“Yeah. Busy day,” I say, signing my name on the guest list.
“Are all them with you?” the woman asks.
“No. Just my brother here,” I say, and then flash the bodyguards a sweet smile. “You two don’t mind waiting out here, do you?”
They glance at each other.
“It’s cool,” Profit says, and gives them a look that tells them to chill.
They still look like they want to argue, but the biggest muthafucka bucks his head at me and says, “Thirty minutes.” He pulls back his jacket so I can see his gat in his waistband. “After that, we come in to get you.”
I roll my eyes and then resume pushing Profit toward Ta’Shara’s room. Halfway down the hallway, I can tell that Profit is getting anxious by the way he keeps shifting around in his chair.
When we reach Ta’Shara’s room, I peek inside first and see that she’s still sitting in the dark in a chair next to the window and staring out at the city. It’s like time is standing still for her.
“Is she in there?” Profit asks.
“Yeah. C’mon.” I hip bump the door and then roll Profit in backward. I go to hit the light switch.
“No,” Profit barks, and then softens his voice by saying, “Leave it off.” He cocks his head and then proceeds to roll himself over to the window.
I glance at Ta’Shara to see if Profit’s voice pulled her out of whatever shocked state that she’s in, but she doesn’t even move. Standing silently by the wall, I watch as Profit rolls to a stop beside her chair.
“Shara?” he whispers softly. “Can you hear me, baby?” He takes one of her hands and presses a kiss against the back of it. “Oh, baby. Please snap out of it. I don’t know what I’ll do if you don’t come back to me.”
Tears roll down my face at a clip that is fucking embarrassing. At the same time, I can’t get myself to look away.
“I’m so sorry, baby.” Profit’s voice is choked with emotion. “This shit is all my fault. I should’ve protected you better. I should’ve . . . fought harder . . . I should’ve . . .” He presses her hand back against his lips, kisses it, and then drenches her hand with his tears. “Come to me, baby. I promise I’m going to set all this shit right. I’m going to prove that I can protect and love you the way you deserve to be loved. Come back to me.”
Profit brushes Ta’Shara’s hair back over her shoulder so that he can stare at her in the moonlight. “I love you,” he whispers over and over again. “Please come back to me.”
36
Momma Peaches
I t’s time.
I’ve been putting this shit off for far too long. I can’t believe my ass is nervous, too. However, this morning, I wake up knowing in my heart that today is the day I need to see Isaac. For weeks now, I’ve let that last argument with Terrell fuck with me. Yeah, I’m sorry that I blew up at him, but shit. He hurt my fuckin’ feelings, and that shit doesn’t happen often. I’m wrong for jumping on him when all he did was spit the truth.
Cedric senses my change in mood, and even after a good dicking down, I’m not even in the mood for flapjacks. “Are you ever going to tell me what’s up?” he asks, sipping on his coffee and staring at me from across the table.
“Nothing’s up. I got a lot of shit I got to do today.”
“What kind of shit?”
I stab him with a sharp look.
“Look. I ain’t trying to get in your business or nothing. It’s just that you’ve been walking around with your bottom lip mopping the floor. C’mon, talk to me.”
Staring into those beautiful green eyes, I want to crack my chest open and confess everything, but now ain’t the time. “Later,” I tell him, getting up. “Right now I got to get over to the Big House.”
Cedric’s thick brows jump up, but he doesn’t say shit when I finally turn to get my purse and car keys.
An hour later, my ass is sitting in a metal chair, waiting for my husband to be led into the visiting room. For the hundredth time, I’m thinking my ass should’ve smoked something to relax my nerves before I rolled up in here.
At last the doors open, and a stream of niggas are directed into the room. My eyes zoom to the nigga who still holds the biggest part of my heart: Isaac. Six-five with shoulders the size of mountains and there isn’t an ounce of fat to be seen nowhere. His muscled thighs and arms have me itching to stand up and rip my muthafuckin’ clothes off right here and now—fuck the consequences.
