Chapter 6 #2
Still not looking at them, I choppily said, “No. I need to chill right here for now. I have a lot to say. So, um, growing up with my parents wasn’t easy.
King, you are observant and always have been.
That’s how everyone survived under your father and stepmom’s roof.
I grew to become observant to watch out for my siblings and myself after the skin was peeled off my ass by a leather belt because I went overboard with acting as if I was mentally unstable.
My siblings and I aren’t slow. Our reading is behind our peers because we were taught early that we had to bring our parents money from the government.
After all, they didn’t want to work. That’s why they had us.
We were mistreated when we didn’t act the way they needed us to in public.
Even though they are older than I am, my siblings took their time falling in line.
I didn’t fall in line until I was six. That goes back to the prison leather belt being against my naked ass, taken off skin.
So, yes, August, those deep scars aren’t from me falling off my bike while going down a hill.
Momma physically abused me while I was naked.
Anyways, my oldest brother ran Momma’s head into the wall and kicked her into the high-rise table, causing it to crash.
Daddy broke his arm and knocked him out.
My second, third, and fourth brothers jumped our dad.
They beat him badly for hours. They granted him a permanent limp, broken ribs, jaw, nose, and crunchy nuts.
The next day, my sixth brother put a gun to their heads and told them never to speak to us again.
Since my oldest brother wasn’t due to turn eighteen for two more years, he made it clear that when he turned eighteen, we would be out of that house, especially me.
He told them that while we were under their roof, they could keep the check, and once we got it out of the mud, they’d better not ask for any money.
That day changed how we moved. We never went anywhere in public with our parents unless we were on a fluke ass doctor’s appointment.
My siblings looked after me well until I turned twelve.
It was my turn to lookout for them because they weren’t getting any money, only food and secondhand clothes.
We were still under our parents’ roof because the oldest couldn’t come up with enough money to put us in a rundown house.
They were stealing carelessly and damned near getting caught.
So, I took my raggedy-looking ass through our neighborhood and learned who was who.
My brothers were too careless to sell dope, so that wasn’t what I was looking for them to do.
They were best at getaway drivers and running fast. They fitted dope couriers more.
One of the niggas was having trouble with how his dope was delivered, putting heat on him.
I suggested my brothers for a thirty-five percent commission and tips per dope run.
He accepted my offer. Within an hour, my brothers were on the streets, being klutzy but delivering dope exceptionally well on their bikes.
When I turned thirteen, they were making money, but the fuckas didn’t save shit or give me money to put up.
They blew through the money. I was sick of being in a house where I wanted to kill our parents just because they were breathing.
So, I approached the guy they were moving dope for and told him what I was trying to obtain for my siblings and me.
He showed me what would help me, but the fucka wanted me to suck and fuck him for it.
I laughed him out of my face and walked away.
I didn’t tell my brothers about my encounter with Dropo.
For three weeks, I scouted the hoods, thinking of the best way to take that nigga’s dope.
Two days later, he started beefing with some niggas from the south side of town.
I waited two more weeks to see if the beef would die down.
It didn’t. Shootouts took place. Some of Dropo’s family and friends went to Hell, and some of the other niggas family and friends stood in Hell’s long line.
While people cried, hooted, hollered, and went to Hell, I was in them niggas stash houses, stealing dope, money, guns, and food.
I hid the guns and dope behind the rundown shed on our parents’ property.
I shoved the money into my princess jewelry box that Uncle Silas and Auntie Clara bought me.
I took the jewelry box and hid it under the sinking house.
Three weeks later, Min’s parents offered to take my parents to court to receive custody of us.
I was too high on my horse and getting a great thrill of being in the streets as a jack girl.
I told my oldest sibling to go against it because I had grown to love what I did with ease.
So, Uncle Silas and Auntie Clara sided with my oldest sibling and bought us a house on the decent side of town.
Nothing too big, something suitable for us, away from people who weren’t shit.
