Chapter 14
fourteen
“Look at this nigga,” GeeBlue grumbled, as Cairo stepped out of his car and roamed over to the group of Azuls.
He looked over to Nate as a compass, just to be sure the tone of a man Cairo put to work was laced with hostility. Nate smirked and shook his head knowing that Cairo was already on one. Tiny was doing exactly what he’d predicted – dumb shit.
“I turned the faucet off, so where this shit come from?” Cairo questioned, eyeing the packs Gee pushed deeper into his pocket.
GeeBlue scoffed a smirk. “You might as well sit down, C4. On Azul. You playing with pussy and not handling business.”
“I’m doing what?” Cairo quizzed, moving closer.
“I saw that bitch you been with. Ridin’ her all through the hood knowing she CK. Too busy with pussy to get to the money. Martez should be in the fuckin’ dirt for that KP shit, but you too busy getting ya’ dick wet,” GeeBlue spat.
The handful of Azuls he was with stepped back and Nate whistled. Gee was so focused on trying to cast doubt over C4’s character and street cred. That was a battle he’d never win and it was evident in the way the men who should’ve had his back left him alone to face the giant alone.
“Say what you said to me again,” Cairo muttered, looking into the eyes of a neighborhood hustler who was using a beef that would never be as personal as it was to him.
The issue with Cairo not being vocal about the moves he made had people like GeeBlue thinking he’d lost his edge.
Like he wasn’t exactly who he thought he was or who the hood saw him as.
“I said I saw that bitch you been with. Too busy with pussy to get to the mon-” GeeBlue attempted to repeat what he said as if he still had back up. Instead, what he got as a reward was Cairo’s fist to the mouth. Another to the eye.
GeeBlue swung back. Cairo dodged it and delivered another series of swings, each landing with an audible force.
This was more than Cairo fighting for his respect.
He had it now and would have it forever.
His position on every block of Los Oceania was cemented and had been. This fight was for Kamilla, for KP.
Fists still up while his opponent staggered, Cairo would never trust it. A harsh lesson he learned from his father. No child should’ve ever had to fight a grown man but that was Cairo’s development. As much as he hated his father, he was thankful for him.
GeeBlue spit at his shoes. “Fuck you, nigga.”
“Nah, don’t give up. Keep talking that shit. Only bitch I see is you,” Cairo replied, dodging a weak swing. Serving GeeBlue a two-piece that knocked him to his back, he leaned over him and snatched the chain from his neck. “I’ll keep this.”
Even in his loss, GeeBlue had to get the last word. “It should’ve been you. Not, KP.”
Cairo smirked, nodded, stood, and started stomping GeeBlue out until Nate pulled him back to reality.
“Ay, C4. It’s cool. It’s cool,” Nate muttered ,moving him away from GeeBlue’s battered body.
Cairo’s eyes had gone dark. “I’ll kill that nigga. I’ll fuckin’ kill him.”
Nate, pushing Cairo to a safe distance, turned to look at the handful of men who had fear in their eyes. Broad daylight and Cairo was getting active without worry. It made what he did when the sun went down that much more lethal.
“Get that nigga and get the fuck off the street,” Nate directed to the backs of the men who left Gee to pull himself up.
Everyone knew mention of KP to Cairo would cause this – a black out.
In the most lethal way. Nate remembered how long it took to usher Cairo out that darkness. It cost lives. All but one.
Cairo got in the car, shut the door, and vigorously rubbed his face.
He punched the steering wheel and willed himself back to a functional normality.
There was too much to focus on today and he couldn’t be like this – not with her.
Nate leaned on the hood of the car, lit a blunt, and waited until Cairo was calm enough to talk to.
While he waited, he watched Gee crawl away.
“Pussy,” Nate grumbled, watching the loud mouth on his hands and knees.
The duration of Nate finishing his blunt was how long it took before Cairo rolled down the window and lit one of his own. Nate stood and slowly moved to the passenger window.
“Welcome back, nigga,” Nate spoke with a slight smirk.
“I ain’t all the way back. I got the right mind to light that nigga spot up. But his bitch ass is at home with his mama, so, I’ll catch him again,” Cairo grumbled.
“What you mad about more?” Nate asked, trying to find what really sparked the blackout. “Him callin’ your girl a bitch, using that KP shit to get to you, or Martez?”
Cairo pulled in a sharp inhale. It was all of it. It was the position he was in that he wouldn’t be able to pull himself out of if he tried. Slowly releasing it and ignoring his stinging knuckles, he grumbled, “Get in. We got to get their supplies.”
