Chapter 19
Being around Markus was suffocating in one of the best ways possible.
He had a way of making her comfortable enough without the performative behavior.
She could appreciate that, but she needed to be wiser than she’d been in the past. Riding with him to the salon and him showing up to take her back to the house she hadn’t fully put her eyes on yet was going to be a problem.
She saw it when the women in the salon ogled him when he walked in.
She felt a lurch in her stomach. That wasn’t supposed to be there.
Reign was being hunted, letting herself relax and have feelings wasn’t allowed.
That’s what drove her to exit the salon while he was consumed with whatever he was doing in the office.
Reign pulled her coat tighter around her, combating the breeze and followed the street signs and directions toward the subway a client gave her earlier in the day.
The thought of taking a real shower and sleeping in a real bed free of rodents, bed bugs and break ins.
Almost ten minutes away from the salon, her cellphone buzzed in her back pocket.
Keeping her pace to get the two train, she looked at the number, huffed and silenced the phone.
Another call another silence. And again before a huff hit her eardrums.
“Speechless, I know you see me calling you,” Markus huffed, mere feet away.
Rolling her eyes, she quickened her steps. “This man is out of his damn mind.”
Unaware that the chase, not responding like other women, not offering anything in exchange was the very reason Markus was following her on the street.
Yes, he had his goons located all over the city and there were eyes on him, but he was losing his cool just to be next to her, even if they sat in silence.
Reign, in her boots in need of more breaking in, jogged down the stairs trying not to bring much attention to them. She spotted the train, assuming it was the two, and hopped on. Markus entered behind her. There were no empty seats, only standing room.
Leaving no space behind them, he muttered in her ear, “you should probably hold on.”
Reign scoffed and then yelped as the train took off. Grabbing the bar in front of her, she nudged him. “Can you back up?”
“Hell nah. First of all, your mute ass is on the wrong train,” he stated, causing her eyes to bug while she tilted her head back to look at him. “Yeah, I should get off the next stop and let you fend for yourself.”
“I’ll figure it out.”
Markus laughed dryly. “You’re stubborn. A lesser man would find joy in breaking you down.”
“Well unfortunately for you, it’s been done,” she grumbled, turning back around.
Markus placed his hands on the handrail above their heads and continued. “Second of all, do you know how many of these niggas on this train are out of their fuckin’ minds?”
Reign buzzed. “Like the one hoovering over me now?”
She spun around on the balls of her feet and peered up at him, closer than she liked to be because of all the bodies in one space. “You haven’t had enough? You’ve been in my space damn near all day.”
Markus smirked, saving the comment dancing at the tip of his tongue for another time. “I could’ve been out your face had you gotten your ass in the truck. Now that you jumped your fast ass on the wrong train we’re stuck for another hour.”
“An hour?” she shrieked, getting bumped into him again and huffing. “I have to be sandwiched against you for an hour?”
“Imagine you had just got in the truck like you were supposed to,” he quipped.
Reign attempted to spin around to no avail, there wasn’t any more space. Pressed against him would be the only position she would be able to turn her body into. His gaze lingered down at her.
“You did this. Now you got to stare at me,” he said with a smirk.
“You would be so lucky,” she grumbled, looking away.
“I could say the same about you.”
She rolled her eyes again. “You’re like every other black man who got rich off curb servin’ nothing special.”
“Oh?” Markus taunted, licking his lips.
“Oh please, save the charm for one of the girls in the salon,” Reign scoffed. “I’m not it.”
She turned away only for him to reach down in the crowded space and turn her attention back to him. She swatted him away. “If I have to suffer through your body being pressed against mine, please don’t add to my disgust.”
“You talk a whole lot of shit to be jealous,” he teased.
“Jealous of what? Please tell me what there is to be jealous off,” she quipped, hoping he would stop talking, the train would stop and she could get off and get some air.
Whichever came first, she would take happily.
But the smell of him, the weed tangled in the cologne of his knit, the suffocation of his presence and his body on hers wasn’t going to work. It wasn’t going to be good for her.
“I hear you, Speechless.”
She turned away again, this time biting her tongue so she didn’t reply back.
Her smart comments were only adding fuel to his fire.
They were sandwiched in for two stops until the third, where a handful of people got off.
Markus looked from his watchful gaze as if she’d disappear.
He analyzed the scene, spotting his goons.
He nodded, tapped her and started off the train.
“We got twenty minutes before the train you need to be on comes. There’s a pizza place up here,” he stated.
“I’m not hungry,” she protested.
“That little attitude is telling me something different. Not to mention, I felt your stomach grumble against me five times. Come on.”
Reign caught up to him and walked alongside of him. “You don’t know how to say please do you?”
“I don’t,” he retorted. “Never had to use that word.”
Reign placed her hands into the pocket of her coat and walked down the sidewalk, taking in the sights. “Where are we?”
“Little Italy. It’s ran by the Moretti Family.”
Reign looked around. “But everyone is black.”
“You’re in Majestic Heights, the whole city is black. The Moretti Family are descendants of southern slaves. A handful came up here, went over to Monte Seleno.”
“Where’s that?”
“Upstate. Translates to moon mountain. They went there, integrated and got ran out. They love you as long as you ain’t fuckin’ on their daughters or corrupting their sons.