They bought us a van. My oldest brother was the owner.
Uncle Silas taught us how to drive. One night, I stole the van, went back to our childhood home, and removed the shit I stole from the beefing niggas.
Still, I didn’t tell them I took it. I hid it in my room.
No rent to be paid, only property tax. Uncle Silas took care of that.
Utilities were paid by Auntie Clara. Groceries, clothes, and hygiene products were on us.
Two weeks into being in our new home, breathing better, I received word that two other street niggas were beefing.
I slapped my ass in the streets to cop all the information that I could.
Once they started sending family and friends to Hell, I was stealing their shit.
I did that for two and a half years before telling my brothers what our moves would be.
I made sure to let them niggas know how I was running my show because I was too fine for someone’s prison.
They agreed to only move when I say so. When I left Georgia, I officially told them I was out of the streets.
Some weeks ago, they stole from the guy I stole from for years without getting caught.
Dropo. It’s not an alleged break-in. The fuckas took their wallets with them.
One wallet was in the hallway, another was in the front yard, and another was in the backyard.
Now, Dropo’s on their heads and mine. He thinks I sent them.
I wouldn’t dare. They are careless assholes and don’t think to scope shit out.
I am a mastermind because Momma made sure that I was.
August, Dropo’s going to be a problem. One, he’s been at me since I was thirteen.
Two, he knows I’m a mom, and he hates that he’s not the father.
Three, I’m engaged to my daughter’s father.
Four, Dropo knows my oldest brother put the Feds on him.
Something I didn’t know he did until he texted me.
Six, I gotta get to Georgia to safely get my name out of the shit they created. ”
“Mm,” King held out, crossing his legs at the ankle.
Leaning forward, August licked his lips. His eyebrows drew in when he wickedly grinned. “Baby, you know I love problems. Lemme get Momma settled, get you back to one-hunnid, an’ we gon’ take a trip to yo’ hometown. King need to see wooded areas wit’ soil that’s made fo’ buryin’ motherfuckas.”
Not wanting him anywhere near my shit because I could handle my own, I bit my tongue well. Uncomfortably, I said, “To be clear, August, I don’t need your help to escape my brothers and the brewing over bullshit. I can handle my own. So, let me iron this out my way. Alone.”
“Nawl, that shit ain’t gon’ happen,” he hissed, narrowing his eyes.
Oh, it will, I thought, unwilling to go back and forth with him.
Needing to cease his attitude, I exhaled deeply.
“I love my life with you. I’m in love with the thought of working, paying taxes, and shit.
There’s a high possibility that I’m about to be dragged into court once the Social Security Administration contacts me.
Laysha’s reached out to them and spilled the truth.
I’m hoping I’m not made accountable for years of lying.
If I am, I’ll be the great little actress of distress and fearful of losing those nothing ass parents.
I’m going to crush my parents just to make sure they get what the fuck they get for not letting me be the little girl in a pink shiny dress and kitten heels.
I didn’t want to be dressed like a boy and hard up.
High-rise tables are my safe place. I can cry and dream of a better life there while supposedly reflecting on how to be a better dummy, as my parents liked to say.
August, I saw you as my escape away from my family.
I love how family-oriented and silly you are.
Most importantly, I love how much of a man you are.
I love everything about you, down to how you fuss for the fuck of it.
You are fun, down-to-earth, and loving. I didn’t care about you nutting in me a few days after meeting you.
You can be mad at me for using you to get away from them, but you can’t hate me for doing exactly what I needed to do …
fall in love with you and create my happy ending.
So, will you forgive me for using your love and friendship to get away from my family? ”
Studying my eyes, he caressed my face. Lovingly, he said, “There ain’t nothin’ to forgive you fo’. Yo’ love the shit. I should be thankin’ you fo’ savin’ me from months-on-months end of twirlin’ this dick fo’ them old dick hagglahs.”
“K.” I nodded. Deep down, I hated his once-upon-a-time sideline hustle.