All the Kings Men, page 18
“Good, Mama. Just leave it when you go back to Kadeem’s.” I told her as she sat a cutting board with onions, carrots, and other stuff on the table.
“Kadeem? My baby Kadeem…” The awareness in Mama’s eyes started to fade as panic made them wide. It worried me because I needed to get Tasha in safety.
“Mama, mama, sit here. Remember the dumplings?” I said to her to snap her back. I wasn’t sure why she was acting that way about Kadeem, but she was. I watched her fold her hands in her lap and look off into space.
“Gotta cook for Mali…for Eli,” she said in a distant manner. “Gotta make sure he stays strong like you, honey.”
Elijah was my dead father. Sometimes, she saw him in me. Trauma could fuck a person’s perspective up deeply. When Mama began her slow rocking in her chair, then picked up the knife in front of her to chop, I knew that she was working her way back to us, so we left her at the table. Was no worry in that because Unk was coming to sit with her while I couldn’t.
We had to keep the house clean otherwise the blood would trigger Mama. Which was why Tasha ended up in the basement. With that in mind, I made sure that Tasha was comfortable with the comforter and sheets on the bed. Afterwards, I pulled in a chair from the living room into the bedroom, so that I could sit and watch her rest. Tasha ended up waking up for a bit in the middle of the night. We did our thing, talking, and eating until she went back to sleep.
After, I ended up staying up all night, sleeping for maybe four hours. I then woke up thanks to my dreams and ended up doing some crunches n’shit in the living room. A brotha was stir crazy because Tasha was hurt, but I made sure to take care of her. I checked her, then changed her bandage, before eventually sleeping again.
Kadeem had explained that after she was stabbed and passed out, he brought Tasha to the only urgent care center in the area. Dressed like me, he and Uncle Hijack secretly moved her to the urgent care center.
Glancing around, I took in my place. My brother and Unc Lo had decorated it. The colors were neutral and dark. I had some black sheets, which I was told were from Target, and a mini kitchen. There was a big flat screen on the concrete wall. Some old pictures of me and the fam when I was a kid and few of my sketches.
Per my request, I had a big black built in bookcase that Unk Lo built me. Everything in here were things I earned for my silence in prison, and for my time taken from me. See, what I didn’t tell Tasha was that Unk Lo had tried his best for me. He tried to convince me to save my own ass and that he’d take my spot, but I wouldn’t let him. It also pissed my unk off because OG or not, he felt my life was mine to have and that I shouldn’t sacrifice myself because of my actions. But I also knew, my mama nor my brother would survive without Unk. It was what it was.
I took all the attacks from WSK for family and to show that I wasn’t a weak nigga. I took it all, while plotting for revenge for being used as a patsy in the first place. That was how it was to go for me. That was the only choice for me, as crazy as it was.
During my time in there, I learned that my uncle, the man known on the block for rehabilitating us prison niggas, was a force to be reckoned with. His power came from how he had built up his ties long ago in his youth, and by ingeniously micromanaging what shit was brought in the hoods and exported out of the hoods through his moving company.
Crime was going to happen in the hood, he told me once. It had been set up that way by a racist system. They’d place us in “projects” with limited access to resources that could sustain us. It was like putting crabs in a bucket. When one looked as if they were about to escape, another reached up to pull it down. People always used that analogy, Unk had told me, but nobody ever stopped to think about the fact that crabs don’t belong in a bucket to begin with. Same with Black folk and the hood.
That was my past, and my future was my vengeance going forward. I snatched on some sweatpants and pulled on a thermal long sleeve shirt. I flipped on a light, only because I had black out curtains over the basement window in my room. I just didn’t trust my surroundings. I knew I could get out from the front if need be or if I moved my barricade on the basement steps, and a nigga was cool with that.
Stopping by the bedroom door, I looked to Tasha who stood near my bed sliding up a pair pants. Her ass was so fat that she had to slightly wiggle and damned if my dick wasn’t hard again.
“What are you doing?” I asked just to distract myself. “You need to chill and rest while I handle Mr. Sheriff.”
