Down by Law (13 page)

“He is. And anyway, look, I'm not about to sweat you. I been layin' up in your crib all month, doing everything for you, and you ain't asked me yet to be your girl. How long did you think I was gon' go for that? I need a commitment or we need to relax.”

“Oh, you wanna relax? Is that what you want?”

“No. But I'm not stupid and I'm not getting ready to assume that we a couple and you haven't asked me to be.”

“I need to ask you? You already know you my girl.”

“I don't know that.” I folded my arms across my chest. “Ask me. Write me a note or do something. Otherwise I'm straight single.”

Fresh gave me a crooked grin. “A note?” He chuckled a bit. “Saying what?”

“A note asking me if I wanna be your girl and then you put a yes box, a no box, and a maybe box.”

“First of all, I'm not about to write you some lame note and if I did, I damn sure wouldn't put a no box or a maybe box.”

“And why not?”

“'Cause your only option is to say yes.”

“Oh, really?”

“What? You wanna say something else?”

I thought about continuing my stubborn routine, but by the smile that was on my face, there was no need to. So, I slid my arms around his neck and pressed my lips against his. “No, baby. We would only need a yes box.”

“I thought so,” he said as we started to kiss. “All you better ever tell me is yes . . .”

F
resh was everything black love was made of.

Kind.

Gentle.

Caring.

Had his own money.

And from what I could see his feelings for me ran deep. He loved spending time with me and I loved being with him too, but I was starting to miss my crew.

Plus, I was growing tired of Fresh's pager always going off, his house phone constantly ringing, all night long, and the midnight knocks on his apartment door, with random girls kicking, pounding, and begging to get inside.

Although he swore that it was all about me, I wasn't no fool. And one thing I knew for sure, real hustlers didn't have no customers calling their house phones or banging their doors down. Why? 'Cause there was a difference between your crib and your corner. And since I knew my man wasn't sloppy in the streets, it was crystal clear that he had a few other chicks besides me.

And yeah, I knew other chicks was part of the game but still... I didn't like it smeared in my face. So I knew I needed a break. Today.

Fresh and I were in a custom leather boutique called La-Shae's in New York City. He stepped out of the dressing room and the tailor turned him toward a trifold mirror before taking his measurements.

Fresh had donned a black leather kufi, tilted to the left. Dark black and square-shaped shades shielded his eyes. He wore a double-breasted black suit, with the matching vest, and on his feet was black and red British Knights.

“Word to the mother, that whole ensemble is what's up,” I said. “You look soooo dope, baby.”

Fresh nodded in agreement.

I carried on, “You make the Treacherous Three look like they need to add one more. You even flyer than Colonel Abrams and Kool Moe Dee put together!”

Fresh slid his shades down the bridge of his nose. “What you want?”

“I'm just giving you your props, baby.”

“You been kind of quiet since we got here and I think I know what it is.”

“What?”

“You want one of these, don't you?”

Umm, no, but I wasn't about to turn down no custom leather suit. “Of course I want one. My baby look fly so I gotta look fly too.”

“You ain't said nothin' but a word.” Fresh smiled and looked down at the tailor. “I want you to make my girl one of these, but trim her collar in mink.”

“Are you serious?” I squealed.

“You know it.”

The tailor's assistant took my measurements and I was grinning from ear to ear. Afterwards, I ran over to Fresh and hugged him extra tight. “Thank you.”

“Anything for my girl.”

Fresh paid the tailor and for the next few hours we strolled through Midtown, where the city streets was filled with loads of traffic. Yellow taxis honked. Drivers cussed. Bicycles danced figure eights around the cars. Crowds of people bustled up and down the sidewalk; and here I was in the center of it all, carrying more bags than I'd ever carried before. Fresh even let me get some gear for Kamari.

I held Fresh's hand and squeezed it. “You're the best,” I said. “And I'm soooo grateful to have you as my man.”

“Thank you, baby,” he said.

I continued, “But I wanna tell you something and I don't want you to get mad. I want you to understand.”

“Depends on what it is.”

“Promise me you won't get mad.”

“You know I'm not gon' promise that.”

I sucked in and pushed out a deep breath. “I wanna go home tonight.”

Fresh came to a sudden halt, stopping midway to the sidewalk. “Go home? For what? Why? I know you not tryna kick it with that same, punk ass motherfu—”

I placed a finger up to his lips, stopping him mid-sentence. “I told you K-Rock was a family friend. My homie. That's it.”

He roughly brushed my finger from his lips. “Why you defending him?”

“'Cause he's like a brother to me.”

“Like a brother, and being a brother, are two different things. And don't ever put your finger up to my mouth and try and shut me up again.” He mushed me on the side of my forehead.

