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VERSE I : No Handouts

SAVINO

 “BREAKING NEWS, we just received a disturbing report, John. An unarmed African-American male has just been pronounced dead on arrival by Detroit paramedics. Sources say the male was identified by the local Detroit police department as the robbery suspect from a convenience store on Bramell St. Detroit police have yet to disclose the name of the officer behind the shooting to the public.”

 “Turn that shit off, Vino. Nobody wanna hear about another nigga getting sprayed by the twelve.” Her choleric tone seeped irritatingly into my ears.

Remarks like that made a nigga wonder, was I the only one concerned with the direction the world is going in? Yeah, watching the news has become more and more depressing. But ignorance ain’t bliss, and it’s better to know what the fuck is going on in the hood. If we all turn a blind eye to this shit, these trigger happy mothafuckas gone successfully complete the genocide of the black race. Ain’t nobody trying to hear that though, these niggas will never listen. I silently turned the power off the TV all together, a prolonged exhale emitting from my lips.

“Breathe any harder and you’ll blow what’s left of the house down.”

A faint chuckle exited my mouth. If I wasn’t so use to her slick ass mouth, I’d be telling baby to get the fuck out. This shit wasn’t nothing new for us. In fact, its how we communicate. She was the realist on my team, and my ol’ lady. Pushing my weight off the collapsing couch cushion, I found my way over to her in the kitchen. Laying a rough, entitled palm towards bare rear end.

“While you all on my dick, and worried bout how I’m breathing, what the fuck I told you about walking round here half naked. Moms done got on both our asses about this before.” I reminded her while sucking my teeth.

I hated complaining about shit like this, any nigga with a dick would love to come home to his lady half naked cooking dinner. Problem is this ain’t our home, and we don’t have that luxury. We’ve had this conversation before, and I only sounded like a broken record. A nigga twenty-seven years old, and back home living with his grandma. And damn near stripped of my privacy.

“Shit, where she at? I’ll go put on some clothes now.” Her footsteps trailed off towards the bedroom.

In her absence, my eyes landed on the old stained skillet against the stove. The smell of fried bologna drifting into my nostrils. A hood meal at its finest, and only took a few minutes to prepare. Her hourglass figure reappeared at the beginning of the hallway, returning back to the kitchen with a pair of sleeping shorts on.

“You lucky she working overtime tonight, otherwise she would’ve cussed yo ass out from A to Z. She a Christian but she can forget all that real quick.”

Her head lowered while laughing uncontrollably, “Who you telling, we was down at the food stamps office the other day because she still ain’t get hers for the month. Yo momma was up in there cutting the damn fool.”

Our laughter joined each other’s in unison. I knew what she was talking about all too well, having had to accompany her a few times down to the same office. It was considered government help, but the government don’t give a damn about no struggling black family. Public housing? Shit, that’s just another tactic used to keep us all in one area. Better target practice if all the targets live on the same block.

“You going into work tonight?” She questioned, turning off the stove and pulling two plates out of the cupboard.

I inhaled sharply, “Nah, said they wouldn’t need me down at the warehouse for the rest of the week actually.”

She hastily spun around to face me, scoffing in disbelief. Her expression alone told me she was about to start bitching about the same shit. She reserved the right to. I never promised her any of this. Barely making ends meet, living in the projects, eating one meal a day…this wasn’t us. But I wasn’t trying to hear that shit though, as a man and as a provider ---- I just couldn’t.

“The rest of the week? That’s almost half yo damn check, if they keep doing you like this we won’t even be able to keep the lights on. How the fuck we suppose to survive Vino?!”

“You think I ain’t asking myself the same question?! Last thing a nigga wanna hear is yo damn mouth running through my ears. I told you I’ll handle it, damn.” My bass-filled objection resonated throughout the thin-walls of the house.

She huffed before returning her focus back to the plates. Finishing up both sandwiches, she extended an arm towards me holding one. My head shook somberly, eyeing the plate in slight disgust.

“I’ma be outside, ain’t got too much of an appetite no more.”

I snatched the pack of blacks off the kitchen counter before retreating to the porch. The sun casting its dusk shadows colored the block in warm tones. The street was beginning to clear of any life, kids retreating inside for the known fear of what Detroit’s night life brings. You’d be a fool to be out here at night with no piece, let alone no hood protection. If your block knew you, you was good. But even then, niggas could switch on you at the drop of a dime. All we had was family, a bond is the only thing that’s gonna keep anybody protected out here.

Loud creaking from the back door’s screen caused me to hurriedly glance over my shoulder, my now unsettled nerves easing at the sight of my brother. Dapping him up, I continued setting a flame to the tail end of my black. Passing it to him after a few inhales.

“You and Dolly fight any louder, and ain’t nobody gone be able to get some sleep in that house.” He teased in a bantering tone.

My lips smacked with vexation, “Seems like the house getting smaller and smaller every day. You know Verne cut my hours again, had to tell Dolly. She would’ve found out anyway when she saw me home all day.”

“Damn, that nigga be fucking everybody over. Money hungry ass won’t even offer over-time. He got me coming in later tonight, but you know all he gonna do is send my black ass home early.” He laughed as streams of smoke fell from his lips.

The corner of my lips twitched into a small smile, working the warehouse was more dead-end then they come. Nothing was guaranteed, weeks could go by before you get a schedule. But you gotta be up there every Monday to see if you got one for the week, not seeing your name does something to a nigga. I had a hunger that no food could fix, I was money-hungry. I reminisced about the days we spent on the block moving weight more than anything lately. We use to be street soldiers, working for one of Detroit’s finest. Father Rivera could silence any neighborhood, and shut down the busiest blocks. He could halt supply from any King Pin, because he was the eyes of this city. People use to say if you saw Father Rivera more than three times, that means you were marked for death.

He raised a hood army, and we had the privilege of being a part of it. When he found me and my brother, we were walking in shoes with holes in em’. Our mother wasn’t shit but a junkie, who sold us to the first perverted niggas willing to buy. We never saw her again. I put up a good fight, and got away. But I was a day late, and a dollar short by the time I found my brother. He was violated at a young age, and we promised each other to never speak on it again. My mother’s addiction burned any and every bridge with our relatives, and she never told us our grandmother’s name. I ain’t believe there was a God till he sent me my grandmother. We were living in a group home, and Shakir was about to be adopted without me. My grandmother was volunteering that day, she saw both of our faces and looked like she saw a ghost. The last time she saw us was when we were babies, but she never forgot our faces. In my eyes, she was our momma.