“Um…not going to do that. I can help, and I’m tired of the bed already,” she said, looking at me while carefully sliding on a tank. Her coloring was coming back, but I could tell that she was in pain. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she gave me a ‘try me if you want to’ look. “Also, that phone and hard drive? I didn’t find anything on it, so we’ll have to do something different.”
I was learning every day that Tasha was trouble in a stubborn type of way. With a suck of my teeth, I thumbed my nose, not even feeling like going into it with her. Didn’t have the time anyway.
“A’ight, I’ll think of something. But ah…yeah. You tear open your side, then we’re fighting,” I grumbled. “And, since you’re going out, I need you to find out why Braychelle has been going between niggas like she has. It’s fucking with me and making me regret not killing her when I had the chance.”
“Yeah, that’s not making any sense to me either, considering…” Tasha started.
“Considering she played us,” I interrupted. After running my hands down my face, I gave Tasha a one-up look like ‘I told you so’ but I kept my mouth shut. “Or is playing us? And if she is, she needs her tongue torn out.”
“I mean, if she has betrayed us, then let me take her down,” Tasha said, following me to the bathroom.
We stood by the sink in the bathroom. I cracked open the medicine cabinet and tossed her a plastic-wrapped toothbrush, one of many that I had. Then, I turned on the water to wet the toothbrushes. Next, we began to brush our teeth while I mulled over what she said. Done with my teeth, I leaned over the sink, turned on the water, then popped my toothbrush back in my mouth, chewing on it.
“Will you be able to go through with that shit this time, Tasha?” I asked. After pulling my toothbrush out of my mouth, I pointed it at her while I spoke, “Can you kill her knowing she has two kids somewhere out there? Can you be ruthless with it, mama?”
My gaze locked on Tasha in all seriousness. We couldn’t afford any fuck ups. Though I had showed my face back in Tennessee to Magnolia, I knew that the nigga was so high, that the whole time I was with him, he had been calling me a ghost and not sure of me really being there.
That shit was verified by the twins as well when they told me that they had to tell him that it was a little gift from his ghosts in the past. My need for that nigga to stare me in the face and know my pain had been important to me. I had needed to see it firsthand to sort out my own shit and pain from my past. That’s why I had gone. Messy that it was, I still had made sure it stayed clean. Now that nigga was being dealt with and soon, once he got inside, more pain and eventually death would come to him.
But anyway, I raised an eyebrow watching Tasha. “Can you mama?”
“Yes, I got it. I handled the twins, didn’t I?” Tasha spit in the sink, turned on the water to wash it clean, then cupped her hands to use some water to rinse her mouth.
I refused to laugh because I’d have to admit that truth, so all I did was grunt.
Turning, she dabbed at her mouth with a towel then looked at me. “Uh-huh? Anyway, I’m sorry too.”
“For what?” I asked walking out of the bathroom, then heading to the door of my place. Out in the light, I squinted at that brightness then moved to the front of the house. I heard the door to my place shut, and the pattering of Tasha’s feet behind me.
“For getting wrapped up in the moment and not trusting your instincts….and I locked the door.”
I paused in the middle of helping her up the steps. “You were fighting for my humanity. It is what it is.”
“Yes, but...” she started to say.
I took in Tasha’s pretty little face as she looked up at me. Sometimes I couldn’t help but miss Jaded.
“Nah, it’s all good. We’ll handle the situation how it goes,” I quipped. “With your stalker on our ass, we need to focus on that.”
“True. I do kind of want to know what Mr. Lame-ass wants with you, Mali. That’s why I’m not leaving,” I heard her say.
My keys made a jingling sound as I used one to open the front door to the house and let Tasha walk in first. Standing behind her, I then looked around and listened. Light broke through the closed golden curtains. Sun motes slid down the sun beams. KJ’s toys and books sat neatly on the living room table from his visit yesterday.
Unk Lo’s extra set of tools, work boots, his belt, and dolly sat in a corner near the front door where I stood. My mom wasn’t here. The note from KD posted on a mirror hanging on a wall that led to the living room telling me that Mom was at his spot confirmed that. Rubbing the back of my neck, I walked straight to the kitchen, occasionally glancing down over my shoulder to see if Tasha was still following me.
