The Streets Keep Calling (15 page)

“What you say?” I asked Mannie over the phone before nearly choking on a piece of chicken covered in hot sauce.

“You heard me. We ran up in Breeze's spot. After you gave me that information there was no way I could let that shit ride. We had to show that nigga we were serious.”

“Is he dead?” I asked nervously. I expected Mannie and his boys to retaliate, but I never wanted Breeze to end up dead. Maybe at the most rough him up a little bit.

“Nah, but that nigga took a few shots. I heard his wife, Maria, was found dead, though. On the real, niggas don't even know how that shit happened. We thinking Biggs did her in. From what I hear she is the one who told Biggs where we could find the dude in the first place. But the weird thing is that right next to her body, detectives found pictures of her with Breeze. Look like Biggs had a private investigator following her. That bitch was still fucking with that nigga. And anybody who knows Biggs knows he can't stand disloyalty. So if you ask me, Biggs is responsible for her death.” Mannie whispered as if he was afraid that if anyone heard him make such an accusation, he would be dead next.

“What about his kids?” The mom in me worried about the safety of his children.

“They all right. They weren't in the crib at the time.”

“Oh, thank God,” I replied, seeing that Mr. Biggs had no mercy and was probably capable of killing the kids just as he'd done Maria.

“So, now that that nigga Breeze is out of the way, can I come tap that tonight?” Mannie blurted out, always thinking about pussy.

“Nah, I don't have a babysitter. My little one is a light sleeper,” I lied, then said good-bye and hung up the phone.

Although I never had babysitter issues because my mom was always willing to keep Junior, the babysitter would always and forever be a classic excuse to get out of doing things I simply didn't want to do. Mannie was the last person I wanted to see. At this point, I regretted even going to him with the news about Breeze. Look what it led to: Breeze getting shot up and Maria dead. All of this was my fault.

I needed to get my head together. My two fried chicken drumsticks didn't look appealing anymore so I threw them in the garbage. Deep down, I was relieved that Breeze was still breathing. I still had feelings for him.

“Ma, who was that on the phone?” Junior asked, coming in the kitchen, rubbing his eyes, just waking up from an afternoon nap.

“A coworker,” I said before plopping a kiss on his forehead.

“Oh, I thought you were talking to Breeze. Why don't he come around no more, Ma?”

“Baby, he doesn't live here anymore. I'm sorry you don't get to see him; but at least you have me and Grandma,” I said, knowing me or Grandma would never be able to replace a father figure.

“I know, Ma, but I really liked Breeze. He played football with me and took me to the basketball courts. You and Grandma don't ever know how to play PlayStation games. Plus, Breeze got me new Jordans. Aw, Ma, can we go visit him?
Please?
” Junior's begging broke my heart and it nearly made me cry.

It meant a lot to me that Junior asked for Breeze. I knew Junior longed for a father figure, and Breeze was perfect for it. I couldn't deny that Breeze treated Junior like he was his own from day one. Breeze had given my son something that no other man ever had. He was good to my son, and I would always be grateful for that.

Home, sweet home
, I thought as I drove through the streets of my old neighborhood in Baltimore. I'd come home to lay low for a while to let the event in Virginia blow over. There was nothing worse than regret, and one of my biggest ones was leaving the DMV area. Washington DC, Maryland, and Northern Virginia were my old stomping grounds. I should have stayed there and married my high school sweetheart, Sharon. She was good for me. At the time, though, I didn't realize it. I was too wrapped up in being a young Casanova like so many of the other men in my family. Hell, it was all I knew. The last I heard, Sharon was married, had three kids, and was teaching at a local elementary school. Now compare that to my life: drugs, violence, a cheating woman, and no children of my own. The sad part about this was that I didn't think Breeze or I ever truly had Maria's heart. The only thing that bitch loved was money. To make matters worse, Maria didn't pay those kids of hers any attention until the day I said something to her about it. She would have been happy sending them off to boarding school and traveling the world year-round. Even though I cared deeply for Maria, the truth was that I should have never wifed her up the way I did. I always knew she wasn't the one for me, but for whatever reason, I stayed with her, and days turned into months and months turned into years.