Raising two boys wasn’t easy for her, and doing it alone made it even harder. She could barely afford to clothe us, let alone put food on the table. It was the promise I made to myself to get us out the hood, which gave me the motivation to go to school every day. I was a naïve little nigga, street smarts will get you money before book smarts do. Father Rivera used to be posted up outside the school, and every time the last bell of the day rang this nigga would put on a show. Fresh timbs, neck dripping in ice, and rims costing enough for a new crib. He took care of himself, but he took care of us too. I was twelve when I held my first brick, and Shakir was nine. We put money on the table, lied and said we got paid to do community service for the school.

My grandmother knew we was lying, and threatened to kick us out if we ever did it again. We got her to shut up one day when all the bills were paid on time. We never had her support, but what other option did we have? Get it by all means necessary, better to learn that as a youngin’ than as an adult. I have regrets just like the next individual, but I’ll never apologize for providing for my own.

“I went to down to the penitentiary the other day, visited Father Rivera. That nigga still making plans for when he get out. Knowing damn well he’ll be dead before he sees freedom again.” My head bowed with despair, reflecting on his pale appearance behind bars.

“Yeah? He gotta have something to hold onto, shit we all do. I been squeezing tight onto them memories of us working as his soldiers. I swear, some days it feels like a nigga never had no money. Like I never held a stack in my life. Father Rivera getting locked up fucked it up for everyone. Made my own baby mama leave me, and take my kid.” His inhales grew deeper, followed by a harsh cough. He handed me back the black.

“He told me I been the only one visiting him. I know its too painful for you, but damn I expected more of them other niggas. That man was the father none of us had, and the system found a way to take that from us too. We barely eating, while the same niggas that set us up out here flashing they come up in our faces. Shit just ain’t right.”

His brow raised curiously, “What you tryna’ say? You bout to start making some moves?”

French inhaling I reveled in the tobacco fumes, gazing off blankly towards the city skyline. I wasn’t the same nigga I use to be, and I wasn’t the man that Dolly met a year ago. It was becoming harder and harder everyday to look at myself in the mirror. This clean money shit wasn’t for me, and it never had been.

“I’m not tryna’ say anything, I just know that my days working at that fucking warehouse is numbered. I’m money-hungry bro, and I’m not gonna let myself starve to death out here.”

 DREAM

 Like every Friday night, the local Gyros was packed. A line of hungry customers lined up all the way towards the door. It was the cheapest place to eat in the hood, and the food wasn’t all that bad either. Me and Sirius would come up here every other week, and drop some money on a ghetto five-course meal. It was the little things like that, that had me missing him even more when he got sentenced. I couldn’t remember the last time we did this. The hood may have missed him, and his boys too, but I missed him more than anybody did. As the driver side door swung open, loud shuffling followed. My brown irises glancing in his direction.

“You got the cheesecake?” I inquired immediately, silently hoping they hadn’t ran out like the many previous times before.

“Yeah I got the cheesecake, I told you to let daddy handle shit.” He bantered through a sly smirk.

An infectious smile parted my glossed lips, clutching the plastic handles of the food bags. In the next few moments we began feasting like Kings and Queens. While Kodak Black’s last mixtape vibrated through the speakers. Sinking further into the detailed leather of his navigator, I continued filling my mouth with hot wings and onion rings.

“Yeah, whatever daddy. Don’t act like you haven’t been gone for a while, Sirius. It’s gonna take me some time to adjust, and not be so dependent on myself like I have been.”

I wasn’t use to having someone there for me, or my daughter. When I met Sirius, it was strictly a sexual attraction. When his place got robbed, they murdered his baby mama and their unborn. He never grieved, her parents didn’t even allow him to come to the funeral. They held strong opinions about his lifestyle, and his involvement in the streets. He buried his pain and anger in my pussy. I was his side chick, and I was okay with it. He took care of me regardless of that title. Paid my bills, my car note, and treated my daughter like his own. Their bond became unbreakable, it gave me and him a bond as well. As time progressed, I was meeting his friends, and their girlfriends. He never asked me about being his, but he never had to either.

“I hear you ma, I do. We gone eat, regardless if I just got out or not. I gotta hit up my man-“

My brows furrowed with fear, “Wait, I thought you said you was done with that street shit. What about your job at the shop? Won’t Kieran give you the same position you had back?”

The idea alone of him going back to do the same shit that had him locked up in the first place, gave me an uneasy sensation. Seeing him caged like an animal for years put me in the lowest depths of anguish. He was the best at what he did, and that made him a target everyday he left the house. I know what type of heart he has, and nothing but loyalty coursed his veins. He’d take the fall for Vino and Shake again if the opportunity presented itself, and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure it doesn’t.

“Man, that nigga on some bullshit. He said its too risky having me come back to the shop, too many gang bangers know where I work. Nigga said I’d be putting everyone in danger, and to be real he ain’t lying either. I can’t sling dope and do tattoos. Niggas hate every day, and it’s only a matter of time before they shoot up the shop or rob the place.” He responded in an apathetic tone.

I studied the details of his face, and observed his expressions. It was clear his mind was set on gang bangin’ again, which only put us all at risk for being a target again. The once delectably, savoring food didn’t even appeal to me anymore. Troublesome thoughts killing any desire to eat. It had been awhile since I had to worry about my daughter and I’s safety. I didn’t miss those days either.

“So what? We just go back to staying strapped all the time. Me not being able to sleep every time you leave the house. Scared you might not come back, or I may not be alive when you come home. What happened to all that shit you was talking in them letters? You said you was tired of hurting me, Sirius. But you doing it anyway, why?”

His lips pursed with evident irritation, “We not living check to check, and we not living in the projects either. I told myself if I ever got my freedom back, I’d live life like a King. You my Queen, and you deserve better than this shit. You deserve better than that bullshit call-center you working at, Kyla deserve better than a daycare out of someone’s house, this life ain’t for us! You may not agree with how I’ma get this money, but I’m gone get it regardless.”

