Adored by a Brooklyn Drug Lord 2 Page 8

  Peace leaned in and kissed me on the lips. The apologies I had disappeared, quelled by his soft lips sucking on my lower one. I instinctively leaned in, welcoming his touch.

  “You're welcome, Kelsey,” Peace breathed.

  With a parting peck on the lips, Peace exited my life as abruptly as he entered, stopping at the doorway to get one final look at me. My heart skipped several beats, and for just a single one I pictured what my future would’ve been like had I chose to return to DC permanently. Samira and I were likely to still be at odds, but I would have Peace to be my peace. He seemed like the courting type, a man who wanted you to fall in love with his mind before his body. I would oblige with little arguments. We would end up together and then what?

  Nothing.

  That was what I felt at the thought of the paradox. My mind wanted the perfect fairytale love story so bad that it ignored my heart. It was no longer tied to DC. My work here was done. Samira would find another best friend, Morris a new girlfriend, and Peace would settle down with another woman who wasn’t me. Processing reality put me at ease, and as the last box was removed from my house, I said goodbye to the city that took me in when I was looking for a place to hide. DC would always have a little piece of my heart, but the rest belonged to New York. It was time to get back home. I had a family to care for, a life to tend to, and a discovery of self that would turn me into the woman DC failed to create.

  8

  Briana

  Bull's offer weighed on my conscience for the rest of the week, popping up every time I saw Eric's face. Word must've gotten around the neighborhood that he and I were working together because I no longer had to go on Instagram to see his perfect little family. Chastity had a knack for popping up everywhere I was. The nail salon, the 99-cent store, the supermarket, down to the Dominican coffee shop I got my breakfast from every morning. There was her and her son, who was the cutest baby that took after Eric, with his honey brown skin being the only thing he inherited from his mother. A petty part of me wanted to call Eric over to my house so she could see him leaving my building, but the rational part of me that was moving on, decided to ignore her pressed ass. Eric had plenty of bitches, and her focusing on the last person he would ever consider fucking, was telling of her mentality.

  “Papí, lemme get a sausage, egg, and cheese,” I said to the older Dominican man working the grill. “Extra sausage please.”

  “You got it, mamí,” he replied, getting to work on my order.

  While he cooked, I browsed the store, stocking up on household supplies. I returned to the front of the store laden with laundry detergent, dish washing liquid, and toilet paper, craning over the four pack of two-ply to make sure I didn’t trip. I heard her before I saw her. They were in the first aisle of the store where the cold drinks were. I would drink gasoline on ice before I shared an aisle with that bitch.

  “I told Eric that I wanted to do a girl’s trip for my birthday. The four of us. Punta Cana. A five-star resort, not one of those rinky-dink hotels these other broke bitches go to,” Chastity said over the laughs of her friends.

  My sandwich hit the counter at the same time as the items in my hands. Roberto, the guy behind the counter, tallied up my stuff with the quickness. Shit was bad when even the people who never left the corner store knew your situation. I was halfway to the door when the group appeared, Chastity in the center holding her son Eric Jr. They stopped short at the sight of me, resuming their trip to the counter after I crossed their path. My hand was on the door, poised to give it a push, when I heard Chastity’s sister say some slick shit out the side of her mouth.

  “That bitch is washed the fuck up. The only thing keeping her relevant is her last name, and not even that will save her if I keep hearing that she's been spending time with my brother-in-law. You can't put your hands on that bitch because of the baby, but I can.”

  Chastity laughed. “Shay, stop talking shit. I got the man and the baby. She got…memories and a balloon release.”

  Everything went black. I have no idea where the bags in my hand went or how I made it back to the counter where the girls stood. Sharp pains shot up my hand, traveling up my arm and knocking me out of the trance I was in. I came to mid punch, my fist hitting Shay’s face so hard her neck snapped back. One of Chastity’s other friends was punching me with blows soft enough to eat. She tried grabbing my hair, but it was braided up for applying a wig over. I elbowed her in the pelvis, sending her staggering back into a rack of wine. Shay lay on the floor motionless, moaning at the beatdown I gave her. Chastity hid on the other side of the store in the last row, poking her head out to see the damage. I rose to my feet, stalking over to her hiding spot.