“So, what’s it gonna be then?” I asked.
“Both,” she said while messing with her phone. “I can find out what’s going on with Braychelle and stay here.” Quickly, she moved past me. “I’ll get her to open up truthfully.”
While inwardly chuckling, I stepped into the kitchen then began going through the cabinets, then fridge. “What are you doing?”
“Opening up the curtains, turning on the TV. You know? Making it look like you’ve been up here for a bit,” she explained.
I glanced over my shoulder to see she had taken her pants back off. That was odd.
“What does that have to do with your pants being off again?” I questioned, turning to find some eggs in the fridge.
I stuffed my hand with a carton of eggs, butter, turkey bacon, veggies, then I walked to the archway of the kitchen to check Tasha’s thick thighs, remembering how they felt around my waist. She rushed around finding one of my T-shirts which she put on over her tank. She hurriedly pulled her hair up into a messy bun, then found a spot on the couch. She finished that setup by taking the crocheted blanket my mother had on the back of the couch and covering her feet with it as she flipped through the TV.
Figuring out what she was doing, I went back to the kitchen to start on breakfast for us.
“If Chevy sees me with no pants, what do you think will run through his mind?” she asked.
There was a softness in her face. No, wrong. There was plotting on her face, in her eyes. It had her smirking. Had her moving around the house as if she fit here—which she did— and like the world was her chess game. It was interesting. Shit took me back to kids, because that was how she looked when she was up to no good.
“Uh-huh. I got you, and he’s here,” I said looking out the side bay window. Following that, the sound of a door slamming signaled that nigga leaving his car.
“Okay. It’s show time,” was all Tasha said.
I went back to the kitchen to start cooking. The scent of turkey bacon sizzling filled the house. My mind was turning a mile a minute while I waited, wondering why this nigga hadn’t knocked at the door. When I saw the side of his ugly mug passing the kitchen window, I put the cast iron skillet that I was using to the side, turned off the stove then moved to the living room and entryway. Flinging open the door, I stepped outside with a frown.
The block was sparse. As, I checked the perimeter of my home, there was just the cars of other folks. Some whipping by, and folks either walked or jogged by. It was something I still wasn’t used to seeing, Black folk living like we just didn’t have a shootout. I guess everyone was desensitized to the world.
“Ey, looking for something homie?” I asked catching this Barney Fife acting nigga looking at the side of the house where the entry to my apartment was. I was barefoot and it was chilly outside. “Because I can assure you ain’t nothing you want on the side of the house.”
Annoyance came over me while Chevy scowled. If he had been trying to intimidate me, it didn’t work.
“I think you’re wrong about that, Malcolm,” he said.
Light bounced off his greasy, bald head. Even his face was shiny, and I wondered what Tasha had seen in this nigga. He gave me Terry Crews vibes in personality and build. He also reminded me of the niggas in prison who liked to bully others with size and cliques.
“Yeah, like I don’t know you for you to be using my first name like that, nigga. But I’ll let that shit slide just because I find this whole thing comical.” I said in a calm tone that dripped with iciness. “Now, how can I help a nigga like you? Huh? My people ain’t here, so I know you not here for me, or are you?”
“I actually am. Word is Natasha is here.” How he said Natasha’s name was on some fake Carlton Banks enunciation. Though it came off as, ‘knee-tash-shay.’ Dude strolled up to me with his hands on his belt, actually near his gun. Prattling on his radio mixed in with our conversation and he studied me like he owned the world. “I’d like to have words with her about her association with a hood bitch like yourself.”
“Ah-ha!” I gave a sharp laugh. One with my fist to my mouth. “Niggah. Again, I don’t even know who the fuck you are. So, why the hell you on my people’s private property?”
My eyes locked on that nigga, letting him know that I wasn’t about to play this game much longer.