In the end, Maria got what she deserved. She should have known better than to be playing with people's heart. I knew from the time I'd heard that Breeze was home that Maria couldn't be trusted. That's why I wasted no time hiring a private investigator. I knew all about the visits, the gifts, the money, and the cell phone. I even had all her phones tapped, so I heard cell phone conversations and knew all about them having sex. And to think the entire time Maria thought our relationship was going down the drain because I was stressed about the business. The business issues were on my mind a lot, but she had been my main concern. I told her ass from the beginning, just as I'd told every soldier on my team, I don't tolerate disloyalty. Loyalty was the glue that held together any relationship, whether business, friendship, or love. In my book, anyone who was disloyal must pay. Unfortunately, in Maria's case, she had to pay the price of disloyalty with her life.

The truth be told, this was only my second murder. I never was the violent type but some things demanded death, and disloyalty was at the top of my list. Thirty years ago, I had to murder the cat who took my oldest brother's life. Everyone in the area knew my oldest brother loved me more than anything. That was one reason he wanted to keep me out of the drug game. He made sure my tuition was paid in school and that I had everything I needed so that I would never follow in his footsteps. “Esquire,” he and his crew would call me, “you monitor what goes on with this here drug game and learn all about it, because you're gonna be the one to get us out of a bind if we ever get caught up,” my brother would say as he taught me all there was to know about the game. My brother was very protective of me, so when one of his own men murdered him while sitting at the dinner table, my
Lion King
instincts kicked in. When I got the news, it was almost as though I was in a trance as I walked to the block where I knew I'd find this guy. With no warning, I walked directly up to him, pulled out a gun I'd gotten from my brother's drawer, and fired one shot to his head in broad daylight. I simply walked away, leaving him to bleed to death on the sidewalk.

It had been two weeks since I'd been shot, and the house was silent on this early Sunday morning. There was no one in the house but me. Grandma had gone to church and had taken the kids with her. Ma had gone to the club the night before and hadn't bothered coming home. The average person would have worried about something like that, but Ma had been doing that shit since I was a child. She would go out, get drunk, and come home with a hell of a hangover late in the afternoon the following day.

A few days prior had been Maria's funeral. I chose not to go, but Ma and Grandma did go and they took the kids. Maria hadn't been buried a whole week before her snooty-ass parents wanted to fight for custody of my kids. I knew that shit was coming. I also knew that unless I made some major changes, I wouldn't stand a chance against them in court. It was time I made some decisions. I was facing losing my children. I had niggas wanting my head. I hadn't seen my P.O. or been to work in two weeks, and I was crippled as a motherfucker. I figured the best thing for me to do at the time was leave. At least I knew this way, Grandma, Ma, and the kids would be out of harm's way. I knew right after the shootout niggas would lay low, but I also knew it wouldn't be long before they were on the hunt for me again.

With that in mind, I struggled to my feet, and threw on a T-shirt and a pair of jeans. Although it had been two weeks, I still was not completely healed. I was moving way too slow. My joints were stiff and everything hurt as I shuffled across the bedroom. I grabbed a duffel bag and put a few things in it. I thought about my family as I packed. I knew Ma would be bitching, Grandma would be disappointed, and the kids would be sad about me leaving without any notice, but I had no other choice. I couldn't leave anything that could possibly be used to track me down. I hoped that down the line they would understand the reason for my actions. I had plans to come back. It was just a matter of when.

With my duffel bag packed, I grabbed my gun, tucked it in my waistband, and headed out the back door. As I took my first step down the stairs I tumbled down. I fell to the ground and was in so much pain I couldn't mange to get up. This was some bullshit. I felt like that old-ass white lady on the commercial yelling, “I've fallen and I can't get up!”

“Godamn!” I yelled, completely frustrated, knowing there was nobody around to help me up. I wondered what the fuck I was gonna do next.

