Criminal Minded (9 page)

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Authors: Tracy Brown

BOOK: Criminal Minded
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can’t stop the reign
When Lamin woke up, I was able to breathe again. He was
alive, and that made everything look brighter. By the time Olivia and Zion got to the hospital, I was exhausted and in desperate need of a shower. While they visited with Lamin, I decided to take the opportunity to go into the ladies’ room and freshen up as much as possible. I bought a toothbrush and some toothpaste from the gift shop and went to work. When I was done, I still wanted a shower. But I felt a little better.
I came out of the ladies’ room drained, exhausted, and relieved all at the same time. When I emerged, I saw my father standing and talking to Lamin’s grandfather. As I approached, I could hear Papa explaining what had happened and giving my dad an update on Lamin’s condition.
My father turned and saw me standing there. His oldest daughter. Eighteen years old and in love with a drug dealer who had just been shot in a club. I could see the disappointment in his eyes. He didn’t have to say a word.
My parents had afforded me the perfect upbringing. I had gone to exclusive parochial schools, vacationed in Asia, qualified for scholarships to Ivy League Universities, held membership to exclusive clubs. And there I stood—dressed in booty shorts and a Port Richmond High School T-shirt, my hair pulled back in a ponytail to reveal a tear-streaked face.
“Hi, Daddy.” I knew it sounded pitiful, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I could tell my dad was pissed.
“Laila, we were worried sick about you,” he said. “You didn’t come home, and you didn’t call. That’s not like you.”
Papa spoke up. “Lucky was upset, Mr. Matheson. My wife and I have been here with her all night. She wouldn’t leave Lamin’s side.”
I knew that comment struck a nerve in my dad. He didn’t like Lamin, and he never hid that fact from me.
“Thanks for looking out for Laila, Mr. Michaels.” My father shook Papa’s hand and turned back to me. “Laila, can I have a word with you?”
My father and I walked out to the parking lot and found a quiet corner. I knew that this would be the inevitable showdown. Dad wasted no time.
“Laila, what is wrong with you?” he demanded through clenched teeth. “The boy is a hoodlum!”
“Daddy, don’t call him that …”
“What should I call him, Laila? Should I call him a drug dealer? A thug? A criminal? Which label would you choose?”
“That’s just it! I
don’t
label him. I don’t judge him because of his lifestyle—”
“His ‘lifestyle’ involves drugs and guns, Laila. Or should I call you Lucky? I don’t even know who you are anymore!”
That hurt. I hadn’t changed. I was still his little girl. The only difference was that I’d stopped playing along with his program. He had the lovely and obedient wife, the nice home, two cars, a military career, and three great kids. My brother, Andrew, had followed in my dad’s footsteps and gone onto a neat military career as well. My little sister, Stephanie, was a freshman in high school, and despite our age difference, we were as close as sisters could be. So a lot of pressure had been placed on my shoulders to listen to my parents and be a good example for Stephanie. Andrew had done just what our father wanted. I had, too. Until I met Lamin. I never liked the kinds of guys that my dad wanted for me. He wanted me to attend cotillions and
marry one of the fraternity boys. He wanted me to meet a white-collar man and have a fairy-tale life. But I wanted Lamin.
Jamal, my first boyfriend, had been the type of boy that my parents thought was ideal. His father was a police officer; his mom was a nurse. They lived a block away from us in a nice house with pruned bushes out front. The whole thing bored me from start to finish. I tried to stay with Jamal for the sake of my parents’ happiness. But that was not what gave
me
happiness. I had always liked guys with an edge. Like Lamin.
“Laila, you need to get your stuff and come home so we can discuss this,” my father said.
I shook my head. “I’m not leaving him here. If Lamin wakes up, I want to be there.”
My father looked like he was ready to erupt. “Laila, don’t play with me. Go inside and get your shit. Then get your ass in the car so that we can go home and talk about this.” He meant business.
So did I. “No,” I said. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m not a baby anymore. I’m a grown woman. I just graduated from high school yesterday—you were there! I am not leaving Lamin and you can’t make me.” I knew I sounded like a spoiled brat, but I didn’t care.
My father shook his head. “Don’t do this, Laila. Don’t defy me for the sake of that lowlife. Your mother and I sacrificed to give you and your brother the best of everything. Don’t repay us by falling for this fool.”
I laughed in his face. “You’re too late, Daddy. I love him.”
“You don’t know what love is!” he bellowed. Some people turned and stared at us. Daddy was making a scene. “You disobey me, Laila, and you’ll regret it.”
I shrugged. “I don’t regret it, Daddy. You only know the bad things about Lamin. I know the bad
and
the good.”
“You could have been killed last night.” My father’s eyes were pleading. “You could have been killed! That son of a bitch had you in harm’s way, and all you can see are his good qualities?”
