It felt super weird hearing him mention personal stuff about my family. And I know he could see the uncomfortable look on my face.
“I really have to go,” I said. I didn’t want to just walk off because that would have been rude.
“I won’t hold you up.”
I smiled and headed out the door. By the time I got my bag in my trunk and my butt in the driver’s seat and checked my phone, Ladykiller had already posted a message on my Site wall.
Ladykiller > Tyesha816: It was good seeing you!
Crazy motherfucker, I thought. I tapped the “settings” icon and quickly clicked on the “block” feature. Now he’d never be able to see my status updates again.
-
Tyesha816: Hey yall! Be careful what yall put on here. These people is crazy and will stalk you. I’m talking from experience!
August 14th, 5:09 p.m.
CHAPTER 4
I couldn’t believe it. Yesterday when I was here at my mother’s house, I at least had a pathway to the kitchen. Now, standing in the threshold of the front door, I saw in order to get through the house I’d have to crawl over a bunch of cardboard boxes. She must have gone out and bought more crap.
Most of the boxes were open, with long handles and sharp ends of appliances sticking up out of some of them, which made it that much harder navigating to the kitchen. I bumped my knee on the edge of the end table—the one thing that was supposed to be in the living room—and dropped my phone in a box. When I bent down to pick it up, I saw a chain and a heart-shaped locket stuck between some taxes paperwork.
I pulled it out and held it up. At first I thought it was one of my mother’s old charms, until I opened it. I let out a laugh. It was a tiny throwback picture of me and Rodrick inside. Our prom picture. In it, my sideburns were horridly gelled down and Rodrick had a full set of gold teeth.
“Can I give this to Kylie, momma?”
Velma Fenty was in the kitchen chopping up an onion insanely fast into little pieces. She paused mid-chop to look. “And you wonder why I hold on to all this stuff,” she said. “There’s a lot of memories in some of those boxes.”
“I never said you should get rid of all of it. Just go through it and get rid of the stuff you don’t need.”
“I will.”
“You’ve been saying that for at least twenty years. I remember building club houses in the attic out of your packed boxes. I bet it’s a picture of one of my club houses in here somewhere.”
I dug in the box and found another picture. It was taken at one of my birthday parties, I don’t know which year. The little girl with the glitter all over her face in the bottom corner was me; my face was blurred from running past the camera. The shot of my dad though, holding one of the kids at the party, had good sharpness and contrast. He was captured eternally smiling at my blurry head.
I showed the flick to my mom. “Who is this little boy Daddy is holding? Is that Aunt Jene’s son?”
Velma snatched the picture, crumpled it and tossed it in the waste basket.
“Momma!” I whined.
“You want me to start getting rid of stuff. There you go.”
“How can you still hate him? He’s dead! And I don’t have that many pictures of him.” I got the photo out the trash and uncrumpled it on the counter.
“Am I supposed to forgive him because he’s dead?” she asked.
“Yes!”
“I can’t do it, Tyesha. I forgave him too many times and he kept cheating. And I see you making the same mistakes I made. When are you gonna let that no-good boy Rodrick go? Every time I check your profile page, I pray to God your relationship status has changed. I’m disappointed every time.”
Sometimes I wished I hadn’t added my mother as a friend. I introduced her to the Site about three years ago, not too long after my father, a Rollin 60s Crip who migrated from Los Angeles, died. He burned to death in a pool hall fire. His body was discovered, black and charred, with his arms protectively wrapped around his girlfriend—and that infuriated my mother even more. I got her to create a profile in hopes that she would find a male friend from her high school days, but it seemed like she paid more attention to my stats than her peers’.
“I don’t want you to think I’m ‘stalking’ your page,” she went on. “I don’t comment on your statuses like I used to. I’m just worried about you, Tyesha.”
I realized what she was getting at. “Momma, my status today wasn’t about you.”
She started chopping again.
“I’m serious. It was about somebody else.”
“Okay, whatever. Your daughter’s upstairs.”