Suddenly, I heard a noise on the side of the house. It sounded like someone was slowly walking toward the backyard. I could hear whoever it was walking closer and closer to me. I managed to sit up straight and prop my back against the house. Then I wrestled my gun from my waist and cocked it, putting one in the head. I gripped my gun tight as I aimed it straight ahead, ready to fire. I could see a shadow the closer the person got. The shadow seemed rather small for an adult body, so I stared closely as a small head peeked around the corner. A smile came across my face as I realized who it was. It was none other than Junior.

“Don't shoot me! It's me, Junior.” He stood with his hands in the air, a look of fear and panic all over his face.

“I'm not gonna shoot you, boy,” I said as I replaced my gun in my waistband.

Feeling safe now that the gun was away, Junior ran to me and gave me the tightest hug a six-year-old could give. I was glad to see him even though he was hurting me by the second.

“Ah,” I screamed out, no longer able to hold in the pain.

“Sorry, Breeze. What happened to you?” Junior asked.

“It's okay. I'm just hurt a little bit. I can't get up,” I said.

“Let me help you up,” Junior said while trying to lift me with all his little might.

I knew there was no way in hell Junior would be able to help me up, but I didn't want to break his spirits. Besides, that little nigga looked so cute as he grunted while trying to lift me with all his might. I could tell he had such a good heart. I only hoped he never ended up in the streets when he grew up.

“I don't think I'm strong enough,” Junior said, disappointed. “Ma!” he yelled out to his mother for help before I could stop him.

The last person I wanted to see was Trixy. I didn't know what the bitch was up to, plus, I was in a weakened state, but it was too late now. I felt a little comfort in knowing I had my gun on me. Worst-case scenario, I would have to put one in that bitch's ass.

“What's going on?” Trixy rushed into the backyard, frantic.

“Breeze is hurt. We gotta help him, Ma. He can't walk,” Junior explained. I didn't say a word. I just looked at Trixy with a blank face.

“Let's get you up.” Trixy got me to my feet.

“I'm good,” I said, now that I was standing.

“No, you're not. You can barely stand up,” Trixy insisted while grabbing my hand and bringing me inside her house.

Once inside, she laid me down on the couch and began to clean me up. I hadn't even realized my wounds had started to bleed.
Damn it
, I thought as I lay there.
What the fuck else can go wrong? I can't even make a getaway happen smoothly.
I wondered what I'd done to deserve all this. How could one nigga's luck be so bad?

“You know, Junior made honor roll.” Trixy started to make some small talk as she changed my bandages.

“That's good news.” I nodded, still not knowing how to take Trixy.

“He adores you, Breeze. He asked about you every day that you weren't here.” Trixy's statement really touched my heart.

“I miss that little nigga too,” I admitted.

“Well you're all cleaned up now. Let's get you something to eat. You hungry?” she asked while heading to the kitchen.

“A little,” I said, still wondering what to make of Trixy's actions.

I didn't understand how at our last encounter she hated me so bad that she busted out all my windows, and now she was nursing me back to health. What bothered me even more was that she didn't ask one question about my gunshot wounds. She didn't ask what happened to me or how I got shot. She didn't even mention if she had heard something on the street. A woman always wanna know every detail about shit and she hadn't asked me nothing…nothing at all.

Breeze, Junior, and I had been chilling at my house over the past few days. It was just like old times and I was adoring every minute of it. I loved seeing Breeze and Junior playing together again and bonding like father and son. The sight just made my heart melt. There was nothing better than seeing my son happy. That is why, as a mother, I did anything I had to do to give him a decent place to stay, clothes on his back, and food in his mouth. I didn't care if I had to hustle or work a pole to get a dollar, I would do it for the sake of my son. The only place I may have failed him was in providing a father figure, and now it seemed like even that lack had been fulfilled. Spending time with Breeze and Junior as a family had begun to inspire me to do other things. For a moment, I thought there may be something more out there. Maybe there was a chance of me actually having a family. With those thoughts running through my mind, I quickly decided I wanted to go back to school. When I had graduated from high school, I got my certification as a nurse aid. Taking care of people came naturally to me. So, with that said, I decided that I would go back to school to be a licensed practical nurse.

“Breeze!” I called out to him. I wanted him to be the first person I shared the news with.