“Yes. I know that being with Lamin is dangerous. I know that he
doesn’t come from a wealthy family. I know that you hate his guts. And I still love him, Daddy.”
My father was speechless. He stood there staring at me, trying to make sense of me. But love don’t make sense. I felt bad. I knew he wanted what was best for me. But all I wanted—all I needed in my life—was Lamin.
“Laila,” my father said with a sigh. “You’re throwing your life away with this boy. And I refuse to stand by and watch you do that.”
My father walked away, leaving me standing alone. I watched him climb into his Camry and pull out of the parking lot. I knew that I had been disowned, and I accepted that. Daddy wouldn’t be buying me a car, sending me to the islands for the summer, or paying my tuition to Georgetown as we had discussed. I had chosen to remain at Lamin’s side, and now the line had been drawn. No more daddy’s little girl.
I went back inside to be with Lamin.
I spent two and a half months in the hospital. I hated that fuckin’ place—the smell, the food, the rules—hated all that shit. I had to learn to walk again. One of the bullets hit a nerve in my left leg, I lost one of my kidneys, and I had a few surgical scars. But I thanked God to be alive.
When I first regained consciousness, the first face I saw was Lucky’s. She had been by my side all night, and it made my feelings for her grow stronger. She cried when she realized that I was awake. I wanted to hug her so bad, but my body wouldn’t cooperate with my mind. I had a long road to recovery ahead of me.
Zion came to see me and he looked choked up, too. I guess I looked pretty fucked up laying in that hospital bed, looking like I just got home from a war. Zion said he felt like he let me down. I couldn’t really talk like I wanted since every part of my body hurt like hell. But I managed to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. I tried to explain
what happened before the shots rang out. Zion believed the mysterious, big-booty bartender must’ve put something in my drink. I never put my drink down in public. I was too smart for that. It had to be her. The medication had me groggy, but I described the dreadlocked Rasta at the bar as best I could. I could still see that muthafucka’s face in my mind, staring at me—eyeing me like I owed him money or somethin’. I knew he wasn’t the one who shot me since both bullets hit me in the back. But the dread nigga was the one who ordered it. That much I knew.
Zion explained the full extent of the beef that was boiling over between us and them Park Hill cats. He had warned me that the heat was on, but I had been so caught up with Lucky that I had let my guard down. I was slippin’, and in our business that was unacceptable. It had almost cost me my life.
Zion left to make some calls and pay a few unexpected visits to all those he thought might be involved. He assured me that it would all be taken care of by the time I walked out of the hospital. I wondered how long it would be before I
walked
anywhere.
When I was finally able to eat real food, Grandma brought me some of Papa’s delicious cooking. She knew I didn’t like the shit they had me eating. I loved her for bringing me them dinners on Sundays. Papa and Inez continued to visit with Curtis during my weeks in the hospital. I knew it would be months before my body was strong enough to make the trip upstate. I had taken two .45 caliber bullets to the back and believe me, that shit was no joke. The only missing link was my moms. She came to see me when I woke up. But when she came, she was with that muthafucka Wally. When I told her to make him leave, she refused. I called the nurse and told her to put that nigga out of my room. But when Wally left, my mother left with him. I didn’t speak to her the two times she came to see me after that, so she didn’t come back.
Olivia and Lucky both spoiled me. They fed me, fluffed my pillows, adjusted the TV, and answered the phone. They really made a nigga feel loved. Eventually, I told them to take their asses home and
let me do for myself for once. That’s when they told me about Lucky’s episode with her father. Lucky hadn’t stayed at her parents’ house since the night I got shot. She had been staying with her friend Audrey of all people. I knew that bitch was trying to convince Lucky to leave me. Then I really felt like shit. Lucky’s father hated me with a passion and I had confirmed his fears. Lucky had been right by my side when them guns started bustin’. I was everything he said I was.
“Lucky, your pops cares about you, that’s all …” I tried to say something positive about the guy but she cut me off.
“Well, I care about
you
, Lamin, and if he can’t see that, he’s blind.” Lucky looked so pretty when she was mad. “I don’t want to go back to that house, Lamin. If I do, he’s going to make my life miserable.”
I understood her reluctance. Mr. Matheson would do everything in his power to keep me away from his daughter. The only option was obvious.
“So, move in with me,” I said. She had proven herself to me. “Bring your stuff and move into my place in Brooklyn.”
Olivia and Lucky both seemed surprised to hear me say that. Lucky smiled. “La, that’s a big step,” she reminded me. “Are you sure?”
I nodded and smiled back at her despite my physical pain. “I’m sure.” It was settled. Lucky started movin’ into my Brooklyn brownstone.
