Hood Misfits, Volume 4

by Brick

  Her grip loosened around my neck and I panicked. Part of me died in that moment. I never got to see or know how my grandmother passed, but to know that she died alone without my love there to see her through it, to know she didn’t get to hug me as Shy was doing right now, broke me down. I wanted to help her up so no one would see her like she was, but I couldn’t; and I thought, by the way she held me, she knew it too.

  “No, no, no,” I yelled out, rapidly dropping to the floor beside the woman I’d come to love.

  I’d cried to her and told her a few days prior that I had no idea where my grandmother had been buried or when she’d died. She and I had spoken candidly about how I was still a little girl lost. At eighteen, I still felt as if I was that fourteen-year-old girl Dame had snatched from Garden Walk Boulevard in Riverdale. As I rocked her in my arms I remembered those tears she shed with me and I knew I would never forget the way Shy had impacted my life in such a short time.

  Minutes later when Phenom and Anika rushed in from the back of the building with medics in tow, they found me on the floor with Shy’s arms languidly hanging around my neck and my arms holding her limp body. She wasn’t gone just yet, but the pain and exhaustion had put her to sleep for the day. Still, I was afraid of the moment, petrified that, once again, I’d be alone. Scared that Shawn and Drew would lose the only peace and love they’d ever known.

  A few hours later, machines beeped around us. Drew sat in a chair next to Shy’s bed. My soul was heavy and, seriously, for the first time since this whole thing began, I was just plain old tired. My body was tired. Mind was tired. Soul was burdened. I had never liked death. When Dame had killed Coco, another girl who worked for him, he had done so in front of the whole house then left her dead body, lifeless, in the middle of the floor for two hours before he allowed anyone to move it. I had nightmares of her death and her lifeless body for months after the whole ordeal. Death scared me and when Shy had passed out like that, I felt my soul was going to die along with her if she had.

  Mirror’s and Enzo’s voices on the TV forced me out of my own head and back to reality. My heart was excited and heavy to see that Enzo was out of jail. Excited because he could protect his aunt. Heavy because he would have to see what Micah had done to her. For as long as I’d known Shy, she’d never been to a hospital; and to see that nigga Micah, who thought he could play God, put her there would no doubt put Enzo into a dark place.

  I listened to the reporters as they threw questions at him back to back. But it was when the reporter asked him about being an Orlando that made me perk up. I grabbed the remote attached to Shy’s bed for the TV and turned up the volume just as Mirror started talking.

  “Mr. Banks’ birth was that of an attack on his birth mother. She was but a young girl in college when she was stalked and assaulted against her will. The attack resulted in Mr. Banks and in his mother’s death as well. Sadly, it is this dark past that Mr. Banks is not proud of; however, he wanted those children in the streets of Atlanta to understand and relate with it, that he too knows the struggle. That he too knows how it is to try to survive in a world that would try to hold you back and turn you into something you wish not to be. Mr. Banks has used his past as a strength to help him be the athlete you all love and cherish. He is not a murderer or killer or any other label you wish to give. But he is a young man eager to bring a new change to Atlanta and be a mentor for the youth,” Mirror stated.

  “Please respect my need for privacy in this moment. I just learned of this and I wanted to explain that I am a child of Atlanta and Orlando is my blood. I am here for the people. Please don’t lose faith in me. I send my prayers to those who have gone missing, who were also found murdered. I offer myself as a help to those people’s families, and I know that justice will be had. God bless.”

  I took a deep breath and sat back in the chair. It was as if the life had been smacked out of me. I looked at Drew to see he too had been watching. I could tell by the look in his eyes and the way his chest swelled that he was waiting on my reaction. I turned my attention to Shy to see tears rolling down her cheek before she slowly opened her eyes. She hadn’t been asleep as I’d thought.

  I sat in stunned silence. There was nothing I could say that would make any of what I was feeling any better. Micah had been right. I’d been so busy running from Dame’s ghost that I ran right back into him in a way. Enzo was an Orlando and all I could do was sit there. I was conflicted as shit on my feelings at that point. Did I still love Enzo? More than likely. I couldn’t help that. I was deeply attracted to all facets of him. The good, the bad, and the downright crazy.

