Pandora's Box

by Coffee

  “I ain’t there and that’s all you need to know.”

  He hung up, but she called back.

  “Gerran, why did you hang…” Lord Jesus, she exhaled slowly and called back again.

  He answered.

  “You’re making it hard to talk to you and you know we need to have this conversation.”

  “Well, quit calling me.” He hung up.

  It was one thing for him to need space and time to think things over and in her mind, he would have done better saying that in opposed to being childish.

  She was annoyed with his antics but called him again. He picked up.

  “Hello?” She was hesitant to speak but when she saw he didn’t hang up, she began talking. “Gerran, if you’re gonna answer the phone after you hang up in my face, why not just stay on the phone? I’m trying to talk to you.”

  “You’re right.” Gerran hung up.

  She blew out hard. “This is so un fuckin’ necessary. She called him once more.

  You’ve reached Gee… His recording picked up immediately.

  “Aahhh! I swear to God you’re an asshole!” She tossed her phone on the sofa. It was clear he turned his cell phone off. But at that point, she had already decided she wasn’t calling again.

  ***

  In no mood to wait any longer, Blu opened the floor for the serious discussion he wanted to have with her.

  “I’m done with being patient and we don’t need a third party to have a conversation about what’s going on with you. So, I’m listening.”

  Elias looked over at her and saw in her face that she was really on a verge of losing her shit.

  Fuck it! he thought. It made no sense to procrastinate.

  “A’ight, well, Saturday when I left you, I ended up going to jail because I got into a scuffle at the hospital. I bonded out and was just released some hours ago.”

  “With who?” She shook her head, making an O shape with her mouth as she stuttered from mild shock. “Who—who would want to fight you?”

  “Gerran,” was his one word reply.

  In a very inquisitive manner, she delved. “Why? Aren’t y’all cool? Look, don’t stop and go, just tell me everything, please.” Blu felt her chest tighten. Her woman’s intuition was telling her to brace herself because the full story was going to piss her off.

  “Gerran found out he wasn’t the father of Samiyah’s baby…”

  Cutting him off, she jumped right in. “So he assumed when you showed up that you’re Peaches’ daddy? That’s ridiculous.” She shook her head at what she believed was Gerran’s misplaced aggression toward Eli.

  “He was foul as fuck for charging me up but he assumed right.” Elias put the truth out there, catching Blu off guard.

  “He assumed what? Did you say he assumed right?” Blu felt that squeeze grip tighter around her chest muscle.

  “Dude attacked me because it turns out Peaches is indeed my daughter.”

  Blu waved her hand in front of herself like she was washing a window. “Wait a minute. Hold up. Your daughter? You mean to tell me you thought enough to tell me about the girl, Yvonne, whose booty you used to roll on from second grade, a girl you couldn’t finger in a line-up if she stood before you today but it didn’t occur to you to tell me that you slept with a woman you can put your finger on, literally? A woman I’ve accepted as being your sister because that’s the kind of relationship you claimed y’all have?”

  “She is fam and it only happened once.” Elias defended, thinking that would lessen the sting.

  “I don’t care if it happened a half of one time. The point is you told me about every girl you smashed from here to Houston but you conveniently left out the one you should have mentioned above all?”

  “Why does it matter that I didn’t?”

  She began looking around the truck like she wanted to find something to beat him over the head with. She couldn’t control her hands. They were moving wildly like her emotions. “Pull over, Eli.”

  “What?” He gave her the side eye. They were riding on the bridge and there was no way he would take to the shoulder.

  She felt her usually calm nature go out of the window, she was about to blow. To stress her point, Blu clapped her hands with every word. “Pull. The. Hell. Over!”

  “Mann, you trippin’,” he said below his breath as he pulled over.

  Blu got out immediately and stood at the back of the vehicle. She sat on the bumper and bent over, taking deep breaths as she tried her best to contain the belligerence on the tip of her tongue.

  She heard his door open. “Not now!”