Ain’t that the damn reason I’ve put up with his bullshit for so damn long? Yeah, he did a lot of good shit, too, but his ass was careless when it came to handling my heart. I ain’t mad because his ass used to slang or gangbang with the best the streets had to offer. Neither one of us wrote the rules on how to survive out here. But I do fault his ass for whispering those sweet lies into my ears night after night. I’m equally mad at myself for believing them.
“Well, well, well. If it ain’t my baby girl. You’ve come out to see me, huh?” Isaac’s eyes twinkle like black diamonds as he settles down into his chair behind the Plexiglas. “You’re looking good, Peaches. Then again, you always did take good care of yourself.”
“Thanks. You look good, too,” I say, raking my gaze over his shaved head and remembering what it used to feel like when I gripped the back of that muthafucka when he was fuckin’ the shit out of me. I look around and complain, “Goddamn. It’s hot in this bitch.”
Isaac chuckles. “Yeah. I miss you, too. Believe I’m counting the days until I get some of that homemade peach pie.”
I roll my eyes, but my damn smile remains in place. He has that effect on me.
“I’ve been hearing some disturbing things from the street. How’s Terrell holding up?”
“Like a soldier,” I tell him, not wanting to get too into that shit in case muthafuckas are listening.
Isaac bobs his head, while a half smile slopes one side of his mouth. “Good. Glad to hear that shit. The war behind these damn bars is as heated as it is out there on the streets. These fuckin’ hooks in here are strutting with they chests all out because I hear some bitch has been taking out a lot of Terrell’s crew.”
I shake my head. “Look, I didn’t come up here to rehash all that gang bullshit. I’ve come to talk to you about some other shit—our bullshit, as a matter of fact.” If my getting heated bothers him, it doesn’t show on his face.
“A’ight. Say what’s on your mind.”
I shut down. My throat closes the fuck up.
Isaac cocks his head. “What? Am I supposed to be a fuckin’ mind reader now?”
“Fuck you, Isaac.”
“Hell. I wish you could. Maybe it would work out some of that stress in your face.”
“The stress I feel right now, baby boy, is all on you.”
“What the hell have I done from behind bars that’s supposedly causing you stress now?”
“Don’t be an ass. It’s what you did before you got in here. It’s what you did the entire time we were together.”
“Aw, shit. Not this again.”
“Yes, this shit again. It’s about all those fuckin’ bitches you fucked in all those other area codes that I let slide.”
“Look, Peaches. I’ve apologized for all that shit. What else do you want me to say? Shit. I’m a man, and a man has fuckin’ urges and needs that you and all those man-hating bitches out there will never understand. So if you ain’t got shit else to do but be sitting up in the house and getting mad about shit that happened years ago, then you do you, boo. Personally, I don’t want to fuckin’ hear about it no goddamn more.” He jumps up out of his seat and starts to head to the door.
“Get your ass back over here, nigga. I ain’t finished talking to you.”
Isaac, as well as every nigga up in here, whips his head around.
“Y’all mind y’all’s fuckin’ business,” Isaac barks. Everybody turns away, but we both know they’re watching to see what the fuck he’s gonna do.
“A’ight,” he says, though I know if he could
reach through this damn fake-ass glass right now, he would slap the taste out of my mouth for disrespecting him like this in front of so many people. “Speak your piece, Ma. Clearly you got a lot on your chest.” Isaac plops down into his chair.
I take another moment to try and calm down, but at this point, it’s impossible. “I need a simple yes or no.”
A muscle twitches along Isaac’s jaw as he folds his arms. “A’ight.”
Heart hammering, I lock gazes with my love, my husband, and pray like hell that I’m wrong in my suspicion. “Are you Mason’s father?”
37
Essence
“You’re in over your head,” Cleo says.
I plop two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches down on the cluttered dining room table and holler, “Jamie, Kay, come and eat!”
Cleo switches her hips and folds her arms as she glares at me. “E, don’t fuckin’ ignore me. I’m serious about this shit. You’ve been rolling up there to that damn hospital long enough. That nigga ain’t your problem, and I’m sorry to say, but your girl Ta’Shara is as fucked up in that damn mental hospital.”
I cut my eyes over at her as the kids run to the table.
