Criminal Minded

by Tracy Brown

  As we sat listening to the radio, Zion opened up to me about growing up in the homes of strangers, surviving the maze of group homes and juvenile facilities, and finally the streets. I told him about my crazy, money-hungry moms and the father I never got a chance to know. I was surprised at how little Lamin had told Zion about our mother. Lucky had also seemed surprised when “Hurricane Nadia” blew into the ER. I guess Lamin didn’t talk about her ’cause she did him so dirty. Who can blame him? My mother can be a hard pill to swallow.

  I sat Indian-style on the carpet flippin’ through Zion’s CD collection. He sat on the sofa sippin’ on E&J. I looked at the large portrait of Zion’s parents on the wall over his fireplace. Zion looked just like his father, but his mother was lovely.

  “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Do you ever feel guilty selling drugs, knowing that drugs are what killed your mother?”

  Zion sipped his drink and looked in my eyes over the rim of the glass. I was beginning to regret the question because he looked like he didn’t know whether to be mad at me for asking it or mad at himself for giving me the go-ahead.

  “Nah,” he said at last. “My moms was a beautiful woman, but she was weak. She was sick and so are the fiends I serve. They’re all weak, and addiction is a sickness. If I didn’t sell to ’em, somebody else would.”

  I didn’t completely agree with his answer, but I accepted it.

  “Why?” he asked. “You think I’m a bad guy?”

  I laughed. “Nah, you’re a good guy, Zion.” He blushed and I wanted to kiss him so bad. Zion had a little softness underneath his hard-core exterior. I understood the fact that he was a friend of Lamin’s, but I wanted him in the worst way. I stepped up to the plate.

  “How come you never kissed me, Zion?” I asked.

  He looked at me. “You’re higher than a muthafucka right now, girl. What kinda question is that?”

  Strike one.

  “We’re both high, and it’s the kinda question that deserves an answer.” I was quick with mine!

  “I never kissed you ’cause it ain’t like that with me and you,” Zion said.

  “Why?”

  “Why?”

  “Yeah, why?” I was persistent.

  Zion looked at me. “’Cause your brother would never forgive me. That’s why.”

  Strike two.

  “What if Lamin don’t know what he’s talking about, Zion? I love and respect my brother just as much as you do. But, damn! I ain’t gonna let him run my sex life.”

  “Sex life?” Zion sat upright.

  I would not strike out. I pulled out the big guns. I crawled over to where Zion sat on the sofa and kneeled between his legs. We were eye to eye and I know he was thinking, What the hell is she doing? I leaned in close to him and kissed him, slow and sweet. And he didn’t resist.

  Home run!

  Zion

  I couldn’t believe she kissed me. She took my breath away. I shouldn’t have kissed her back, but I did. Olivia was impossible to resist, ‘cause her lips felt soft like pillows! Plus, I was feelin’ all kinds of shit since Lamin was still unconscious. I guess I needed Olivia, and I wanted her. She kissed like I had never been kissed before. It was different … it was sexy. I pulled her shirt over her head and her body was beautiful. When I saw her half-naked like that, I felt shy for the first time in years. She made me feel like a schoolboy gettin’ with a girl he had a crush on for the longest.

  Olivia’s nipples were hard, and I stroked them. She stood up, unbuttoned her tiny shorts, and stepped out of them. I watched her take off her pretty panties, and her pussy was shaved to perfection. She turned the volume up on the radio and walked down the hall to my bedroom. I followed her like a drooling puppy. The girl had the most beautiful ass I had ever seen. I watched it jiggle and bounce down the hall.

