Of Hustle and Heart

by Briseis S. Lily

  I look over my shoulder. Beatrice is standing across the hall, shooting fucking daggers at me again.

  “What’s up, Tris?” Robert calls out to Beatrice.

  “Nothing,” she says. “But is it just me? I mean, I’m the crazy one.” She holds her hands up as if she can’t take much more. “But I’m sick and damn tired of fucking tramps!”

  “Don’t bring that up here,” Robert says.

  “Bring what up?” She turns her head toward Robert and looks at him as if she’d snap his neck if he came close enough. “All I’m trying to do is graduate from high school with my boyfriend, go to prom with my boyfriend, and fuck my boyfriend without having to worry about crazy-ass stalker hoes…” She points at me. “…and their angry, demented, spick friends causing problems!” She’s yelling now, and a crowd is gathering.

  “Well,” Robert says, lifting his head from the window, “maybe there’s a problem at home. Maybe he doesn’t want to fuck you anymore.”

  My mouth drops open.

  “Shut the hell up, Robert! I’m not talking to you!” she says.

  “But you’re yelling at me,” Robert says.

  “I’m talking to her!” She jabs a finger in my direction again.

  “Maybe you should be yelling at your fucking boyfriend. He’s the one writing love letters to other girls.”

  Robert’s words pierce her. She’s stunned. Her eyes water as she attempts to mute her rage.

  “You got life so fucked up,” she says. She knows she’s been wasting her time trying to scare or bully me away from Shannon.

  “Shut the fuck up, Beatrice. Ain’t nobody scared of you,” I say. I’m tired of her threatening me with her hateful looks.

  “Yeah, Beatrice, Zina ain’t scared of you,” Robert says, smirking.

  She throws her binder and English book at him. He ducks as the projectiles smash against the glass window, papers fluttering across the hallway.

  Corey and Bryan’s homegoings are scheduled a week apart, and only Blanca and Uncle Tony know I witnessed their murders. I ran from it as long as I could, but my time’s up. The twins already asked me to go to Bryan’s services. I’m obligated; I skipped out on Corey’s last week and still feel hella shitty for it.

  The memory of the shooting and the reality of Bryan’s funeral have me crying all over my desk in eighth period. I excuse myself from Mr. Channing’s sociology class so I can text Blanca. My heart is so heavy; I need her to help me carry it. I’m relieved when she immediately responds.

  When the twins hear that Bee is going to the wake, they want to ride with us. I glance in the rearview mirror a couple of times, watching them in the back seat. They look shell-shocked and terrified of what’s coming next, crying to themselves and silent as death. Corey’s homegoing last week didn’t dull their senses at all. I’d hoped it would. They were even more upset tonight than they were the night they saw the story on the news and those hours later, when confirmation from the families came.

  As Blanca and I sit in a back pew, wiping our eyes with endless Kleenex, I ask her if she thinks the twins will get over this.

  “I don’t know,” she says, choking back a sob, her eyes red and puffy. She sighs. “Will you?”

  I stare at Bryan’s thirteen-year-old corpse, laid out in a black casket and dressed up fancy in a gray suit. And hear a grown-up sitting in the pew adjacent from us, comment on how his skin feels like ice.

  “He looks good, like he’s sleeping,” I say, wiping my eyes. “I’m not okay with this. I’m mad as hell, Bee, and I ain’t gettin’ over it. Uncle Tony is taking care of it, right?” I blow my nose.

  “Honestly, Zee?” Her voice breaks. “I’m not really sure.”

  It stings to hear her say this and brings a flood of tears for both of us. But I ain’t scared anymore; this murdering motherfucker’s about to get his ticket punched.

  It’s Sunday, and life has moved on. I’ve started cutting three-for-six deals on the bootlegs to make money a little faster. Last week I made $186, and the week before that, $179. That’s enough for a three-night stay at the Comfort Inn in Pearwood, and I’m packing my shit right now before I start to sweat too much. It’s been three weeks, and our electricity remains on the disconnect list, according to New Life Energy, and by the power invested in Pearwood city water, our taps will be cut off by the end of this week. Altogether, the utility debt alone is close to $900.

