10. Malik
MALIK
Growing up on the west side of Detroit will make you see life different.
That ain’t no tough guy shit either. That’s just what it is.
Over there, you learn early nobody coming to save your ass.
You either figure it out or become another face on a T-shirt with candles sitting on the corner.
By the time I was sixteen, I already had money in my pocket.
Enough to put food in my mama’s house, help with bills, keep some fresh J’s on my feet, and still have money left to blow.
That’s how the streets get you. They make hustling feel like the only way out.
Years later, I still had one foot in and one foot out.
I moved smarter now. I wasn’t standing on blocks all day chasing fast money.
I owned a couple weed spots, had rental properties on the west side, and a detailing shop on Livernois that kept money moving without drawing too much attention.
One thing my OG always told me, “Broke niggas make noise. Rich niggas move quiet.” I lived by that.
Too many niggas got caught up trying to impress people that couldn’t do shit for ’em.
One Instagram post, one chain too big. Next thing you know they either on the news or sitting in front of a federal judge.
That life stopped being exciting a long time ago. These days, the only thing I really gave a damn about was Shante. That woman had me moving different. I ain’t even gone cap. I was sitting outside the Coney on Joy Road waiting on my food while Dre kept talking my damn ear off.
“…I’m telling you, bro, she keyed my Charger.”
I looked over at him. “What’d you do?”
He shrugged. “Shit… I cheated.”
I busted out laughing. “You said that shit like you forgot to take the trash out.”
“What? She knew what type of nigga I was.”
“Nah… she knew what type of bullshit you was on.”
Dre laughed. “Aye, quit judging me.”
“I’m judging the hell out you.”
He pointed at me. “Man, ever since you got with Shante, your ass been acting married.”
“I ain’t acting nothing.”
He smirked. “Real shit. You don’t even peep women no more. Every time we used to slide somewhere, your ass came back with two or three numbers.”
I leaned back in my seat. “That shit get old.”
He looked at me like I had lost my damn mind. “Boy you in love.”
I laughed and shook my head. “You talking crazy. So what if I am.”
“Nigga, I know you. You ain’t gotta say it, I see it.” Dre joked.
I looked out the windshield and couldn’t even argue with him.
Before Shante I kept women exactly where I wanted ’em close enough to have fun but far enough that leaving never cost me no sleep.
Then her fine ass came along and fucked all that up.
Now I catch myself looking at houses, thinking about marriage and wanting kids.
All the shit I used to clown other niggas for.
Life will humble your ass quick. One woman can have you planning forever when you used to only think about Friday.
“So what you got planned tonight?” Dre asked.
I shrugged. “Probably grab something to eat and kick it with Shante.”
He looked over at me like I had disappointed him. “That’s it?”
“What else I’m supposed to be doing?”
“This nigga…” He laughed. “You done turned into somebody uncle.”
I smirked. “Peace is expensive, once you find it, you quit chasing bullshit.”
Dre shook his head. “Boy, love done whooped your ass.”
Before I could shoot something back, my phone lit up it was Shante.
Dre looked at the screen and started laughing. “There go your lil’ wife.”
“Man, shut up.” I answered. “What’s up, baby?”
“Where you at?” She asked.
“Still over here on Joy with Dre. What’s going on?”
“Nothin’.”
“You eat yet?”
“Nah.”
“Aight, don’t cook, I got you.”
“You ain’t gotta do all that.” She smiled.
“I know, but I’m still gone do it.”
She laughed, real soft. “Aight.”
That little laugh was the first time all day she sounded like herself. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Drive safe.”
“I always do.”
I hung up and tossed my phone on the console.
Dre looked over. “She still been moving funny?”
I glanced at him. “You peeped that too?” I rubbed my beard. “I don’t know what it is. She ain’t really talking like she usually do.”
Dre shrugged. “She's probably emotional and pregnant.”
I couldn’t stop the grin that came across my face. “Shit I hope so.”
He laughed. “Damn, you really trying to be somebody daddy.”
“I ain’t getting no younger.”
