by Noire
Fiyah reached into his pants and came out with his burner. He gripped it by the barrel and held it out toward Mello’s goon.
Dude snatched the gun and pocketed it.
“Feel him up,” he told his boys.
Fiyah held still and took the thorough pat-down.
“Now you got my shit and you smashed my dome. So we cool, right, ak? All I wanna do is see Mello. I need to talk to that cat right fuckin’ now.”
Fiyah walked into the café and found Mello sitting at a table near the stage. He was leaning forward on his elbows and listening intently as a young Hispanic kid threw down on a spoken-word piece that had a beastly flow.
“Yo, that was the shit, Roberto. You got real talent, man. I’m proud of you. Okay, who’s up next?”
“I’m next,” Fiyah said, standing near his shoulder.
Mello looked up. Seeing Fiyah, his face turned hard.
“Get outta here, man. You fuckin’ with my community time,” he said coldly. “Come back later.”
“Where the fuck is she, man?”
Mello grilled Fiyah with bitter contempt in his eyes. “Yo, little dudes,” he said to the young’uns. “Check this out. We ’bout to take another quick break, aiight? Go wash ya hands, sons! Ain’t gone be no sticky shit all over my mic, ya heard?”
He turned back to Fiyah. “Man, why the fuck you in my ear?”
“I gotta get with Eva. I need to know where she is.”
Mello shrugged with disrespect. “Fuck you. Eva’s with me. In my back fuckin’ pocket. I already told ya bitch ass. You wanna get with her? Then get past me.”
Fiyah sighed. He wiped his hands down his face and looked at Mello with bloodshot, exhausted eyes.
Mello laughed. “Damn, dude. Brody got yo ass shook! Hard. What the fuck you really come here for?”
“I came here to get mine in.”
“And you really think I’m just gone give her up to you? You think I’ma just break out and tell you where she is?”
“Hell yeah. If you don’t wanna get caught in the cross fire, then you should.”
Mello got amped. “Muhfuckah you smell any fear coming off me? I’m covered from all angles. But what about you? Everybody in Harlem knows what the fuck is out there hunting for you, homey. And your bitch ass let that predator loose on Eva? Man, fuck you. Step the fuck outta my space!”
“It ain’t even like that no more, man. I wanna help her—”
“Nah, you wanna help yourself! It’s all about you, dude. Look at ya tired ass! Brody coming at your throat, and like a bitch you out here running scared. Your life ain’t worth shit compared to hers. I ain’t gonna let you sacrifice my baby—”
Fiyah was fed. There was no way to make this cat see the bloodbath that was gonna go down unless he found Eva and convinced her to act right. She didn’t have to do it forever. Just long enough to satisfy Brody until the next chick caught his attention.
“You got me wrong, Mello. All wrong. But it’s cool. You just keep Eva on lock. And when she sticks her head up and finds out her whole family has been planted in the ground, see if she’s still willing to toss that phat ass in your direction.”
While Fiyah and Mello went at it inside the café, the boy with the limp stood outside watching for signs of static. Two corner boys out slinging trap spotted him and made a move. It was Sunday and business was slow. Fuckin’ with a gimp kid would help the time pass faster. They rolled on the boy, who was standing there staring into the Corner Pocket Café looking jumpy and scared. He froze when they got up on him, shaking like he was about to piss in his fuckin’ pants.
“Yo, lil’ nig,” one of the trap boys said. “This my fuckin’ block. What you doin’ on it?”
The limp boy yanked up his shirt and whipped out his tool, and before that shit could clear his waistband, the second corner boy beat his gat-draw and popped one off in his neck.
The kid went down hard, and one of Mello’s boys scoped the action from across the street and came running.
“What the fuck you doin’, man?!” he barked on the young trap boy. “You just shot a fuckin’ kid!”
Dude took off running. “He pulled out a gun, man!” he called over his shoulder, then him and his friend fled the scene, feet flying as they disappeared down a nearby alley.