  Elias shook his head but got back into his vehicle. He could hear his Uncle Fly talking mad shit about this and he wasn’t looking forward to hearing his mouth either.

  This some real bullshit! Eli thought as he waited for God knows what.

  She was still taken aback by his question. How he didn’t comprehend the significance of telling her about Samiyah was beyond her. But with a fraction of a cooler head, she got back inside of the truck and answered.

  “It matters because unlike any other fling, encounter or whatever you want to call the women you sexed, Samiyah is very much your present and as of today, your future.”

  He pulled back onto the freeway. “Blu, you going too deep with it. I’m with you.”

  “And you’re not going deep enough. Just don’t talk to me.” She almost snapped on him but she caught herself. It was time to place space between them, otherwise, she was going to regret what happened next.

  “So you don’t have anything to say nah?”

  Blu rolled her eyes to the roof of his truck and kept them there as she answered. “Oh, I have plenty to say but I guarantee you don’t want to hear it, so just leave me alone.”

  The last of the five minute drive was spent in silence and as soon as he pulled into his driveway, she got out of his ride and headed straight to hers.

  He stepped out of his truck and walked behind her. “Blu, don’t leave angry.”

  “What do you suggest I do? Drive off happy?” She was extremely pissed off.

  “Nah, but come inside so we can really talk this thing out.”

  She aggressively shook her head no. “Not tonight or the next few.” She climbed inside of her car and speedily pulled off.

  If he thought she would be ready to head over to Sears to take a family portrait, then he was sadly mistaken.

  Eli watched as her navy blue Maxima blended into the dark of night thinking, How the fuck did I get here?

  Chapter 14

  It was after 11:30 p.m. when Munch walked out of Central Lockup. His little brother, BG, was waiting for him. They spotted each other and walked into a G-dap, ending it with a firm hug.

  “You straight?” BG stepped back to check him out.

  “Fuck me, what’s up with Yuri? He came out of that coma?”

  “Not yet, big bruh.”

  “Damn!” He dropped his head, sighed and then lifted it back up. “At least he breathing and I’ll take that over death, any day.”

  BG nodded his head in agreement. He then looked at a policemen going into the same building Munch just walked out of and the right side of his lip lifted into an arch. “Let’s get the fuck from ‘round here. We in cop central and you know I got that thang on me.”

  “As you should. Let’s roll.”

  They began walking down S. White where BG had parked his ride, talking.

  “Where’s Minnie and ha she holdin’ up?”

  “At the hospital. She ain’t leavin’ cuz’ side. And I guess she doin’ better but she ain’t sayin’ much of nothing, so I really can’t call it.” BG shrugged his shoulders.

  “She by herself?”

  “Never dat. Mal with her twenty-fo.”

  “That’s what’s up. I’ma go up there first thing in the morning.”

  “That’s what’s up.”

  Once they walked up on BG’s Regal, he chirped the alarm and the locks popped up. As BG got behind the w
heel of his car and closed the door, he turned to face Munch, slapping his hands together once. “You know dude gotta get his issue. You don’t touch fam and not expect for a mu’fucka not to clap back.”

  For two days straight, Munch thought about G’Corey for breakfast, lunch and dinner. No one was hungrier to avenge Yuriah than he was. But it didn’t make sense for him to show the rowdy that was inside of him since nothing was popping off at that minute. “To know me is to know I’ma handle that shit, ASAP.”

  BG knew his brother wasn’t an empty wagon so he didn’t need to make a lot of noise. “I don’t doubt that shit for a second.”

  BG cranked the ignition and his Tupac CD immediately came through on low volume as he pulled off. He handed Munch a rolled one and a lighter before reaching under his seat and passing him his Dessert Eagle.

  Placing the toolie on his lap and sparking a blaze to the blunt, Munch took a deep pull. He allowed the inhale to marinate before blowing it out. “This weekend had me bent. I needed this.”

  “I know yo head was smokin’, dawg. Shid, mine still swervin’. It’s fuckin’ me up that I wasn’t there with you.”