He looked at me for a second before shaking his head. “Real shit you love that girl.”
I ain’t even try to deny it. “Yeah.”
He leaned back in his seat. “That’s dangerous.”
I looked over at him. “How?”
“‘Cause love will have a street nigga ignoring shit he’d normally catch.”
Maybe, but I ain’t care. After we left the Coney, I slid over to my favorite soul food spot on the west side, grabbed a couple dinners, then headed to the house.
The whole ride, I caught myself smiling like a damn fool.
A few years ago, if somebody would’ve told me I’d be looking forward to going home to the same woman every night, I would’ve laughed in they face.
Now that was my favorite part of the day. I wanted all the regular shit. Family cookouts, kids running through the house. Building something that was mine. Crazy how one woman can change what success looks like. The only thing that never sat right with me was who her brother was.
Me and Deuce had history. Back when both of us were young, hardheaded, and thought every problem had to end with somebody getting shot. It started over some money. Then one of my little cousins caught a bullet behind the retaliation.
After that nobody was trying to hear peace.
Muthafuckas was choosing sides and folks was getting hit.
By the time everything finally cooled off, me and Deuce had too much blood and too much pride between us to ever be cool.
Then Shante came around. Finding out she was his sister almost made me walk away before we even got started.
I couldn’t stand that nigga. Truth be told the feeling was mutual.
These days we tolerated each other strictly because of her.
Nothing more, nothing less. By the time I pulled into the driveway, the food was filling the truck up with that soul food smell.
I grabbed the bags and headed inside. “Babe?”
The house was quiet. A few seconds later, I heard the bathroom door open. Shante came around the corner wearing one of my T-shirts that damn near swallowed her whole. Hair wrapped up and face freshly washed. She looked tired. The kind of tired sleep don’t fix.
“There go my baby,” I said, walking over to kiss her.
She kissed me back, but it wasn’t the same.
It felt like her mind was somewhere else.
I ain’t say nothing. I just studied her while I sat the food on the counter.
Lately she been smiling with her mouth more than her eyes.
That wasn’t my Shante. I started pulling the containers out of the bag while she eased onto one of the stools at the island.
She wasn’t talking. Wasn’t scrolling on her phone. Wasn’t bothering me while I fixed our plates like she normally did. She just sat there quietly. Something was weighing on my woman; I just hadn’t figured out what it was yet.
I fixed her plate and slid it in front of her.
She picked at it more than she actually ate.
Normally, I would have to tell her to slow down before she cleaned the whole damn plate.
Tonight she looked like she was forcing herself to take bites.
The house was quiet except for the TV playing in the living room.
Usually we’d be talking shit, laughing, arguing over who food looked better but not tonight.
I looked over at her. “You know I love you, right?”
She looked up and gave me a little smile. “I know.”
“I ain’t just saying it.”
“I know, Malik.”
Her smile disappeared almost as fast as it came.
Seeing Shante happy was one of my favorite things.
Lately it felt like something kept stealing that smile from her, and I didn’t know what the hell it was.
After we ate, I cleaned up while she disappeared down the hallway.
I figured maybe she just needed some rest. I hopped in the shower, threw on a pair of basketball shorts, and walked into the bedroom.
Shante was already under the covers with her bonnet on, lights off and knocked out.
Usually if I walked in the room, she’d mumble something smart or tell me to stop making noise.
I slid into bed beside her and wrapped an arm around her waist. She shifted a little in her sleep but never woke up.
I kissed the back of her shoulder. “Get some rest.” A few minutes later, I was out too.
The next morning, I woke up before she did.
The sun was barely creeping through the curtains.
Shante was curled up against my chest with one leg thrown across mine like she’d claimed me in her.
I brushed a few loose strands of hair away from her face.
Her bonnet was halfway hanging off, face still puffy from sleep.
She looked beautiful without even trying.
I could’ve laid there watching her all morning.
Then my mind drifted back to the last couple weeks, she had been tired a lot.
Falling asleep early, barely eating some days.
And we hadn’t been as close as we usually were.
