Chapter 12 Goon #3
I wanted to protect her heart and make her into the woman I knew she wanted to be. No matter how much she claimed that independent woman role, every independent woman wanted to be babied.
She wanted to have someone to lead her.
Make decisions for her when her brain was too tired. Know what she wanted before she could even verbally say those words.
Zoya was tired of coming home to a house with just Bando. She wanted to be in a home where she was loved and cherished. But she was too scared to give in and trust. Too scared that she would make a big mistake, like she did with Sigel.
Most importantly, she was scared of looking stupid again. Giving her heart and access to someone who didn’t deserve it, but I deserved that shit.
Menace nodded his head. “Curious to see how this plays out.”
“Is that your way of saying that I got your blessing?” I snorted, because he was more relaxed now.
“Being real, Greg. Zoya hates me. I’ve made a lot of decisions for her and Landon without them knowing the why.
Her career, relationships and everything that she’s accomplished wasn’t because she wanted to do the shit…
it was because I had a plan for each of them.
I’m trying to fix the relationships that mean a lot to me, but don’t quite have all the right tools… I’m trying.”
“Mens?”
“Yeah.”
“Stop fucking calling me Greg.”
“Is that not your name?”
To know Menace was to know that you had to ignore his ass. As much as the world was scared of him, he really didn’t mean harm.
I come to realize that he processed shit way different than the average person.
“She doesn’t hate you, Mens.”
He chuckled and fidgeted with his hands. “She looked me in my face and told me she wished I was dead and said she hated me.”
“Fuck.”
“She’s vicious with her words, especially when she’s backed against a wall, or hurt. Zoya and Landon don’t remember much about my parents, but she gets it from my moms. My moms used to say the craziest shit to my pops.” As he spoke, I realized he wasn’t speaking to me.
It was like this was a silent therapy session for him. He was coming to terms with a lot, while also realizing that he had work to do with himself.
“The apple never falls far from the tree.”
“You said we’re slow?”
I stood up and held my fist out while he was still in deep thought.
He stared at my fist and reluctantly dapped me up.
“Mens, we’re not perfect men. The life that we live makes sure that we can never call ourselves perfect.
Your siblings, no matter if they realize it or not, you saved them…
you’ll get your flowers from them one day… trust.”
“G?”
I turned around and looked at him. “She’s special… real special. Sometimes when she looks in that mirror, I think she loses sight of that… remind her.”
Smiling, I nodded. “I got you.”
“He spit right in my face… told me to get whoever. I didn’t even ask him for money.” I could hear the voices while I slept peacefully on my mother’s couch.
After being up all morning praying and working out, I found my way over to my mom’s crib. I listened to her shows in the background, as she cooked dinner, even though I told her I wasn’t sure I was staying that long.
Soon as I sat on the couch, I ended up kicking my sneakers off and getting comfortable. In prison, you never slept hard because you had to listen out for certain shit. Prison wasn’t made to be comfortable, and the niggas that did get comfortable didn’t have a release date.
Even while resting, because these days I wasn’t getting sleep, I could follow everything going on around me.
When I heard the door slam and my mother holler at Inez about slamming the doors, I knew my rest was over.
I was in that sweet spot after a nap. That space when you were still resting but awake at the same time.
When she mentioned somebody spit in her face, that was when I rose from the couch. “Who spit in your face, Nez?”
My mother became worried. Not because I had done anything, but because I asked her calmly.
There were certain stages, and when I was at my most calm, that was when you should have been worried. My cousin just came in the crib and said a nigga spit in her face. I don’t care if she asked him for money, you don’t disrespect women like that.
Just because we were in a weird place didn’t mean I wasn’t going to show up for her. Inez was my cousin, and a nigga wasn’t about to disrespect her.
The door swung open and Khaos slammed it behind him. “Nez, I know you heard me calling you.”
My mother kissed her teeth as she looked at both of them. “My door… stop slamming my bloodclot door!” she hissed.
Inez turned to face my brother. “I was so heated that I didn’t hear you.”
We all knew when Inez was high, she usually tried to stay away from us. I hated seeing her when she was out of it. My mother was the only one that would rather her safe in the house, than being outside like that.