In the mail bin beside the microwave, I caught sight of an opened bill with Wells Fargo printed on the return address. I didn’t have to read the whole letter to know what it was. Two words at the top said it all: “mortgage” and “foreclosure.” In the past, I had tried to give my mother money because I knew she was struggling to make it after my father passed. She refused because she thought it was going to come from Rodrick’s drug money. Not that she was against drug money—my father sold drugs from time to time. She was just against Rodrick’s money. She hated him because we had a child out of wedlock and because, in her eyes, he should be treating me way better.
I gave my mother a warm hug from behind and went up and found Kylie playing with some of my old dolls. I started to ask her where she found them, but it was obvious she’d got them out of one of the many boxes cluttering this room. She loved coming over here because she never knew what she’d find.
After giving her the wettest kisses and hugging her until she grunted for air, I pushed some old clothes off the twin bed and had a seat. Crossing my legs as I loaded up The Site on my phone, a childish grin spread across my face. I couldn’t wait to see the comments about my stalker stat and respond.
Cara Unbroken Fisher: My ex-boyfriend’s cousin keep telling me how sexy I am on all the photos I post. Ugh! He is ugly as shit.
Christina MsFineGirl: That’s why I’m extra careful who I accept as my friend on here. If u don’t know me, DON’T SEND ME A FRIEND REQUEST!
Melissa Nelson: I feel you, Tyesha. My next door neighbor always tells me “good morning” and “good night” on my wall. It wouldn’t feel so weird if he wasn’t a 54-year-old white man! That’s why I keep all my curtains closed.
Quita Wheeler: One of my so-called “friends” came to my job once, trying to mack on me. I played his ass to the left. Get a life, fool.
Tyesha816: @Quita Wheeler. That’s what happened to me! A stalker showed up where I work-out at. He tried to make it look like he just so happened to show up at the same time as me. Needless to say, I blocked his ass.
Joanne Dunley: OMG!
Deja Michelle: when was this??!!
Tyesha816: Right after you left.
Fedbound Marley: I love all my stalkers!
When Fedbound Marley’s comment popped up, I laughed out loud and Kylie came and looked at my phone to see what was so funny. She saw it was reading involved so she went back to playing with her dolls.
I clicked Like on Marley’s post.
Then I scrolled to Rodrick’s page to see what was going on with him. At the top of his wall was a message that a guy named Kenneth C.r.e.a.m. posted about six minutes ago. I gasped as I read it. And dark anger began boiling inside me.
Immediately, I dialed his number and put the phone to my ear. It rang until it went to the voicemail. I called two more times and it did the same thing.
I called Gideon.
“Hello?”
“Are you with Rodrick?” I asked.
He hesitated. “Nah, I’m solo.”
“I really need to talk to him, Gideon. If he’s with you, put him on the phone.”
“I’m not with him. I’m serious. But he should be calling me in a couple minutes. What’s wrong?”
“When you talk to him, tell him to check his profile page as soon as possible. And after that, tell him I’m through playing his games.”<
br />
I hung up, tried to squeeze my phone until it broke. I looked up at the ceiling and took a breath, hoping my tears wouldn’t fall with my head back. I didn’t want to cry in front of Kylie. My instincts were screaming for me to go out in the streets and find Rodrick, give him the biggest ass kicking he ever received. But dinner would be ready soon and I know my mom would be pissed if me and Kylie left before eating.
I deleted the message Kenneth posted on my baby’s father’s page. The deletion would only effect my profile, though. Everybody on the Web who was friends with them would still be able to see the post, but at least I wouldn’t have to.
-
Kenneth C.r.e.a.m. > Rodrick Al-Bashir: Stay the fuck away from my baby momma’s house, nigga! Or I’ma beat yo ass AGAIN!
August 14th, 5:30 p.m.
CHAPTER 5
Ain’t nothin’ wrong wit’ lying a little bit on ya status update, Kenneth Murberry thought, as he read through his comments. I needed to get my point across.