  “Shawn and Andrew are both Orlandos,” Shy’s faint voice spoke up.

  “I . . . I don’t know what to say,” I replied.

  “You don’t have to say anything. I hate how they came to be, but I love those boys regardless, always have, always will. Did I make some mistakes along the way? Yes, but just as I told them, I did what I had to do.”

  “But, how . . . What . . .” I didn’t even know what to ask her.

  She held her hand up then asked Drew to get her some crushed ice and water from the private facility’s cafeteria. Once Drew was gone, she turned back to me. She opened her mouth and told me the story behind Enzo’s and Drew’s conception. When she was done, I was disgusted, appalled, hurt, and angry for her.

  “Why didn’t anyone do anything?” I asked her in frustration.

  “He had me under lock and key. I wasn’t always the fearless woman I am now. He scared me by threatening my family and those closest to me. But believe me, when I got tired of being scared and tired, Lu never got a chance to do to any other woman what he did to me.”

  My hand was over my mouth as tears raced down my cheek. I slowly got up, walked over to her bedside, and hugged her. Just thinking about all the shit that man had done to Shy pissed me off. I didn’t think anything she told me could get worse until she told me it was Lu who had given her cancer. His dirty dick–having ass had given her HPV, which caused the ovarian cancer that was threatening to kill her. At that point all I could do was remain silent. I had no more words.

  Chapter 8

  Enzo

  The sound of Jay-Z had me turning off my shower and reaching out for my cell. I had just gotten in my private home, close to where I had gotten my mom’s secret house, and was getting the funk of several days in the slammer off my body. I was going to call and tell my birth mom that I was out, but my ass itched so I had to clean shit. My hair was curling from being wet. My face was cleanly shaved and I smelled on point. Bruises with several cuts lined my ribcage, arms, and legs. They had worked me up good, cut my lip, given me a sore jaw, but I wasn’t tripping. I had gotten out and I had plans to take care of.

  Hitting answer, I grabbed a towel and stepped out of the shower, steam streaming from my slick golden skin. “Talk to me.”

  “Tía is at the hospital. She got attacked and shot at by that nigga Micah, bro. Where you at?” Drew rushed out.

  His voice had that scared shaking quality of a kid and it hit me on all levels. I was trying to compute what was being said. I could hear Mirror banging on my door hollering that we needed to bounce, but for some reason I was frozen in place with the steam of my shower swirling around me and off my skin.

  A twinge of pain hit me in my chest. I started rubbing but couldn’t make it go away. “He did what?”

  Drew repeated himself. This time it was with a slightly heated tone to his voice as he asked me where I was and I just stood in a daze again. Banging sounded again, rattling the door. Eventually it had me yelling to Mirror that I was talking to Drew.

  At that second, his urgent pounding stopped as I finally found my feet. “But she’s good right? She can’t be hurt, bro.”

  Drew’s silence then slight sniffle let me know that wasn’t the case. My baby brother cleared his throat, which let me know he wasn’t about to let his tears fall while he spoke.

  “Naw. Angel . . . Angel said they were leaving from
visiting you when she saw they were being followed. So that old dude Jennings started doing some racing shit, handling business, but eventually they got surrounded and had to run, until she got hit. Shawn, please, I know they had you locked up, wasn’t sure you were out, but you gotta come,” he said.

  My throat felt tight and my eyes scratchy. All types of thoughts swarmed my mind. She couldn’t die. Shy couldn’t leave us like the woman we thought was our real mom did. She couldn’t let that nigga who abused and polluted her body, which caused the cancer, to win. She could not let that lame nigga Micah with his sick-ass vendetta win so easy, either. Was no fucking way I’d allow it. If she died, Micah, along with every Orlando I could find, was going to meet death in the same way she experienced torture by that nigga’s hand. A pound of flesh was going to be nothing once I got done, fuck the plan.