I took a deep breath. “Look, I been staying with you for a month. But you not my daddy! And I ain't had no curfew and nobody sweatin' me in forever. I'm grown. And it's not that I necessarily wanna go home, but I do wanna hang out on my side of town with my girls. Maybe stop by and see my cousin so I can see wassup with her and give her what I have for Kamari.”

“Your cousin? Didn't you just tell me the other day when I picked you up that your cousin was doggin' you? Tellin' your homegirls that you was actin' funny?”

I sucked my teeth. “Why you gotta throw that in my face? She was upset, that's all. But that's my cousin and I miss her and the baby. Plus, I have all this stuff that I really want to give her for Kamari. And I wanna drop it off to her tonight.”

“I'll take you to drop it off.”

“I don't need you to take me. 'Cause after I see Yvette, I wanna go and chill with my homegirls for a while. And I might come back to your place tonight and I might not.”

Fresh's eyes was bloodshot and the veins in his neck bulged, but, surprisingly, he was calm as he said, “If you wanna go, go. You're right, you been staying with me for over a month, and maybe that was too long. So, if you wanna bounce, then step 'cause my hustle damn sure ain't kidnapping. I'm up here taking you out, taking you shopping, showing you a nice time, but you wanna disrespect me and chase some broke hos and they kids around.”

“You're going too far and I don't appreciate that!”

“And I don't appreciate you tryna play me for stupid.”

“Play you? Ain't nobody tryna play you. If anything I been played by all the chicks who keep calling you and showing up at your door. But did I sweat you about that? What, you think I didn't notice or I didn't know? What, you think I'm some young and stupid broad? You got me messed up.”

“You better calm down and lower your voice!”

“And if I don't? Yo, for real, dig, I appreciate everything you've done for me, but you not about to run me. Nah, that's not how I get down and I ain't having that. So, if you got a problem wit' me going to see my crew and my family, then I suggest you deal with that. 'Cause I'm out!” I flipped him the middle finger and, without thinking twice or looking back, I stormed into the subway and quickly hopped on the
PATH
train.

 

A
t first when I got here, I didn't think that much had changed. I mean, maybe the month on the wall calendar had flipped. The plastic on the sofa was a little more ripped than I remembered. Maybe there was more grease spots and stains on the banana-colored kitchen walls. Maybe even more floor tile was missin' than before.

But so what? There was a lot that was still the same.

Like the aged Crisco can, with the lumpy chicken grease, that sat in the middle of the stove.

The potato plants on the rusty fire escape.

Nana and Mr. Bill's Saturday night groove.

And my crackhead auntie, drunk uncle, and they friends piled up in here.

So never did I expect to walk into my bedroom and find something outright different: Kamari playing with my little cousins and Yvette nowhere to be seen.

Ten p.m.

Almost all the kids who lived here was asleep. Except Kamari, who walked around with a pissy Pamper and screamed about how she was hungry. I gave her a pack of crackers, but I couldn't change her Pamper, because she didn't have any.

 

Eleven p.m.

I couldn't take Kamari screaming and crying anymore, so I put clothes on her and we walked across the street to the Chinese store for fried chicken wings and a quart of fried rice. Then we headed to the bodega for a pack of Pampers.

 

Midnight.

I hadn't watched the clock like this since the night Schooly was killed.

Kamari was dry, fed, and asleep in my arms.

Still no Yvette.

 

Two a.m.

I was on edge with worry but fightin' to keep my eyes open.

 

Four a.m.

My neck kept jerking from me dozing in and out of sleep, but I was too scared to give up waiting.

 

Eight a.m.

“And what is you doing here?” Scared me out of my sleep.

My eyes popped open and immediately my gaze sank into Yvette's face. Her mouth dry, creased, and holding a fish frown. Her lips cracked. Ashy. Her head suddenly seemin' too big for her frail frame. She looked to be at least twenty pounds thinner since my birthday. Her clothes, which she prided on being fitted, were too big.

“I know you heard me,” Yvette carried on. “What you doin' here?”

I curled the left corner of my upper lip. “Whatchu mean, what I'm doin' here? I live here. The question is where you been and why you ain't come home last night?”

“For the same reasons you don't come home.”

“Listen, I came here to give you some clothes for Kamari and then I wanted to hang out wit' Munch and Cali. But since you ain't come home I ended up having to stay inside all night and watch Kamari.”

“What?” She sucked her teeth and flicked a wrist dismissively. “Don't be acting like I needed you to watch my baby. Mph, Nana was here. And another thing, I don't need you to get my baby no clothes and I most def don't need you checkin' up on me.”

“Excuse you?”

“You heard me. I don't know why you all in B.I. anyway. Am I sweatin' you about what you out there doin' with Fresh? No. I'm. Not. I mind my business, which is what you need to do.”

