16. Patience
Patience
Piccolo hums his frustration as I run the flat iron down my waist-length hair one more time.
Then I turn it off, smooth my hair down, and take myself in.
My outfit is simple; a cropped camisole that shows off my new pierced navel, blue skinnies, and my TOMs, but I still make the simplest outfit look good.
It’s just a kickback, anyway.
My first one.
“Grime is gonna kill me,” Piccolo mumbles, making me roll my eyes.
“Monty doesn’t care about me, Pic. He cheats on me all the time like I don’t know. That’s why I dumped his ass.”
Monty has me so fucked up. Fucking bitches with moves I taught him. Nigga please.
Piccolo rises from his seat on my bed to tower over me in the mirror. He rests his hands on my shoulders and gazes at me with intent.
Piccolo is my best friend. Our grandmothers were raised together before his moved here to East Kenton to be married, but their daughters, our mothers, became pen pals and best friends.
In another world, Pic and I would be promised to each other. One where my mother was alive, and I never set my eyes on one Montavious Grimes.
He’s a full head taller than me, like most of our friends. He’s got his hair out in a wavy halo around him that ends at his bare chest. It’s the summertime, so he only has on his boxers, acid washed skinnies, and black chucks with his blue fat laces.
“Can you just put on a different shirt, Fox? Please? For me?”
I pat his hand and smirk in the mirror. “Not a chance.”
Tripp whistles when we make it to my foyer. “Foxy, where the rest of your shirt?”
I just shrug and walk out to my graduation present, a new G-Wagon. I get into the back passenger seat since I know they aren’t letting me drive.
Sure enough, Pic slides into the driver’s seat while Tripp slides into the front passenger seat.
“Do we need to go over house rules, Foxy?” Tripp asks. I shake my head and we’re off.
When we get to the kickback, there’s heavy blunts in rotation and Relax by YG is blasting in the speakers. Kids are dancing on the walls, but we bypass them and walk straight through the house to the backyard.
Lil Wayne is playing out here, and it’s a much more chill vibe. I also recognize most of the kids out here as First Nations from school. They’re calling out PC and Trippy, Pic and Tripp’s hood names.
But mostly, all eyes are on me.
Tripp is in front, Pic is in my back, and they guide me all the way to an abandoned dresser where some kids are sitting and hanging out.
When Tripp finally moves, I see Shakari is sitting in front of me, and scoff. He just got his chief tattoo, a beautiful design covering the area from his bottom lip to past his chin. They shave your head for the ceremony, too, and his makes him look more menacing than he actually is.
I’ve always loved that his family kept that tradition.
He smirks at me before addressing his little brother. “Take her home, PC.”
I fold my arms and poke out my hip. “No. I’m eighteen, and Daddy says–”
“All due respect, Foxy, but this is Geronimo Land over here. You have no say so here, and I’m not trying to see Grime lose a screw over you because y’all aren’t good.”
“Yeah, and where is Monty? Probably up in that house with some hoodrat. He doesn’t care about me, Shakari–”
“Sheisty girl–”
“Focus!” I clap in his face, and his jaw clenches, but he stays seated.
I’m the only one that can get away with this, I know.
Not even because I’m Apache Beverly’s legitimate daughter, a First Nations princess.
No, I’m their sister. We’re all around the same age, all grew up together, all taught it was us over everyone.
I just wish I kept it platonic with everyone.
“You tripping, Fox. You got his heart.”
“Tried to tell her,” Tripp says before wandering off. I follow him with my eyes and my breath catches when I notice who’s on the back porch.
Speak of the devil, he shall appear.
Monty is so damn sexy it doesn't make sense. Tattoos cover his tall, skinny frame. He’s shirtless, too, with his long hair in a bun at the nape of his neck. His tan dickies are altered to be skinny, with the hem out, covering his blue chucks.
But my desire turns into hate when a hoodrat appears behind him and wraps her arms around him.