Fiyah had just gotten his piece back from the bouncer and was standing in the doorway when he saw the boy go down. Mello pushed past him from behind as he came running outta the café, along with most of the young boys who had been inside. Cars had stopped and the streets had descended into panic as some pedestrians ducked behind cars and others rushed over to the spot where the boy had fallen.
Fiyah ran toward the crowd and cursed when he saw the gimp boy laying on the ground. Sirens sounded loudly, very close by, and he thought about his parole status and ducked deeper into the crowd.
“Call an ambulance!” somebody screamed, and one of Mello’s manz knelt down beside the boy. An old black woman took off her church shawl and pressed it against his wound as she recited the Lord’s Prayer in the child’s ear.
One of the bouncers from the Corner Pocket Poetry Café picked up the gun the boy had dropped the moment he was shot. He turned it over in his hands then cursed loudly as he saw the orange safety ring. He stared down at the kid’s motionless body in disgust.
“This shit ain’t even real! It’s fuckin’ plastic! A toy fuckin’ gun!”
He passed the shit to Mello, who nodded. The gun was a fake. It was a good-looking fake, but the shit would never shoot a damn thing. Not even water.
The police rolled up on the scene and niggahs started scattering. Mello walked out into the street, heading back to the café, but a young black cop checked him and drew his gun.
“Drop your weapon! Drop that shit right now!”
Mello put his hands up in the air, the toy gun pointed toward the sky.
“Stay calm, officer. It’s just a toy. The kid pulled it out and got popped by accident…”
The black cop was a rookie from Westchester and he wasn’t takin’ no chances down here in the deep hood.
“Drop the fuckin’ gun now!”
Mello got swallowed up by the boys in blue. Despite the loud, angry protests from the witnesses in the crowd, the cops had their gats trained on him and ready to spit.
Cautioning himself to stay calm, Mello tossed the fake tool to the ground. The moment he kicked it away about ten cops rushed him, tackling him to the ground. Mello grimaced as his face was slammed into the concrete pavement over and over again. Shit went real dark for a moment, but when he managed to open his eyes he saw one thing real fuckin’ clear. Fiyah was using the commotion as his cover and was darting away from the crowd. He took off walking down the street, fast as shit, in the opposite direction. As Mello got roughed up and tossed around by a crew of Harlem cops, he caught one last glimpse of Eva’s cousin as he jetted toward safety. Fiyah glanced over his shoulder at the beat-down Mello was taking, then kept right on walking, never slowing his roll.
Living with Mello was everything Eva had ever dreamed of. When she was snuggled under the covers with his strong arms holding her, nothing could touch her. No longer did fear drive her into nightmares at night, twisting her up inside with guilt and torment. Mello stood on guard for her like a faithful watchdog. His love was what Eva had been missing her whole life and still…her life felt so good she wondered if it could last.
Sitting cross-legged with her back against his head-board, Eva gazed out the window at the brick wall that was Mello’s New York City view. His crib was really just a big closet in a reconstructed warehouse on the very edge of Harlem, but to her it was like living in a palace.
Her man was overdue on coming home and Eva couldn’t sleep without him in bed with her. She’d been with him for over a week and they’d stayed up late every night sexing the hell outta each other and whispering all kinds of plans for the future they wanted to have. Her baby had been outta the drug game for years, and Eva was proud o
f him for making his money the honest way. They had talked about moving into a bigger place, and with Mello doing so good on both his jobs, Eva hoped they’d be able to make that dream a reality real soon.
And she was bringing something other than her body to the relationship too. The Birthday Cake clothing line had blown up sky-high and as their featured model she was swimming in gigs. Suddenly ads featuring her face and body were popping up everywhere, and her income was rising along with her visibility. There were several international accounts on the books already, and the young urban, hip-hop set living in places like China and Jakarta were demanding to be outfitted in the stylish gear that was cut in different sizes to accent feminine curves no matter what the wearer’s shape.