  I fumble around in my bedroom, using a flashlight that I bought on the way home from the Dollar Store, until I feel one of the twins standing in the doorway, watching me. He hadn’t been there long. I turn around and shine the light in his face. It’s Andrew. The blue light casts an eerie shadow against his light skin.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  He shrugs and folds his arms. “Looks like I should be asking you that.”

  I sit in the middle of a pile of soiled laundry. “I’m packing. You and Alex want to come?”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Somewhere where I won’t sweat to death in my sleep,” I say as I throw a couple pairs of underwear in my bag. “I checked into a room at a hotel. This right here is too much for me.” I continue to pack. “I could get a suite for us if you and Alex want to come.”

  He hesitates. He doesn’t want to leave our mama alone in the house. Phillip hasn’t come home yet, and we don’t know if he will. My chest is on fire; I struggle not to cry in front of him. I hadn’t said it before, but I needed to.

  “Andrew…” I grumble. He looks at me. “I’m sorry y’all lost Bryan and Corey.”

  He doesn’t respond; he can’t, and I understand. I don’t want to leave right now. But I need a break, and I worked hard for this.

  Andrew wrinkles his nose and ignores my comment. I get it. It’s hard for him. He’s not ready to talk. Instead, we go around my room together, Andrew holding the flashlight, while I dig around my closet for a pair of wedges.

  “Where’s Alex?” I ask, after we’d been looking for a while, both of us growing hot, tired, and increasingly frustrated.

  “Alex is down the street, with that skinny, ugly girl who likes him,” he says. He bumps me on the shoulder with the palm of his hand. “There’s your other sandal.” He points to the farthest corner of my closet. “Right there.”

  “Dude, did your voice get deeper?” he smacks his lips.

  “Did yours?” I pinch his cheek, and he knocks my hand away. For a minute, we’d forgotten. Only for a minute.

  “So you coming or not?”

  “I’ll holla at you when you get back.”

  When Blanca pulls up, Andrew and I are sitting outside.

  “Love you, kid. I’ll be back tomorrow. And if not, I’ll call you and see what’s going on,” I say as I pick up my bags.

  “Okay. Did you tell Mama?” He grabs one of my bags.

  “I told her I was going with Blanca, but I didn’t tell her I was checking into a room. So roll with that story.”

  He nods and walks me to Mr. de la Vega’s F-250.

  Bee is pissed about a lot of things. She’s mad as hell at Beatrice’s fugazis and waits for the day they try us again. And though she dislikes the fact that I’ve resorted to hustling fake movies and CDs, she understands now why I do it and no longer speaks against it. She’s mad at Shannon’s punk ass for embarrassing me the way he has, because she’s convinced he likes me—more convinced than me, that’s for sure. She’s more disturbed than I am about the shit I’ve been navigating myself through. Any minute now she’ll devise a master plan to fix it all. I can’t wait, either; like me, she’s better at life when she’s pissed off.

  As I heave myself into the extended cab of her father’s truck, Blanca smiles. “So I have an idea,” she says.

  “What’s up?”

  “You could stay at Tony’s instead of using your money for a room.”
>
  I can tell by the look on her face that she’s excited about the idea. “He’s gone. I think he left last night,” she yammers on. “So I thought it would be cool if you invaded his space while he’s out of town.”

  “He’s gone?” I frown. “When is he coming back?” I keep my questions short. I don’t want to seem like I’m desperate to know. He’d been making an extra effort with me lately, and I guess I appreciate it more than I realize.

  “Leidys said he went to Mexico. She has the keys to his place. That’s how I know he left.”

  “So…he won’t be there at all?”

  “Nah, I wouldn’t stick you alone with him. How lame would that be?”

  The idea of a sleepover with Uncle Tony, just the two of us, is way out there. Still, I have to ask.

  “Why do you say it would be lame?”

  “’Cause wouldn’t he, like, bore you to Mars?” She laughs. “What would y’all do? It’d have to be weird—like me and my daddy having a sleepover. Maybe it was cool when we were seven, but at seventeen going on twenty…” She grimaces. “I’ll pass.”

