” He nodded toward the VIP section where Brody was still wrecking shit. “Why you mingling with that dude? King Brody ain’t the kinda guy you wanna be conversating with, nah’mean?”
Eva frowned. “Tell that to your boy Fiyah. Brody got him wide open.”
Reem nodded. “I’ll school him, baby. I damn sure will. You just stay outta that niggah’s biting range, ya hear? I don’t wanna have to call my goonies from Brownsville to come up here and light Harlem up.”
The music changed and Reem winced as some wack rapper started screaming into the mic. Eva laughed and Reem could see why Brody was jocking her. The girl was fine. Her skin was gorgeous brown. Her teeth were bright white and her curly hair was glossy, silky black.
“You don’t have to call the goonies, Reem, but you better go handle that.”
“Hell yeah.” Reem grinned walking away. “Amateur muhfuckahs gone mess around and run everybody the fuck up outta here.”
Eva laughed. She was glad Reem had moved to Harlem. He was a solid friend from Brooklyn and somebody she had entrusted with her deepest secrets.
“You a cool-ass little man, Reem.”
“You know it, baby. I’m a small stick of dynamite, and I blow the shawties up all night!”
Reem walked off and ran into an extra tall Latina chick whose hips and breasts were from another planet. His eyes traveled the thirty miles from her feet up to her amazing face and he whistled real loud. “Goddamn, muhfuckah!” he moaned, adoring what he saw. “I’ma need a ladder to get up on all that!”
Still thinking about her, he slid past a side room where chicken wings and French fries were being cooked and sold. There was a long line of tipsy niggahs waiting to get at some bones, and as he walked past somebody reached out and touched his shoulder.
“Reem, what it be like, man?”
Reem grinned and gave his boy some dap. Mello was one hardbody, hardworking muhfuckah. Reem had put in a good word with Daddy Dre and had gotten Mello on at the record shop a year earlier. Dre had assigned him to a floater table that had him traveling all over Harlem selling bootleg CDs and DVDs for five dollars a whop. The cat had grinded like he’d been born for the job. In no time Mello had worked his way up to a permanent sidewalk spot on 125th Street. Prized real estate. And there wasn’t a niggah in Harlem who could out hustle him or outsell him.
“It’s all good, baby. Whattup?” Reem nodded toward the Friday night reggaeton crowd as they broke up the dance floor. “This ain’t your usual night. You still on for tomorrow’s set?”
Mello nodded. “Oh, yeah. I’ll be here tomorrow, that’s real. I’m just chillin’, man. I swung by to hook up with Eva. Her cousin hit the bricks and shit. She wanted to come out and show him around tonight.”
Reem nodded. “Yeah. My dude Fiyah. I just seen that cat. He’s got skills, man. I’ma put him on the mic at next week’s competition. Let him show ill what he got.”
“Show ill what?”
“Yo, we ’bout to go back out on tour, man. All them illegal units Brody got y’all niggahs moving on the streets be eating into an artist’s profits, nah’mean? Performing is the only way to get ya paper up and stack ya cream these days. We gone take a new artist on the road with us. You know. Somebody nasty on the mic who can heat the crowd up before we come out and blast ’em.”
“Yo!” Mello looked pissed. “What the fuck is up with that? Why y’all niggahs ain’t doing that kinda shit on rap night?”
“Not my call.” Reem shrugged. “ill asked for a reggaeton rapper, bruh. He wants somebody who can flog they asses in English and in Spanish.”
Mello stood there nodding, taking it all in. He was still kicking it hard with Reem, but a steely look had entered his eyes. “Yeah. I hear you talkin’ that shit, man. I hear you talkin’ it.”
Mello watched his baby crossing the room. She was dodging niggahs.
Stray hands were reaching out for her, trying to touch her and get her attention. She got hit on by two players he recognized from the L.A. Lakers, and by a screenwriter with big black glasses and thin lips. An old-head playa he’d seen pimping broads on the avenue invited her to take a ride in his rimmed-out caddy, and another dude who was dressed in a business suit told her he had a yacht down on Chelsea Piers that he knew she’d like to see. The offers for drinks, weed, dope, and dick were raining down on her as she killed her shorts and brushed off one baller after another, and Mello was proud of her for handling her bizz.
