Chapter 7
SEVEN
Leaning against my ride, I listened to the most beautiful sound ever known to a hustler. The sound of the hood. From the children running around to the mothers calling for them because the streetlights had come on and it was time to come home.
From the random, unrelatable words that some of the prostitutes chanted as they walked up and down the street, hoping someone would stop them to the whispers of the nightlife insects as the sun set.
From the chatter of the niggas that lined the block to the cries of the babies with empty bellies or tired eyes.
From the sound of the corner store’s bell to the screeching of tires up and down the pavement. From the giggles of the women that walked past the niggas that lined the block wishing one would pay them some attention to the continuous slamming of car doors.
I loved it. I loved it all. Dooley is and would always be home.
It flowed through my blood and wouldn’t stop, not even after I was underneath the dirt.
It balanced me. I appreciated Huffington Hills for the knowledge it instilled in me, making me a downright, dirty dog in the streets.
And not the filthy kind one would consider but a genius.
A mastermind. One that could outsmart, outrun, outlive, and outshine any nigga that ever walked Dooley’s streets – including the politicians and police.
Though I was a nigga from the hood, I was blessed with the same education as presidents and the people that appointed them.
My aunt and uncle only accepted the best of everything for me, bringing sheer balance to my world. As well as I could eyeball a bad batch, I could solve a trigonometry problem just by looking at it. I was the best of both worlds.
Glancing at my phone, I happened to catch the moment the numbers after the nine hit fifty.
It was going on ten and the urge to call it a night reigned supreme over all else.
I stretched my arms as I stood straight up, my knees locked and a grunt evaded my body.
A nigga getting old as shit, I thought as I tapped the button on the fob to start my engine.
Just as I opened the door, I heard a familiar voice on side of me.
“Can I go with you, Ken?” Deidra, one from around the way, asked while stopping near the door that I’d just opened.
“Nah. Keep going where you were already going,” I suggested.
“I was going right here,” she informed me, rolling her neck in the process. Her brown skin and silky hair were flawless – always had been.
“To ask a question you already know the answer to?” I chuckled, sliding into my truck with one hand on my steering wheel.
“You’re fresh out, Ken. I’m sure no one has swooped you up yet.” Folding her arms, she frowned and tilted her head as if I owed her an explanation. I didn’t but Dee was aight with me, so I gave her one anyway.
“Somebody already beat you to the punch.”
“Who, so I can find her and beat her ass,” she asked, looking around as if the person I was speaking of was near.
“She’s not out here, Dee.” I chuckled.
“You just keep breaking my little heart,” she groaned, overly dramatic as she always was in conversation with me.
“Better yours than hers, baby girl.” With my right shoulder, I shrugged.
“Oh, this one must be special.”
“The most special,” I admitted.
“Well, maybe better luck next time, huh?” She was still hopeful, but there was no use for the small glimmer she was holding onto.
“There won’t be a next time. There’s an entire block full of niggas. Take your pick,” I reminded her, pointing at the corner where there was a cluster of niggas kneeling and playing dice.
“You’re my pick.”
“I’m not available, baby girl.”
“For how long?” She chuckled. “Almost everything has an expiration date when niggas like you are involved.”
“Not this one. This one doesn’t expire.”
“Awwwww shit, Ken,” she whined, puckering her pretty brown lips that I wouldn’t have minded seeing wrapped around my dick. “She really got you bent like this?”
“Bent!” I agreed with a nod.
She did. I wasn’t trying to hear shit from anybody about it, either. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she was bent, too.
“See you around, Dee.”
“I guess.” She sighed, walking away from my ride defeated.
Dee was thorough. I’d known her since we were kids and year after year, she shot her shot. I wasn’t mad at her, but I wasn’t the nigga for her. Neither were any of the niggas I’d pointed to. I knew that and so did she.
Deidra was a diamond in the rough, one that didn’t belong in Dooley but didn’t quite know how to get out.
She wanted me to be her ticket, but I couldn’t be.
I was already spoken for and had been for far longer than I’d like to admit.
Some nigga someday would be lucky to have Deidra in their world. I just wasn’t that nigga.
“You gone, nigga?” Tron walked past as he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Streetlights on, got to get home, huh?” He found himself amused.