  She’s wrong, though. Antonio is not my dad. Not even my real uncle. As I’ve gotten older, especially in the last few months, I’ve torn my head apart trying to figure out where it would leave us once he didn’t feel the need to watch out for me anymore. I lower my head, hiding behind the bad lighting in the truck.

  “Zee, don’t be sad. Shannon’s an idiot, and things will get better. They have to.”

  She’s hopeful; I can hear it in the low certainty of her voice. I want to tell her she’s right, but I can’t because hoping has exhausted me.

  “So he’s not coming back any time soon?” I ask.

  “All I know is he’s gone for the night. If you don’t want to be alone, I can sneak and spend the night with you.”

  “Nah, don’t do that. Your dad is already bothered enough by us. I’ll stay the night alone.”

  Tony’s place is about fifteen minutes away from his brother’s house, and I feel safe knowing Blanca’s family is close by. Tony lives in a gated community of luxury apartments built on an illuminated lakefront in Pearwood, Texas. Blanca punches in a code to open the gate and pulls up in front of the second building. Uncle Tony’s parking spot is empty, so we pull up right in front of the door.

  “Are you sure he’s not here?” I ask. “Why is the porch light on?”

  “They come on automatically at night. Nobody has to be home.”

  “Have you been here before?” I ask Blanca.

  “Once. When he first moved in, Leidys and I came over to bring the rest of his clothes and some other stuff he’d left at the house.”

  Blanca unlocks the front door, and I follow close behind. The place is dark, except for the blinking buttons on his cable box.

  “Where’s the light switch?” I ask as I stumble over something in the dark. “Shit!”

  “What the hell? Please don’t break the man’s stuff. Tony and Leidys will be all over my ass.”

  “Whatever. Just find the damn lights, would you?” I mumble.

  Suddenly, the TV comes on.

  “Found the remote!” Blanca says with a smile.

  The glow from the television illuminates the room, enough for me to see the light switch on the far wall. I walk over and flip it on.

  “And I found the lights.”

  Blanca doesn’t stick around for long. She only has twenty minutes to get home, so I tell her to haul tail. She wraps her arms around me and mushes her face against mine.

  “Don’t break the man’s stuff,” she says.

  “Shut up.” I laugh and lock the door behind her.

  Tony’s place is more than nice; it’s lavish—in a rugged, manly sort of way. I am beyond excited. I feel safe and whole here, and I know leaving in a day or two will be hard for me.

  I head for Tony’s kitchen. In the refrigerator, I find a bowl of grapes, a carton of reduced fat milk, three Bud Light Platinum, and a six-pack of bottled water. I grab a beer, pop it open, and down half the bottle.

  His place is freezing and full of ceiling-to-floor windows, polished furniture, and earthy artistry. My skin is sticky from the outside humidity, so I desperately need to take a shower. The door to his bedroom is cracked, and the lights are off. I don’t like the idea of invading Uncle Tony’s space, but I’m here, and I can’t resist. I push it open and peek inside.

  “Hello!” I call out. No answer.

  I search the wall for a light switch, which I find next to the bed. His bed is a little messy. He’s left a white T-shirt and a pair of dark brown pajamas on one of his pillows and a scuffle of gray and rust sheets pushed toward the edge of the bed. I walk over and untangle his sheets. The memory of him standing with me in front of my house the other day invades my thoughts. The sun setting around him, his fingers wrapped tight around my wrist…standing so close…I straighten his pillows and pull the rest of his bedding loose. Tony’s bathroom is attached to the bedroom, and it’s nearly as big as his living room. I get undressed, leaving my clothes sprawled on the bathroom floor. Standing naked in front of the full-length mirror, I admire the changes my body has experienced in the past three years. Nice shoulders, a pudge of baby fat on my lower abdomen, and round breasts. I twist my hair into a ponytail and turn the shower on, letting the water run until it’s hot enough to steam up the mirror.

  After I shower, I dry off and dress myself in an oversized red T-shirt. My skin is still damp, and my hair smells musky, like his shampoo and conditioner, which I helped myself to in his absence.