She acted surprised when he ran up behind her and covered her eyes with his hands, but then she relaxed. She knew those hands. He let her feel his wood and she laughed. She knew that dick that was poking her from behind too.
“Hey, baby.” She turned around in his arms and let her body go soft. “I thought you mighta changed your mind about coming out tonight.”
Mello grinned. “What? And leave the finest woman in Harlem alone in a room full of snakes?” He kissed her. “The music is hot. I’ma have to start coming out on Fridays more often.” He saw a look on her face that concerned him. “You aiight?”
“I’m cool.”
“Well Mello’s here now. And it’s about to get better. Dance with me, Miss Lady. I got some rhythm I wanna bump on you.”
They moved out onto the dance floor where Eva started working her hips. Mello couldn’t stop grinning. The Dominican in her was showing as she twisted it up on him and grinded her lower body until it looked like a worm.
Luckily, Brody was too preoccupied to notice. He was surrounded by three hot young’uns and had a tit in one hand and an ass cheek in the other. His fingers splashed in a pool of pussy as the young girl sitting on his hand humped her heart out.
Charlene and Brody’s boys was drinking Moët and hitting lines, but Serena was damn near unconscious. Brody’s brother Bullet sat beside her trying his best to help her get a grip and snap out of it.
Fiyah was balling. He had a chocolate babe on his lap and she was riding his dick through his pants. He had passed on the Chronic because he was scared his PO might drug test him, but he sucked down Krug like it was water from an open faucet. He had seen Eva fuckin’ up heads as she danced on the floor, and figured the tall, good-looking guy leaning all over her was the cat they called Mello.
Fiyah was just juiced enough not to start no shit. Somehow he had to get Eva to drop that muhfuckah and concentrate on Brody, but right now he had a wet pussy sloshing around on his lap and he was concentrating on that.
He did take notice, though, when Bullet suddenly pressed his phone to his ear and stood up. Moments later Fiyah watched as Bullet left Serena’s side then walked over to his brother and yanked the young bitch off his lap. He whispered something to Brody, who looked at his boys and gave them the silent signal that it was time to bounce. Fiyah was apprehensive as Brody looked at him too. He was waiting for Reem to give him the signal so he could get on stage and flaunt his shit. But Brody was looking crazy and his message was clear: get the fuck up, ’cause you coming with us.
Fiyah followed Brody and his crew outside to the whip. They hopped in and Rolo pushed the pedal over to Spanish Harlem. They pulled up outside of a small apartment building where a couple of young hoods were hanging out on the stoop.
“Man the muhfuckin’ whip,” Brody barked at his brother as they walked toward the doors.
Bullet balked. “Yo, bruh. That’s what the fuck we got Rolo for.”
Brody got swole. “I said stay with the muhfuckin’ whip!”
Bullet turned around and headed back to the Escalade, but not before Fiyah saw a spark of rage in his eyes.
They walked toward a small door on the side of the porch, right under the stairs. Brody kicked that shit in with one foot. It was a di
ce game in an unfinished basement. Cats were playing C-low in groups, six and seven deep. Fiyah stood back as Brody and his posse went to work.
They grabbed a young Hispanic cat and dug in on his ass. Seeing that a notoriously brutal crew had rolled in, niggahs scooped up their dice and their doe and scattered. Fiyah watched the kid get his grill busted and his dome disfigured. He figured out by all the shit they were talking that the kid owed Brody some money.
“Come get you summa this!” Brody turned to Fiyah and demanded. He was bombing the kid with such devastating killer blows that there wasn’t much left of the cat for Fiyah to get.
Fiyah got in there, though. He wasn’t fuckin’ stupid. He jabbed at the bleeding dude. The cat was so fucked up he was already sleep on his feet. If Rolo and two other dudes wasn’t holding him up he woulda been out cold on the concrete.
