Chapter 9
nine
She was irritated. Every day she had to come here and deal with QaMeesha’s stank ass, personality included, the more she forced herself to daydream about the day she got out of here.
Almost three hours had passed since the midday rush, Kamilla was due for a break and QaMeesha was holding her up.
Handing a bag of tacos through the front order window, Kamilla caught Martez from the corner of her eye.
“Here we go,” she muttered to herself.
“Lil’ Milla,” Martez slithered, like the snake he was. “You cute in that uniform.”
Kamilla rolled her eyes and quirked her lip in tandem, showing how disgusted she was by his mere presence. “Are you here to order or get on my nerves?”
Martez gave her that look. That look that was inappropriate for someone who deemed themselves a family member to another family member.
Ever since her breasts came in fully, he’d given her that look and everyone assumed she was being dramatic.
Martez was a snake along with a creep, and she was far from dramatic.
“Why you playing like that? Like I’m not your favorite person?” he crooned, leaning into the window, closing space between them without permission.
“Back up,” she hissed, holding her hand up. “Are you ordering or-”
“Kamry!” QaMeesha shouted the wrong name yet again. “Girl, I will fire your ass. All this fuckin’ attitude you’ve been giving people all day.”
The only one Kamilla had been giving an attitude was QaMeesha.
When she walked in the restaurant, it looked like she hadn’t even cleaned it.
There was no one to fire up the grill or load the register or do any of the opening things.
When QaMeesha appeared from the back office, she barked and bitched about the state of the restaurant, blaming Kamilla for how it looked.
“Don’t pay this girl no mind,” QaMeesha huffed and rolled her eyes. “What you here for, Tez? What can I get your fine ass?”
Martez gave her a lustful look as he bit his lip. “Shit, what you trying to give me?”
QaMeesha bit her lip. “I got something in the back.”
Martez groaned, looking over his shoulder at the pair of losers he bought with him. “Yeah, let me get that. Ay, Hype, look after my cousin, aight?”
Kamilla caught the eyes of the set of clowns who held her at gunpoint not even a week ago. The bruises on their faces evidence that they remembered whatever it was that Cairo did to them when he walked them out the store. This time when she looked at them, there was an absence of fear.
Hype’s eyes followed Martez around the corner to do and pay for whatever QaMeesha was offering. When the pair was out of sight, Hype rubbed his bruised chin and nervously looked around. “Ay, look. I didn’t mean no harm.”
“For putting a gun to my head or…” Kamilla quipped, sizing him up. “Getting caught doing it?”
“Look,” Hype spoke in a lowered tone. “Tez is out his mind, but that nigga C4, I don’t want no problems with him. He’s made it clear that fucking with you is going to be a problem.”
“But yet you choose to follow behind Martez knowing where it’s going to land you?” Kamilla asked with a hum. “You’re as stupid as you look.”
“Those two got a history of beef and I-”
“You’re going to order or move aside. There’s a line,” Kamilla stated, not interested in anything he had to say further.
Hype swayed his head, leaned back, and tapped Chuckee with the back of his hand and nodded toward a nearby bench.
“Ah man, C4 got you shook like that over that bitch?” Chuckee voiced loud enough for Kamilla to hear. “I say we snatch that bitch and show that nigga he ain’t shit.”
As Hype moved further away, Kamilla caught the tailend of the exchange. “Yeah and be on the long list of bodies that nigga has. I’m not fuckin’ with that nigga like that. Tez ain’t shit compared to the bullshit C4 will be on if we violate.”
“Man, fuck that,” Chuckee grumbled, looking over his shoulder at Kamilla who’d now moved on to the next customer in line. “I’m not going out like a pussy over that Azul Heart nigga.”
Back to the grind of handling business while her manager gave out tainted box and free food, Kamilla looked at the clock and groaned. “Five hours no break. This is stupid.”
“What’d you say?” QaMeesha snapped as she handed Martez, Hype, and Chuckee a bag of free food.
“Can I take my break now?” she huffed. “I’ve been here since eleven. It’s almost four.”
“Go clean the outside bathroom or something, Kamry,” QaMeesha snapped, waving her off. “The night cashier called out, you’re working a double.”
“Without a break? Are you out of your mind?”
“How about I fire your little mouthy ass? You think ‘cuz you got some attention you can talk to me any kind of way? Girl, I’ll break you.”
Kamilla shook her head and walked away. Going back and forth with her was useless.
Jealousy had always been a thing amongst her peers.
No one ever tried to get to know her; only judged her off of the quietness they assumed to be arrogance.
Kamilla inherited Kamaal Palmer’s long, thick hair, lashes, full eyes and lips.
She held her mother’s quietness and build.
But the loneliness was her own. Never fitting in anywhere but at her mother’s side.
The hate from QaMeesha and the absence of love from her aunt wasn’t new. It was just becoming old.
She cleaned the nasty outside bathrooms, cleared tables, took out the trash and whatever she needed to do to work through her final hour.
Hot, frustrated, and out of a change of clothes, Kamilla took it upon herself to find her way home and wash the day off.
Thankfully for her and her patience, Martez had loudly announced his next move – a pick-up game at Crimson Heights Park.
As long as he could hustle the talent on their side of the hood and show off, him and his gaggle of idiots wouldn’t be at the house.
Kamilla took a long hot shower before gathering her clothes in a duffle bag and starting to the door. Cairo standing in the small living room wasn’t on her bingo card.
“We had an agreement,” he spoke, looking at a family photo of Kamilla, her mother, and aunt. That was the last time the three of them were together and happy.