Sucking my teeth in defeat, my eyes glazed over to the open container of food on my lap. Closing the styrofoam box and setting it down in the backseat. My arms folding across my chest. I couldn’t even look at this nigga, let alone hear what he’s saying. His intentions were pure, but his actions would spill innocent blood. That blood just may be mines or my daughter’s.

“Look, can we just go home? I’m tired and I gotta wake up early for my bullshit call-center job.” I urged caustically.

I could feel his thick glare burn a hole into the side of my face. I wasn’t hearing him though, and I’m not trying to. Hearing the car keys fumble within his palm, the engine soon revved shortly after. A firm knock against the driver side window startling both of us, and halting any movement from the parking lot. My eyes rolled in utter disgust at the sight of Lorenzo. He’s the biggest kingpin in Detroit, and to any nigga in the hood he was God. Blessing any and every one who gave him loyalty. Seeing him only meant one thing, street work for Sirius.

Rolling down the window, a wide smile spread across his face. “Big Lo! How you been, man?”

“Eating and maintaining, my nigga. You know how that shit go. You know the hood been buzzing about you getting early release. The only place good behavior matters is the penitentiary.” He joked smugly, dapping Sirius up through the window.

His perverted eyes began tracing my frame, swinging his tongue across his bottom lip. Every run-in we ever had with this nigga left me feeling uncomfortable. Everyone knew who Lo’s lady was, and yet no one held respect towards her. Every bitch threw their pussy at him, and any bitch he was involved with got the same main chick treatment his lady did. Shopping sprees, new cribs on the South East side of Michigan, and bills paid for. The South East side was where Detroit’s wealthy resided, gated communities and people walking their dogs. That was everyone’s deluxe apartment in the sky, but only a few made it far enough to see that type of living. Lo made sure his bitches saw it, though. My pussy didn’t jump at the thought of any of that, and it confused the fuck out of him.

“How you doing, Dream? You lookin’ good babygirl.”

My eyes subconsciously rolled yet again, “MmHmm, thanks.”

I began playing with my phone and tuning both of those niggas out. There was no point in giving their conversation any attention, I already knew what the topic of discussion was. Lo would have Sirius out on the block by tomorrow, and wouldn’t have an ounce of remorse if some niggas laid him out in the next second. That’s the type of nigga he was, he took care of you to cloud your eyesight of the danger you putting yourself in. He was untouchable, everyone else was just collateral damage. As more time began to pass, I cleared my throat loudly. Gesturing that they both should wrap this shit up so we could head back home.

“Alright, my man. This spoiled lil’ thing in the passenger seat bout to bust a blood vessel with her impatient ass. I’ll hit yo line in the A.M.” He assured him while dapping him up again.

As him and his blonde bimbo headed back into the restaurant, we began pulling out of the parking lot. The gray, dark skies of the deteriorating city only accompanying the tension filled silence within the car. We were headed down the same road that got him locked up in the first place, and I was scared for my life yet again. He’d never change, even if he was six feet under.

  TAJ

 “How much would the rent be monthly on this place?” I inquired through a skeptical tone.

It wasn’t often that niggas made it out the hood. Palmer Woods wasn’t no two-story, gated community. But, it was far away enough from the high-rate crime areas we use to stay in. It was our little piece of the pie, suburbia living. Not having to sleep with your piece on the nightstand was priceless. Any other man would be proud to say he’s about to live in his first house, whether it was owned or not. Coming from where I’m from, that shit is an accomplishment. But, it wasn’t my accomplishment or my money. It was Nia’s parents’ fear that got us across town.

When they realized she wasn’t leaving the dangerous thug they painted me out to be, they figured they could at least put us in a safer area. I hated the idea, it stripped me of any rights I have as a man. We back to her father paying most of the bills, while we scrape by on our checks. It wasn’t always like this, and I never thought I would bring her into a situation like this. When Nia met me, I had my shit together. My own spot, studying Sports Medicine down at Wayne State, and going to school for free on a basketball scholarship. I had so much money from my scholarship, I was paying her bills.

I never believed people when they would say life could change in an instant, and your would could turn upside down in a matter of seconds. All it took was a few hating ass niggas, niggas who knew who my friends were. Jealousy drove them to shoot up my father’s barbershop, and take his life right along with it. I can still feel my father’s hands against my shoulders, pushing me out the way. He sacrificed his life for mine, and he did it in vain. Those niggas wanted to make sure I’d never play ball again, going as far as putting a bullet in my knee and blowing off my achilles tendon. I went through hell and back learning to walk again, and I’ll still never walk the same. Let alone throw another jump shot.

“Hello?! Earth to Taj, baby you here?”

Her honeyed, velvet tone fell deep into my eardrums, my honey colored hues fell upon her. Studying her frame as she continued to approach me. The shooting happened a year ago, and its been a year since the last time I got a good night sleep. I became more dependent on pain killers than I ever thought I would be, and they were becoming a necessity.

“Did you hear me? It doesn’t matter how much it costs. We’re covered, remember?” Her tone lowered to a suggestive pitch.

I inhaled sharply, “That don’t mean we become completely dependent of them, Nia. I’m still providing for us, fuck the bullshit.”

She cleared her throat loudly, “Have you forgotten that we’re in the middle of an appointment with a realtor? I’m sure you can think of some other words, Taj. We can have this discussion later.”

“Nah, we really can’t.” My voice began overpowering hers.

Making my way towards the nearest exit, I dragged her loose lipped ass behind me. Stepping outside momentarily. I knew Nia was a princess when I met her ass, but that’s what I loved about her. She was a daddy’s girl, attended church every Sunday, never stepped foot in a club, and wore a damn purity ring. That shit didn’t last long with me, and her daddy knew it wouldn’t. The fear alone ignited a four year long feud. I was her first everything, and I fell in love with babygirl while teaching her about life. As well as a few other things too.