As the rest of them fist-happy fools slammed the kid from wall to wall, Brody leaned close to Fiyah and whispered, “This is how I roll when a niggah fails to deliver on what he owes me. Ya heard?”
Fiyah nodded, then winced as a spray of blood flew from the Puerto Rican kid’s busted mouth. He’d heard that muhfuckah all right. He heard him loud as a mug. And then he felt him too. Brody hit Fiyah so hard he thought his heart would stop. Them cats were done battering the kid and now they were going for a chunk of Fiyah’s ass.
Even while balled up on the ground and protecting his face, Fiyah knew Brody was in control. His boys were wailing on him, but they were also practicing restraint. Fiyah stayed down and rolled with the punches. He’d taken worse ass-kickings than this before.
When it was over, Brody put his foot on Fiyah’s head and pressed down hard enough to get his full attention.
“It seems like you got a little problem, ak.”
Fiyah didn’t answer. He gritted his teeth as his face was smashed between King Brody’s boot and the dirty ground.
“For some reason, your cousin didn’t seem all that happy to see me tonight. What you tell her, man? What your cousin got against me?”
Fiyah gasped in pain. “It ain’t you, man…”
Brody rolled his weight up onto his foot.
Fiyah squealed. “That’s just Eva,” he managed to squeak out. “You too big, Brody. Powerful. You control drugs all over Harlem…and Eva…”
Fiyah felt like his brain was gonna shoot out through his nostrils.
“Eva used to be a junkie. She used to shoot smack, man. Right in her neck.”
Instantly Brody stepped off his head. Fiyah grabbed his temple and gasped from the pain.
“That fine bitch used to be a junkie?” Brody’s tone was incredulous.
Fiyah nodded, praying this would be the info that would turn Brody off on Eva forever. Brody could have any chick he wanted. An ex-junkie prolly wasn’t one of them.
“Yeah,” Fiyah told him. “A long time ago. She was just a kid.”
Brody thought for a moment, then reached down and grabbed Fiyah’s arm. He yanked him up on his feet and brushed the dirt off his shirt.
“Cool!” he said, the happy grin back on his face again. “I like junkies!”
Eva and Mello had turned shit out on the dance floor at Bricks, then gone back to Mello’s rented room to chill for the night. The next morning was a gray and rainy New York City day, and Eva lay next to Mello with her eyes wide open as his snores rose into the air.
She had played shit off lovely the night before when King Brody had messed around and licked her hand, but the reality was that she was worried. About Fiyah. The fact that he had gotten in deep with a maniac like Brody meant that Fiyah hadn’t learned shit after all those months he’d spent in jail. India’s murder had forced Eva to see the light of reality when it came to her life, but Fiyah was still stuck in the same old mind-set they both used to be in back in the day when they were hustling on the streets together and cooking up schemes to do everything from snatching pocketbooks from old ladies to setting up and double-crossing unsuspecting johns who were willing to pay for a piece of Eva’s prime young pussy.
With thoughts of Fiyah weighing heavily on her mind, Eva climbed across Mello as quietly as she could and got out of bed. Wearing a wife beater and a sky-blue thong, she walked over to his large window with the brick wall view and looked out as the rain came down heavily over the grimy city.
Her forehead rested on the cool glass as she thought back over her life and its many twists and turns. Fiyah had been right by her side for most of her journey, and the only thing he didn’t really know about her was the fact that she had given birth to a baby. Eva knew Fiyah would still love her despite that horrible thing she had done in the darkness that night, but she also knew that him and Milena would press her to go get her son from Miss Threet and bring him into their world where family took care of family.
