Finding Forever (10 page)

“Yeah. What, you know her?” “Nah, not personally.” The wheels in Trina’s mind began to turn.

“I mean, Koran got a good thing going on wit you, T. It ain’t right that he out here doing you wrong like that.”

“I agree.” Trina sucked her teeth. “Koran needs to be taught a lesson.”

Finding Forever

It was the first day of summer. The best time to fall in love. Whitney and Koran lay basking in the sun on top of a blanket in the park. London, Whitney’s rottweiler, sat next to them. Live jazz music serenaded them as they lay on their backs playing with each other’s hands. Tree branches swayed gracefully in the wind. The sweet aroma of barbeque filled the air. Joggers jogged while children of all different persuasions played gleefully in the grass. It was the perfect summer day.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Koran apologized.

“I know you are,” Whitney replied, intertwining their hands. “Just don’t let it happen again.”

“I won’t.”

“You better not,” she challenged.

“Okay, Whitney, that’s enough.”

“It’s never enough.” She jumped up and began to playfully beat him up.

“So now you a tough guy?” Koran took her by the wrist and pinned her down.

“Why you gotta pin me down? Why you can’t fight fair?” Whitney wrestled to regain control.

“Fuck fightin’ fare, I play to win.”

“Uh-huh, wait until I get up. I’ma whoop yo’ ass.” She laughed so hard her stomach hurt.

“Yeah . . . no!” Koran cracked up laughing as London began to bark.

“Okay, baby, I’m done playin’. Let me up.”

“Nah, don’t punk out now. You wanted to fight, so fight.”

“For real, baby, let me up,” Whitney screamed, feeling sick. Everything around her was spinning, including the earth.

“Nope, not until you kiss the guns.” Koran placed his bicep up to her lip.

“Koran, stop! I’m not playin’,” she yelled, pushing him off.

“Damn, baby, what you push me for? We was just playin’.”

“But when I tell you stop, stop,” she shouted, holding her head. London was still growling, which got on her nerves even more. “London, shut up!”

“You a’ight? Is it the baby?”

“No, I’m not okay!”

“Ay, you know I don’t play that. Lower your fuckin’ voice,” Koran said sternly.

“Stop cursing at me! I don’t feel good.” She lay down.

“Well, come here and quit actin’ crazy.” Koran pulled her close. “Now what’s wrong? You gotta boo-boo or do you want to go to the hospital?”

“Quit playin’ so much. I was dizzy.”

“When you go to the doctor?”

“Next Thursday.”

“Well, I’ma go wit you.” He kissed her forehead.

“Okay.”

“You okay now?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” Whitney replied annoyed.

“Yo, ma, be easy. All I asked you was a question.”

For a while an uncomfortable silence filled the air. It wasn’t like Whitney to pop off with an attitude for nothing. She didn’t think he saw it, but Koran peeped the distance in her eyes. It always seemed like Whitney was there physically, but her mind was someplace else. Koran wished she’d tell him what was up so they could fix whatever problem she faced, together.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

“You good, but let me tell you one thing. Don’t you ever in yo’ fuckin’ life drop no important shit like that on me again and hang up. That shit ain’t cool. We better than that.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I was wrong. It’s just that sometimes I get so frustrated with you. This whole drug dealing lifestyle is just so not me. I mean you are too smart for all that hood shit. You could be doing so much more wit yourself. Like, remember we were supposed to go to college together. You were gonna study business so you could open up your own chain of stores in the neighborhood.”

“I still want to, but—”

“But what? It’s never too late to follow your dreams, Koran. You can take some online courses. I’ll even help you register.”

“We’ll see what’s up.”

“See, you on that bullshit. For real, Koran, if you don’t listen to anything else I say, listen to me now.” She sat up.

“Look at you. Got your serious face on and everything,” he teased.

“I’m not playin’. I’m for real. You’ve lost track of your goals, boo. Selling dope was only supposed to be a temporary thing so you could get yourself financially stable after your mother died. Now look . . . it’s eight years later and you still doing the shit.”