“What up?” He walked into the bedroom with a slight limp.

I had been doing my best to nurse Breeze back to health. His wounds had finally started to heal, and he was getting his strength back.

“Guess what?” I said with a big grin across my face.

“You hit the lottery?” Breeze laughed.

“No, silly. I'm going back to school.”

“For real? Stop lying.” Breeze seemed surprised that such a thing was coming from my mouth.

“For real, Breeze. I want the best for me and Junior. I want to make a good wife for some lucky man one day. I can't just hustle and grind all the time. I need something stable. I'm gonna go back to be an LPN,” I explained.

“Damn, Trixy. I never thought I would say this, but I'm fucking proud of you, girl.” Breeze gave me a big hug, then headed back into the living room where he had been watching TV before I called out to him.

His approval meant the world to me. Not only did it make me smile, but it made my heart cry. It made me think back to the dirty shit I'd done to Breeze. Every minute of the day I regretted ever having that sit-down with Mannie. I needed to get that guilt off my heart but I didn't know how. I sat in my bedroom, silent, as tears began to fill my eyes.

“What's wrong, Mommy?” Junior had come into my room and noticed my saddened demeanor.

“Mommy's sad.” I pulled him near and embraced him.

“Why?” he asked.

“I did something that I shouldn't have done, and I think it hurt someone.” I tried my best to explain on a level he could understand.

“You can say sorry,” Junior suggested.

“You know what, Junior, that's a perfect idea, but I think this person may not forgive me. Mommy's in a real bad situation.”

“You can pray. Grandma says God heals everything.” Junior gave another wonderful suggestion. I couldn't believe my six-year-old son had the answer to my despair.

“Excellent idea. We'll pray first. Then I will tell the person sorry and ask him to forgive me.”

“Okay. Can I pray with you?”

“Sure,” I said, but was afraid I may have needed my son's help with this too.

You see, I had never prayed in my life. I hadn't the slightest idea where to start or what to say.

“We gotta get on our knees,” my son directed me.

“Okay,” I said, and we both kneeled against the bed. “Dear God,” I began to say, not knowing what direction I would go in next. “I never called on you for anything, but I know you exist. If you're out there and you're listening to me, I really need you. I've done some horrible things and it's weighing heavy on my heart. I need you to forgive me and show me the right way, and I need you to give me the strength to ask forgiveness from the person who I have hurt. Please put it in his heart to forgive me.” The words flowed from my mouth with ease.

“And bless Grandma, Mommy, and Breeze,” Junior added, then we both said, “Amen.”

“What y'all doing in here?” Breeze walked in as soon as we'd said Amen.

“We're praying,” Junior said, full of excitement.

“You want to join in?” I added.

“Sure.” He nodded and carefully got on his knees beside me. Junior wrapped his arms around us. With Breeze's lead, all three of us together prayed to God. It was a beautiful moment, and, for the first time, it was starting to feel as if we could actually become a family.

After praying, I headed to the kitchen to start dinner. I truly believed my nutritious meals and motherly care were nursing Breeze back to his good health. As I prepared dinner, my cell phone rang.

“Hello,” I answered.

“You've been sleeping with the enemy,” Mannie commented on the other end of the phone.

“Who is it?” Breeze asked, noticing the fright in my face. I shook my head and put my hand over my mouth, letting him know he needed to be quiet. Then I rushed out of the kitchen to my bedroom, where I could be alone.

“Mannie, what you talking about? Listen, I'm not sleeping with anybody. It's about me and my son for now,” I insisted.

“If you say so.” He busted out laughing and hung up in my ear.

I rushed into the living room. “That was Mannie on the phone. We got to get outta here,” I explained to Breeze after making sure I pressed the end button on my cell phone to ensure the call had ended properly.

“You're right, let's go,” he agreed while putting on whatever clothes he could find.

We both knew what that phone call meant. We knew it wouldn't be long before Mannie and the goons would be at my house looking for Breeze. I put two weeks' worth of clothes in a suitcase and dropped Junior at my mom's house. Breeze and I decided to go to Newport News and lay low for a while.