She just wasn’t ready to do that. Her son was being well taken care of right where he was, and there was nothing Eva could offer him yet, not even the love of her cousin and aunt, that would take the place of what Miss Threet was giving him in Brooklyn. Sometimes Eva wondered, but there was no way she could guess the identity of the man who had fathered her child. She had always suspected it was her mother’s boyfriend Jahden, but she couldn’t prove it. Whoever the father was, it didn’t matter to Eva and it didn’t make her love her son any less. Her whole life was now geared toward getting her future together so she could one day go down to Brooklyn and get her baby and bring him into her life. But first that life had to be a worthy one. A life that was fit for a child to enter and to be nurtured and cared for the way he deserved to be. Eva was hoping that life might one day include Mello and that their love thing would last forever and Mello would become the father her son had never had. But that didn’t seem likely because she hadn’t even first told Mello that she had a son. The only person alive who knew was Reem, the cat who was truly her heart and had fed her and looked out for her when they was kids back in Brooklyn. Eva trusted Reem with her life and her secrets, and she knew he would never betray her in any way. Life had betrayed her enough on its own. She recited a rhyme she’d read somewhere that seemed to signify her destiny from the moment of her birth.
Monday’s child is fair of face,
Tuesday’s child is full of grace,
Wednesday’s child is full of woe,
Full of woe, full of woe, full of woe…
That was her. A Wednesday’s child. Eva’s mind and heart were both heavy when Mello slipped up behind her and took her by surprise. He scooped her up from her ankles, ran his hands up her legs, then cupped her hips and pushed his hard dick against her as he embraced her and nuzzled her neck softly.
“What you doing?” he asked sleepily.
“Did I ever tell you that I was born on a Wednesday? Yeah. I’m a Wednesday’s child. Full of woe.”
“Well you one fine-ass Wednesday for a Saturday morning.”
“I thought you was sleep,” she said, leaning back against him.
“I was,” he mumbled. “But then I missed you.” He kissed her collarbone with warm lips. “Why you up so early?”
Eva shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep. Too much stuff running around in my head. I think I worry too much.”
Mello grinned. “You aint gotta worry about me, Mami. I’m hood certified, baby. I gets mine in.”
Eva smiled. “I know you can handle yours, Mello. It’s Fiyah who’s got me kinda worried. He just got home and he’s already making stupid decisions. His head is in a worse spot than it was in when he left. Life is short. He needs to elevate his game. For real.”
“You ain’t gotta worry about your cousin, baby. He’s a grown-ass man and that niggah looks well fed and well fuckin’ rested to me. Hey, I’m out here grinding two jobs just to pay for this shitty little room and you crackin’ your hustle 24/7 too. Fiyah ain’t under no stress, baby. He’s kickin’ back and relaxing harder than both of us put together.”
Eva nodded. She could feel Mello, but still…she felt Fiyah too.
“He just had a hard-ass life, that’s all.”
Mello bitched. “Shit, we all had it hard. My moms used to sell rock when I was a tyke. My pops was one of her best customers. All kinds of scary fiends ran in and out of our crib around the clock. I got shook just by closing my eyes at night. I was too scared somebody was gonna roll in the joint and stick us up while we were sleep. If my moms hadn’t died when she did, all of us woulda prolly got killed living up in there. That shit was hard.”
Eva thought about her own life for a second then said, “Yeah. Parents can really fuck you up if they ain’t careful. That’s why you really gotta have your shit together and be stable before you try to raise a kid.”
Mello turned her around in his arms and started kissing her neck.
“Well, we ain’t gotta worry about nothing like that right now, baby. But I do want some kids one day. I love kids. I want a whole house full of them jokers.”
Eva swallowed hard. She prayed things would fall into place and her son would have a father like Mello some day. That was her greatest wish for her baby, and she asked God every day to one day provide her son with a man in his life who would love him like he was his own.
Eva was torn up over her own role in her baby’s life. Whenever she saw young girls out pushing their babies in strollers her heart would break. She didn’t know what their situations were, but they were all young single mothers living in the hood, so they couldn’t have had it easy. Sometimes Eva felt real guilty for not getting her son and struggling with him like other young girls did. Some got on welfare, others had baller boyfriends who sold product and kept their shorties laced in jewels and name-brand baby clothes. Other chicks had mothers who helped them raise their kids so they could still go to school and make something out of their lives.