“I hear what you sayin’, but I’ve had a good run, ma. I just can’t let that shit go.”

“You call living your life the way you do a good run? Koran, be for real. Take a step back and honestly look at what the game has done for you. As far as I know you’ve been locked up twice and both times you had to sit down for a minute. You’re always on the go. You don’t get any sleep. You’re constantly watching your back. You’ve been shot and shot at numerous times. Niggas is out here threatening your life. I mean, come on. Who wants to live that way? Koran, you could be making the same amount of money you’re making now the legal way and without all the fear and the constant struggle for supremacy. You’re better than this game and I know deep down inside you want better for yourself.”

“I feel you. You’re right. The money been so good that it kinda clouded a nigga’s judgment. The end was never supposed to justify the means. I guess somewhere along the line I lost sight of that. But, I mean, I can’t even front. Yo’ boy like to floss.”

“And there’s nothing wrong wit that. Everybody likes to look good and feel good about themselves, but you don’t have to risk your life and participate in killing others to do so. I mean, we got a baby on the way and I ain’t tryin’ to burn bread or nothing, but you and I both know that nobody stays on top forever. Sooner or later you either gon’ get knocked or killed, ’cause somebody gon’ end up catching feelings and start hating.”

“Goddamn, why you have to go and get all deep on a nigga? I hate it when yo’ ass is right.”

“’Cause you needed to hear it. Somebody got to knock some sense into your head and since your mother is not here to do it, I will.”

“That’s what’s up.”

“She didn’t want you to live your life in the fast lane like she did. She wanted more for you. Hell, I want more for you, ’cause I know you have it in you to do something great. No, scratch that, extraordinary.”

“I’ma give what you said some thought.”

“Please do, ’cause you never know how long you’re gonna live. I don’t want you to wake up ten years from now and realize it’s too late.”

Finding Forever

After spending the entire day with Whitney, Koran made his way over to Trina’s to see Malik. As he pulled up to the house he noticed an unfamiliar car in the driveway. To make matters worse the car was parked in his spot. Koran had to park his truck on the street, which he hated. He figured that the car belonged to one of Trina’s chickenhead friends. All he knew was they better not be in his house drinking and smoking.

He’d told her on more than one occasion to do that shit outside of the house. Malik didn’t need to see his mother prancing around drunk and high. Koran went to put his key in the lock, but to his surprise the door was unlocked. Confused, he entered the house to find some man he’d never seen before on the couch with his feet up watching television. What fucked Koran up even more was that the dude was dressed in nothing but a wife beater, boxers and socks. On top of that, he was sipping on Koran’s last Boulevard Wheat Beer.

“Who the fuck are you?” Koran asked, pulling out his gun.

“Koran . . . you’re home,” Trina sneered, coming around the corner dressed in nothing but a pink Victoria’s Secret robe.

“Here you go, baby, eat up.” She handed the guy a plate of macaroni and cheese, cabbage, chicken and cornbread. “Koran, this is Richard. Richard, this is Koran.”

“Trina, what the fuck is going on? You ain’t tell me you had a man,” Richard said, looking nervous as hell. He looked like he was about to piss in his pants.

“Where the fuck Malik at?” Koran’s chest heaved up and down. It was taking everything in him to keep his composure and not shoot both of them.

“Upstairs.” Trina looked him square in the eye and arched an eyebrow.

“My bad, dude, shit. I ain’t know she had a man and this was yo’ house. I wouldn’t disrespect another man’s crib like that, real talk.” Richard got up and slowly reached for his pants.

“Boy, sit down. You ain’t gotta go nowhere,” Trina insisted. “This is my house. My name is on the deed. Ain’t that right, Koran?”

Koran gazed into her eyes. He was hoping to see some kind of fear or regret beneath the surface, but nothing was there. Cocking her neck, Trina gave him a look that said, “I dare you to do something.” And Koran did just that. Before either of them knew it his left hand was wrapped around Trina’s neck. Koran tried to squeeze the life out of her.

