by Tracy Brown
All of them now worked in an industry where the drug game was often glamorized and held up as a badge of honor. And they all knew the ugliest side of what that lifestyle entailed. Lucky for them, they had managed somehow to escape the game’s clutches. But all of them still bore the scars of numerous battles. All of the good times had come on the heels of suffering. They had survived only because they’d learned the power of forgiveness. Their would-be fairy tale may not have ended happily ever after, but it came pretty damn close.
Jada had her life back, and she had Born’s forgiveness—his friendship. They never shared anything more than an occasional kiss. And an awkward silence always followed that. Both of them were afraid. He was afraid of losing control, and she was afraid of letting him down. Jada was determined in her heart that she would never get high again. But she knew that Born wasn’t so sure about that. He doubted her, and rightfully so. And Jada wasn’t sure if she could ever find enough ways to convince him. Born had a wall around his heart, and she knew that she had helped lay every brick within it. So even though she loved him more than ever, she allowed things to move at his pace, and hoped that someday she could completely regain his trust. And his heart.
Their connection was still unmistakable. They laughed together often and called each other several times a week. Once in a while, they had dinner together, and whenever their eyes met across the table, it was like magic. It was like music. True friendship knows no bounds. And they were grateful that at least their friendship had survived all the pain caused by white rocks, glass pipes, and powdery white lines.
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WHITE LINES 3: ALL FALLS DOWN
Copyright © 2014 by Tracy Brown
“Where is he?” She was breathless. “What happened?”
“He’s okay. There was some kind of explosion. They don’t know if it was a gas leak, but they said something about a suitcase at the front door. They ain’t saying much, but he’s okay. Some neighbors called 911 and they got him here. They called Miss Ingrid, and she got in touch with me. We’ve all been trying to get in touch with you for hours.”
Jada groaned in frustration. She had been staging Sunny’s intervention all day. “Where is he?”
“Listen.” D.J. took a deep breath. He put his hands on Jada’s shoulders, looked her in the eyes. “Anisa’s here. She’s in there with Born right now.”
Jada held his gaze. Her heart raced. With her jaw clenched, she narrowed her eyes at D.J.
“Where’s Ethan?”
“He’s with Miss Ingrid. She took him to get something to eat.”
Jada glanced around. “Which room is he in?”
D.J. led the way. They stopped outside Born’s room, and Jada could hear Anisa laughing softly.
“Now I know you’re okay. You’re back to being fresh again.”
Jada heard Born mumble something she couldn’t hear, but she had heard enough. Her blood was at a brisk boil.
She stepped into the room, and saw Born lying in the bed with his head and right arm bandaged heavily. Anisa had basically draped herself across him, despite the IV and other monitors connected to him. Born looked at her as she stepped in.
“Hey, Jada.”
He seemed groggy. Jada wasn’t sure whether they had him doped up or if he was still mumbling as a result of the explosion.
“Hey,” she said. “Why is she here?”
“Excuse you?” Anisa frowned as she sat upright. “I’m right here. Why don’t you ask me?”
Jada side-eyed her.
“Nah,” Born said. “Don’t ask nobody nothing.” He wasn’t that groggy, and he could tell that this was not about to go well. “Lis-ten.” He tried to sit up, but his right side was racked with pain. His head was pounding, and it hurt to move. He spoke in a jumbled whisper in an effort to keep his head from throbbing worse than it already was. “Listen, ’Neece, let me talk to Jada for a while. Please.”
He watched Anisa contemplate it. This was her big chance. She could blow it all up, and tell Jada the truth about their reunion. Or she could play it cool and let Born handle things his way. Anisa was the type who could go either way. She was a livewire. But, he was counting on the fact that they’d bonded recently. He hoped that they had an understanding. She sighed, gathered her sweater, and touched Born tenderly on the leg. “I’ll be outside.”
She walked past Jada without a second glance. And it was then, as Born looked at Jada, that he saw the pain etched on her face. She stood close to his bedside with her hands in the pockets of her hoodie, her eyes heavy with tears. “She’s ‘’Neece‘ now?”
“Don’t start.” Born shook his head slowly.
Jada wiped her eyes quickly. She was an emotional wreck, and she knew it. Seeing Born like this wasn’t helping. “Are you all right?”
“I will be. Right now everything hurts.” Born licked his lips. They felt dry as hell.
“She was all over you,” Jada said. She gestured with her chin toward the door. “What’s up with that?”
Born cleared his throat. “My lips are dry. She was putting some Vaseline on for me.”
“I bet she was.” Jada sniffed. She snatched the small jar of Vaseline from Born’s bedside table and applied it to his lips with her fingertip. “What else has she been doing with your lips?”
“Oh, you care now?” Born tried to move into a more comfortable position, and winced a little at the pain that shot through his right side. He resigned himself to his uncomfortable fate, and looked at Jada standing there with the nerve to be mad. “It’s hard to tell if you even know I’m alive.”