That was the whole point of them going out – to set the girls they deemed as their own with a leg up on this impromptu cleaning gig. It was the phone call about Azuls being on the corner in broad day with packs they got from Tiny that deterred him from his mission.
“What we doing about Tiny?” Nate asked, getting in.
Cairo waited for the door to close before peeling off from the curb. “The way I’m feeling, nothing. If have to go talk to his stupid ass again, that nigga won’t even mutter a word again.”
“Aight, then,” Nate blew, leaving Cairo alone for a few seconds. “When you get into your millions and get the fuck out of here, go get your head checked.”
“Fuck you, nigga,” Cairo snapped back, catching the smirk on Nate’s face. “You better than me? That’s what you sayin’?”
“One of us got to stay grounded,” Nate laughed. “Yin and yang, nigga. We should get that shit tatted.”
“I’m not getting no matching tattoos with your ass, nigga.”
“I bet if it were Kamilla asking you’d run,” Nate taunted.
Cairo blew the smoke from his nostrils and shook his head. “Skin too fuckin’ pretty.”
It was a mutter not intended for Nate to hear. The flash of the moment they shared the night before zapped the residual thunder from his storm. Cairo stroked the hairs of his beard, the dimple piercing his cheek, buried.
“Yeahhh,” Nate drew out, proceeding to mock his friend. “It ain’t about pussy.”
“It ain’t,” Cairo huffed. “Nigga, shut up, talking to me.”
“On Azul, if it was offered, you wouldn’t take it?” Nate posed.
“On Azul, I ain’t taking shit, feel me?” Cairo started. “I’m getting the deed to it. Shit took can get taken. The deed makes it mine. Ain’t nobody taking that shit from me.”
Nate kissed his teeth. “Your poetic ass makes me fuckin’ sick.”
Cairo rumbled with laughter. “Shut up, let’s get this shit.”
A trunk full of cleaning supplies later, Cairo dropped Nate off giving him strict instructions about what time to have Dania at the studio before speeding back to his spot.
The closer he got to Kamilla, the more his body relaxed.
Approaching the door with a hand full of bags, he was welcomed back to an aroma he hadn’t had the luxury of being greeted with since his grandma died.
He unlocked the door and stepped in. The waft of a homecooked meal overtook him, almost making his knees go weak. The smell of the food and her father’s playlist— offered him a sense of nostalgia— a balm to any bullshit that happened outside of these walls.
Entering the small space and announcing his presence, he placed the bags on the floor next to the small table.
“How you do all of this without dishes?” he asked, breaking through her focus.
Kamilla jolted slightly before turning around. Her signature coily halo was braided into two curly buns, offering him a full view of her face. A smile eased over his distressed features.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he stated, leaning on a counter so the temptation of bringing her into his arms to hold and kiss could be smothered.
She bit a smile, just as happy to see him as he was to see her. “I kinda got lost in trying to make sure I got this recipe right.”
He nodded toward the set of pans sizzling the food on the stove. “What you make?”
“I really wanted my mom’s spaghetti and I went to the store with Dania and acted on impulse. I probably should’ve asked if you were allergic to anything, huh?” Kamilla spoke up, fully taking him in. Tight shoulders, busted knuckles. “You okay?”
Cairo offered her a half nod. “Yeah, I’m good.”
Her brows empathically dipped. “Sure?”
Unable to keep the guard up or block her from the residuals of his frustration, “I could use a hug.”
Kamilla nodded as she turned the pot of meat sauce down. She closed the small space between them and wrapped her arms around his waist. The second her body pressed against his, the last shred of aggravation melted off of him. Resting his chin on top of her head, he grumbled, “I like your hair.”
“Really?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you,” he spoke, sighing, then pressing his lips onto her forehead. “You and Dania had a cool day?”
He felt her tense before she laughed it off. “Yeah, I like her; she’s hilarious. I can see how her and Nate are together.”
“Trust me, she hasn’t even got started yet,” he replied, as Kamilla pulled back and picked his hand up off of her waist.
“Let me guess, they should’ve kept their mouth shut?” her question was accompanied with her grabbing a napkin, wetting it, and placing it atop the scraped, swollen knuckles.
He groaned, clenched his jaw and looked at her. The very fact that he wasn’t putting people into the concrete, sparing their lives, all while trying to stay level was telling. “Not trying to get into it. But yeah, he should’ve kept his fuckin’ mouth shut.”