“Fresh? Fresh don't have nothin' to do with this. This is about my family. Yes, he's my boyfriend and I spend time with him because I'm gettin' to know him, but you're my cousin—”

“Not really. Actually, I'm just a family friend.”

I hesitated. For a moment I felt like I'd been sideswiped. “What?” I said, only because, momentarily, I had no other follow-up. I paused again and then continued with, “You straight buggin'. Now I asked you a question: where you been?”

“I don't have to answer to you!” Yvette turned around and stormed out and into the living room. I hopped off the bed and flew behind her, practically stepping on the heels of her sneakers. That's when I spotted Flip standing in the middle of the floor, wearing the same get-up he had on the other day: dirty and too-big jeans and an oversized orange and faded Sunkist tee with the neck stretched from round to oval. And some busted white Chucks.

A million things raced through my mind, including picking up the glass lamp off the end table and pealing Flip's scalp back with it. “Now I know why you ain't come home!” I said to Yvette. “'Cause you was out wit' this nothin'! I can't believe this! Yo' baby here pissy and hungry, but you out chasin' this crackhead—”

“Correct yourself. My man is not a crackhead, first of all—”

“First of all, you don't have a man, you got a junkie!”

“You don't disrespect Flip like that! Ain't nobody talkin' about Fresh!”

“Like I said before, this don't have nothin' to do with Fresh. Right now I'm worried about Kamari—”

“Since when? And why? I pushed her out, not you! So you go back to runnin' the streets wit' yo' notorious drug dealer!”

“What the—wait, you the one told me to go out with him!”

“And when you start listening to everything I tell you to do? You don't have your own mind?”

“You sounding real stupid right now. And I think I know why, 'cause you must be high and you ain't high off weed!”

“Trick, beat it! You don't come at me like that! Ain't nobody high up in here.”

“Then why are you lookin' like that? Eyes all bugged out. Lips all ashy.”

“Not that I need to explain anything to you, but for your information, I haven't had any sleep since yesterday afternoon!”

“Yeah, I bet. 'Cause you been hittin' that pipe all night!”

“Yo, I ain't gotta keep listening to you. Come on, Flip!”

“Come on, Flip?! Where you runnin' back to? The crack house? You got a daughter in the other room!”

“You need to mind your business. I'm talkin' to my man—”

“Yeah, he's your man now, but in a minute he gon' be your pimp!”

Yvette's hand burned across my face so fast that I didn't have a chance to catch my balance, and I hit the floor. Her fist felt like iron as it landed full speed ahead dead in my mouth, and before I could even process what was happening, I'd already jumped up, yanked Yvette into a tussle, and now had her on the floor, doing my best to stomp through her rib cage.

“Get offa her!” Flip snatched me by my hair, placed an arm around my neck, and started choking me.

Wham! Crack! Crack! Crack! Wham!
“Let her go!” Nana screamed, beating Flip in the head with a metal broom handle. Once Nana forced Flip to let me go, she stood in between us. “What in the devil is going on here?! I swear for God, y'all not about to tear up my apartment!” She looked over at me. “Yo' sleazy behind been gone for over a month, and this is the hell you come back in here with?!”

“I didn't do anything! Your granddaughter, Yvette, is runnin' around here smokin' crack, don't you see that?!”

“You lyin' on me!” Yvette screamed.

“SHUT UP!” Nana yelled. “She ain't smokin' no crack! If anybody out in the street doing God knows what, it's you! Runnin' in and outta here like you grown, like I ain't responsible for you!”

“Responsible for me? Really? Since when you start caring about me or anything that got to do with me?”

“I took you in when your mama and your daddy didn't want you!”

“And I probably would've been better off had you just sent me to a foster home! 'Cause living here ain't nothin' but hell. You ain't never did nothin' for me but cuss me out. All my clothes I had to beg, borrow, and wait for Yvette to steal 'em! All you ever done for me was give me a bunch of grief! So you can save all that, 'cause the last thing you did for me was a favor.”

“You better shut yo' mouth!”

“No, I won't.
You
need to stop talkin' to me. And you need to focus on the newest crackhead livin' up in your house, 'cause soon as he finish turnin' her out, she'll be walkin' out and leavin' the baby behind for good.”

“The devil is a liar and your wicked behind just came here to steal, kill, and destroy! You just an ingrate. A nothin'! A unruly spirit up! And I ain't gon' have you in my house, talking trash to me! Now get out! Go back to whatever gutter you crawled out from 'cause you are no longer welcomed in this here!”

“I don't care! What you think I need you or I need to stay here? Screw you! I'm good and, Yvette, when he turn you out and have you beatin' that concrete don't even look for me! 'Cause I'm through witchu!”