The Fix 3

by K'wan

  The whole ride back to Long Island City Vaughn kept asking about her relationship with Ramses. Persia downplayed it like he was just a guy from the old neighborhood, but she could tell Vaughn didn’t believe her. The incident with Ramses was just another reason that Persia couldn’t commit to Vaughn. She really liked him, but her life was far too complicated. Vaughn had everything going for him and she feared that her bullshit would only bring him down.

  After a few minutes of lying there and feeling sorry for herself she finally managed to get out of bed. She checked her bedroom phone and found the light on the answering machine blinking. She had eleven messages, mostly from Chucky no doubt. He had been blowing her phone up to the point where she finally turned her ringer off. After the night she’d had the last thing she wanted to deal with was his crackhead shit.

  Pushing thoughts of Vaughn and Chucky out of her head she went into the bathroom to take a shower. She felt much better after washing the previous night’s drama off her. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and grabbed her favorite pair of old sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt from the drawer. Persia didn’t plan on doing anything that day except lounge around the house and watch movies.

  She was just about to leave the bedroom when she saw her phone lighting up. Persia was about to let it ring thinking it was Chucky, until she peered at the caller ID and recognized Asia’s number. “Hey, girl,” she answered.

  “Hey, yourself,” Asia replied. “You didn’t call me last night after your date so you know I need the play by play.”

  “It was okay, nothing to write home about,” Persia lied. “I got sick after dinner so he brought me home.”

  Asia sucked her teeth on the other end of the phone. “I swear you could fuck up a wet dream.”

  “Blame it on my stomach, not me,” Persia said.

  “Well I guess it was your stomach’s fault that another bitch was trying to mark your territory last night,” Asia informed her.

  “What you talking about?” Persia asked in a confused tone.

  “Well I was listening to the radio this morning and rumor has it while you were home nursing your tummy ache, Vaughn and some other ballers ended up at the Golden Lady. I hear they were throwing around garbage bags full of money!”

  Asia’s revelation stung, but Persia tried not to show it. “So? He’s not my man and I’m not his girl. What’s that supposed to mean to me?”

  “It means you’re cutting your nose off to spite your face!” Asia fumed. “Let’s keep it real between us. I feel like you’re in the way of your own happiness. You have a man who has his shit together and is head over heels for you and everybody except you seems to see it!”

  “I do see it, trust me I do, but I can’t get serious with Vaughn like that. I mean, you’re one of the few people who know my story so you should understand why I don’t wanna track that mud into his backyard.”

  “How long are you gonna be beholden to those old ghosts?” Asia asked seriously. “Your past is your past and should have no bearing on your future. If Vaughn cares for you like he acts like he does then he’ll be able to accept all of you, as you were and as you’re striving to be. What kills me about you is that you’re not even putting it on the table to find out. Why are you so damned opposed to giving love a chance?”

  “Because I’ve seen what love can do.” Persia huffed. “I’ve only loved two men in my lifetime, my father and Chucky, and both of them claimed to be something they weren’t.”

  “Kind of like what you’re doing with Vaughn,” Asia shot back. “I know you like Vaughn and you’re just trying to keep from hurting him but lying ain’t gonna do much to spare his feelings when this hits the fan, and trust me it will. If he has a problem with your past then fuck it and fuck him, but don’t deny him the freedom of choice.”

  “I gotta go,” Persia said, wanting to get off the phone. In truth Asia’s words were hitting too close to home.

  “Okay, but promise me you’ll at least consider what I’m telling you.”

  “I promise, I will,” Persia agreed.

  “Cool, call me later if you need to talk,” Asia said and hung up.

  Persia took a few minutes to process her conversation with Asia. Though she hated to admit it, Asia was right. Persia had been beholden to the ghosts of her past for far too long and it was time to finally lay them to rest. The thought of losing Vaughn scared her, but the thought of hurting him scared her even more. He was the only man since her father to ever show her even a shred of kindness and not expect anything in return. Vaughn was a good guy and deserved to know the truth. Persia decided that the next time she saw Vaughn she would lay it all on the table and let the chips fall wherever they may.