  “I let you get away with saying a lot of slick shit. I never make a fuss when you pop up on me just to throw your baby up in my face. But you know what you won't do? Talk about my fucking daughter!”

  Chastity was backed into a corner; this was the only aisle of the store that didn’t connect to the others. Her back was pressed against the wall, and her hands were wrapped around her baby so tight he was screaming. The anger I had disappeared at the sight of the baby boy’s eyes. They were light brown like my daughter’s, filled with tears as he screamed, revealing two bottom teeth. I backed away from her, fighting off tears, and bumped into a hard chest. Eric stood behind me, his eyes alight with fury. He grabbed me by the arm—hard—dragging me from the corner store. I shoved out of his grip, rubbing my throbbing arm as I backed away from him.

  “You don’t even want to know, do you? Go ahead, jump down my fucking throat like you always do because whenever it comes to anybody else’s word over mine, you’ll always believe them!”

  Eric pinched the bridge of his nose. “You almost attacked the mother of my child with my son in her arms. You better have a good explanation for crossing that line, Bri.”

  “I stopped. I wanted to bash her fucking face in for following me around this entire week to throw up your relationship up in my face, but I saw your son and I stopped myself. Unlike her, I have self-control.”

  “Your ‘self-control’ has two people in that store in need of medical attention,” Eric barked. “What happened to you, Bri?”

  “Your son’s mother came out her face about my dead child. Saying all I got was memories and a balloon release. I stay in character at all times, but that was my last straw, Eric. Your disrespect of me has her thinking that she can run around doing the same without any consequences.”

  “That’s what she said?” Eric said, nodding his head as he absorbed the information.

  He didn’t stick around long enough to hear the answer. I jumped at the sound of him storming back into the store. Five minutes later, he returned dragging a sullen Chastity with one hand and my groceries in the other. I crossed my arms, ready to hear some bullshit, but was pleasantly surprised by the words that came out of Chastity’s mouth.

  “I apologize for bringing up your daughter,” she said, struggling to keep from rolling her eyes. “Regardless of her passing, she’s still my son’s sister and Eric's first born.”

  “Ayanna,” I said, pointing to the tattoo on Eric's neck where her name was tattooed. “Her name was Ayanna, and if you love Eric as much as you claim to, you’ll respect her despite how you feel about me. I’ll see you around, Eric.”

  Eric held out my bag. “I got the sandwich remade for you. See you later, Bri.”

  On the walk to my building, I couldn’t keep that little extra bounce in my step at bay. This was the first time since Ayanna died that Eric had my back. He turned on me in the hospital morgue, siding with the police who were convinced that I smothered her out of desperation. If not for the lawyer Urban came through with, I would be doing a manslaughter bid. The woman had more labs and experts than I could count, each one proving my innocence through moral or scientific means. Unable to stomach another loss, the prosecutor dropped the charges due to a lack of evidence. I arrived home to my baby already buried with Eric's family. He stole my final goo
dbye to my daughter and it was something I would never be able to forgive him for, but today placed us on slightly better footing.

  “Good morning, Bri,” a smooth voice said as I climbed the stairs to my building.

  One quick peek over my shoulder had my stomach turning. “Hey, Bull. What are you doing over here?”

  “I came to make sure you were good. I hadn’t heard from you since our last talk. Have you given my offer any more thought?”

  He pulled the lobby door open as I turned the building key. “I gave your offer some thought and I'm still not interested.”

  “Oh, so all niggas had to do was give you some East New York territory to keep you quiet? Aight, I see how you get down. Too bad it won't be yours for long.”

  I stabbed the elevator button. “Excuse me? Bull, it’s too early in the morning to be dealing with you and whatever mess you got cooking up…”

  “Would it be mess to your father?”