Me and Monty make eye contact, and he goes to remove the bitch’s hands, but I don’t care.
I turn back around and face Shakari. “If you were my real friend, you’d tell him not to treat me like this.”
Guilt swims in his eyes before he looks away.
I walk off, closer to the table with all the drinks, deciding to get fucked up.
“Foxtail? Is that you?”
I turn and see a guy from my chem class. His name escapes me, but he’s handsome, and showing all thirty-two at me.
“Yeah. What’s up?”
“Shit, I’m tryna see wassup with you. Never seen you outside of school before.”
I shrug and turn on the charm Daddy swears I got from him. “First time for everything.”
He pours me a drink, licking his lips as I answer his questions about my college plans. Most of the time, my hair is in plaits. My head is in a book, and I’m tucked away in the Beverly estate. When I do go out, I’m flanked by Pic and Tripp, or worse, all of them.
Untouchable.
Until tonight.
“So, you still with your boyfriend?”
I smirk and reach for the cup he made for me. “Nope.”
A tatted hand snatches the cup before I can even get a good grip on it and throws it on the ground.
“Now why you lying to this nigga, Fox.”
Monty stands there, pulling his pants up, smirking at me.
The porchlight shines on his back, making him look menacing, but I'm over it. I’ve long stopped being scared of the infamous Grimey.
And recently, I’ve grown tired of being his little secret.
I’m tired of the other res girls looking at me with pity while he sows his wild oats.
Grimey thinks if he messes with a girl not affiliated, and he wraps it up, it’s not cheating, so he’ll venture out into East Kenton, or even South Kenton, like it doesn’t get back to me.
We’re too young for this. Promised or not.
“Fuck–”
“Ay bro–”
Me and Handsome Guy speak at the same time, and that left hook of Grimey’s lands solid against Handsome Guy’s nose, giving a horrifying crunch.
A crowd forms instantly as Grimey proceeds to beat the shit out of the poor guy. Our other friends attempt to control the crowd as I’m screaming for Monty to stop, but he’s not listening. He never does.
This shit is a sport for him. He thrives on violence, always has since we were children.
It would have been easy to blame it on having a neglectful mother and dead father, but Monty had had an affinity for violence before his mother left, and before Uncle Taylor died in prison.
Besides, he didn’t go without. He was heir of his family, the third oldest family on the Council.
He had every opportunity that I had, but traded it for a revolving door to juvenile hall, and thrusting his family deeper into west coast gang culture like his uncle and father before him.
And like any good girl, I was irrevocably in love with the bad boy.
After a nasty stomp to the boy’s ribs, Monty pulls his gun and aims it at his head. Chest heaving, he turns those cold black eyes to me and smirks.
“You single, Fox?”
“M-m-mon–”
He flicks the safety off and grins harder. “I asked yo beautiful ass a question. Are. You. Single?”
I shake my head and wipe the tears that won’t stop coming. “No, no. I’m not.”
“And who’s ya man?” he asks in a sickly sweet voice.
I move past the lump forming in my throat to say, “you. I’m with you.”
Flashing a winning smile, he puts his gun back in his pants and holds out his hand to me. My fingertips barely touch his before he pulls me to him. He bends his neck down to look into my eyes.
“This tantrum got you trying me like you don’t know my get down,” he says so low only I can hear.
“Tonight I’ll make love to you with this nigga’s blood on my hands.
And months later, when you’ve forgotten about this, I’ll double back, kill this nigga, and fuck you again wearing his blood.
Stop. Trying. Me, Foxtail. And stop listening to buckethead bitches who jealous of you and want yo spot. You a chieftainess; act like it.”
His heavy hand rests at the base of my throat, and all I can do is nod. He smirks, kisses my lips and releases me. “PC. Take my baby home, cuz.”
Pic materializes out of nowhere, grabs my hand and leads me away. Monty’s eyes flare at where Pic’s touching me, but he doesn't say anything. He locks eyes with me, winks, and yells for them to start the music back up.