I would rather her not get high and allow niggas to fuck on her. The reason I worked so hard was so my family didn’t need anything. It was bad enough my moms didn’t want to leave this apartment and wanted to stay in the neighborhood.
I was growing irritated because my question remained unanswered. Inez spun around and dropped her bag onto the kitchen table.
“I was over on Amboy and Lotts with Brenay, and she went to ask her baby fava for money. He shoved her on the floor, you know she pregnant too.”
“He put his hands on you?”
“No, I shoved him because he was gonna start kicking her. Brenay don’t bother nobody, all she wanted was money for the baby… she’s due this month and have been doing everything alone… Goo, it gets hard for her.”
“He spit on you?” Khaos questioned the second time, but he was staring directly into my eyes.
“Yes… that’s so fucking nasty.”
Brenay had been friends with Inez since they were in elementary school. She wasn’t into the shit that Inez was into, but that was her best friend. No matter how much you tried to convince someone to do better, you couldn’t want it more than they wanted it for themselves.
Even though she wasn’t into the same shit that Inez was into, she still chose the wrong kind of nigga to create life with.
Brenay was strict about being around Inez when she was sober. There was too many times when Brenay had been in those same trap houses picking her best friend up off a mattress. As much as she loved her, she couldn’t continue to risk her own life to save her friend who didn’t want to be saved.
“He put his hands on Brenay and spit on you?” I questioned a second time after Khaos, so we could lock in on the crazed shit that was floating in both our heads.
All common sense had exited the chat as soon as she said a nigga spit on her.
“Yeah… then when I told him that I’m gonna get my cousin, he spit again and said get whoever the fuck I needed…
he wasn’t hiding. Then gonna tell Brenay that bastard baby ain’t his baby.
” Inez was more pissed about her friend than the fact that she had gotten spit on.
I went to my room in the back and grabbed my gun and my hoodie. Soon as my moms saw me pulling my hoodie over my head with my gun tucked in my back, she sighed.
“Goo, no… leave it alone. I don’t want you both making trouble… you’re home.” Her biggest fear was seeing me back behind bars.
I mean, I understood her fear. She also had to understand that I wasn’t one for disrespect, especially when it came to my family.
“Not leaving disrespect alone. When it comes to the women in this family or Boobie… not leaving shit alone, Mommy,” I told her, hating that I even cursed at her.
Women were already not protected.
Let me say that again… Black women were already not protected.
They went through this fucked up world having to be targets, and having people make think pieces about them.
If they were great, they weren’t great enough.
If they accomplished something amazing, then the focus was shifted to their humble beginnings instead of the accomplishment.
They had to work ten times harder, tone down who they were, and cover up their roots just to be taken seriously. Then they had the nerve to be marveled at like animals, with women wanting to touch their hair.
It really fucked me up when Black men didn’t protect our Black women. When we allowed the disrespect or were on the other side of doing the disrespect to them. I didn’t know how the fuck the rest of them got down, but when it came to mine, I was shutting shit down every time.
“You see, Inez… you see what that poison does to you and send them out der!” my mother hollered at her, knowing that neither me nor Khaos was letting the shit slide.
I didn’t give a fuck if Inez was a dolphin with timbs on and asked the nigga for a hug. Niggas was gonna die learning about respect when it came to mine.
“I know exactly who the fuck she talking about… nigga owe a few homies money.” Khaos muttered.
“Those dirty ass fucking crip niggas be over that way,” he muttered, checking his gun.
I jogged down the few steps in front of my mother’s building and headed straight to my whip. Since I was running errands, and didn’t feel like riding my bike, I drove. Having to come from Manhattan to Brooklyn pissed me off every time I headed toward that fucking bridge.
One would think I would be in heaven being able to jog through central park every morning.
Nah.
The people in the park pissed me off just as much. They acted like it was their first time on earth and they had never saw a fucking park before. I constantly had to duck and dodge people during my run.
Boobie was lucky that I loved her stubborn ass.
Half the problem with New York City was the traffic and the way ass fucks decided to drive. They took the same route every damn day and still acted stupid like they didn’t know how to drive.