Boiling Point #2
“Espero que encuentres lo que buscas. Espero que todo te salga bien.” (I hope you find what you're looking for. I hope everything goes well for you.)
“Me, too, Nan.”
She smiled up at me and patted my cheek before shuffling back toward her room.
“You can shower first–”
“Do you think I should go?” I asked, turning toward my brother. “Don’t tell me what you think I should hear, or what will keep me from panicking. Or the right thing. Tell me how you really feel, Fred. You really okay with me leaving?”
Fredo walked past me and sat back down at the small table. It came with us from the other apartment, the smaller one, where Ma finally succeeded in leaving us.
I sat back down, too, anxiously waiting for what he had to say.
“You gon’ take over The Hive?”
My face balled up, caught completely off guard. “Hell naw.”
Fredo smirked. “Aight. You gon’ talk to Wyn?”
I squeezed the bridge of my nose. This nigga was evading my question. “No, Fred.”
“So there’s nothing here for you, Rick. Why wouldn’t I be okay with you bettering yourself? ‘Cause we not doing it together?”
“You saying it’s nothing here for me but you gon’ be here. You’re me and I’m you. We talked about doing this together and–”
“And then we followed Turkey into Hell to get Haze back and now one of us gotta make sure they don’t kill themselves or each other. One of us gotta make sure Nan gets to her doctor’s appointments. But the difference between me and you is I can make some shit shake here. I don’t think you can.”
I leaned back. “Why though? It feels like I’m leaving you behind, and I’on like it.”
“Nah,” he shook his head, holding my gaze.
“You could never leave me behind. Just ‘cause we won’t be together don’t mean you leaving me behind, Rick. I’m scared as fuck, bro. The only time we been apart is when we was in the camps, and even that was so long ago. But you drowning. You been fucked up since Ma, and then the shit with Wyn,
then Haze… I think a change of scenery and some discipline and shit could be good for you. See how the world is outside of this fuck ass city. You only gotta do, what, eight years? We brothers for life. Womb to the tomb. Eight years ain’t shit.”
I snorted. “So you straight then?”
Fredo rolled his eyes. “Of course not.” He sniffed as his eyes got glassy. “But it ain’t nothing some money and pussy can’t fix.”
I barked out laughter. “Yo’ ass! I hope you wrapping it up tight.”
“Of course, nigga. I ain’t you. I ain’t ever hit no one raw, nigga or bitch. I get my dick sucked with the jimmy hat, too.”
My eyes rounded. “You fasho been back talking to Pooh lame ass.”
We stood, chuckled, and he hugged me to him.
“You gon’ be straight, Rick. And everyone here gon’ be good, too. I’ll always be one phone call away.”
“I know.” He shoved me toward the shower, and I turned, feeling a little more confident in my decision to leave.
Paradise was falling apart, but you couldn’t tell when the blacklights were on and the bass was vibrating the floors. Saturday nights were packed, since Haze was the main attraction.
She and Turk just got on speaking terms outside of the club, since he bought the club a few months back. She thought he would stifle her money, but besides making sure she knew she couldn’t get butt naked, he did the exact opposite. Niggas from all over flocked to see her routine.
Sean was DJing tonight, since it was a weekend. He nodded to us as we made our way through the club to our section in the best spot, where we could see the whole floor, but they couldn’t see us.
Peanut was already in our section, eating some tacos that definitely didn’t come from the kitchen that was still out of commission. He cut his hair into a buzz, for solidarity, since I was due to cut my hair in the next few days.
As soon as we sat down, he slid us some tacos. One of the bottle girls came over with stacks of ones and fives, and a stack of twenties that Haze had for us. It came with the section, so I know Fredo already set it up before the weekend.
“Who all coming?” Fredo asked Nut.
“Set coming. Shad still laid out since his bitch ass mama signed over her parental rights, that’s why lil’ Sean up there scratching like it’s the eighties. Reem and Ty right there.”
I looked up and stood to greet my bros.
“You really leaving?” Reem said, dapping me up and shaking his head.
“Yup, so you gotta get this nigga to listen to you without me thumping him up.”
“Fuck you!” Ty bellowed, but he still dapped me up. He was having a harder time with me leaving. It didn’t matter that we fought every week. His pops was already in jail fighting life, and now I was going away, too. But he never spoke up about it.
“You know it’s true. What’s that?”
Reem revealed bottles in the pockets of his flannel. “Turk said we could bring our own bottles in. Patrón for us. Hennessy for Nutty’s wild ass. And Ty-Ty got Ciroc for your bougie ass.”
A couple girls came over when they saw we had bottles popping, and soon I had a nice little buzz. We’d gotten there a little after midnight, and Haze was set to go on the main stage at twelve-thirty.
The couch dipped as Turk jumped over the back to land next to me. He grinned as he grabbed the Hennessy and took it to the head.
“Showtime!”
The lights blacked out. Niggas started hooting and hollering, since they knew that meant Purple Haze was coming.
Tapout started playing, and a spotlight turned on, showing Haze crawling on all fours down the main stage.
The armor she built around herself after being kidnapped and assaulted was damn near impenetrable. We were all masking, but hers wasn’t clockable by anyone.
No one knows exactly what happened in the Towers before Set and Nut came back that weekend.
No one knows Haze was there with us, that she was the reason we were even there.
I think Turk did end up telling Set that Autumn was the one who killed Kilo, but even that’s speculation.
We all changed in our different ways, all of us harder and more cynical, but I wouldn’t have thought we’d all become even more sexual, trying to find pleasures in something we’d seen tainted and ruined.
But I guess it makes sense when you think about it.
Haze was targeted for her beauty. That sensuality she hadn’t tapped into at sixteen.
At eighteen though, it was on full display on that pole.