The fact was he never beat up Rodrick Brown. But he did push him to the floor years ago in the high school cafeteria, and as Rodrick got to his feet security was there to keep them separated. They’d been arguing about who fucked Wendy Hartley first—who was now Kenneth’s baby’s momma—and when Rodrick turned and showed pictures of Wendy naked on his phone to everybody in the lunch room, Kenneth shoved him from behind.
He’d tried hard not to post anything on Rodrick’s profile. But enough was enough. The last straw was when he saw that Wendy clicked Like on the picture Rodrick uploaded of his daughter holding a stack of cash. He told her to stop commenting and Liking all his shit! It was her fault that he blasted him over the internet.
When his phone started ringing, he took his sweet time before answering.
“What the fuck is yo problem?” Wendy hollered.
“You know what my goddamn problem is. Get off Rodrick’s dick. I told yo goofy ass to stay off his fuckin’ profile.”
“I have!”
“I just saw you Liked the picture of his daughter.”
“So what? Everybody Liked it. I haven’t been commenting on his statuses like I used to.”
“I don’t want you Liking his shit either.”
“Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do? Take care of yo son and I might let you call some shots. And you act like I’m the only one that be Liking people’s statuses on The Site. You always comment and Like the same bitches’ pictures: Quita Wheeler, Angela youngandfly Serrano, Deja Michelle, Janice Tillot, Tyesha816, Christina MsFineGirl… need I name more? You Like all they pictures but haven’t Liked not one I’ve uploaded of yo son. And you talking about me on Rodrick… Did you know Tyesha is Rodrick’s baby momma?”
Of course I did.
“But I’m not fuckin’ her, though,” Kenneth said.
“I’m not fuckin’ Rodrick!” Wendy snapped.
“You can’t even lie right. I saw yo sister’s status, talking about she just got a bag of that Girl Scout Cookie Kush dropped off and she tagged you in the picture. Everybody knows Rodrick is one of the only niggas that sell that strand of weed in Kansas City. And if I’m not mistaken, yo sister still stays wit’ you. So I know he was over there.”
She sucked her teeth. “Just because somebody drops off some weed don’t mean I let him in. You better delete yo status before he sees it. I know you’re just trying to get attention. But you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“Bitch, I am the tree.”
Kenneth hung up on her. Delete my status? Yeah, right.
Flicking his thumb against his screen, he scrolled down to the newest comments on his post.
Smitty Down4Whatever: LMAO! You a fool, bro!
Mitch tiredofballin Walker: If he didn’t get the picture before, I bet he do now! LOL!
Ed Capone: Don’t trip on that fuck nigga.
Kenneth C.r.e.a.m.: @Ed Capone--> Sometimes you gotta go on these niggas. They think just because they got a name and some money that gives them the right to fuck every bitch. But not mine, pussy muthafucka!
Ed Capone: I heard that. I already know you gone hog him out like you did in high school.
Kenneth C.r.e.a.m.: Nah. I let him off easy then. This time I’ma springboard clothesline his ass.
Ed Capone: LOL!
Kenneth C.r.e.a.m.: R U coming through?
Ed Capone: Yeah, as soon as my momma get back. You at the house, right?
Kenneth C.r.e.a.m.: Where else I’ma be?
Kenneth scanned through his newsfeed while he waited for Ed to show up. He saw Tyesha’s status about stalkers and his eyebrows furrowed. Was she talking about me? he wondered. He had Liked a few of her photos and commented on six or seven over the last couple of weeks but definitely not enough activity on her page to be labeled a stalker. Right? He wasn’t about to give himself a headache thinking about it. Women were crazy. If you Liked their statuses, you were a stalker; if you didn’t, you were a hater.
He hoped she saw his message he posted on Rodrick’s wall. That would surely get her juices going. If everything panned out like he wanted it to, her relationship status would revert back to “single,” and he’d post LMAO’s in Rodrick’s inbox for a week. Even though Kenneth had won Wendy in high school, he had always felt like Rodrick one-upped him by getting Tyesha Fenty pregnant. Tyesha was one of the sexiest—if not the sexiest—females in their graduating class.