  That question gave me pause. “Even my father would admit that what you're trying to do is suicide. Do I want revenge? Yes. But I'm also trying to build something of my own. I can't do that if I'm dead.”

  “Urban finally found a big enough pacifier, huh? I ain't mad at it. I’ll see you around, Bri…”

  Bull gave me a half-assed wave as the elevator door closed. I pulled my phone from my pajama pants pocket, flipping through Instagram as the elevator ascended. My screen froze as a call came in, the number unknown. I received at least five scam calls a day, and knew better than to answer any of them. My finger pressed the reject button with the quickness. The elevator crept to my floor, with the window growing, inching into place. Another call came through as the door readied itself to open. Unknown. This time I picked up, thinking it was Shay or one of Chastity’s little flunkies calling to threaten me.

  “Who is it?” I barked, placing the phone between my ear and shoulder as I rummaged through my jacket pocket for my keys.

  The call disconnected. I shifted my bags to step off the elevator as the doors crept open, leading to a pitch black hallway. Pressing the door close button, I fought to remove my phone from my shoulder to call 911. A foot was wedged between the door, causing it to bounce right back open. I backed into the compact elevator, bracing myself for whoever was getting ready to pounce. A figure dressed in all black entered the elevator, brandishing a pistol. I kicked my foot out, catching them off guard. The space was cramped, tiny enough that one pull of the trigger could end either one of us. I bolted for the now closing elevator door, placing my hand between the tiny space, alerting the sensor to pop the door back open. A hand clamped over my mouth, yanking me into a toned body. I could feel their bulletproof vest pressed against my back. In a futile act of bravery, I brought my keys upward, screaming at the feeling of fresh blood covering my hand. My attacker let out a roar of anguish, shoving me away from him as he tried to salvage what was left of his eye. In the midst of his distress, he dropped his gun. I picked it up, kicking my foot across the sensor once again, and hit him with a bullet to the dome. Wiping off the gun, I stalked over to the incinerator, tossing it down the trash chute where it would stay until the police put two and two together. I spotted my bag on the floor, upright with the contents neatly packed, and scooped it up with the quickness.

  “Damn, Bri,” Mal said from his seat on the couch, “you look like you been through something serious. You okay?”

  I opened my mouth to tell him no, I wasn’t okay, except nothing came out. He jumped up from his seat, taking my blood soaked keys from one hand and my grocery bag in the other. I let him lead me to the bathroom, where he instructed me to strip from my clothes and take a long shower. Hot steam fogged the bathroom in minutes, hiding my image from the mirror, something I didn’t need to see after what I had been through. Inside the shower I scrubbed my body raw, though I knew I wouldn’t be able to hide any gunshot residue on my hands. All the police needed was a hint, any trace of probable cause to knock on my door. The thoughts consumed me as I toweled off, slipped into the pajamas Mal laid out for me, and closed my eyes. I woke hours later with a solution I wasn’t ready to stomach. I could no longer live here.

  It was time to find a new home.

  __________

  I stood in front of the Mackenzie residence puffing on my blunt, making smoke rings with the puffs of smoke passing my lips. The last time I saw my entire family in any sort of capacity was for Malone's funeral. Everyone showed up in what appeared to be an act of solidarity, but it was just to make my uncle and Koi look good in front of the press. Uriah Mackenzie was vindicated in the court of public opinion, his bank audited by the IRS and FBI, who found no incriminating evidence on his part. However, on the other side of the Mackenzies were me and my siblings, who had to bury our father. That was the last time I with my uncle, and despite picking Kelsey up from this very house a little over a month ago, today would be the first day in five years that we were meeting face-to-face.

  “Bri!” Kelsey squealed at the sight of me, running across the grand foyer to give me a hug and kiss on the cheek. “You came. I can't believe you came. Let me take your coat, get you a drink—thank God we can drink now—some of these fancy little cheese things Normani made…”

  I let Kelsey drag me around the house, from the bathroom to wash up for dinner, to the kitchen were Normani and my grandmother were placing the finishing touches on a large oven roasted chicken. Normani was the first to notice, her laugh at one of Granny’s jokes tapering off as her eyes laid on me. I gave her this awkward wave, unsure of what to say or do next. She was my uncle’s wife, the good side of him in my opinion. Granny melted at the sight of me, which made me feel a little bad for boxing her out all these years. It was off the strength of my father, who believed that she never loved him.