This is their slice of freedom and entrepreneurship.
Most of the old heads died off. Matteo and Marucci are the heads of the family regulating all this shit. ”
Reign buzzed. “Almost sounds like P-”
A man running out of a nearby store ran straight into her, knocking her into Markus. In one swift move, he caught her and put her behind him. It was like a flash of lightning how fast he moved to move her and drew his gun.
“You can’t see where you goin’, muhfucka?” Markus barked, stopping the man in his tracks, causing him to drop a plastic bag of money. “And you stealing?”
The shop owner stepped outside, a gun of his own drawn. “Money, good lookin’ out.”
Markus’ eyes went dark for moment, until he remembered Reign had trauma of her own and she was too close. He hadn’t even killed anyone in front of Nia. “Ain’t no good lookin’ out, this nigga ran into the lady. Apologize.”
The man, who had now pissed himself, darted his eyes over to Reign and stammered. “I-I’m sorry.”
“Nah, say that shit with your chest. You can rob people but can’t speak the fuck up? Stand on that shit,” Markus directed.
“Money, I didn’t mean to,” the man spoke.
“To do what? Run into her or steal? It can’t be both.”
“R-run into her. I’m sorry, Ms. Lady. My bad.”
Reign said nothing but remained behind Markus, where despite it all, she was safe.
Markus grunted. “Uh uh, give Mr. Marcel back his fuckin’ money. You do some shit like this again, you won’t have to worry about Pietro coming for you because I’m going to do it. You hear me?”
The man picked up the bag of money and tossed it to Mr. Marcel.
“Bitch, if you don’t take that shit back inside and put it on the counter I will put a bullet in your ass.”
The man bolted back inside to return the money and bolted back out past the trio. Mr. Marcel turned to Reign and chuckled. “She’s got to be something special if you over here makin’ ruckus. What you doing over here?”
Reign had now wrapped her arms around herself. Comfort and warmth, while actively internalizing what protection looked and felt like.
“Taking her to get some real pizza that ain’t that bullshit from Maruccio’s,” Markus stated, tucking is gun back. “That nigga come back around, let me know. I’ll call Matteo to let him know I’m putting him down myself.”
“Before or after you tell Marucci his wife’s shit is nasty?” Mr. Marcel joked.
“I’ve told him that. Every time I see him because he brings it over like it’s a cheesecake from Wesley’s or something. I’ll see you.”
“See you, Money. You too, little lady,” Mr. Marcel spoke as Markus threw his arm over her shoulder to keep her close.
Reign offered the man a subtle wave and soft smile.
She stayed in his possession until they were inside of the pizza restaurant.
The smell of robust, homemade marinara wafted through the air with other Italian spices, making her mouth water.
She peeked at the menu, marinara and veal catching her eye.
Her appetite was returning after almost years of it being nonexistent.
She ate just enough to keep her going, but that was it.
Anything bigger than a size eight, Javier said she was fat and unattractive.
Depression made her eat, the terror made her starve herself.
Markus studied her. A habit he was finding hard to break. “You want something else?”
Reign shook her head no.
“Speechless,” he groaned. “Your words.”
She cut her eyes at him and plastered a fake smile. “No, Markus Emilliano Money whatever your name is. A slice of pizza is fine because I want to be free of you as soon as humanly possible.”
Markus chuckled as he pulled her chair out and motioned her to sit. “Too bad I lied to you. That train doesn’t come for another forty minutes. I’d rather your mouth be full then fussing about where the train is.”
She curled her lip and watched as he took the seat where he could see the front and back door.
“My name is Markus Emilliano Grant. They call me Money on the streets. Only my sister and aunts call me Emilliano, and typically if I hear it, I’m on their nerves or in trouble,” he shared.
“Information I’m not going to maintain.”
Markus chuckled. “You know, in a regular conversation, I share something you share something. We get to know each other.”
“Or we can just be silent or whatever that song said.”
“Not going to work.”
She huffed. “Speechless Mute on the Stoop is my full name.”
Markus chuckled and Reign mocked him.
“That shit was gold, not going to lie, some of my best work.”
“It wasn’t. Reign Marie Nieves.”
“Nieves?”
“Dominican father who was married, met my mother and left her to be a single mother. I’ve never seen him, no idea what he looks like. Which is crazy to share blood with someone who doesn’t give a damn about your existence,” she shared. “Is that enough sharing?”
“Not even enough. My pops had a hand problem. Beat my mother, beat me, the day he hit my sister, though,” Markus’ voice trailed off for a moment, his eyes going dark again.
“You don’t have to say it,” Reign spoke softly.
Markus clenched his jaw and nodded ever so slightly. She’d found the why. The reason for his overuse of pills.
“How’s your arm?”
He answered her question with a question. “How’s your head?”
“Water and taking breaks help. But honestly, pain has been a constant.”
“You do know that it doesn’t have to be that way anymore, right?” Markus asked, leaning up.
Reign rose her brow and sat back. “I know it doesn’t, but I don’t think you’ll be the one who gets to witness that.”
She said the silent part out loud. It didn’t zap it, only gave it room to grow.
Markus fused his brows. “Why is that?”
“Your eyes tell me a different story. That shit you keep popping in the name of pain is numbing more than your arm. I know how that turns out. This is the last time I want to be on the run for my life.”