“You just break and enter?” she asked, a slight frown over her face.
Kamilla observed the frigidness of his frame. It was evident that his day hadn’t been the best either. Cairo offered her a slight glance.
“What’s in the bag? You running away?” he questioned.
“The thought has crossed my mind. But unfortunately for me, I have nowhere to go,” Kamilla muttered. “It’s clothes. I was going to find a laundromat.”
“There’s plenty over here, but the CK’s are pimping and dealing out of them. You’re not going nowhere over here,” Cairo announced, putting the photo back in its spot and taking the bag from her.
Kamilla huffed. “I’m kind of over people telling me what to do for the day.”
“Got to be talkin’ about ‘bout QaMeesha,” he said with an arrogant scoff.
“Could be you too,” she shot back.
Cairo offered her a lopsided smile. “Nah, never that. You must be sleepy?”
“Hungry and exhausted and I’m sure I’m not getting sleep tonight either,” she grumbled, following him toward the door.
Cairo didn’t say anything. He only took note. He would happily get rid of anything that vexed her. Dropping her duffle bag in the trunk, he proceeded to the passenger side door and waited for her to finish locking up.
“How long you say your aunt was gone?”
“I didn’t,” Kamilla replied, sliding in. She looked up at him and frowned. “Why?”
“‘Cause she’s probably on a few flights and that mark ass nigga got access to where you lay your head and he’s fuckin’ with your peace. I’m not with it.”
“So you’re going to sit out here all night and glare at him? Fight? Have it more lit up than it typically is and then I really won’t sleep? I can handle it.”
“Mm,” Cairo grunted. “Put your seatbelt on.”
Kamilla pulled in a deep breath before sighing and adhering to his order. After fastening her seatbelt, she watched him round the trunk, shut it, and send a series of texts before joining her inside. “What you want to eat?”
“Doesn’t matter,” she muttered, reading the notification in her messages about her bill being due.
He clenched his jaw and muttered back. “It does.”
“You need a nap?” she quipped.
“Not any more than you do,” Cairo stated. “I’ll be cool. Tell me what you feel like?”
She shrugged. “Chinese.”
“Got you. There’s a place off of Husten, next to a laundromat.”
The two rode in silence, mulling over their respective days. While Kamilla loaded up the washers with her clothes, Cairo was across the street ordering their dinner. When he returned, Kamilla was sitting atop a folding table, aimlessly staring at the analog clock on the wall.
“Sesame seed chicken, shrimp fried rice, and a lemonade,” he announced, taking her food out the bag.
“Thanks,” she spoke just above a whisper. “You sure you got time for this? Don’t you have a studio session tonight?”
“Postponed.” Cairo’s answer was sharp.
“Is that why you’re in a mood?” she questioned, opening a pack of duck sauce with her teeth.
“I’m not in a mood,” he grumbled.
“You most definitely are in a mood. What’s up?”
“You first,” he spoke, pulling a chicken wing apart, avoiding the pair of eyes that would make him break.
“I worked a full shift with no break, QaMeesha breathing down my neck, and bothersome customers off of very little sleep. Not to mention, your girlfriend wanted me to work the closing shift,” Kamilla rambled off before putting a forkful of food into her mouth. “Mm, this is so good.”
“Best Chinese spot in the whole hood, on Azul,” he stated. The “on Azul” making her smirk slightly. “What?”
“Nothing. It’s your turn to share.”
Cairo groaned. “I’d rather keep the street shit out of what we got going on.”
“Oh no, sir. You have forced me to be your friend, which means you are obligated to share,” Kamilla returned. “Your shoulders are all tight, you’re frowning more than you do…who did it?”
Cairo chuckled, “Who did it? The nigga that’s always doing some shit to fuck up a good thing. That’s who.”
Kamilla took in how his rye chuckle quickly fused with his aggravation. She didn’t speak, just listened between bites.
“This goes without saying this shit is dangerous but the biggest danger of it is the niggas you stand by. If niggas you stand by are filled with greed, they’ll do anything to get ahead.
I’ve looked out for this nigga, taught him the ins and outs and told him to keep shit low.
He never did. I’ve put niggas in the ground to keep his stupid ass free.
And he keeps violatin’ the code. It’s a code out here.
A code amongst niggas with these flags. That’s what separates us from CKs and Vatos.
You know what greed does to niggas?” Cairo asked, finally looking up at Kamilla, who’d never taken her eyes off of him.
“It has the same effect that drugs have on honorable men with families. Whatever they gotta do for the next hit, with no regard for the lives they affect, they’ll do. I can’t have that.”
“So what’d you do?” Kamilla asked softly, catching the glint of darkness in Cairo’s eyes.
“What I didn’t do is going to haunt me more than tossing his ass around and putting him on ice. That’s this fuckin’ mood I’m in. Love that nigga too much to end him. Love myself too much to be in a box behind him. Respect my people too much to tear up a family.”
“No one ever said being a leader was easy. The crown gets heavy,” Kamilla shared.
“Ain’t no crown on my head, K,” Cairo replied.
“If there wasn’t, you wouldn’t have the respect you do. Kings are respected and tested,” Kamilla reciting one of her father’s lines.
“Who told you that?”
She shrugged. “I knew a wise man once.”
“Wanna tap into that?”
She shook her head. “Not tonight, I’m too tired to cry.”
“You know those tears are safe here,” Cairo offered her comfort, and she returned the same.
“So are the things you’ve been holding onto. Plus, you’re my only friend so I can only talk about you to you,” she joked, earning a smile from him. “You should do that more often.”
“Do what?”
“Smile. It looks nice.”