  “Bro! Shawn, please; you coming, man?” Drew pleaded, shouting in my ear.

  The fear, pain, and sadness in his voice brought me back to reality. I was standing with my hand on the door of my bedroom with the doorknob in my hand. I didn’t realize that I had basically blacked out on my brother in that moment. Blood was rushing in my ears and I had to take several breaths before getting right on track.

  I had been back in Chicago, running the streets, trying to take care of feeding Drew. In my mind, I walked in the house, dropped my backpack, sat Drew down in front of the TV to watch PBS Kids, and headed to my mom’s room, to the woman I learned was my real aunt. Opening the door to her bedroom, I walked in just to check on her and kiss her cheek; but what I was greeted by was the strong smell of drugs, and death. Mama Sade lay in her own filth from having been lying dead for so long. My mom’s once pretty face was covered in bruises; her honey brown eyes were now vacant of all life. I’d never forget that shit for the life of me and now my mom Shy was going to leave me just like Mama Sade did, except this time it was from the cancer she had been fighting against for years. I felt helpless in that moment.

  “Enzo!” Drew shouted again bringing me back.

  For the first time since I was a kid back in Chicago, I felt like crying, but I held that shit back for the kid who was on the other end of the phone, and the man I was trying to be.

  “Sorry. I’m on my way with Mirror . . . Was getting cleaned up. I’m on my way. I promise,” I murmured, dropping my hand from the doorknob and moving into my room.

  I grabbed a bag with some things I knew she liked, and I listened to Drew just breathing, trying to get his own self in check before speaking up again. “Fuck is up, man? Hurry up. We need you. I need you, bro.”

  “I love you too, bro,” I said it for him so he wouldn’t feel weak. I always took on what he couldn’t and I never had a problem with it. “I’m on my way,” I stated again, hoping the strength in my voice would help him.

  “A’ight. I love you too.” With that, Drew hung up and I was out the door with Mirror trailing.

  Because where my real home was was hidden and private, nothing no one knew about, and was bought under my middle name, we didn’t have to do any covert driving; and getting to the hospice didn’t take long for me at all. Since I was driving, I pulled up, took several breaths, then tugged on my skullcap and black fitted cap to keep a low profile. I knew this spot was a safe spot for us all, Mirror had promised that; but because I had been all on the news and still was, I couldn’t trust a thing.

  Once inside, we went past several halls in the medium-sized hospice. Two towering black men, we walked through that hospital as if we owned it and I knew all eyes were on us. We hopped on an elevator to go to the floor created for patients who were on the blackout list, meaning critical patients who did not want to be bothered or found. My fists were so tightly gripped at my sides that I didn’t even notice my arms were bulking up, threatening to tear my shirt. When I turned the corner Angel greeted me, and for the first time since all this drama, I felt a moment of relief.

  Walking her way, I kept her in my view. She was pacing back and forth outside of the quaint room my mother lay in. Her wedge Nikes squeaked on the linoleum floor as she treaded around. One arm was around her waist, and the other cupped her face. Shawty’s eyes were bloodshot. She had some cuts, too. I could see that she was murmuring to herself even though her thick-coiled bushy hair was spilling around her face and shoulders.

  The closer I got, and the more I could hear her, I realized that she was muttering prayers from the Bible. I remembered she said she had been a church kid before Dame took her, and it was coming out as she paced. My gaze stayed on her while various hospice staff walked past her, not even noticing who I was, which was good.

  “Hey, B,” I said low to get her attention.

  “Shawn! You’re here!” Angel glanced up then jetted my way. She hurried to me then paused, uncertain whether to hug me.

  I just stood there for a moment then nodded. “It’s cool. Thank you for being here to take care of her and Drew.”

  Shawty’s whole body language changed. Her arms instantly went around me and caused me to inhale sharply with pain. I hadn’t expected my body would be in so much pain after having the five-o muck me up like they did, but I swallowed and took it. Before all that happened, I would have had something snide to say but for some reason being an asshole right now wasn’t a priority.

  “I blew up your cell so much, and so did Drew. We were hoping you were okay once you got out,” she stammered.