“I see,” Kamilla hummed, moving further away. “Hold that there.”
Cairo watched her pour the water off the noodles, toss in a drizzle of oil and grab the paper plates. He’d had enough of the space. Finger hooked in the back of the biker shorts she wore, he pulled her back, lifted her up and placed her on the counter.
“So, no to holding the wet napkin on your knuckles,” she sassed.
“Not my first set of bruised knuckles. Not my last,” he admitted, boxing her in. “Especially if niggas think that using you is a topic of conversation.”
Kamilla frowned slightly. “That’s because of me?”
His response came out in a rumble. “It’s been about you since it became about you.”
Kamilla swallowed, then nipped inside of her lip.
“Everything is about you,” he mumbled, trying to determine when the right time would be for him to explain how KP fit into all of this. Her touch distracted him. Against his broad shoulders, her tiny hands rested there, offering him a very subtle caress. “The shit is dangerous.”
She withdrew. “I don’t want you sacrificing yourself for me.”
Cairo picked up her hands and placed them back on his shoulders and leaned closer in. “It’s too late for that. It was too late when I broke in your aunt’s spot, took your toothbrush, and brought you here.”
“I’ve been trying to figure out how my toothbrush made it over it. Damn, I’m such an easy mark.” Kamilla’s laugh further soothed him. “You have intentions of giving me back to my aunt?”
“No. Just like you don’t have no intentions on leaving. You took the two pots a nigga had and made dinner. Yeahhh, it’s a wrap,” he rumbled, peppering her face with kisses.
“You are out of your mind,” Kamilla giggled.
“You like it,” he declared what she wouldn’t. “You can say that shit. I don’t cower.”
She nipped a small. “I’ve never been liked back for real.”
“I kinda like it like that.”
“Kinda?” Kamilla quizzed.
“Yeah, like I get to be the first experience of some solid shit. In return, I get some pure shit. On the flip side, you’re too good to ruin. I don’t want that blood on my hands,” Cairo admitted.
Kamilla pushed him back slightly. “So we can just be friends for real and forget the rest, right?”
He looked down at her, taking in those big eyes that were looking for anything but agreement to her suggestion.
“Oh… you thought I was just talking when I said I didn’t want to be your friend?” Cairo quipped. “Loco’ Tacos is a pile of nothing.”
Her eyes double sized. “That was you? That’s why Dania started laughing. Oh my God, Cairo.”
Her hands covered her face only for him to peel them away.
“If you can’t work in peace, ain’t nobody working at all. It’s that simple. Now, back to this friends shit. I’m not coming up off you. Get comfortable,” he punctuated his declaration with a kiss and pulled away before things got to heavy between them. “I got you some supplies to get started.”
Kamilla turned her attention from his eyes to at least twenty bags on the floor by the table. “Did you leave anything for anyone else?”
“Nah, you needed it all,” he announced, stepping back and digging into his pocket. He pulled out a couple bills and handed them over. “Put that back in your stash.”
“Cairo, no,” she huffed. “I’ll be fine.”
“You are and you’re going to have more than one semester paid for. Four years from now, I want to be the proud nigga at graduation,” he announced, nodding her to the table.
“Oh, four years. So you’re keeping me, keeping me,” Kamilla teased.
“On Azul.” Cairo gave her a lopsided smirk. “I’ll fix the plates; you cooked. Should I get used to this?”
She shrugged. “I got to earn my keep somehow.”
“Already earned. I haven’t had a homecooked meal since my nana died.
I could’ve been running the streets all night, she made sure I had dinner on the stove, in the oven, or in the fridge.
I could’ve been gone for days and she would just put it in a bowl and stack it up in the fridge.
When I finally popped up, it was me and Nate and a grip of Tupperware bowls. ”
“When did she pass away?”
“…Four years ago. Heart attack. Stressing about me in the streets. Mourning her daughter.”
“That’s a long time not to have a homecooked meal,” Kamilla commented. “I know you miss her. Is that why you don’t like sharing your space?”
He nodded. “In short.”
“I can’t get the long version?”
“Yeah, not today, though. I got to get creative and I’m teetering between laying up with you or turning a nigga into a garden,” Cairo muttered with a mouth full of food. “This shit is good, though. Ain’t that cheap ass out the jar sauce. Yeah, you stuck.”
“I think that’s just serotonin,” Kamilla quipped, waving him off. “It fades.”
“Not when it’s pure, K.”