But dating royalty, meant you came correct. Nothing but the best for daddy’s princess. That meant living in a decent neighborhood, being able to show dad a paystub, and spending holidays with they stuck-up asses. My love for Nia, man that shit ran deeper than all of that. Lately, that wasn’t enough though. I been suffering from the worst case of blue balls, knowing I can’t provide for me and mines. I couldn’t get my dick up if I tried, and it’s getting harder to put her ass in check. Every nigga know without putting down no act right, yo lady get real mouthy. To make matters worse, when a nigga could finally perform it only resulted in more pain. Or to put shit in layman’s terms, an unwanted pregnancy. When she met me, a nigga could’ve impressed her and Daddy Warbucks, but things changed. Took over my pop’s shop, now a nigga collects the salary of a barber, which ain’t too much.

“This spot could be really good for us. I get it, my parents’ money is annoying. But baby, what are we supposed to do? Wait until our house is robbed, wake up in the middle of a home invasion? Baby, we have a security system. Our hearts ain’t thumping while we getting out the car and walking towards the front door. What’s wrong with that? My dad knows we’ll pay him back.”

I chuckled in disbelief, “We shouldn’t be paying him back at all. You a grown woman, Nia. I’m a grown man, we’ll figure this shit out. We young as fuck, how you expect us to live like yo parents. In Bel-Air?! We still building, this is what your twenties is about baby.”

“I’m scared, Taj! Alright, I’m scared! I can’t live in the hood no more, we can’t keep staying in the same place in our lives. We gotta progress, life is happening way too fast for us to move so slow. I’m not…if I get pregnant again I’m not terminating it. I’ll have a home to bring my baby to, a safe one. Either that, or I’ll move back home to Maryland. Let you decide what you wanna do here, in Detroit. I’m gonna think about us, whether you want to or not. We’re getting this house.”

“You get this house, Nia…we may not make it.” A dry lump began forming in the middle of my throat.

It sound more deadly than I wanted it to, more menacing than I intended. I just couldn’t imagine coming home to a house her father pays for. This shit really may break us, and I don’t know if we’d survive it or not.

“If all it took was a house to break us, then we wasn’t meant to be anyway.”

Her words cut deep beyond the flesh, my heart weighed heavy but I forgot how heavier hers must’ve weighed. I didn’t wanna ask Nia what I asked her a few weeks ago. I took a few niggas’ lives on the street, it meant nothing. I came home, ate dinner, fucked my lady, and went to sleep. It was different though, murdering a child. A life as innocent as they come, non-deserving of that type of cruelty. But shit, it was done. Both of us couldn’t afford to be emotional, so I let Nia have that. This was her last week of paid leave, and it’s becoming clear she not too enthralled to return back to her normal routine.

“You sign all this shit then, but I ain’t putting my name on nothing I know I can’t keep up with. You wanna compromise? Then you gotta realize you not the only one in this relationship. We find something we would be able to afford without your parents’ money, just in case, then we can talk. Until then I’m not fucking with this shit.”

She huffed angrily, “Why are you always doing this?! Your pride is really gonna be the death of you, Taj. If someone is offering you help you take it! You want us to return to the same neighborhood that had your father killed?! No! I’ll go stay with my parents before I do that.”

“I don’t take no fucking hand-outs because I’m a man, a man who was raised in a grimy ass city! Nothing in this mothafucking life come for free, baby. Yeah, he may be your father but this money is gonna cost us something. I’m not willing to find out, and you shouldn’t be willing to either.”

Her chocolate hues were now shiny and wide with unshed tears, she searched my eyes for an opening. Usually, I’d give her one. She was my rib, my chocolate cake, and it was hard to stay mad at her. But I couldn’t let up on this, no matter how many times she put on those sad eyes. None of this shit sat well with me, and she’d come to see my point of view in due time.

A heavy sigh of defeat seeped through her thick lips, “So, what do we do with the money then? That money, Taj it could really help us. Atleast get us a decent security system.”

I shook my head with slight amusement, she never failed to remind me of where she came from. Gated communities, alarm systems, leaving your window open at night. Nia still couldn’t see the bigger picture. I hated being the one to bring her back down to reality everytime, but what other choice did I have. I’d let my baby dream, have goals, but not believe in a fantasy that ain’t never gone happen.

“A security system? Nia you’ve seen firsthand how long it takes for the cops to show up anywhere in the hood, they’d take just as long with a security system. Unless we living in suburbia, ain’t nobody rushing to save no niggas. That’s all we are to them.”

She scoffed painfully in disgust, tears now drenching her smooth cocoa skin. Feeling her palms press vexingly into my chest, she pushed me away before attempting to walk back inside. Gripping her wrist yet again and pulling her into my chest.

“I’m sorry, alright. I know you hate when I say shit like that. It’s the truth, baby. What else do you expect?” I began reasoning with her, wrapping her up in my arms.

“I expect you not to sound like every other guy on the street. You better than what you describe yourself as, Taj. You not no typical nigga, you never have been. I hate when you talk like that, because I know what you are and what you can be. You’re so smart, you can spell damn near every word, and you paint so---“

“I don’t paint no more, I told you that.” I interrupted her quickly, recognizing the direction this conversation was heading.

I knew it all too well. She hated how I’ve settled. If a nigga had to be honest with himself, I hate it too. But I’m not gonna give up my fathers’ shop. I’m decent with some spray paint, but drawing don’t put food on the table. My main focus was, and has always been her dreams. Paying off her loans, getting her to medical school, and eventually helping open her own practice. Niggas from the hood don’t dream, but how could I tell her that? I just wanted to be her provider, and that wasn’t a dream, it was gonna be a reality.

“But if you took a few art classes in the city, you could.” Her soft cries murmured into my shirt.

A small laugh emitted from my lips, “You sure you wanna go into medicine? You should be a saleswoman, you relentless as fuck till you get what you want. If I look into some classes, we gone stay put till I can afford to move us into something better?”

She squeezed my torso tighter, “Yes! As long as you look for some classes, then yes. I’ll be more patient.”