  “I’m glad you wasn’t ‘cause if you would have ate one of his bull—” He shook off the thought and took another toke. The idea of something happening to his little brother made him feel uneasy.

  He tried his best not to show it but it was a known fact that BG was his weakness, his Achilles heel. His BG was his pulse. And just like a heartbeat, he couldn’t survive without him.

  BG glanced over to his side. Although Munch didn’t complete his thought, the pained expression on his face told the rest.

  “Don’t get fucked up over me, big brudda. I only be on my Dirty Harry shit when it concerns you. If you in dem waters, I got no churse but to be in that bitch too because I’m right behind ya, ya dig. But other than that, I got life mapped out, don’t trip.”

  BG jumped off the porch early and Munch wouldn’t have had it any other way. But it was important to him that BG lived a very different life than his.

  Aside from the code of kill or be killed, Munch taught him that life was about priorities and he was proud to know that although his lil’ one would bang on an opponent if need be, he did recognize there was more to strive for than solely surviving.

  “Is that right? What’s yo G-plan? Run it to me, then.”

  BG replayed Munch’s words in his head before answering.

  Applied knowledge is power. You can’t be no dummy out’chea. Even when it comes to crushing those who oppose you, you still gotta be smart. Always step ya game up by keeping your eyes and ears to the streets but your nose in a book.

  “I’ma get my muddafuckin’ high school diploma, ya dig, put the rap game in a choke hold and then history gon’ make itself.”

  That brought a smile to Munch’s face. Having dropped out of school when he was fifteen to assume the full-time responsibility of providing for a then five year old BG, placed heavier pride and emphasis on him walking across the stage.

  Plus, all their Pops wanted, God rest his soul, were for his boys to have a better life than he and their dad felt education was that key. So a teenaged Munch stood over his father’s gravesite and promised he’d see to it that the youngest of his seeds make that happen.

  Munch curled his hand and BG did the same, allowing the backs of their fist to touch with a slight bump. “Say that shit.” Munch blew a cloud around him.

  Catching a glimpse of Anita’s Restaurant on his right, BG groaned. “Aww, man, I just passed up all kindsa places to eat. I know you didn’t fuck with dem stale ass bologna sandwiches they be down bad for servin’. Yo stomach probably touchin’ yo back.” BG slowed off of the gas just in case Munch wanted him to pull up on somebody’s drive-thru before he jumped on the I-10.

  “Fuckin’ right, but you can run me by my girl. She got me.”

  “Fa’sho.”

  Munch extended his weed to BG but he shook his head, declining. “That’s all you.”

  Munch brought it back to his lips and took a pull. He then rolled the window down and reclined his seat. He allowed the Kush to begin clearing his mind because too much was troubling him.

  His Pops always told him, “Find a way to let shit go because pressure busts pipes.”

  Tupac’s Better Dayz was playing at a modest level. Munch slightly began bobbing his head to the contemporary Isley Brothers’ beat as he was certainly in dire need of those better days, considering shit was going to get a whole lot worse on the strength of his peoples being touched.

  “Cut that up, round,” Munch directed as he closed his eyes and absorbed the lyrics of the best to ever do it.

  …Got me thinkin’ about better dayz/Thinkin’ back as adolescent/Who would’ve guessed that in my future years, I’d be stressin’/Some say the ghetto’s sick and corrupted/Plus my P.O. won’t let hang with the brothers I grew up with/ Tryin’ to keep my head up and stay strong…

  Twenty minutes later, BG pulled into the parking lot where Munch’s lil’ mama stayed on Tchoupitoulas Ave.

  “We’ll get up in the a.m., I fucks wit’chu.” Munch slapped hands with BG before leaning over the console to bring it in.

  That was his way of saying he loved him. He dared not utter the actual words because he felt it was something said right before a person took that eternal ride. He was sure it was his superstition but he refused to test it.

  “Heavy,” BG replied.

  Munch stepped out of his ride, tucked his gun inside of his waistline, pulling his button down over it. He then doubled tapped his chest, aimed his pointing finger to the sky and then through the window at his little brother.