  I got to my room and found Olivia sprawled out on my bed. She was a sight for sore eyes. I took off my shirt and my holster and stepped out of my pants. My dick was harder than a brick wall. I laid on top of Olivia and kissed her. I’m not big on kissing ’cause to me that shit is too intimate. But Olivia’s kisses were addictive. I slid my finger inside her and her walls were tight like a viselike grip. Olivia ground her hips to the same rhythm of my hand. I was open. But I couldn’t let her know that. Her body was amazing! Her stomach was flat and firm. Her titties were real big and her nipples were so hard that I couldn’t stop sucking them. She sucked on my neck as I finally put my dick inside her. That shit made me wanna holla. Her moans, kisses, and body language was our only communication and it was the sweetest thing. Her voice was so sexy. I took my time. Now that I had her, I didn’t want to let go until I had to. I pushed her titties together and sucked them both at the same time. That night I had the best sex of my life.

  I wanted to see her ass so I decided to hit it from the back. I pulled out of her.

  “Turn over.”

  She did. She got on all fours and bent forward on her elbows. So now, her big apple-shaped ass was in the air, and the warrior between my legs saluted it. I rubbed the head of my dick between her parted lips, then I slid inside her once more. Her ass bounced while I was hittin’ it, and she grabbed the sheets for support. I grabbed her titties from behind and leaned forward kissing and licking her neck and the small of her back. Olivia was cummin’. She moaned deeply and I could feel her walls constrict against my dick like contractions. That was all I needed to send me over the edge. I came at the same time she did.

  My head was spinnin’. I rolled over and laid on the pillow beside her. She turned on her side and faced me. We were both out of breath. We looked at each other for a while. I guess neither one of us knew what to say. Olivia is never quiet for long, though.

  “See?” she said. “You should have kissed me a long time ago.” She smiled.

  I laughed and we both laid there lost in our own thoughts. Minutes later, Olivia was knocked out. I watched her sleep. She really was a beautiful girl. I stared at her laying naked in my bed, and I wanted to hold her for the rest of my life. Talking to her was easy. She opened up to me about her life, and that made me feel comfortable talking about mine. She made me think back on a lot of shit that I hadn’t thought about in a long time.

  I drifted off to sleep wondering how things would change between me and Olivia.

  Then the sun came up …

  The phone rang at 7:29. I answered it, my voice all heavy with sleep. It was Lucky. She sounded like she was crying and my heart froze in my chest.

  “He’s asking for you, Zion.”

  I bolted out of bed. “He’s awake, Lucky?” Olivia was up now, and both of us dressed in a hurry.

  “Yeah,” Lucky said, choking back sobs. “He’s talking a little, and the doctor said that’s good.”

  “Then why are you crying?” I was confused.

  “I’m just so happy that he’s gonna make it, Zion.”

  I smiled to myself, determined to tell Lamin how blessed he was to have a girl that loved him that much. I told her that we were on our way. I hung up the phone and faced Olivia. She was lovely even at 7:30 in the morning.

  “Olivia, I don’t even know what to say about last night.” I was being honest. Now that the fog had lifted, I realized that I had let my best friend down twice in one day. I didn’t have his back when he needed me. And now I had sexed his sister. I knew right then that I could never be with her the way I wanted to be with her.

  But, I really had a thing for Olivia. When I was with her I felt vulnerable. And that was unfamiliar to me. She sparked something in me.

  “So, right now let’s not say anything,” she said.

  I was grateful for the silence as we headed back to Staten Island.

  EIGHT

  can’t stop the reign

  Lucky

  When Lamin woke up, I was able to breathe again. He was alive, and that made everything look brighter. By the time Olivia and Zion got to the hospital, I was exhaus
ted and in desperate need of a shower. While they visited with Lamin, I decided to take the opportunity to go into the ladies’ room and freshen up as much as possible. I bought a toothbrush and some toothpaste from the gift shop and went to work. When I was done, I still wanted a shower. But I felt a little better.

  I came out of the ladies’ room drained, exhausted, and relieved all at the same time. When I emerged, I saw my father standing and talking to Lamin’s grandfather. As I approached, I could hear Papa explaining what had happened and giving my dad an update on Lamin’s condition.

  My father turned and saw me standing there. His oldest daughter. Eighteen years old and in love with a drug dealer who had just been shot in a club. I could see the disappointment in his eyes. He didn’t have to say a word.