  I fell asleep, as I usually do after a hot shower and the sound of a key rattling in the door startles me. Then I hear Tony’s voice. He’s with a woman. I sit on my knees in the middle of the bed and listen for a second, my heart racing as I attempt to contain myself.

  “Oh my God,” I whisper.

  I look around for my bag but then remember I’d left it by the couch in the living room. I tiptoe over to the bathroom, turn off the light, and gently push the bedroom door closed with my foot until only a tiny crack remains. I stand close enough to peek out without being seen, waiting for a signal to show myself.

  The woman and Tony talk about relationships and what each of them is looking for in the other person; the woman has a long list of requirements she rambles off gleefully in a Spanish accent. Tony sips his beer as he listens to her. Suddenly, he looks at the bedroom door, peering intently as if he’s noticed me. He watches for a moment until I open the door and stick my head out. It doesn’t matter; he knows it’s me. I can see it in his eyes.

  CHAPTER 22

  ZACARIAS

  It’s a gray Wednesday evening, nine days before my birthday. I haven’t talked to my big brother, Francisco, in almost a month. I decide it’s time to rectify the situation. With Whitney sound asleep in my bed, I step out onto the patio.

  “What’s up, brother?” he greets me on the fourth ring.

  “My girlfriend’s pregnant,” I dive right in, without even a hello.

  “What? The redhead mom can’t stand?”

  “Yeah. Whitney.”

  “How’d you pull that off?” he asks with a laugh.

  “Cisco, don’t laugh about this, bro. I don’t want this—any of it.”

  He’s silent on the other end…but not for long. “What do you mean you don’t want this?”

  “I was going to break up with her before she told me she was pregnant.”

  “Really? And now?”

  “I can’t leave her. It would be so wrong. I just can’t do it.”

  “Do you love the girl?”

  “I did.”

  “So you don’t anymore?”

  I plop onto one of the patio chairs. “She’s not the one for me, bro,” I whisper. “I feel horrible, and I feel trapped. I don’t know what to do, man.”

 
“Zack, this isn’t right. You shouldn’t be trying to force something you know won’t work.”

  “But she loves me, and she wants the baby. It could work.”

  “No, it couldn’t—it won’t. This will not be good. Quit her, call it off…”

  “Nah, man. I can’t. I want my kid in my life.”

  CHAPTER 23

  ZINA

  Tony looks up at me for a second, a fatherly look on his face. He doesn’t say anything at first, and I brace myself for what might come next.

  I take a long look at the woman sitting next to him. She’s wearing a low-cut sequined black dress. Her legs, longer than mine, are crossed at the thigh, with one platform stiletto dangling in the air. Confusion is written all over her face. She jumps to the obvious conclusion—as would anyone who stumbles across me—half-dressed in her date’s apartment. I stare at the two of them. She looks at Tony and then me. She flips her hair over her shoulder.

  “I should go,” the woman says. I glance at her.

  Uncle Tony presses his lips. “No, you don’t leave,” he says as she grabs her purse from the coffee table. “Natalia, this is Zina, my little niece,” Tony says, without taking his eyes off me.

  The woman looks at me sideways. “She’s not all that little. Honey, do your uncle a favor and go find some bottoms.”

  Uncle Tony gets up and grabs the bag I’d dropped beside the couch. I guess he’s known I was there all along. “When you’re done, meet me on the patio,” he says.

  I don’t have a lot of clothes, so I slide back into the black mini I wore to school, underneath my red T-shirt. My hands tremble as I look for my shoes. I’m freaking out, and I just want to get this impending scolding over.

  “Fuck the shoes,” I mumble, giving up and heading to the balcony.

  The balcony runs along the upstairs patio connecting to the master suite. I slide the door open and walk out to the deck, which overlooks the brilliant Lake Darling. The underwater lighting gleams like diamonds in the rippling water. I’m captivated and dying to dip my bare feet in. I sit on the ground and let my legs hang over the edge, but someone grabs my foot and shakes. I jerk away.