That night, he does sneak into my house and makes love to me all over my room.
And months later, I see Handsome Guy on the news, a murder victim of a mugging.
Present
It’s only me and the guys in the waiting room. Not because the hospital isn’t open, but because we aren’t even in a hospital. No, we’re at one of our underground hospitals stationed throughout East Kenton. Because like everything else, we don’t trust anything that isn’t First Nations.
For good reason.
Get Money Crew was Pic’s idea. As a second son to the Nabahi family, his fate was set to follow Shakari in helping run the casino. But Pic loved to write raps that he and Tripp would perform at our res talent shows, and formed a group right before I left.
With their thuggish image and talent, they blew up, and Shakari saw they could make the First Nations more money that way, as rappers. So they all started doing it, said G$ meant Get Money instead of Geronimo Street, and shined a light onto an organization that used to move in the shadows.
I’m sure my father hated it, like he hated any type of modern change.
Especially when his only male heir followed in their footsteps.
Speak of the Devil…
In a hailstorm of fury and power, the door to the waiting room slams open and my father, flanked with his security, storms into the middle in the room.
“What the fuck happened?!” he thunders as the guys shrink under his baritone voice.
He makes eye contact with all of them, before finally settling on me.
The only change of his face happens when he glances at the small bump at my tummy, before going back to unmasked rage and turning directly toward me.
“Start. Talking.”
“It’s them Foe Dub niggas–”
I shoot up out my seat, which makes Pic and Monty also shoot up.
“It was not–”
“They all dying, Fox. Yo baby daddy included,” Shakari grits.
“Silence!” my father holds his index out at Shakari, silencing him. Eyes still trained on me.
He swallows, trying to tamper his temper, but it just makes him vibrate. “Who is the father of your child, Foxtail?”
I glance at Monty, who hasn’t taken his eyes off me.
They forget I know them, and know how they eliminate problems.
“It doesn’t–”
“It’s that Foe Dub nigga, Turk, Chief. That’s her bd,” Tripp snarls.
My father whirls around to them, giving me his back. Monty nods just barely, still keeping his eyes on me, and I work hard not to shrink under his glare.
“We can take them out–”
“Who… who shot Cochise? Did anyone see who shot him?”
The room quiets. Apache Beverly hates a liar more than he hates a cheat, and the fact remains Royce’s only crime is knocking up a First Nation princess.
My father rubs his temples. As Chief, he’s used to putting out fires, but this is personal for him, and I’m starting to think it’s not for the reasons I first assumed.
“Your first priority is finding out exactly who shot my son. You are not to make a move on anyone from South Kenton until you have irrefutable proof they pulled the trigger, especially since the Italians pulled away from the negotiation table. Start there.”
Shakari and Tripp walk out, mugging me the whole way.
“PC, go clean up and bring Foxtail back some fresh clothes and food.”
Pic nods and glances at me before he leaves, and now it’s just us three.
“I know you want answers from Foxtail, but that takes a backseat right now, Monty.”
He nods, blinks, and then smirks. “I’ll have a report soon, Chief.”
He strolls by my father, stopping at my ankle. This time I do shrink, fear gripping my heart as he leans in.
“I’ll see you soon, Fox.”
He walks out whistling, and I collapse back into my seat. The doors open and close again, letting me know it’s just me and my father left.
“I thought we agreed you’d stay out of East Kenton.”
I wipe my nose and look up. My father’s staring down his nose, face stoic and unreadable as usual, like he’s talking about the weather.
“I did–”
“Then why the fuck am I looking at you, pregnant, in East Kenton, Foxtail?”
My phone starts vibrating. When I glance down, I see it’s Autumn, and I ignore the call before turning it off completely.
“I can explain, Daddy.”
He backs up and sits down in the chair Pic was occupying.
“Well, explain it.”