“Something like that.”
The slamming of my door rattled the truck a bit, causing it to shift from one side to another.
I tapped the start button while simultaneously pressuring the brake.
Once the truck acknowledged its official start, I placed it in gear and pulled forward, slowly and carefully just in case a kid decided to risk their entire life chasing a ball into the street or rolling down a hill on their bike.
The darkness of my home was welcoming, but the silence…
the silence was eerie. Because for the first time in my life, it wasn’t enough.
It wasn’t enough to welcome me. It wasn’t enough to satisfy me.
It wasn’t enough to keep my heart from drumming in my chest as I pushed past the living rooms, dining room, theatre room, bathrooms, kitchen, bar, pool hall, and onto the balcony with the sickest view of my city.
It just wasn’t.
Even as I pulled the blunt that I’d rolled on the way home from behind my ear and lit it, contentment just didn’t find me.
I inhaled, gathering the smoke in my lungs and letting it linger for a bit as I closed my eyes.
Exhaling, I reopened them and watched as the smoke that once filled my lungs, ventured into the chilliness of the night shortly before disappearing.
I want a family. My inner thoughts surfaced long enough for me to admit it. My appetite for unconditional love and adoration almost felt unreal. Foreign to say the least. I was ready to love and be loved on.
The children, the headaches, the empty pockets, the holidays, the tooth fairy.
The sports. The crying. The hollering. The births.
The dates. The vacations. The smiles. The messy home.
The diaper changes. The lack of peace and quiet.
The crowded bed. The lack of sleep. The laughter.
The love. The family. I wanted it, and I didn’t want to wait any longer for it.
“Ha,” I chuckled as I made my way back into my home, “all because of a fucking message.”
The realization that a message I’d received months prior had been the seed of my current thought process; I couldn’t contain the laughter that erupted as I poured a glass of Remy from the bar area.
“And I didn’t have enough fucking sense to just write back. Anything,” I chastised, shaking my head before tossing the first shot back.
Another followed quickly after because I knew that as pissed off as Lyric had made me a few mornings ago, it was no one’s fault but mine.
Her hesitancy was my issue, not hers. She’d removed her armor and shown me her vulnerability, only for me to hand her my ass to kiss.
While my selfishness and thoughtlessness convinced me that I wasn’t good enough with words or didn’t have enough of them to express my feelings to Lyric, I forgot that she’d done that for me.
She’d ripped off her shield and conjured the strength to share her deepest secrets and most intimate thoughts with me.
Yet, I fed her silence. And to know that I thought it was better that way was sickening, forcing me to pour a third shot.
My ignorance wasn’t acceptable. It wasn’t until I’d seen the hurt on her face and the trembling of her body when I touched her that I understood that.
Pissed because she wasn’t willing and ready to accept me, yes the fuck I was. In all honesty, I had no right. I’d somehow found comfort in ignoring her for three whole months. Yet, I wanted her to fall to her knees and worship the ground I stood on when I was ready and in front of her.
What about when she was ready? The question replayed in my head.
All of my life I’d selfishly involved myself with women, and while I considered this taking a different approach with Lyric, I’d finally come to the realization that it was all the same.
Reassurance was a priority for her. It was one of those things that she needed to feel loved, respected, and admired.
To this day, I hadn’t reassured her of shit.
For three months while I sat behind the wall, I’d done the opposite.
Had I at least written anything in return, we’d be much further in our journey. And when I got out, everything I was now expecting from her wouldn’t just be a figment of my imagination. It would’ve been my reality.
I felt queasy knowing that I’d bombarded my way into her world and barged into her home demanding things of Lyric that I didn’t have the right to.
My entitlement was repulsive. The way I’d invaded her space, kissed her lips, and fucked her as if both our worlds were ending.
It was beautiful chaos. It made me sick to my stomach.
She didn’t deserve that. I didn’t deserve her. Not, yet.
I needed to wait my turn. I needed to wait until she was ready again.
I’d fucked up royally and though the rejection stung like a motherfucker, she was well within her rights.
Lyric had done the legwork for us both, but I’d put us back at square one by leaving her heart on the platter to rot and dry.