  My parents had afforded me the perfect upbringing. I had gone to exclusive parochial schools, vacationed in Asia, qualified for scholarships to Ivy League Universities, held membership to exclusive clubs. And there I stood—dressed in booty shorts and a Port Richmond High School T-shirt, my hair pulled back in a ponytail to reveal a tear-streaked face.

  “Hi, Daddy.” I knew it sounded pitiful, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I could tell my dad was pissed.

  “Laila, we were worried sick about you,” he said. “You didn’t come home, and you didn’t call. That’s not like you.”

  Papa spoke up. “Lucky was upset, Mr. Matheson. My wife and I have been here with her all night. She wouldn’t leave Lamin’s side.”

  I knew that comment struck a nerve in my dad. He didn’t like Lamin, and he never hid that fact from me.

  “Thanks for looking out for Laila, Mr. Michaels.” My father shook Papa’s hand and turned back to me. “Laila, can I have a word with you?”

  My father and I walked out to the parking lot and found a quiet corner. I knew that this would be the inevitable showdown. Dad wasted no time.

  “Laila, what is wrong with you?” he demanded through clenched teeth. “The boy is a hoodlum!”

  “Daddy, don’t call him that …”

  “What should I call him, Laila? Should I call him a drug dealer? A thug? A criminal? Which label would you choose?”

  “That’s just it! I don’t label him. I don’t judge him because of his lifestyle—”

  “His ‘lifestyle’ involves drugs and guns, Laila. Or should I call you Lucky? I don’t even know who you are anymore!”

  That hurt. I hadn’t changed. I was still his little girl. The only difference was that I’d stopped playing along with his program. He had the lovely and obedient wife, the nice home, two cars, a military career, and three great kids. My brother, Andrew, had followed in my dad’s footsteps and gone onto a neat military career as well. My little sister, Stephanie, was a freshman in high school, and despite our age difference, we were as close as sisters could be. So a lot of pressure had been placed on my shoulders to listen to my parents and be a good example for Stephanie. Andrew had done just what our father wanted. I had, too. Until I met Lamin. I never liked the kinds of guys that my dad wanted for me. He wanted me to attend cotillions and marry one of the fraternity boys. He wanted me to meet a white-collar man and have a fairy-tale life. But I wanted Lamin.

  Jamal, my first boyfriend, had been the type of boy that my parents thought was ideal. His father was a police officer; his mom was a nurse. They lived a block away from us in a nice house with pruned bushes out front. The whole thing bored me from start to finish. I tried to stay with Jamal for the sake of my parents’ happiness. But that was not what gave me happiness. I had always liked guys with an edge. Like Lamin.

  “Laila, you need to get your stuff and come home so we can discuss this,” my father said.

  I shook my head. “I’m not leaving him here. If Lamin wakes up, I want to be there.”

  My father looked like he was ready to erupt. “Laila, don’t play with me. Go inside and get your shit. Then get your ass in the car so that we can go home and talk about this.” He meant business.

  So did I. “No,” I said. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m not a baby anymore. I’m a grown woman. I just graduated from high school yesterday—you were there! I am not leaving Lamin and you can’t make me.” I knew I sounded like a spoiled brat, but I didn’t care.

  My father shook his head. “Don’t do this, Laila. Don’t defy me for the sake of that lowlife. Your mother and I sacrificed to give you and your brother the best of everything. Don’t repay us by falling for this fool.”

  I laughed in his face. “You’re too late, Daddy. I love him.”

  “You don’t know what love is!” he bellowed. Some people turned and stared at us. Daddy was making a scene. “You disobey me, Laila, and you’ll regret it.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t regret it, Daddy. You only know the bad things about Lamin. I know the bad and the good.”

  “You could have been killed last night.” My father’s eyes were pleading. “You could have been killed! That son of a bitch had you in harm’s way, and all you can see are his good qualities?”

  “Yes. I know that being with Lamin is dangerous. I know that he doesn’t come from a wealthy family. I know that you hate his guts. And I still love him, Daddy.”