Laying back on the couch and kicking his feet up on the arm rest, he scrolled through Tyesha’s endless photos to see if there were any new ones he hadn’t seen yet.
Until there was a knock at his door.
He looked through the peep hole and was startled by Ed’s fish eye. “Nigga, don’t scare me like that,” he said, as he flung the door open.
Ed suddenly lunged into him involuntarily, as Rodrick gripped him by the collar with a third generation Glock 17 pressed to his head.
“Hands up, neighbor!” Rodrick barked at Kenneth.
But in a state of panic, Kenneth turned and fled through his house, scraping his elbow against the wall as he pushed himself towards the back door. He slammed against it, then yanked it open.
His heart jumped when he saw Gideon standing in his backyard with an M4 Carbine braced expertly against his shoulder, the 14-inch chrome-moly steel barrel aimed dead at Kenneth’s chest. Submitting, Kenneth slowly put his hands behind his head, as Gideon stepped into the house and shoved him back further into the kitchen. He sat Kenneth down at the table where Rodrick had Ed hostage.
“I’m sorry,” Kenneth pleaded. “I’ll delete that shit. I was just talkin’ shit. I didn’t mean no disrespect.”
“I just got here,” Ed moaned pitifully. “I don’t even know what I did.”
They both watched as Rodrick, clad in black open-knuckle gloves, set a brown paper bag on the table that gave off a greasy scent of fast food. He opened up the cabinet and got out several cups and filled them with ice water. Then he pulled out a chair and sat, reaching in the greasy bag and pulling out a few chili dog burgers. He distributed them evenly.
“You eatin’ with us?” he asked Gideon, who held the rifle cocked to the ceiling in standby.
“Nah, I’m good, bro. Do yo thang.”
Rodrick gently reached his hands across the table and held them there, palms up. Kenneth, trembling uncontrollably, glanced at an even more frightened Ed. They both were confused.
“Give me your hands,” Rodrick said.
Hesitantly, Kenneth and Ed placed their hands in Rodrick’s.
“Would any of you two like to say Grace?”
They both shook their heads no.
“Well, bow your heads,” Rodrick said, lowering his chin to his chest and closing his eyes. “Dear Heavenly Father—”
“Close your eyes!” Gideon yelled at them.
They shut them immediately.
“Dear Heavenly Father, I want to thank you for bringing us together without incident or casualty. Please bless Kenneth Murberry and Edward
Davis, for they are my enemies. And I ask you to put forgiveness in my heart, oh Lord, and their hearts as well, oh Lord, as we share this meal today. In Jesus name we pray. Amen.”
“Amen,” Kenneth and Ed said in unison.
“Let’s eat,” Rodrick said.
Cautiously, the two unwrapped their burgers. Ed licked chili juice off his finger to taste test it. Kenneth didn’t even do that much. He stared at his burger blankly, before laying his eyes back on Rodrick. He couldn’t figure out how they—
“Pictures,” Rodrick said, reading his expression. “From the pictures you uploaded to The Site, especially the one with your house in it, it was easy to find out where you live. I also know from your posts that you and Ed meet up over here every night to drink beer and watch videos online because Ed’s internet is cut off. And I just saw your interesting status update about me, which you, Edward, stated that you were on your way over here. I thought I’d come to address some issues. I do homework on all my enemies… and you and Ed made it easy for me.”
“We don’t have any issues, Rodrick,” said Kenneth. “I just got off the phone with Wendy. She told me she only seen you when you came to drop off some of that fire GSC you sold to her sister. She explained it to me. She told me you weren’t even there to see her.”
Rodrick bit into his burger, the pickles crunching quietly within his jaws. He swallowed and dabbed his lips with a napkin. “She lied to you,” he told Kenneth. “I am fuckin’ her. I been fuckin’ her at least three times a week since I got out of prison. You know that profile picture she just uploaded of herself, the one that’s cropped with her kissing the camera? That arm around her shoulder belongs to me. She’s a wonderful human being, but with dick-sucking skills that can only be described as extraterrestrial. And if you think I’ma give that up, you’re sadly mistaken.”
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