Chapter 3
“I don’t understand why you have to keep leaving me every time they call.
” Niveah’s voice was whinier and nasally than it was seductive.
She kneeled in the center of the bed in nothing but a lingerie set she hoped to turn Markus on with.
“I was in here all night waiting on you. You didn’t answer my calls. I could’ve been out with my girls.”
No avail. As of late, connecting with him had been far and few between.
Without looking up from his phone, he muttered. “I got shit to handle. Getting my dick wet ain’t on the top of my list of things to do.”
Even after a night of ignoring calls, he wasn’t going to leave his aunt on read anymore.
Especially if he wanted to go to sleep with a clear conscience.
He’d been out all night and only came home to wash and change his clothes.
After taking his product back, his head was on a swivel for whatever Rock thought he was cooking up next.
“So I’m just supposed to sit here with a wet pussy while you take your ass to the trap?”
Markus curled his lip and furrowed his brows. “Niveah, whatever you do with your pussy when I’m working really don’t have shit to do with me. I got to go. Lock up.”
“So I can go fuck another nigga?” Niveah posed, testing Markus’ reaction.
His body didn’t tense. His shoulders didn’t square and he never took his eyes off his phone. His long legs strode toward the door of their bedroom. “You ain’t fuckin’ stupid.”
She scoffed and dropped down to the bed like a child, crossing her arms and poking her lip out in protest of the rejection. “You passing up my pussy like this is pissing me the fuck off, Money.”
“You got toys in that drawer, do something with them and calm the fuck down. Better yet, take yo ass down to the shop before I find someone else to run that shit,” he huffed, earning the pillow launched in his direction.
He dodged it and allowed her the temper tantrum, proceeding down the stairs of his modest, Blair Point brownstone.
The goal had always been to move him and his boys into the mansions of Crystal Bay, but the climb to the top of the food chain had been slower than he anticipated.
To anyone watching, Markus Money Grant was getting money hand over fist. From a snotty-nosed paper boy to a nappy-headed ruthless jack boy to small-time dope boy to the connect.
Markus, alongside with his boys, Brantley and Svyn, made a name for themselves.
Feared yet respected and making their presence known one block at a time.
In his blacked out BMW M8, he sped out of the neighborhood and toward the source of his contention, his aunt’s house.
“Auntie,” Markus’s voice moved through the renovated brownstone like a calm breeze. Sudden noises had always given his aunt Lucille a jolt. And with her current condition, he didn’t want to do or say anything that was going to send her into distress.
Markus’s athletically built six foot, six frame roamed through the home that served as his safe haven growing up.
He and his sister, Nia, landed here when his mother tragically chose an abusive father over them.
They say children don’t remember, but his brain recorded everything to later torment him when the nights were too quiet to bear.
Aunt Lucille and the home full of love she created had given Markus warmth and comfort.
Although it was her all, it wasn’t enough to keep him from the streets.
78th and Lynnwood.
Every step deeper into the home smelling of amber oud was accompanied by the memories of how the newness of the place came to be.
And then back to what used to be. Three nappy-headed little boys and a very sassy girl driving their aunt insane.
The brownstone represented resilience to Markus.
It represented his evolution. Alone, angry, and lacking the love he needed to mold his nine-year-old self.
Now, he had some sense of self, wasn’t alone, and he had his anger in check – for the most part.
Before he could reach the primary suite of the home where the machine Aunt Lucille was hooked up to serve as background noise, the aide he paid handsomely to keep her comfortable, safe, and busy enough met him.
“Markus,” she hummed his name sweetly. Ms. Ophelia. She was a little younger than his aunt and served as great company. The two appeared to be best friends more than they were client and employee. “Let me talk to you.”
“Aight,” he muttered, retreating from the door to the spot where Ms. Ophelia scurried to. In the living room, Markus stood waiting for the inevitable. “What the doctor say?”
Ms. Ophelia pulled in a deep breath and pulled the cardigan she wore over her mint green scrubs. She only wore scrubs when they had a doctor appointment so the doctors would take her seriously. “Her blockage has increased. That’s why she’s been so weak lately.”