  When Persia came down the stairs she was greeted with the smell of bacon frying. Her mom was making breakfast. Persia hadn’t even realized how hungry she was until the smell of food made her stomach growl. She went into the kitchen to find her mother standing over the stove flipping pancakes.

  “Hey, baby,” Michelle greeted Persia when she noticed her standing there.

  “Hey, Mom.” Persia kissed her on the cheek. “I see you’re in here throwing down.” She looked over the spread: eggs, bacon, pancakes, and fresh fruit.

  “I was up a little earlier than usual for my morning workout and decided to whip something together for the family,” Michelle said proudly.

  “Mom, your figure looks great but you still exercise like you’re training for a triathlon,” Persia teased her.

  “Honey, unlike you young girls Mama gotta work to keep this figure popping.” Michelle pinched one of her love handles. “What I wouldn’t give for a body like yours, Persia.”

  “That’s gotta be a joke. I lost so much weight that I look like a ten-year-old boy now. I hate my body,” Persia said sadly.

  Michelle stopped her cooking and gave her daughter her undivided attention. “Baby, don’t ever let me hear you say that again. Self-hate is a terrible thing, and I’ve always taught you to love yourself. Yes, I know you’ve lost some of that ass you were carrying, but you’re wearing this new weight well. You are beautiful, Persia, whether you’re thick or slender; never forget that, you hear me?”

  “Yes, Mom,” Persia said, mustering a smile. Her mother always had a way of making her feel better when she was down.

  “Do me a favor and go tell your stepdad that breakfast is ready. I think he’s in the study.”

  “Okay, Mom.” Persia left the kitchen and went to fetch Richard.

  Persia crossed the living room and approached the closed door of Richard’s study. She listened for a few seconds before knocking softly.

  “Enter,” Richard called from the other side of the door.

  Persia pushed the door open and entered Richard’s private sanctum. Richard’s study was the one place in the house that was off-limits to everyone but him. He didn’t even allow Michelle to clean it for him. Persia would sometimes joke about Richard secretly being a terrorist and was probably building a weapon of mass destruction inside. It was a small room furnished with a writing desk, a small sofa, and wall-to-wall bookshelves. She found him sitting on a folding chair hovering over a chessboard, deep in thought.

  “Mom says to tell you that breakfast is ready,” Persia told him.

  “I’ll be there in a sec,” Richard said, not bothering to look up from the chessboard. There were pieces set up on both sides, but he was the only one playing.

  “Doesn’t chess usually require two players?” Persia asked.

  “Technically, but not necessarily.” Richard moved one of the white pieces. He looked up at Persia and saw her staring curiously at the board. “Do you play?”

  Persia frowned. “Jesus no! Chess looks about as much fun as watching paint dry.”

  “Chess is more about strategy than fun. It’s a thinking man’s game,” Richard informed her. “Come over here for a second, Persia.”

  With a sigh Persia went over and stood over the board.

  “What do you s
ee here?” Richard motioned toward the board.

  Persia shrugged. “Looks like a game of checkers with fancier pieces.”

  Richard chuckled. “To the uninitiated, maybe, but chess is far deeper than a game of checkers. Chess is a game of life.”

  “How do you mean?” Persia asked, now very interested.

  “Each piece,” Richard said, waving his hand over the board, “has a very unique purpose. From the king to the pawns.” He tapped his finger on the pieces respectively. “Each piece is pivotal to the survival of the king.” He plucked a piece from the board and held it up for her to see. “This is the queen, who the king leans on most heavily. Her ability to move anywhere she likes on the board makes her the strongest piece.” He moved the queen across the board this way and that. “The queen has one purpose: protect the king.”

  “Seems like the queen has all the real power,” Persia remarked.

  Richard smiled. “And therein lies the lesson. Let’s go eat before the food gets cold.”