  Angel smelled damn good, and it had my free hand holding her waist a little tighter before stepping back to see that she was holding back tears. The moment she touched me, I saw each liquid droplet fall delicately down her cheeks, which made my jaw lock tight with slight frustration. I wasn’t down with the tears of a woman, not a woman who was now in my circle of family. I could see she was deeply affected, more than I thought she would be, and it had me clearing my throat and reaching out to wipe her tears.

  “Yeah, Mirror had just dropped a brother off and shit. Got cleaned up then Drew hit my cell. Look, I ain’t know I was an Orlando, and my bad with how I put my hands on you, okay? I see you down for real. Thanks. Are you okay?” It was hard admitting that but I had to say it again just so she could see the truth in me.

  “I’m not banged up as bad as Shy, but I’m good, thanks,” she muttered in a nervous tone.

  My gaze went everywhere in shame and worry about my mother. In this moment I felt like a punk, so I cleared my throat, thumbed my nose, then looked back down at Angel. “Yeah, so, I need to see my aunt.”

  She reached up to try to wipe my face but I backed away and shook my head. I could tell by how Angel watched me that she was shocked at what I said, but she played it off. “Enzo, it’s some stuff that went down. I tried to take care of it all but . . .”

  Something in the tone of Angel’s voice had my attention and had me feeling annoyed that this was something else I had to fix. I could tell that she was about to tell me about what went on but she was immediately interrupted. “Bianca, sweetie, why don’t you give him a moment before you two have that talk. Shy is needing him before she go to surgery.”

  A light, almost erotic voice flowed around me. It had me taking my gaze off Angel to find the source. At my side, a light hand touched my shoulder. I would have snatched it away, but the strong presence with it had me reassessing the situation. I glanced down to notice a woman who carried my mother’s eyes and who also had her shape. She also had my mother’s smile, but outside of that, they looked nothing alike.

  Both were beautiful, yeah, and I could see the authority and deathly quality that I had only seen two times in my life with my mother Shy. She sported a white and gold embroidered caftan that was cut low enough to see the curve of her plump and ample breasts behind treads of gold rope. Her micro twisted braids were braided upward on her head like a crown and her face was done as if she was about to model for some fashion magazine. She was a bad chick and I saw where my mother got it.

  “Hello, godson. She’s resting and has been calling for you and And
rew. Andrew is in the room with her now. He won’t leave her side, so come on in,” Anika, the woman I knew as the African Queen and now my cousin, gently coaxed.

  Even though the woman was sporting a simple caftan, I could sense the many weapons she had hidden on her. I wasn’t trying to start a fight, but I knew if I did, she’d be ready with some shit. As we headed to the door, Angel’s voice broke me out of my thoughts. She pressed her hand on my back and Angel moved out of my way to follow me inside. There, lying in a large bed made to look as if it were something she’d have at home, lay Shy. To her right sat Drew, holding her hand. By her feet stood a man I was slowly becoming familiar with the more we interacted with each other: Phenom. Anika smoothly left my side to stand near him, her hand sliding into his larger one, his fingers entwining with hers.

  It was nice and all that they had helped my mother out, so I didn’t have any smart shit to say, especially when Angel’s touch on my arm had me noticing her pulling at my hand. I had been so gone that I did not realize that I was digging into my palms. Phenom gave me a nod. Dude was clean in what looked like a specially tailored suit. He had the look of murder in his eyes and I understood that emotion. We wanted Micah’s head and it was going to happen real soon. I watched him guide Anika back to give me room, whispering low to Angel, and all three of them left to give Drew and me privacy with a light closing of the door.

  Machines monitored Shy’s progress and it pissed me off. I went for my bag, pulled out my iPod and speakers, then hit a track that was her favorite: The Roots’ live version of “You Got Me,” featuring Jill Scott, softly played to drown out the beeps of her monitor. It did something to me, to see her so vulnerable in this moment. The doctors explained that she had ovarian cancer, and that luckily whatever new methods she had been taking had caused the cancer to not spread any further than it had.