  “So happy you could make it to your cousin’s ‘Welcome Home’ party,” Granny said, coming around the island to greet me with a hug.

  I remained stiff underneath her touch, caught between loyalty and decency. Kelsey was behind her, giving me this pathetic pleading look. Decency won, and I returned the hug the best I could, patting Granny on the back. “Glad to be here. Kelsey, you didn’t mention anything about moving back to Brooklyn the last time we spoke. I thought your life was in DC?”

  “Part of my life was in DC. Why don’t we head up to my room and talk about it?”

  Granny shot Kelsey a warning look over her shoulder. “Make sure to be down here in the next ten minutes to eat.”

  “Of course, Granny…” Kelsey chimed, dragging me down the hall, past a room of shouting people.

  Kelsey’s room was just as I remembered: open, airy, and stacked with expensive shit. A wall was missing, making the bedroom the size of a studio apartment, the queen sized bed she had in high school was replaced by a king sized canopy bed on a platform, and from the peek I could see of her closet, it was filled with the designer shit Shahily kept her in. I took a seat on the couch next to the window. Kelsey disappeared into her closet for a minute, returning with a bottle of Hennessy White and some cups of Moscato D’Asti. She took a seat beside me, pouring us each a hefty drink. I raised my brows at her, asking myself, she ain't learn from the last time she got shit-faced?

  “I haven’t seen you since the night at the club,” she said, and for a second I thought she was a mind reader. “Quill told me you got home safe, but I should've called you. I was just going through some shit…”

  “I heard. I should've called you too,” I admitted, and I would have if not for fucking her man that next morning. “That makes us even. We’ve both dropped the ball.”

  “We shouldn’t though.” Kelsey took a sip of her drink, mulling over her thoughts. “I want us to be close again. Like for real close, not the close where I only see you on holidays like people do with their cousins they can't stand.”

  For the last five years, Kelsey had been that cousin for me. Prior to my father’s death, Kelsey and I made plans to attend an HBCU, pledge the same sorority, date some fine colle
ge niggas, and go into business together. It felt like burying my father also meant burying the relationship I had with my cousin. In her mind she might be innocent, but I felt Kelsey ice me out long before I stopped giving a fuck about her. The dirt covering my father’s coffin hadn’t settled before Kelsey turned into herself. I thought it had something to do with Quill, maybe she was missing him, or still reeling from the deaths of everyone at the party. No, she had jumped on the Fuck Malone bandwagon. We never addressed our opposing views, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hear the opinions from such a privileged point of view. However, I wasn’t going to play fake to soothe her ego.

  “You're the one who made it that way. While I was mourning the death of my father you were…gone. Not physically. Not yet. You shut me out like I did something to you when all I was doing was mourning.” Kelsey took a long sip to that, nodding her head as my words rained down on her. “I appreciate you making it up now, but you blocking me out hurt. Bad.”

  “I know,” Kelsey admitted. “I haven’t been the best daughter, granddaughter, niece, cousin. That weekend changed all of us. Running was my way of coping. Finding a new life was the only way I could heal from everything I had went through. I'm sorry for making you feel like I stopped loving you, Bri. All I was trying to do was make things right for me. It shouldn’t have been at the expense of my family.”

  The Kelsey I knew had two faces; the one she plastered on for the public and the impassive one she used in private. This was a different side to Kelsey—the most vulnerable I'd seen her since the Sweet Sixteen Massacre. I had no idea how much pain lived within her. Guilt tugged at my heartstrings.

  “I'm sorry too,” I said, not mentioning what I was sorry for. “I assumed you stopped fucking with us out of shame. I had no idea you were battling your own shit.”