Trina tried to scream, but her cries for help weren’t allowed to rise in her throat. Instead, she hit and kicked. Koran felt her punches, but they were like pebbles being thrown into a lake. Trina was no match for him. He could see her face turning blue. The veins in her neck bulged beneath his hand. Dribbles of spit rolled from the corners of her mouth as she tried to pry his fingers away. Koran heard his inner-voice telling him to stop before things went too far, but hadn’t they already? Let her go, man, his conscious told him as his grip became tighter. She’s meaningless. Everything in Koran wanted to kill her, but Trina wasn’t worth a life sentence in prison, so he let her go.

“I hate you,” she coughed, holding her throat.

“You hate me, Trina? Just the other day you was saying how much you love me.”

“Fuck you!”

“A’ight, I’m outta here.” Richard attempted to leave.

“Ain’t nobody going nowhere.” Koran raised his arm and pointed his gun in Richard’s direction.

“Man, I ain’t even know. I ain’t tryin’ to get in no beef like that.” Richard threw his hands up.

“Nigga, put yo’ hands down! I ain’t the police! You good! Just listen to what I have to say.” Koran grabbed Richard by the head and spoke into his ear. “I don’t give a fuck what ya’ll do! You can fuck that ho until her pussy bleed . . . eat, shit and sleep, but you won’t do it up in this muthafucka! And yo’ ole trifling ass…” He turned and eyed Trina. “…done gave this nigga my beer. MY LAST FUCKIN’ BEER!” Koran grabbed the almost empty bottle and threw it against the wall.

The sound of glass exploding popped in the air. Pieces of glass flew everywhere.

“Damn, Koran, what’s the problem? Was it me fuckin’ another nigga in yo’ crib or was it him drinkin’ yo’ beer?”

“I don’t give a fuck about you fuckin’ some other nigga, Trina! You’re a whore, a fuckin’ bird! Any nigga wit a lil’ bit of cash can get that! But let me tell you something,” Koran yoked her up by the neck. “You got me fucked up if you think you gon’ get away wit this shit! I never once . . . in the four years we were together cheated on you, bitch!”

“Well, maybe you should have!”

“I’ma gon’ and head out, ’cause ya’ll got a lot to talk about.” Richard tried to leave again.

“Nah, dog, you cool. Go on and have a seat.” Koran cut him off.

“Nah, I think I’ma head out.”

“You know what?” Koran stopped to think. “You probably right. That would be the best idea for both of us. Now where was I? Oh yeah, this shit is over, you understand? Me and you is a wrap. I’ma look out for Malik . . .but, bitch. . .yo’ nasty ass on your own.”

“Nigga, we don’t need you! You ain’t Malik muthafuckin’ daddy, no way! And fuck what you talkin’ about! This shit between me and you been over! As a matter of fact, we was never really in a relationship! Walkin’ around here thinkin’ you king-ding-a-ling! Don’t you know when you being used? I guess not, stupid muthafucka! Get yo’ hands off of me!” Hurt, Trina pushed his hand away.

“You know what, Koran? You’re weak! You’s a punk. . .ass. . .nigga! You think you the shit just ’cause you sell a little weight! You ain’t Frank White! The shit you push ain’t nothing but a misdemeanor, nigga!”

This bitch is crazy, Koran thought as he stood speechless.

“That’s right, nigga! Stand there and look stupid! I wish I never met your sorry ass! And I dare you to put yo’ hands on me again! ’Cause if you do I’ma call the police and they gon’ come and lock yo’ BLACK ASS UP!”

Koran never backed down from a challenge. Every fiber in his being wanted to knock the shit out of Trina. Visions of him pounding her head into the floor flooded his mind. He wanted her to taste blood. Koran wanted her to feel his pain. Why did she hate him so much, yet for the past four years claim she loved him so?

“On everything I love, I could fuckin’ kill you right now.”