Eva could have never dreamed that she would come this far in her once-fucked-up life. She had a good career and somebody actually loved her! The starving little girl who used to chew on folded squares of toilet tissue, and who had stood on street corners turning tricks before she even had her first period, was actually loved. But sometimes she thought Mello was too good for her. On her really dark days Eva could get bent over. Gripped with guilt and shame. All of the low-down stunts she had pulled. All the shiesty shit she had done. It was all stuck in her memory and it haunted her, even though in her heart she knew all of it wasn’t her fault.
There’d been a couple of times when she had tried to tell Mello about some of the things she’d done in her past. But crazy shit would creep into her thoughts and mock her at the worst possible times. Mello might have his head between her legs, munching her pussy out deliciously, and Eva would look down at herself and freak the fuck out. The vein she used to shoot up in was in the crease of her groin. She would swear that shit was bulging and pulsating, her track marks thickened with scar tissue caused by overuse and infection. That was why she never shaved her pussy hairs, but at times she was convinced that Mello was noticing that shit while he was down there and was wondering what was up.
There were other things that got in her head too. Although a lot of her scars had faded, nobody could get rid of every single bad thing they’d been through in life. Mello’s lips would be leaving tender kisses on her breasts, arms, and thighs, and Eva would lay there squirming. Not because it felt good, but because she was afraid he’d wonder about the lash marks Rasheena’s belts and cords had left on her skin that no amount of cocoa butter could make go away. She’d had to make up a lie because she used makeup to cover things up during her shoots, so she’d told Mello her crazy grandmother had whipped her with switches when she went down south in the summers. It was easier than admitting to being abused by her own mother.
Eva knew the day would come when she would have to come straight with Mello. They were planning a future together and he had a right to know about her past. But could she tell him everything? Would he still want her if he knew she was a former chickenhead who had done more scandalous shit than a little bit? Would he keep loving her if he knew she’d given birth to and abandoned a baby boy?
It was late and Eva was tired, but all this shit was heavy on her mind. Brody was hunting for her and she knew he’d already fucked Fiyah up and put all those bruises on his face. Fiyah was lucky that was all they’d done to him. He was probably bent tryna figure out where she was, and Aunt Milena was probably just as bent from watching Rosa all by herself.
She couldn’t hide in Mello’s room forever—this Eva knew. But in order to have peace between her man and her cousin, she needed to kill all the static and find a way to get them to feel each other on some common ground. She’d been thinking about something for days that might work out, but she didn’t have the skills or the connections to pull it off by herself.
She checked the time on her cell phone and saw that it was after three a.m. She knew Reem was a night nig, and was probably still up writing songs or working on his flow. Staring down at her cell phone, she punched a number and waited while it rang.
“Reem? You up? It’s Eva.”
“Whattup, baby girl!” Reem sounded wide awake.
“I know it’s late but I need some help, Reem, and since Mello ain’t home yet this is a good time for us to talk. Now, I know you up on all the beef going down between Mello and my cousin. It started because of Brody but it’s bigger than that now. But check this out. I wanna squash this shit between them but I need some help.”
Reem was hyped. “Don’t worry about it, baby girl. Just tell Reem what you need done.”
“You know the Birthday Cake clothing line is blowing up, right? Well I got a text today that said my boss wants to shoot another marketing video. The line is booming in a lot of Hispanic markets and she’s looking for a hot fusion track. Something Hip Hop, but reggaeton too. Can you put Mello and Fiyah down on that? Make ’em put their mic skills together so they can stop hatin’ each other and be done with the bullshit?”
Reem seemed to like what he was hearing, and Eva had mad trust in her boy.
“Sounds like a plan, shawty. Let me run it past ill. See when we can get them nigs to have a conversation and maybe get some studio time.”
Eva lay back on the bed and stared hard at the ceiling wishing Mello would hurry up and come home. She was counting on Reem to work his magic on two hardheads who wanted to tear out each other’s throats. It wasn’t gone be no easy feat, talking them cats into the same room, but Eva had faith that her friend Reem could pull it off and get the job done.