  My father was speechless. He stood there staring at me, trying to make sense of me. But love don’t make sense. I felt bad. I knew he wanted what was best for me. But all I wanted—all I needed in my life—was Lamin.

  “Laila,” my father said with a sigh. “You’re throwing your life away with this boy. And I refuse to stand by and watch you do that.”

  My father walked away, leaving me standing alone. I watched him climb into his Camry and pull out of the parking lot. I knew that I had been disowned, and I accepted that. Daddy wouldn’t be buying me a car, sending me to the islands for the summer, or paying my tuition to Georgetown as we had discussed. I had chosen to remain at Lamin’s side, and now the line had been drawn. No more daddy’s little girl.

  I went back inside to be with Lamin.

  Lamin

  I spent two and a half months in the hospital. I hated that fuckin’ place—the smell, the food, the rules—hated all that shit. I had to learn to walk again. One of the bullets hit a nerve in my left leg, I lost one of my kidneys, and I had a few surgical scars. But I thanked God to be alive.

  When I first regained consciousness, the first face I saw was Lucky’s. She had been by my side all night, and it made my feelings for her grow stronger. She cried when she realized that I was awake. I wanted to hug her so bad, but my body wouldn’t cooperate with my mind. I had a long road to recovery ahead of me.

  Zion came to see me and he looked choked up, too. I guess I looked pretty fucked up laying in that hospital bed, looking like I just got home from a war. Zion said he felt like he let me down. I couldn’t really talk like I wanted since every part of my body hurt like hell. But I managed to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. I tried to explain what happened before the shots rang out. Zion believed the mysterious, big-booty bartender must’ve put something in my drink. I never put my drink down in public. I was too smart for that. It had to be her. The medication had me groggy, but I described the dreadlocked Rasta at the bar as best I could. I could still see that muthafucka’s face in my mind, staring at me—eyeing me like I owed him money or somethin’. I knew he wasn’t the one who shot me since both bullets hit me in the back. But the dread nigga was the one who ordered it. That much I knew.

  Zion explained the full extent of the beef that was boiling over between us and them Park Hill cats. He had warned me that the heat was on, but I had been so caught up with Lucky that I had let my guard down. I was slippin’, and in our business that was unacceptable. It had almost cost me my life.

  Zion left to make some calls and pay a few unexpected visits to all those he thought might be involved. He assured me that it would all be taken care of by the time I walked out of the hospital. I wondered how long it would be before I walked anywhere.

  When I was finally
able to eat real food, Grandma brought me some of Papa’s delicious cooking. She knew I didn’t like the shit they had me eating. I loved her for bringing me them dinners on Sundays. Papa and Inez continued to visit with Curtis during my weeks in the hospital. I knew it would be months before my body was strong enough to make the trip upstate. I had taken two .45 caliber bullets to the back and believe me, that shit was no joke. The only missing link was my moms. She came to see me when I woke up. But when she came, she was with that muthafucka Wally. When I told her to make him leave, she refused. I called the nurse and told her to put that nigga out of my room. But when Wally left, my mother left with him. I didn’t speak to her the two times she came to see me after that, so she didn’t come back.

  Olivia and Lucky both spoiled me. They fed me, fluffed my pillows, adjusted the TV, and answered the phone. They really made a nigga feel loved. Eventually, I told them to take their asses home and let me do for myself for once. That’s when they told me about Lucky’s episode with her father. Lucky hadn’t stayed at her parents’ house since the night I got shot. She had been staying with her friend Audrey of all people. I knew that bitch was trying to convince Lucky to leave me. Then I really felt like shit. Lucky’s father hated me with a passion and I had confirmed his fears. Lucky had been right by my side when them guns started bustin’. I was everything he said I was.

  “Lucky, your pops cares about you, that’s all …” I tried to say something positive about the guy but she cut me off.

  “Well, I care about you, Lamin, and if he can’t see that, he’s blind.” Lucky looked so pretty when she was mad. “I don’t want to go back to that house, Lamin. If I do, he’s going to make my life miserable.”