I did this every day, and my heart weighed heavier each time I did it. In one breath I could easily tell her I love her. In the next, I could tell a lie without blinking. It was more of a burden than a valuable skill. My heart never skipped a beat when I did it, but it was like shots of acid to my mind. I couldn’t focus on one thought, as multiple scenarios would play on an endless film reel. I pictured one day she’d leave me, find a better man. She belonged somewhere safe, a gated community down south somewhere. She’d be a working mom, trying to balance her career and soccer games. Her folks would visit every holiday, it’d be a happy boring life. That’s what Nia needed, boring. Not a street nigga from Detroit, who can barely provide for himself let alone a family.

All I’m doing is keeping her from so many opportunities, and a chance at true happiness. I’m selfish, but when it comes to matters of the heart who isn’t?

  DOLLY

 My teeth slightly gnashed together, wincing at the tight muscle cramp forming in my left hand. I’m on my third head already, and it’s not even noon yet. Vino’s bullshit news had me tighter than the braids I’ve been doing all morning. While it was in his nature to brush shit off, it’s never been like that for me. I have no plans of sitting on my ass all day, while he delivers promises that ain’t guaranteed. If that meant doing seven or eight heads a day, then so be it. Aside from his grandmother’s house, we have no place to go. The loyal words that left my mouth always comforted him, and painted me to be the typical down-ass-girl from around the way. But, it’s only so long someone can run from their true self. And truthfully, when Vino met me he had money. He had a crew, and they were heavy hitters with heavy names. It wasn’t too long ago that I would damn near shout to the world that I was Vino’s girl. Cartier diamonds, fat rollies, sleeping in designer sheets, and jet-setting across the world. He took me to places I only dreamed of, some days the memories alone felt like a fantasy. A fantasy that never happened, because in reality..we lived in the projects of Detroit. Or as the government would prefer to call it, public housing.

“Damn, girl. Grip any tighter and you gone rip off my edges.” She flinched in discomfort, sucking her teeth loudly.

Inhaling sharply, my mind returned to the task at hand. “I’m sorry, T. I know you ain’t tender-headed either so it really must be me.”

“You sure you alright? We can always reschedule, girl. You just look out of it, what’s going on with you?”

Tossing the comb on the floor, I exhaled shakily. My loss of sleep had begun catching up to me, and stress was making me look even shittier than usual. I seized the momentary pause, and took a seat along the armrest of the couch. Combing my nails through my loose tresses, I pushed them to the opposite side of my face. I was at a loss for words, contemplating my next move. If living in the hood taught me anything, it was that I should always be mindful of the company I keep. A willing ear could be the same loose mouth that puts my business out on the street. Vino and I have had our share of arguments, but if he ever came home telling me how everyone knows our financial situation…he’d never forgive me.

My eyes observed her, as well as her demeanor. She was everything I use to be. Confident, carefree, and cared-for. The three C’s was any hood bitch’s dream. Laced in designer, hair laid out, not a single bill to worry about, and a man willing to give you the world. She had everything I use to. Not too long ago, I was Toya’s equal. But now, I’m just the hairdresser she goes to in the hood, the one responsible for the envious weaves she rocks. The same ones she swears to bitches beneath her that its her real hair. I know because I use to do the same fucking thing. It wasn’t the only thing I knew she did. I also knew, if I let her walk out this house I’d be letting money go. And I wasn’t willing to do that.

“Yeah, yeah girl I’m fine. I just need a small break, my hands cramping up. But while we chill for a moment, you can catch me up on some tea honey.”

I was desperate. Out of the loop and miserable as fuck about it. I use to run with the wives and girlfriends of some of Detroit’s biggest kingpins. It’s funny how certain situations can unveil just how many real friends you have. One of those situations being when Father Rivera got locked up. The product stopped coming, addicts stopped buying, and money stopped flowing. I became a regular in the pawn shop, until there was nothing left to pawn. The only one of my quote on quote ‘friends’ who supported me through my setback was Malaysia. She was with me during every visit to the pawn shop. And she helped me move into Vino’s grandma’s house. That is, after we came crawling back to her house with our tails tucked beneath our asses. Toya still hung out with the rest of our old circle, and I knew she’d know what was new with them.

“Bitch, thank you for reminding me actually. I gotta tell you about Lo’s latest side piece first and foremost. Not only does this nigga keep disrespecting me, he’s now flaunting his infidelities. None of these hoes are even comparable to me, like atleast make sure the bitch looks like something. So, anyways, I’m out in the Birmingham Shopping District and I see one of Lo’s unmarked escalades pull up across the street. I wasn’t that close for the driver to see me, but oh I could see the bitch getting out the car alongside my man. The same bitch that carried Vino’s brothers’ baby. Yeah, Shake’s baby mama is fucking my man. Now, I ain’t no hating bitch, Dolly. You know that. I’m all for the next hoe getting hers, as long as it ain’t at the expense of my nigga or the dick that belongs to me. You need to tell Shakir to check that bitch, before I do.”

I chuckled softly whilst my head shook with humor, “Don’t hurt the poor girl, T. It’s not all her fault, you know Lo got a reputation around the way. Most of these poor girls know him as Captain Save-A-Hoe. He sees a cute enough girl, takes her under his wing, make sure she’s taken care of. You know niggas love feeling like a bitch need them.”

I tried my best to hide how surprised I really am to find out that Tori has been messing around with Big Lo. We all heard the same horror stories about dude, and how he’d empty a clip on his own mama if he had to. Niggas like that were incapable of ever truly loving anybody, and it was only a matter of time before that fact became known. Usually, whoever Lo’s sidepiece was had a mutual agreement with him and Toya. No public shit, everything remained on the hush hush. I’m guessing the only reason Toya tripping so hard is because this time there was no agreement between the three, which embarrasses her every time she walks out the front door and somebody asks her about Tori.

“I’m not gonna hurt her, just make the hairs on her neck stand up a little bit. We haven’t been formally introduced yet, so I’ma make sure we are. I just need you to tell—“

“Shake? I got it, girl. That nigga lives here, remember? Tori hasn’t exactly been letting him see his kid either, so he’ll be real pissed when he finds out who’s been around his son.”

Her brows raised with curiosity, “How old is said son? She must really got some bills to pay if she stripping with a kid, let alone escorting.”

“Wait, she’s been escorting too?” My eyes widened with disbelief, unaware of Tori’s recent career endeavors.