  As Persia and Richard were coming out of the office the doorbell rang. Her mother was already on her way to answer. As they neared the foyer Persia heard her mother talking to someone. The closer she got the more familiar the voice became. Persia’s heart dropped as she knew it wasn’t who she thought it was. Not at her house. Not like this.

  CHAPTER 17

  Li’l Monk awoke with a splitting headache. His tongue felt like he had been licking a shaggy carpet and his eyes stung. He was disoriented and for a minute couldn’t figure out where he was. When he tried to move, he found himself weighed down. He looked and found Tiffany lying on his chest snoring. That’s when the memories came flooding back to him.

  Guilt suddenly rained over Li’l Monk like a ton of bricks as he thought back on his night of wild sex with Tiffany. Whatever she had slipped into the drink they shared brought out a side of Li’l Monk he never knew was there. He was an animal, taking her in several positions and sticking his dick in every hole in her body. Li’l Monk had done things with Tiffany that he couldn’t even talk about with Sophie and the worst part was that he enjoyed it. Sophie was a good chick and had never stepped out on Li’l Monk, and in return he had betrayed her. He felt like shit and wasn’t sure he’d be able to face her, but eventually he would have to.

  Li’l Monk slid from under Tiffany, careful not to wake her. He tiptoed around the living room, gathering his clothes from the various places they had been thrown. He was able to track down everything except one of his socks. Only God knew where it had gotten off to and he wasn’t about to stick around to find out. He didn’t even bother to check on Omega, who was likely still in the bedroom sleeping it off. He just wanted to get out of the apartment and put the whole crazy night behind him.

  When he got outside Li’l Monk flagged down a taxi to take him back to the block. He was tired, hung over, and had to take what felt like the worst dump in his life. All he wanted to do was get back to his apartment so he could shit, bathe, and take a nap.

  Li’l Monk got out of the taxi and of course the first person he saw was Droopy. The young man was sitting on a milk crate in front of Li’l Monk’s building, sipping a twenty-two ounce bottle of beer and watching the block.

  “Damn, you look like shit,” Droopy greeted him.

  “I feel like shit,” Li’l Monk replied. “I had a rough night.”

  “So I’ve heard. The streets been buzzing about how you and Omega put it down last night at the strip club. I heard y’all backed down like thirty niggas on some Jet Li shit.” Droopy starting mocking some moves he had seen in a karate movie.

  “It wasn’t thirty, nigga, more like ten or so. You know how stories get exaggerated when they pass through the grapevine.”

  “They say y’all put in on two of them Clark boys too and their friends wasn’t none too happy about it. One of they peoples came through twice already looking for you. He asked for you by name. Some nigga named Swann,” Droopy informed him.

  Li’l Monk didn’t know too many people in the Clark crew, but Swann’s was a name he was familiar with. He was a high-ranking member of the Bloods street gang and Shai’s second-in-command. “What’d he say? Was he on some bullshit?”

  “At first I thought he was, but he said he was just looking to talk to you about some unresolved issues,” Droopy said.

  “What’d you tell him?”

  “What you think I told him? I told him get the fuck off our block before something bad happens to him.” Droopy lifted his shirt to show he was still carrying the Beretta with the extended clip.

  “I admire your dedication to the cause, Droopy, but be more mindful about who you threaten. Swann is connected,” Li’l Monk told him.

  Droopy sucked his teeth. “The only thing he would’ve been connected to was one of these hollow points if he had tried to get crazy out here. I don’t give a fuck about a nigga’s rank; if he can bleed then he can die.”

  Li’l Monk shook his head. “Young and foolish. I’m going upstairs to take a shit and a shower. You gonna be out here for a while?”

  “Where the fuck else would I be going?”

  “A’ight, I’ll come check you in a few.” Li’l Monk started to walk in his building.

  “Yo, what you want me to do if Swann comes back through? Should I air that nigga out?” Droopy asked, hoping Li’l Monk gave him the green light.

  “Don’t do shit. You hit my phone if you see him, but don’t try to play no hero. You hear me, Droopy?”

  “Yeah, I hear you.” Droopy nodded. When Li’l Monk went inside the building he added, “That don’t mean I’m gonna listen.”