“So what does that mean? Why isn’t she on a transfer list? Why the fuck am I paying that doctor all this fuckin’ money and he’s not doing shit?” he grunted, trying to keep a level head that was quickly fleeting.
Ms. Ophelia locked eyes with him, stern but soft enough to pull him back center. “Putting her on a transfer list could take months. Years. And you know, like I know, we might not even have tomorrow.”
Markus clenched his jaw and flared his nostrils. “And I’m assuming I have to tell her sons this.”
“You and Nia are the only ones who come to see her, Markus. Whatever y’all are doing out in the streets is more important than their dying mother.”
“She ain’t dying, O. I’m not tryin’ to hear that,” Markus blew, ignoring the comment about his cousins. They weren’t touching shit on the streets, just making it harder for him to move around with all the bullshit they kept getting themselves into.
Ms. Ophelia softly stated, “Markus, it’s going to happen. You need to make peace with that, and you need to make peace for yourself. Settle down, find a woman who ain’t Neveah. Heaven backwards is hell on earth.”
“I hear you,” Markus grumbled as he turned to walk back to Aunt Lucille’s room.
“Markus…” Ms. Ophelia’s voice lulled with a weight that made him shoulder’s square.
Barely turning to look over his shoulder, his response was just as weighted. “Yeah.”
“When she goes, you’ll have to move on. Don’t get stuck in what this place used to be.”
Markus gave her a nod before easing into the room. Aunt Lucille was propped up on the middle of her king-sized bed, her oxygen mask strapped to her face, and the noon news on the TV in the background.
“In other Majestic Heights news, at noon. Mayor Norman has announced that his Sweep the Streets agenda has taken five known drug dealers off of the streets. The District Attorney’s office plans to prosecute the violators to the full extent of the law.
Mayor Norman stated in an earlier press conference that Majestic Heights will not be a place ran by criminals but by strict law and order. ” The anchor, Ansley Sharde, reported.
Taking a seat by his aunt after kissing her forehead, he sighed. The load of street life seemed to fade when he was in her presence.
“You don’t need to be listening to this,” he grumbled, reaching for the remote.
Sick or not, Aunt Lucille grabbed his hand and cut her eyes at him. “How else am I supposed to keep up with what you, B, Svyn, and Angel are doing?”
“We ain’t in the mix like that,” Markus attempted to assure her.
“You’re in plain sight and as untouchable as you think you are, you can be touched. Slim didn’t leave you all this to squander it.”
“I’m not.”
“Dropping niggas off the buildings.”
Markus sighed forgetting that his aunt kept her ear to the streets. After all, Slim was her brother and for as long as he and her sons worked for him, she knew what was going on. Maybe that’s why she allowed it. If the streets were going to call, at least they were under the covering of family.
“Did you get it back?” she continued, not allowing him a rebuttal.
“I can make the money back. I got the product. Rock is going to have to be handled though.”
“What the fuck are you waiting on?” Aunt Lucille questioned, finally turning to look at him straight on. “You too soft on these niggas. Kill them where they stand.”
“I could have sworn it was you that just said not to squander what Unc left.”
“I did. I’ve also told you never be a pussy about your respect. Didn’t I?”
“You did.”
“Rock violated. Him and every nigga in the city out that thinks they can touch Money, take them out.”
“Got to move smart out here, auntie. If our connect gets swept up, product is going to be low, territories are going to up for grabs.”
“There’s always another connect. There’s never another reputation. Handle Rock and whoever else thinks that stealing is a survivable option.”
“I hear you, auntie. You cool though, you don’t get tired of that mask and this bed?”
“O helps me around. This bed and this mask is my penance for all the hell I caused in my day. A few good deeds don’t change a bad heart. Outside of that, I’m fine. I’ve lived my life. I got three boys and a head full of memories.”
“O told me B, Angel, and Svyn don’t come by.”
Aunt Lucille grunted. “I suppose this is too much to take in. Their mother laid up hooked up to all these machines.”
“That’s some bullshit. They’re going to bring their asses over here.”
“Don’t force it, Money, they got chips on their shoulders.”
Markus frowned his face up. “For what reason?”
“We chose you over them. Keep your head on a swivel.”