“Yeah, how you think her and Lo even met? Any bitch that nigga messes with is an escort. He stopped going to strip clubs a long time ago, every time he went the place would always get shot up. The bigger his name got, the harder it was for him to enjoy doing anything anymore. He thinks I don’t know, but I monitor that fool’s account. Shitload of unnamed transactions, and I’m talking big withdrawals. He takes the money out, flies whatever new bitch he messing with to one of our villas, and he reels them in with a five star dinner. Make sure it’s some shit they can’t even pronounce. These broke hoes be in such awe, they forget completely who they’re dealing with. And they don’t expect me showing up on their doorstep, not through the fog of all the material things he’s been showering them with.”

As she continued spilling every aspect and detail of Lo’s dirty habits, all I could do was listen enviously. I had bad habits of my own, and one of them was being a lover of the finer things. Me and Toya came from the same worn-down city, but we made sure we walked these streets appearing like diamonds. I missed it dearly, and for a second I couldn’t even be mad at Tori. The circumstances for her are different, she has a mouth to feed and bills to pay. She couldn’t ignore Lo if she tried. My mind wondered just how much luck I had these days, and if that luck would have me run into Lo on the street randomly. Of course I wouldn’t be looking my finest, ten dollar shirts and twelve dollar leggings was my wardrobe now a days. But what if? What if he looked past that, and saw who I use to be. A high priced bitch, with a pussy prettier than the diamonds dripping from his neck. But then, what about Vino? What would become of us? Desperation was catching up to Loyalty, and it’s becoming a tight race.

“Make sure you look at what she has on the next time you run into her, and I bet you it’ll be some of the shit you use to rock. All on the expense of my nigga’s card.” She scoffed with evident frustration.

Choosing not to divulge any deeper into the conversation, I jumped to my feet. Resuming back on her unfinished hair. I calculated that by my last head of the day I’d have a grand in total within my hands. Enough to keep the lights on, and to help Vino’s grandma out with the rent. After that, put some groceries in the fridge. But not much, considering what they charging for rent in this raggedy bitch. Thinking of my hard earned dollars today not making it to the end of the week, only frustrated me more. I didn’t wanna ask him to do it, but it’s becoming more and more clear that I need to. If Vino doesn’t get back in the game, we’re gonna eventually be out on the streets. And before that ever happens to me again, I’ll leave him.

Both of our eyes darted in the direction of the front door after hearing a few hard knocks thumping against the rotting wood. I already knew who it was, having spoken to her previously on the phone. Watching the unlocked door swing open, Malaysia began greeting both of us before taking a seat on the couch. I was the only one my best friend trusted to do her hair, and in this city that’s understandable. Jealousy has been a disease that’s plagued Detroit for a while now, and it could be caught easily. She knew going to another hairdresser might mean getting a fucked up weave, or worse…her natural hair falling out. Unlike most, Malaysia actually had a good grade of hair, long enough to not need any bundles. This made some envious, and in the wrong hands her pretty locks could be pulled too tight or chopped off.

“Damn, Malaysia. Where you been? Seems like the only time I see you is when Meech come around, and that’s only for business purposes with Lo.” Toya baited playfully.

Malaysia’s eyes rolled, “Girl, stop. I see Meech about as much as ya’ll do, that nigga always out in the streets. Don’t act like you don’t know where to find me.”

“That lil’ store of yours a long ass commute though.” Toya added while laughing.

Malaysia joined in the laughter as I finished up Toya’s head. Handing her a mirror, I stepped aside and allowed her to examine the details of my finished work. Folding my arms across my chest, I laughed softly as she began gassing herself up with pure cockiness. Getting lost in her own reflection within the mirror. Ignoring her conceited ways, I clutched the broom nearby. Starting to sweep up the leftover strands of hair, and tidying up for the next awaiting head. Grateful couldn’t even describe how I felt about Grandma Richards. Opening her home to her grandson and his girlfriend was one thing, but letting me do hair out of the living room wasn’t required of her. I been telling her I owe her indefinitely, she refuses whatever money I have left though. Tossing out the tangled hair, Toya rested five large ones on the coffee table. Hoisting the broom up against a nearby wall, we said our goodbyes. Air kisses to each other’s cheeks.

“I’ma see you in another two weeks, Dolly.” She yelled out behind her while exiting.

“Damn girl, you charge Toya five hundred for her lace?” Malaysia inquired while taking a seat in the chair Toya once occupied.

I chuckled confidently, “Yeah, and she knows its worth every penny. I got a private vendor who I get the units from, and the hair is completely unprocessed. I make sure the last is completely invisible to the naked eye, and for that she ain’t paying less than what she did. You know how long it takes to dye that shit into the perfect tone to match her skin? I was up all night.”

She nodded silently, “I told you a long time ago, I can’t be no damn hairdresser. All the demands these girls be having, I’ll get frustrated and tell them to do it they damn selves.”

A loud laugh emitted from my lips. It was something I haven’t done in a while, laugh. But with Malaysia it was guaranteed. Even though she held the appearance of any girlfriend or wife of a kingpin, her down-to-earth personality would make you do a double take. She was never stuck up, and remained so humble. Our friendship initially started with her brutal honesty. We were both shopping in Nordstrom when she saw me trying on an ugly ass pair of shoes. I knew the shoes were hideous, but I was testing the fake ass bitches I had been running with. As expected, it was head nods across the board. Each of them gassing me and the shoes up. Malaysia was the only honest one who had enough balls to tell me the shoes were ugly, and that I looked ugly in them. We been close ever since.

I started parting her hair, “How you been? I feel like I ain’t seen you in about a decade. What’s new with you and Meech?”

She sighed softly, “Me and Demetrius are — I don’t even know what we are. Days can go by and I won’t see that nigga, and while he’s gone I’ll only get one phone call. He’s just so..emotionally detached.”

“Have you tried talking to him about it? Girl you gotta let him know that his life just don’t revolve around the streets anymore. He got something to come home to.” I suggested through a concerning tone.