Cleo throws her hands up. “Sorry, but I’m keeping it one hundred. Stop running your ass up there, tryna play inch high private eye for LeShelle. The girl is our leader and shit, but everybody knows her lightbulb ain’t screwed in too tight. When you deal with crazy, you get crazy.”
“I know that,” I say, shaking my head. “But it ain’t like I got a choice.”
Kobe strolls his ass into the mix. “Fuck. Niggas always got choices. You got to learn how to make the right ones.”
Cleo gestures toward our brother like, See?
I roll my eyes and try to storm away from the table, but my sister blocks my path.
“We ain’t done talking,” she says, rocking her neck.
“I don’t know why. I done said all I have to say.”
“And what’s that? I’m a stupid muthafucka? Is that what you’re saying? Because that’s what I’m hearing.” Cleo turns toward Kobe. “What about you, brah?”
“Not only that but you have ‘Re-Re’ stamped across your forehead.”
Insulted, I reach over and pop him on the arm. “I’m not retarded!”
“Then how about you stop acting like it?”
Like a couple of parakeets, Jamie and Kay start pounding their hands on the table and chanting with their mouths stuffed with peanut butter. “RE-RE! RE-RE! RE-RE!”
I mush Jamie in the back of the head. “Y’all shut the hell up and eat your lunch.”
The kids giggle while I roll my eyes and try to get past my sister, but she and Kobe still ain’t budging.
“C’mon, y’all. I got to get going if I’m gonna go.”
“That’s the whole fuckin’ point,” Cleo says, now mushing me in the center of my forehead. “You ain’t going no more. Game is game, but family is family and I’m putting my foot down on this.”
I grind my teeth.
Cleo looks ready to whup my ass. “You can catch an attitude all you want, lil girl, but I’m doing this to save your hardheaded ass. I ain’t gonna be the one to tell Grandma that your ass is in the morgue because of some other bitch’s bullshit.”
Kobe shakes his head. “I can’t figure out why those crooked hooks let you stroll up in the hospital to see that nigga any damn way. How the fuck you gettin’ a Vice Lord pass?”
His boys in the living room playing on the PlayStation pause their shit and eyeball me in my damn mouth.
“Like I said, they know that I’m best friends with Ta’Shara. Everybody knows how Profit loves her ass, so they’re letting me slide.”
Kobe’s eyes snap back so fast it’s a wonder they ain’t rolling around on the floor. “That sounds like some weak-ass bullshit to me.”
“Exactly,” Cleo says, shaking her head. “Either those niggas are playing you or you’re tryna play LeShelle. Either muthafuckin’ way, you’re going to come up shorter than you already are.”
“Yeah,” Kobe cosigns. “That’s going to bring heat over to this crib, and it’s time-out for all of that bullshit. I ain’t having it. Fuck. Did you forget how they found Treasure, Mario, Killa Kyle?” He grips his shit as he shakes his head. “That shit was fuckin’ foul.”
Heat burns up the side of my face. I’m the one who served those bastards up to Lucifer, and I ain’t sorry about that shit. Not one damn bit.
Cleo’s eyes narrow on me, and for a split second I’m scared the bitch can hear my thoughts. “What’s the fuckin’ problem? You’ve peeped in on him for months. Surely that’s enough to satisfy LeShelle. Tell her that the Vice Lords canceled your free pass and get the fuck on.”
“Shit,” Kobe says. “If they hit Treasure and Mario, them niggas already know LeShelle was behind the attempted hit on their man. Get your ass up out of this shit.”
“I’m not doing this shit for LeShelle,” I snap, tired of the sermon.
Cleo’s brows jump, but her eyes light up like I confirmed something. “Then who in the hell are you doing it for?”
I hesitate and then blurt out a half-truth. “Ta’Shara.”
My sister’s face twists. She ain’t buying that shit.
Doesn’t matter, I’m sticking to that lie for all it’s worth. “When I go and talk to Ta’Shara, I feel that hearing about Profit hanging in there is giving her encouragement to do the same thing. I want her to snap out of this shit.”
I may as well be talking to a brick wall.