“Shit? Yeah? Hood booty like yourself don’t know who I am? Damn, allow me to introduce myself, I’m Sheriff Chevy Duncan and we got a problem between the two of us.”
This nigga was on some next shit.
“Oh, yeah? Hmm…I find that funny because you got some imaginary beef with me then, Dunk. As for Tasha? Shiieet…” Crossing my arms over my chest, I looked around as if I were thinking. “She might be here. She might not be. Fuck it gotta do with you though? You want to sniff my dick, homie?”
I let my hand go to my sweatpants and grip my Johnson. The print was clear against my thigh while I smirked. I knew what I did tweaked Chevy’s nerves because his nostrils flared, and his fist tightened. Niggas like him were no different from the big motherfuckers in the pen. More bark than bite. I had type casted this nigga just right.
“Mali, the food is getting cold…Oh, Chevy. Hey. What’s going on?” To the left of me was Tasha.
She stood behind me, and from what I saw out the corner of my eye, mama was hamming it up very well. Skittles was in full effect. She had her hip curved so that my shirt that she wore, hiked up some to reveal her thick thigh. The fact that her lips were still a little swollen due to me kissing and sucking on them, made me smirk. Even though her chewing on her bottom lip had aided in the kiss-swollen look. Anyway, a breeze brushed over her as she went back in the house. She smelled of me. My soap that is.
Got damn, just that little cameo made me want her. What I’d seen was sexy as fuck and my dick immediately swelled up in ownership. There was no doubt in my mind that the nigga behind me was going to be pissed over that little scene. When I turned my attention back on Chevy, all I saw was a beefy fist coming my way. Nigga was triggered. I laughed inwardly as his fist connected with my chest. I mean, if I put hands on him, I knew that would only derail my plans, so I let that nigga hit me. He slammed the side of my face against the doorframe as we tussled. The force was so hard that I think wood cracked.
“Chevy! What the hell is your problem?” I heard Tasha scream. She pulled at Chevy’s arms, doing her best to get him off me.
When he turned and slapped her, I grit my teeth. My fingernails cut into my palms and I fought the coming blackout that was trying to take over. The memory of hot, stale coffee breath against my face, traveling to my nose, singing them, put a familiar pain in my stomach.
Bile rose in my throat. Goosebumps flared up all over my body, and a white-hot anger and the cloak of dark shadows started took over my sight. If I wasn’t careful, if I didn’t control the game here, then I knew that my hand would be covered in red and I’d be back in prison. This time for murder.
“Get the fuck off of him, Chevy!” I heard Tasha scream. It felt like she was a million miles away.
So, with a deep breath, I kept the image of myself back in prison working my way out of this familiar hold. I controlled the innate devil in me.
“Nigga, you got serious anger issues, and I’m trying to understand who the real hood bitch is in this scenario because it ain’t me homie,” I said, pain was pressing against my temple.
“I suggest you listen to Tasha and get your bitch-ass the fuck up off my brother, Chevy.” A satisfied smile spread across my face when I heard my brother’s booming voice. “Because I don’t have an issue breaking your fucking arm and making a special phone call down to the precinct.”
Chevy frowned, then blinked down at me as if he didn’t know what to make of my brother talking to him. He pressed his forearm against my neck causing my fingers to loosen. “Never should have touched what’s mine…nigga.” I heard him growl against my ear. “I got something special for you.”
I grunted and gritted my teeth. “And I had something special with Tasha, too. Get the fuck up off me.”
Then, just like that, the weight pressing against me was gone. Fresh air filled my lungs, and I heard the sound of a fist hitting flesh. Turning, I saw KD had gone ham. My brother and Chevy looked like two bulls locking horns. My brother locked his arm around Chevy, sent his knee up into his chest, then slammed his fist against his back.
It was the force of that hit that made Chevy fall face down on the concrete sidewalk. I knew my brother, and so did Tasha. We knew that he was about to lift his foot up and send that shit against his ribs.
She screamed for me to stop it. With a quick glanced at Tasha, I wiped the blood that leaked from my mouth. She knew I wasn’t going to say a thing. So, I watched her look up at the sky then sigh.