“I mean, yeah. I shouldn’t have to remind him though, D. That nigga should know to bring his ass home. We made it to a year last month, but it wasn’t anything happy about it. He cancelled on me last minute for our anniversary night, the night I had been planning for weeks in advance. He called himself making up for it with a weekend in New York. Which ain’t that much of a drive from here. We stayed in a beach house, it was nice but that’s not what I want. Some dedication, communication, and affection would be nice. But I’m being insensitive as fuck by talking about this with you, considering all things.”

She had a point, I don’t exactly live that lifestyle no more. But, I’d never hate on my best friend. I secretly was anxious at the thought of our possible discussions today. Hearing about her glamorous life would give me a small break from my shitty reality. There were no trips over here, or any makeup gifts. Putting my feelings aside for others was just something I’ve always been used to, and if my friend needed advice I’d give it to her from a positive place.

“No you’re not, Malaysia. I actually need to hear about what’s going on with you, it’ll distract me from my own problems.” My voice trailed off somberly, continuing to braid down her hair.

“What’s wrong? You okay?” She questioned with a worrisome expression.

Her tone was so comforting, I couldn’t suppress the tears that began filling my brown hues. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been okay, contentment was a luxury emotion that most couldn’t afford. Me being one of those people. If I can’t be honest with my closest friend, who could I be honest with? Pent up aggression always resulted in a combustion of shit that couldn’t be undone. The last thing I’d want to do is blow up on Vino, or possibly his grandmother.

A prolonged exhale resonated from me, “No, I’m not okay, and I haven’t been for a while now. You know I’ve been in this sinking ship with Vino for a while now. I mean, I love him I do. But, he’s not the nigga that swept me off me feet two years ago.”

She nodded silently, sighing softly. “People change, it happens Dolly. But I think you two just need to talk honestly. Financial strains can dead relationships, but ya’ll stronger than that. He loves you, shit just real tight right now. I told you I can hook you up with some work. My shop has an opening for an evening manager.”

A grateful smile painted my lips. Extra cash at this point was more than necessary. Fantasies of actually feeling a full wallet was enough to leave my panties soaked. I wouldn’t be balling out of control, retail regardless of the position is still less than what I’m used to having. But, it’d be enough to keep myself up daily. Hair, nails, and toes done like they used to be. I embraced my loyal friend, still unsure of what I did to deserve our friendship.

“You just gotta tell me these things, D. I won’t know you need help until you say something.” Her words soothed me in a comforting tone.

“It’s embarrassing, you know how hard this has been for me. Then hearing about Toya’s glamorous life didn’t make it any better, it just seems like everyone is doing better than me.” I confessed reluctantly.

Her palm ran over my arm encouragingly, “Don’t let T get you tight. You already know that everything that glitters ain’t gold.”

On the verge of tears, my eyes burned with distress. Uneven breathing while I attempt to calm myself down.

“You’re right, but that’s what makes it even worse. I know her life comes with its bullshit, and I still want it. I’d rather my nigga be cheating on me, than be stressed by bills. How sad does that sound? Money over monogamy?”

She shook her head slowly, sucking her teeth. “I’m not gone let you throw yourself this pity-party, D. So what? You came from the gutter but you like nice things. Don’t beat yourself about it. You want better for yourself and you entitled to that. You and Vino ain’t gone be in this rut forever, you know Demetrius can probably set him up with some work. Just let me know, girl.”

I raised both of my brows at the mention of Demetrius, “You doing way too much for me. The manager position is enough. Besides, I don’t feel like pulling teeth with Vino. Anytime I bring up him hustling again he starts talking about loyalty to Father Rivera, me holding him down, and all that other bullshit. We’re not even in a relationship anymore, it’s a yelling match 24/7.”

“Look, I’ma tell you what I always tell you. You gotta start putting your happiness first, and stop staying cooped up in the house. We use to run these streets all day together. You should come to this day party with me this weekend.”

I laughed embarrassingly, flushing a light tint of red. “Day party? Girl, I couldn’t show my face at any big event. My closet ain’t what it used to be.”

“You can borrow something of mine. I ain’t taking no for an answer, you getting out the house this weekend.”

 SHAKIR

 To say I’m shitting bricks would be an understatement. My nerves been damn near jumping out of my skin. I haven’t seen my son in three months, and with his birthday coming up I had to shove my head completely up Tori’s ass just so she’d let me see him. The littlest shit could set her off, and in the split of a second she could snatch my son away from me. She’s the worst type of baby mama to have, the type every nigga in the hood feared of having. The baby mama that uses the baby as collateral for every damn thing. I was quitting her ass so our son had to suffer too. She brag all day about how she a single mother, taking care of hers. She so fucking dumb, she don’t even realize she a single mother by choice. Our seed would have support from both ends if her dumbass would allow it.

Before I knew it, I was grinding my teeth. It’s hard to believe that I use to be strung-out on this bitch pussy. Our relationship went to a place neither of us ever thought it would ever go, it’s damn near hard to believe. I pictured a life with this girl once, which was why I gave her our seed. Some people just ain’t meant to be mothers though. Exhaling deeply, I glanced in the direction of the restaurant entrance. Noticing her blonde hair as the frame of the ajar glass door.

It didn’t take long for us to lock eyes. Neither of us could ignore the attention the other drew. I straightened my posture within the table booth, laying my hands on my lap and tilting my head up. Her heels tapped against the tile with each step she took, our sleeping son cradled in her arms. She scooted inside the booth, across from me. Huffing with evident vexation. Her arms extended to hand me Amani. His baby timbs dragging across the table along the way.

I held him in my arms tightly, inhaling his scent and kissing his cheek. “Wassup lil’ man, daddy missed you so much.”

Her eyes rolled, “Yeah, I bet. When exactly did you miss him? Everytime you laid up on yo mama’s couch unemployed? Or when you out here in the streets with some dumb trick?”

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth, man. I been telling you about that, you gone have his first word be some embarrassing ass shit.”

She scoffed loudly, “You are the embarrassment, Shakir. You need a real fucking job. Not that dead end shit you trying to push as a real job. That ain’t no real money.” I nodded my head sullenly, “Yeah, and I guess what you doing a real profession. Dolly telling me you out here escorting and shit. You doing some fucked up shit around him, seriously.”

“I’m doing what the fuck I got to do, don’t even try that weak shit with me Shakir. I was shaking my ass when you met me, and I’m gonna continue to do it. I’m gonna give my son the lifestyle he deserves, wanting for nothing.”