“So excuse me,” I say, shoving past them and storming back toward my bedroom. “I don’t abandon my friends like you fair-weather muthafuckas.” As I pass the living room, I flash all those nosy muthafuckas the bird. “Damn. Why don’t y’all take your asses home?”
Two minutes later, I’m cramming my feet into my Nikes when Cleo strolls into our bedroom, clapping her hands. “You need to get out of here and take your ass to Hollywood.”
“Will you squash this shit already? I’m tired of talking about it.”
“We will when you admit that the real reason you keep creeping your ass over to that hospital is because you’re falling for your girl’s man.”
I stop wiggling my feet into my sneakers and look up at her.
Cleo’s smug smile grows bigger. “Yeah. I got your muthafuckin’ number. If you want to keep your fuckin’ secrets, you need to stop talking in your sleep.”
I blink at her.
“Close your mouth before flies come flying out of that muthafucka.”
Hell, I didn’t even know that the muthafucka was open. “What in the hell do you expect me to do when you say some dumb shit like that?” I rebound.
“Uh-huh. Girl, stop playing yourself. Didn’t you warn your girl about this same bullshit? What the fuck is it with this nigga that got you two stuck on stupid?”
Silence.
“HUH?!”
“Look, Cleo, I gotta go.” I hurry up and get my ass out of there. Pulling out of my grandmomma’s driveway, I can’t help but note how quiet the street is. No lookout boys, no corner hustlers, and no hoes on patrol.
It’s dead out here. A hood ghost town, waiting for night to fall so some shit can pop off—and our bloody war with the Vice Lords can resume with its regularly scheduled program.
I fly out toward the hospital but then notice my gas tank is sitting on empty. I roll up into a corner station, hoping I got some money in my pocket. I pull behind a rusted-out ’72 Buick Electra. I’d know this muthafucking car anywhere. I take a second to look at the nigga pumping gas and can’t believe my eyes.
“Drey?”
He turns his head and I still don’t recognize his ass. I climb out from behind the wheel and remove my shades. This nigga’s face looks like it’s been put through a meat grinder.
“What in the hell happened to you?” I rush up to him to get a better look.
Drey sneers or at least I think he’s sneering. It’s hard to tell since he is
missing a left ear, his right eye looks permanently swollen, and his lips look as if they are busted or completely allergic to one another.
“Fuck,” he groans, and steps back. “You need to stay the fuck away from me.”
I blink. To top it all off, this nigga is missing about four or five teeth. “What the fuck? It ain’t like I’m the one who rearranged your face.”
“The fuck you didn’t.” He looks around. “It’s because my stupid ass listened to you and helped you with that psycho bitch that those grimy hooks showed up at my muthafuckin’ front door. THEY FUCKIN’ TORTURED ME!” he roars.
Muthafuckas turn and look at us. “Damn. Calm down,” I say.
“Calm down? Bitch, look at my face! Since they peeped our asses dumping that girl at her front door, they assumed that I had something to do with that nigga Profit lying up in the hospital. None of my screaming and bleeding convinced them otherwise.”
I suck in a sharp breath, but then as fast remember Lucifer knowing all about prom night when she snatched me up in the hospital hallway that day. “Fuck.”
“Yeah. Fuck.” He bounces his head as his one good eye narrows on me. “How the fuck is it that you are walking around looking like the perfect picture of good health? Those niggas didn’t come after you?”
“I . . . uh . . .” I can’t think of anything to say. I’m certainly not about to spit out the truth. Unfortunately, my lack of defense or a plausible lie only makes him angrier. “You a fuckin’ snitching bitch. You sicced those niggas on me, didn’t you?”
“What? Don’t be stupid. Why would I do that?”
“Something is up. So spit it.”
“Yo, nigga. Calm down. I don’t know what to tell you. They didn’t come at me like that.”
“That’s the second damn time you done told me to calm down.” Drey starts walking toward me, and I start backing up. “I don’t believe this shit! I should’ve put two and two together a long time ago, but I’ve been too busy trying to learn how to breathe with a collapsed lung. I told your ass that I didn’t want to get involved with that bullshit. Now look at me!” He grabs me by the arms and shakes me. “LOOK AT ME!”
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