Mello didn’t bust up in the crib until sometime the next morning. Eva had been worried outta her mind all night, but she could tell her man was heavily stressed the minute he hit the door. He moved real slow, like he was in pain, and his whole shit was all fucked up.
“What happened!” Eva cried. He had left the crib looking damned good in his fresh Sean Jean gear and spotless AF1s. Now his shirt was ripped, his lip was swollen, and there was a hole in one knee of his pants. He went straight to his mini fridge and gulped out of a carton of orange juice like he was dying of thirst. Then he took a cold piece of pizza off the tiny table and set it on a paper plate. His platinum chain caught a glint from the light and sparkled around his neck. He pushed a button to open the tiny microwave, then finally looked at her. “Hold up. Lemme nuke this shit for a sec.”
“Hold up hell!” Eva blurted out. “Where you been? Tell me what the hell happened to you!”
Mello took a big bite of pizza and said, “Your fuckin’ cousin happened to me.”
Eva looked puzzled. She reached out and touched the cut on his lip tenderly. “Fiyah did this to you?”
Mello thought about the way Fiyah had dipped from the scene while he was getting his ass kicked, and got heated all over again. “I told you that cat is grimy, Eva. Fuckin’ punk-ass bitch!”
“But what happened? Y’all got into some shit? I heard on the radio that somebody got shot on the Avenue yesterday. Did somebody shoot my fuckin’ cousin?”
“Nah, but somebody shoulda popped him one. He rolled up at the café’s youth set with a gat and a baby sniper packing a fuckin’ water gun. Hell yeah he shoulda got shot. The kid took one for him instead.”
Eva was crushed. “How the fuck you gonna say something like that, Mello? You saying my cousin deserves to get shot down in the street like a dog?”
Mello stopped chewing. “Hold the fuck up. Am I hearing you straight? Fiyah’s got the baddest psycho muhfuckah in Harlem looking to tap your ass, and there’s a twelve year-old kid laying up in Harlem Hospital with a hole in his neck. I went to jail over a toy fuckin’ gun, and spent twenty hours in a pissy cell getting stomped out by a bunch of NYPD Blue Boys, and you grillin’ me just ’cause I talked shit about your cousin? You sound crazy, baby. Real fuckin’ crazy.”
Eva threw her hands up. “Okay! Cool! Fiyah fucked around and made a lotta bad moves. But you ain’t gotta take that shit out on me, Ramel! He’s family, goddammit! My fuckin’ family. What am I supposed to do, just shit on him and keep it moving? What the fuck do you want me to do?”
“You can
start by keeping your ass right here in my room and letting your cousin take his punishment like a fuckin’ man.”
Eva overflowed. She jumped bad real strong because for the very first time Mello had really hurt her feelings and she wanted him to know that shit.
“I tell you what, Ramel. You might not give a fuck about your little bit of missing-in-action family, but I got mad love for my cousin. No matter what the fuck he does wrong, that’s not gonna ever change. Never. And I’m getting about tired of sitting up in this box all day too. You get out there on the streets every day and you do shit! You see people, you talk to people, you eat what the fuck you wanna eat. I missed a whole week of my life ducking and hiding and fucking around in here with you. If I feel like going out, then you can believe I’m gonna step.”
Mello gave her a long, cold look.
It was so long, and so cold that Eva actually shivered under his gaze.
“Fuck it then. I ain’t into keeping chicks where they don’t wanna be. Run out there on the streets and catch up with your sherm-ass cousin. Ask him to keep Brody and his crew off your ass. I’m done.”
Eva snatched her phone off the bed. She grabbed a ponytail holder from the nightstand and tied her hair back, then she slipped on her shoes and picked up her purse. Without saying another word to Mello, or even looking at his black ass, she bounced.
The streets of Harlem were a blur as Eva walked briskly away from Mello’s crib. All kinds of noise was bouncing around in her head, and once again she felt like that unwanted little girl from a cold tenement apartment in Brooklyn. The little girl who had abandoned her baby in the dark of night, and who was now getting caught up in foul karma as the one person she truly loved practically abandoned her too.