Jada’s eyes watered unexpectedly when she heard him say that. It was true. “Come on, Born. You know what I’m dealing with. Sheldon is—”
“Sheldon is what?” He sucked his teeth.” He’s a fuckin’ brat.”
Jada’s tears turned to rage then. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me.” Born was done playing. Somebody was out to get him, and he wanted to know who it was. Being so close to death had put things into fresh perspective for him. “Word. That’s how I feel. For months I been calling you, texting you. Nothing. You want to blame Sheldon, but you’re the parent. He’s not in charge.”
“It’s not that simple.” Jada shook her head.
“I think we have different definitions of family.”
“He tried to kill himself, Born.”
“Right. So now you give him what he wants for the rest of his life. That’s smart.” His sarcasm was evident despite the rasp in his voice. “We’re talking marriage and making future plans, and then he does that and—BAM! Silence.” Born’s hurt was evident. “You just disappeared on me.”
Miss Ingrid returned with Ethan. Jada greeted Born’s mother warmly, but she couldn’t help being upset about the interruption.
Born, on the other hand, was grateful for it. He wasn’t interested in talking to Jada about their relationship since it was clear that she was still feeding into Sheldon’s bullshit. All he cared about at the moment was figuring out who had rung his doorbell that afternoon.
Ingrid sat at the foot of Born’s hospital bed. She was still terribly shaken after finding out that her son had brushed with death so closely. Ethan, too, had been so afraid that his father was harmed. It had taken much reassurance from Born to calm him down.
Jada managed a weak smile, and greeted Ethan with a hug. He seemed to have grown in the months since the last time she’d seen him. Jada hadn’t realized how much time had passed while she was being held hostage to Sheldon’s wishes.
As if reading her thoughts, Ingrid asked, “How’s Sheldon doing?”
Jada glanced at Born. “He’s okay. Ava’s with him now.”
Ethan sat in the chair next to his father’s bed. He didn’t miss Sheldon one bit, and wished his grandmother hadn’t asked about him. Ethan was no punk. But he was smart enough to realize that Sheldon was crazy.
“Tell me what ha
ppened.” Jada looked at Born with genuine concern in her eyes. She wished that they hadn’t been interrupted. She wanted to tell Born that she thought about him all the time. That she missed him. He was her warrior. Seeing him lying there so helplessly was killing her softly.
He cleared his throat again. “I was home, and the doorbell rang. I went and looked through the peephole and I didn’t see anybody. I just got this feeling that something wasn’t right. I wasn’t expecting nobody. So I went to the closet to get that thing.” He looked at his mother as he said it, because Ingrid knew better than anybody what her son was into. “Next thing I knew … it was just a big-ass blast. The door flew off the frame, and the whole front of the house is blown apart. I’m lucky to be alive, for real.”
“Oh, my God,” Jada said. She thought of who might be responsible, but came up empty.
Ingrid didn’t like it one bit. “I called Zion and he’s sending some of his friends down here to keep an eye on your room around the clock.”
“Ma—” Born protested.
“Ma, nothing. We don’t know who rang that doorbell. I heard the detectives talking about a black suitcase. Until we know what’s going on, I want you protected. And like it or not, you’re not in the position to protect yourself.” Her tone of voice made it clear that the subject was not up for debate. “And what about that thing you keep in the closet? You know they’re gonna mess with you about that now.” Ingrid didn’t miss a thing.
Born smirked at her. “You worry too much.”
“We’re all worried about you,” Anisa said, as she stepped back into the room. She was tired of standing in the hallway.
Jada scowled at her, and Anisa pretended not to notice. D.J. stepped into the room, too, and stood quietly in the corner.
Anisa filled Born in. “The doctor said you can have more painkillers soon. I told him the last dose was wearing off.” Anisa walked over to Ethan and stroked his well-groomed head affectionately.
Jada was pissed. All of a sudden Anisa was the one speaking to Born’s doctors and acquainting herself with the staff. She reminded herself that Ethan was present, that Anisa was his mother. Jada didn’t want to make a scene. But she needed this bitch to know that Born was not hers for the taking. “Thanks for filling us in,” she said, her eyes boring into Anisa’s. “I’m here now. I’ll take it from here.”
Kareem Moody—Moodswing Multimedia
Tracy Brown is the author of eight acclaimed novels – Black, Dime Piece, Criminal Minded, White Lines, White Lines II: Sunny, Twisted, Snapped and Aftermath. She’s also contributed to two anthologies – The Game and Flirt. She lives in Staten Island, New York, where she is hard at work on her next novel.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
WHITE LINES 3: LOVE/FATE. Copyright © 2007 by Tracy Brown. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Cover design by Ervin Serrano
e-ISBN 9781466868632
Originally published in print format by St. Martin’s Griffin as part of the paperback title White Lines
First Edition: October 2014
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