That wasn’t us usually I couldn’t keep my hands off her.
She never gave me a reason to. I wasn’t tripping over it.
I just figured maybe she had a lot on her mind.
I only wished she’d let me carry some of that weight with her instead of trying to handle it all by herself. Shante shifted beside me and stretched.
“What time is it?”
“Almost nine.”
“Damn.” She rubbed her face, then all of a sudden went still. Like she had just remembered something.
I looked over. “You good?”
“Yeah… I just forgot what day it was.”
Before I could say anything else, BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Somebody was beating on my front door hard as hell. Me and Shante looked at each other. That wasn’t company that was the kind of knock that made every nigga stop what he doing. I slid out the bed. “I got it.”
I threw my hoodie on and headed toward the front of the house.
Whoever it was, beat on the door again before I even got there.
Impatient than a muthafucka. I unlocked it but left the chain on first. Standing on my porch was an older black dude in a suit.
The type that looked like he spent his whole life locking niggas up.
“You Malik Thompson?” I looked him up and down. “Who asking?”
He held his badge up. “Special Agent Brown FBI.”
I took the chain off but kept one hand on the door. “What you need?”
“I’m looking for Shante Carter.”
Behind me I heard footsteps. Shante stopped dead in her tracks the second she saw him. Her whole face changed, not surprised but scared. Agent Brown noticed it too. “Miss Carter?”
“Yeah.” She answered.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions about your brother.”
Before she could answer, I stepped halfway in front of her. “You can ask me.”
His eyes met mine. “I’m speaking to her.”
“And I’m listening.” He didn’t like that.
“We’re conducting an investigation involving Carter Trucking.”
“Ain’t got shit to do with this house.” I spat.
“We’ll decide that.”
That’s that federal shit always talking like they already got the answers.
“You mind if we come inside?”
“Nah.”
His jaw flexed. “Mr. Thompson.”
“You heard me, we can talk right here.”
He pulled a little notebook out of his coat. “How often does your brother contact you?”
Shante opened her mouth then closed it. That caught my attention because never struggled to answer simple questions.
“I asked how often.”
“Every now and then,” she finally said. Her voice was barely above a whisper.
Agent Brown wrote something down then looked back up. “Has your brother mentioned any problems with his business?”
“No.”
I turned my head just enough to look at Shante. Agent Brown closed his notebook. “If either of you remember anything, give me a call. I’ll be in touch.” He handed over a card. I never reached for it. He tucked it between the storm door and the frame instead.
Before he walked away, he looked straight at Shante. “Take care of yourself.” Then he was gone.
I locked the door and turned around. She looked like all the air had been knocked out of her body. Sometimes silence tells you more than people ever will.
After Shante went back to the bedroom, I stayed in the kitchen for a minute. The house was quiet, but my head wasn’t. I kept seeing that badge and the way Agent Brown stood at my door like he belonged there. The way he kept trying to get around me to talk to Shante.
That wasn’t no random visit. Them people came looking for something.
One thing I learned a long time ago was the Feds don’t knock on your door hoping to get lucky.
They already got pieces of the puzzle, they just looking for the one person that’ll hand them the rest. I poured myself a glass of water and leaned against the counter.
Deuce always walked a thin line. Business on one side, street shit on the other. I never asked questions because I didn’t care to know. Whatever he had going on was his business but today changed that. The minute them people said Shante’s name it became mine.
I looked down the hallway toward the bedroom. My baby was carrying something on her shoulders. I didn’t know if it had something to do with her brother or something completely different, but whatever it was, it was eating her alive.
I ain’t the type to keep asking somebody the same question over and over.
If you wanna talk, you talk. If you don’t, I ain’t gone force it.
But I’m gone pay attention. People tell on themselves without saying a damn word.
The way they move and avoid you. The way they carry weight they ain’t built to carry by themselves.
Shante wasn’t herself. I didn’t know why yet but I was gone figure it out.
Whatever had my woman looking like the life was getting sucked out of her and whoever was behind it was gone have to answer to me.