I chuckled in utter disbelief, “Jordan fits and new Nikes every week ain’t the lifestyle he deserves. He needs a family, and a full-time man in his life.”

She laughed boisterously, “So find me one then!”

Alarming stares surrounded us, and frightened screams resonated from our son. Trying to soothe him I began rubbing his back and bouncing him. Tori answering a phone call and abruptly rising to her feet. Excusing herself to the bathroom, she left us alone. His big brown eyes landing directly on me, and grabbing my full attention.

“What’s good boy? Daddy ain’t seen you in so long. How you been, man?”

Soft coos behind his pacifier greeted me. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that at one point I loved his mother as much as I loved him. I wish I could say infidelity brought us here, but it didn’t. Money brought us here. Tori played that shit off well, and to the naked eye she don’t seem like a tramp. But she was exactly that, and then some. Once my wallet grew thin, so did our love. Father Rivera getting sentenced ruined everything, including our relationship.

“As usual I don’t have time to argue with you, Shakir. Give me my child so we can be on our way.”

The clacking of her heels had returned, she stopped behind me with open arms. Standing out of the booth while holding Amani. She sucked her teeth while pulling him out of my arms. Switching her hips towards the exit as I followed near. I’m a fool to expect anything mature out of this meet-up, and this was something Tori normally did. She never gives me no more than five minutes with our son, let alone ten. I could have hours with him if I was moving weight again and wanted to be with her. But because ain’t neither happening Amani has to suffer.

“You stay doing this dumb shit, Tori! If you wasn’t gone let me have atleast thirty minutes with him, why bother pulling up?” I scolded her loudly.

She continued strapping Amani in his car seat, “I’m not doing no dumb shit, stupid. I have things to do today alright, and a party to plan for our son soon. Don’t even come at me with the disrespectful shit, Shakir.”

I laughed mockingly, “You got things to do? The way you jumped up and hauled ass from that restaurant? Yo pimps call and you run, huh?”

The back of her palm went flying abruptly towards my face, preventing the collision by grabbing her wrist tightly. We never laid hands on each other before, but then again we’ve done some unthinkable things to each other we thought we never would. Our eyes locked into a piercing gaze, neither one of us able to recognize the other. I wish I could say I get a rise out of her being upset. This shit only causes me pain. Pain, knowing that Amani is gonna have a broken home like I had myself as a kid.

“Let me go! Nigga, you’ve lost your fucking mind! You thought you wasn’t seeing your son before? Oh, that shit ain’t nothing compared to what’s about to happen now. You might as well start forgetting about him!” She threatened maliciously, snatching her arm away.

Low blows began flying from our wicked tongues, as we created an even bigger scene in the parking lot than the one in the restaurant. With the many sets of piercing eyes burning a hole in the back of my neck, I knew it wouldn’t be long before calls are made to the cops. And I’m being booked on domestic violence charges, even if it is a petty ass argument. That’s just what being a nigga gets me. Tori had all the power, and she knew it. She could twist me in any angle or direction, as long as she had my son.

 “You only hurting him in the end, Tori. And you know that. What happened with us ain’t got ---“

Her eyes widened, “What happened to us doesn’t have anything to do with this. You not gone have no dusty ass tricks around my son, trying to play house. You wanna be the only man in his life? Then step up, Shakir. Bring us some fucking money.”

“You mean bring him some money?” I questioned skeptically, her motives becoming clearer.

The tires of her beamer began reversing out of the parking space, and merging into the traffic of Detroit streets. Blood had to spill on my hands in order for me to have a relationship with my son, and it was either my freedom or being his father. How can a nigga do one without the other?

[ktfc-ff-blog]

PROLOGUE

                           Blood Before Betrayal 

“Come on, nigga! Do it! Empty yo clip on me if you bout it!”

Even at his request, the task is easier said than done. He brought us here, and deserved every shell casing that’d fall if I blew his brains out. But who am I to take a life? To determine when someone should take their last breath. I’d be like every other nigga out here, the same niggas I swore I’d never turn into. That’s what this city did to people, turn them into something they’re not. This game had swallowed us up whole, and we became slaves to this shit. What turned into a prosperous empire, became the sole reason for our self-destruction. And everything was falling apart right along with it.

Weariness sunk heavy into my frame, fear causing the barrel of my gun to shake with tension. My conscious quaked with uncertainty, weighing every consequence that would follow my actions in this moment. Time had never been an acquaintance of mine, let alone a friend. And this situation was no different. Charred debris continued collapsing from the flaming ceiling, the foundation we stood on shaking once more. I could do it, get rid of this nigga. He’d never be found, probably would burn to ashes along with this building. It would haunt me though. The light leaving his eyes, his body dropping to the floor, the absence of someone I call family. It would always haunt me, and I don’t know if I could live with that.

I stared into his emotionless eyes, his jaw clenching with rage. The silencer of his Beretta 92A1 stood firm, and aimed directly towards my right eye. My Glock 41 aimed at his left eye. There’s only two outcomes of this situation, either I walk out of here or he does. If neither of us pull the trigger fast enough, we both won’t make it out of here due to smoke inhalation. Hearing the safety click off, I followed his suit quickly. With everything that’s been going on, part of a nigga wanted to let him do it. Put one to my dome and put me out of my misery. If I got muthafuckas like this for family, who could I trust? 

A maniac laugh boisterously left his mouth, “I knew it! I knew you wouldn’t do it, nigga. Say hey to yo mama for me.”

In a matter of seconds his knees buckled beneath him, falling face first into the floor with his head landing on my feet. Blood seeping from the lethal hole within his skull. Damn near jumping out of my skin, I glanced around the flaming room cautiously. Did I pull the trigger? Did I put that bullet in his head? It happened so fast, did I black out? With each passing second my chest tightened, as my lungs almost filled to capacity with smoke. Dry, painful coughs resonated from me.

I’m running out of time, and pretty soon there’d be no seconds left. With damp, shaky palms I began searching for the nearest exit beyond the piles of burning wood. Perspiration laying a thick coat against my forehead. My brother is dead, and I killed him.