  As soon as Li’l Monk reached his door he smelled it: the unmistakable odor of burning chemicals. It was the stench of someone smoking crack. His father was home.

  Inside the apartment the smell was even more potent. Li’l Monk rounded the corner and found his father sitting on the couch, but he wasn’t alone. On her knees in front of him was a brown-skinned woman dressed in nothing but her bra and panties. She had a nice shape, and a large, round ass that looked like it would jiggle when slapped. Li’l Monk couldn’t see her entire face because it was buried in his father’s lap, but from her profile she wasn’t bad looking. She didn’t have the look of a crackhead, but she was obviously on one drug or another if she was keeping time with Li’l Monk’s dad. The girl had Monk’s cock tonsils-deep in her throat while he free-based rocks from a glass cylinder.

  Seeing his father that way filled Li’l Monk’s heart with both anger and sadness. You wouldn’t know it by looking at what he had become, but at one time he was a great and powerful man. With his partner Face, Monk had the streets on lock. Face was the brains, but Monk was the brawn. Monk was a merciless brute who had little to no respect for human life, and he made sure everyone knew it by spilling blood every chance he got. When Face went to prison it was left to Monk to keep things going, but between his partying and getting high it didn’t take long for their little empire to start crumbling. Things took a turn for the worse when his girlfriend Charlene, Li’l Monk’s mom, was killed. That’s when Li’l Monk’s father lost his way and his will to go on.

  Charlene was the center of Monk’s universe and someone had taken that from him the night men came to rob the boutique she owned. In addition to taking her money they had also taken her life, leaving Li’l Monk with no mother and a shattered father. In time Monk would eventually catch up with his girlfriend’s killers. With his young son, Li’l Monk, at his side he tracked them down and unleashed the wrath of the gods on them. The last one he saved for his baby boy. Li’l Monk was very young at the time, far too young to understand the long-term ramifications of taking a life. His hatred for the man for taking away his mother and his need to please his father drove him to pull the trigger.

  The sin the father and son had committed should’ve brought them closer together, but instead it drove them further apart. Monk slipped deeper into depression and drugs, while his son learned to fend for himself in the street
s. All his life Li’l Monk had vowed he would never be the kind of man his father was, yet he found himself walking a mile in the shoes of his namesake.

  “I thought I asked you not to smoke that shit in here,” Li’l Monk spoke up, startling the girl, but his father barely budged.

  Monk’s glazed-over eyes landed on his son and a smirk formed on his lips. “What’s up, junior? I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Probably because your ass is in here blasting off. That shit stinks.” Li’l Monk fanned the smoke.

  “Listen to you sounding all judgmental and shit. Do I complain when you’re in here smoking that hydro? God knows that crap smells like old flowers that been dragged through dog shit when you burn it. Back in my day they didn’t have all them different strains. It was either good weed or bad weed,” Monk recalled.

  “Well this ain’t back in your day,” Li’l Monk said with an attitude.

  “I’d better get my stuff and go,” the girl said, looking embarrassed. She made to get up, but Monk grabbed her about the wrist.

  “You’re still on the clock, love. So you sit tight until I tell you to get gone or my money runs out,” Monk told her. “Why don’t you go on in the bathroom and get that pussy nice and fresh for me while I talk to my boy.”

  The girl hurriedly did as she was told. As she passed Li’l Monk on the way to the bathroom she was so embarrassed that she couldn’t even look him in the eyes.

  Li’l Monk looked at the setup on the coffee table. There were empty beer bottles, an ashtray full of cigarette butts, and a Baggie with at least $500 worth of crack in it. “Looks like somebody had a good night.”

  “I guess you could say that. I caught these two pussies slipping at this rock house uptown and helped them get rid of some of that product and money they were sitting on,” Monk told his son.

  “You make a clean getaway?” Li’l Monk asked.

  Monk shrugged. “All depends on who you ask. One of them tried to get cute, so I had to make him ugly, feel me?” He patted the barrel of the shotgun that was propped against the couch.