  BG did the same and then pulled off once Munch shut the door.

  That was how they peace’d each other out. A double tap for the love from a beating heart to their father above and then to one another.

  Munch turned around and headed to the third floor and rapped on the door of his girl’s apartment.

  Reds was in her office when she heard the knock. She all but ran to unlock it. She was expecting him. Without looking through the peephole, she swung the door wide open. Then she ran into him, hugging him tightly around his sculpted waist.

  He smiled, hugging her just as tightly. He loved his girl’s energy. Reds had a way of making a shitty day feel like sunshine.

  “Gimme some,” he cupped the chin of her pie face in his hands and guided her lips to his.

  Standing 4’11”, Reds had to pull off a ballerina’s act on her tiptoes just to kiss her giant. After giving him some of her luscious, she examined him in a motherly manner, shifting his face from side to side checking him out.

  “I’m so happy to see you. Are you alright? Did they hurt you? What did—”

  Munch leaned down, thrusting his tongue into her mouth as he squeezed her double wide booty, pressing her into him roughly. That shut her up.

  “Boo, if they would have fucked wit’cha boy, I wouldn’t be here. Nah, you gon’ let me in or are you buying time for that thuggah to sneak out the back doe?”

  Reds laughed because she didn’t have a back door. “You play too much. Come on in.” She stepped back inside from out of the breezeway as he followed behind her.

  Munch locked the door as she headed into the kitchen to fix his dinner.

  “Bae, what do you want? I made you your choice from barbeque chicken, macaroni and cheese, potato salad, and corn. I also made meatloaf with brown gravy and smashed potatoes in case you didn’t want the other meal.”

  He couldn’t decipher what his stomach craved more so he opt for them all. “Give me a lil’ of everything, ya heard me.”

  After she prepared his dish, she called him out of the living room to have a seat in the dining room. He took his gun off of him, placing it on the table and pulled out a chair.

  Reds knew the man she fell in love with was no angel. He never painted a picture as such and she never questioned his moves but tonight she was curious to know something.
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  “Bae, why you always keep a gun on you?”

  It took no time for Munch to respond. The answer came as quickly and as easily as stating his name. “‘Cause it’s a dog eat dog world and I ain’t tryna be dog food.”

  She pondered on his reply for a short moment. And with no further questions, she handed him his utensils. “Eat up, munchy poo.” She kissed his temple and headed back into the kitchen to clean up.

  Fifteen minutes later, once she squared everything away, she sat down next to him.

  After licking sauce off of his tips, he asked. “What’chu was doing before I got here?”

  “Work as usual. I was finalizing my edits for Thicker than Most. You know speaking of my manuscript, you should write street lit with the company I’m signed to. I told Ca$h, the CEO of Lock Down Publications, that you are as real as they come. You should think about that.”

  “Nah, you’da big time author. How ‘bout you write ya man’s life so that my shit is told truthfully. Write a story so our sons know dey pops wasn’t a merciless killa and that every man that ever stared down the barrel of my pistol earned that position. Name it something gangsta like The Card I Was Dealt.”

  Reds frowned at that. “If you don’t want to write, that’s cool. But you can tell them that yourself.”

  She stood up and removed his plate once he was done. Before she excused herself into the bathroom, she asked. “A bath or a shower?”

  Munch looked down at the dirty tux he still had on from Saturday. “A bath. And thanks, bae. You’da baddest.”

  Reds blushed then retreated into the bathroom.

  Ten minutes later, Munch was undressed and submerged chest deep in bubbles as the jets of the Jacuzzi style tub massaged his tensed muscles.

  Reds sat on the edge and gently sponged his shoulders. “This feels good?”

  With his eyes closed, he responded. “Mmhmm.”

  “Are you full?”

  He motioned his head up and down yes.

  Reds relaxed him some more as she washed over his chest, waiting for him to tell her about the incident, but he didn’t. Hoping she wasn’t catching him by surprise, she bluntly asked, “The person who shot Yuriah, did you get him?”