Zion and I kept a safe distance at the hospital. Our occasional eye contact said it all, though. I was still buggin’ out over the fact that we had sex. I had been praying for that to happen for so long, and when it finally did, I couldn’t believe it. I wondered if what happened between us had to do with us being upset about Lamin. Was it the weed? The liquor? What would happen now? I had a dozen questions, and not one answer. Zion was back in the streets again, and I was left to wonder.
Zion was so fly that any chick with eyes would be feelin’ him. But when I spent the night with him, I got a glimpse at a side of him I had never seen before. I wanted to see more of that Zion. I wanted to belong to that Zion. My mind was made up.
After handling all types of shit in the street, talking to Lamin, and helping Lucky move her stuff to Lamin’s house, Zion finally got around to me. We were all at Lamin’s place. Lucky was busy rearranging my brother’s closet to accommodate all her shit. I sat in the living room with Zion.
“So, wassup?” I sensed that he wasn’t comfortable being alone with me.
“Everything’s just crazy right now,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “Wassup with you?”
“Wassup with
us,
Zion?” I don’t like to beat around the bush.
Zion was not surprised by my bluntness. He looked into my eyes and seemed helpless. “Olivia, whatchu want me to say?”
“What do I want you to say? Say what you feel, Zion!”
He looked at his watch. “I gotta go.”
“What? Zion, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
“YO!” Zion struggled to keep his voice low. “Olivia,”he said. “We gotta forget about what happened and get this money.”
“Zion, how you gonna act like that shit didn’t mean something to you?”
“I’m not saying that.”
“Well, what are you saying then?” I would never give a nigga the satisfaction of seeing me cry, but I was bawling on the inside. “You’re saying that you’re too scared of Lamin—”
“I ain’t scared of shit, Olivia!” Zion gave me a fierce look. “I respect your brother, that’s all I’m saying.”
“Zion, Lamin would be happy for me as long as I was happy with you. Let’s just tell him that we—”
“Nah.” Zion shook his head. “You must be hearing me, but you ain’t
listening
,” he said. “We gotta forget that shit happened and get this money.”
Zion stood up and yelled, “Yo, Lucky, I’m out!”
Lucky came out of the room and I think she knew we’d been arguing. My facial expression betrayed my emotions ’ cause I was heated! Zion put his baseball cap on, hugged Lucky, and left. I stood in the window watching his car pull away.
Lucky said, “Girl, come help me put away all these shoes.” I followed her into Lamin’s bedroom. All the while, I was wondering when she would start with all the questions chicks usually throw at you when your guard is down. I’m a tough bitch. My demeanor allows me to front like I got my shit together 24/7. But in reality, I fall apart sometimes. Usually, I manage to do it privately. But this time, I was with Lucky, my brother was hospitalized, my moms was a wreck, and now Zion was shittin’ on me. I quickly wiped the tears that fell from my eyes.
Lucky had no less than twenty pairs of shoes—girlie, sexy shoes and expensive sneakers. I picked up a pair of red pumps. “I know you heard me and Zion arguing,” I said.
Lucky kept stacking the shoes in the closet. “Yeah,” she said.
I waited for the questions. Nothing.
“Well, Zion won’t talk to me and that shit is frustrating!”
Lucky nodded. “All guys are like that sometimes.”
“Lucky, I like Zion, and I can tell he feels the same way about me. But Lamin don’t want me with him. All of a sudden he’s actin’ like I don’t mean nothing and that’s fucked up.”
Lucky nodded again and sat down on the king-sized waterbed, leaning back on the leather headboard. “If you care about Zion, forget what Lamin says. You have to follow your heart and do what is best for you.” She folded her hands across her chest. “I love Lamin so much and my father wants me to be with a different kind of guy. I had to do what was best for me. Fuck what my father says about him.”
I was overwhelmed by all my personal anguish.
“At least you
have
a father,” I said. “I just want to know what it’s like to
have
a father. I don’t even know what that’s like.” The truth in that statement hit me like a ton of bricks for the first time in my life.
A sob caused me to hiccup tears, and I cried for a void in my life I didn’t realize I had.
Lucky stared at me for a second. It seemed like she didn’t know what to do. I had never let my guard down. But she tossed me a box of tissues from the dresser and said, “Than you for taking off your mask.” She smiled sympathetically and threw me a pair of pajamas.”You’re staying here tonight. We’re going to get some shit off our chests this evening!”
And that’s just what we did. We sat in the home she now shared with my brother, drinking Alize, and taking turns crying. And in a way, Lucky became fam that night. It felt good to vocalize my pain, and she made me feel comfortable about it. I still had my dignity because she offered me advice instead of calling me childish. She shared her own struggles, and that night I finally made a female friend.
And that was one hurdle jumped. Just a few more to go.

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