Chapter 8
Mona
I’m sorry to leave you like I’m about to do, Auggie.
You’ve been blessed not to be in the streets the way that I have.
My siblings and my dealings aren’t going to be the reason you are in those streets.
I love how you come home before the streetlights bless the streets.
I’m not going to be the reason you don’t come to our kids and me, I thought, enjoying his warm palm sliding across my stomach.
Placing his mouth to my ear, he whispered, “Whatever you thinkin’ ‘bout, let it go. We gon’ handle that shit tomorrow.”
Exhaling sharply, I nodded while turning into Kingsley and Ryan’s neighborhood. Not giving a damn about the dark hours, I didn’t bother to decrease the radio’s volume. Whoever was awakened by my speakers could kiss my ass until I exited the neighborhood.
While August kissed my neck and tapped his fingers against my belly to the song’s beat, I thought, pick up the weapons and drive safely to Georgia. I’ll be in and out within four hours. No lingering to prove a point or talk more than I have to. I’ll be in the hot seat when I get back.
My music went silent, causing me to stop thinking. The twins hooted as August thrust and excitedly hollered, “Gotdamn! They got that bitch pumpin’ an’ jumpin’!”
“Yes, they do,” I answered as August placed my phone in the console.
At once, hot air swarmed us. While I sucked in too much of the heated air, the bright interior lights blasted, allowing me to see King climbing out of my window.
Looking in the rearview mirror, I saw Kingdon sitting on the windowsill.
Shaking my head, at the fools who would turn out a party that wasn’t supposed to have been held, I wished I could have been in better spirits to join them.
Once I pulled in the middle of Kingsley and Ryan’s packed front yard, the twins hopped out of the window, dancing. August wrapped his arms around me.
Kissing my neck, he said, “I feel you, baby. I know you off the charts wit’ yo’ thoughts. I know you need to be by yo’self. Go home. My truck here. I’mma come back a lil sober.”
Feeling heavy for the anguish I was about to bring his way, I nodded. “Okay.”
After climbing into the passenger seat, I didn’t waste time deeply pulling him toward me while sliding my tongue into his mouth. I needed his thuggish strength to get me through my thoughts of planning to restore order without my name not being in anyone’s mouth.
When he released my lips and glided his knuckles down my cheek, he said, “When I get in, I wanna know what you came up wit’. We gon’ execute that shit flawlessly. A’ight?”
“Okay.” I nodded, retrieving the frozen cups in a brown crate from the floorboard. “Suck down the frozen goodies with fruit on top, August.”
“A’ight.” He chuckled, grabbing the crate and opening the door. “Momma, I’m on the way to escort you out. Mona gon’ head to the house.”
“Okay.” She smiled as I turned to look at the serene woman who was blessed beyond measure.
Once August exited my truck, Momma Orthella touched the back of the seat. Lovingly, she asked, “Mona, what’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“Everything,” I offered, seeing her son walk behind my vehicle.
“Talk to me befo’ he open the door,” she ordered sweetly, tapping her fingers on the seat.
“I can’t understand or read all that well. My brothers have me in a bunch of mess. My parents make me sick. I want them to die,” I blurted, not meaning to mention my biggest and most ashamed flaw.
“Mona, we gon’ talk ‘bout all that tomorrow. I feel my son is near,” she said in a motherly tone that I wished Momma would’ve spoken to my siblings and me in.
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, climbing into the driver’s seat as the back passenger door opened.
As wind hurled inside, I rolled up the windows that the hyped men had to have down.
While looking at my man extending his hand to his first leading lady, I softly smiled at them.
Momma Orthella was a doll, planting her soft hand into her overprotective son’s palm.
August Senior’s love for his mother made me fall harder for him.
To add, that he was a wonderful father caused the cherry to fall perfectly on my whipped cream affection for him.
“Be safe. Think as much as you can. Don’t get too low. If you do, call me. I’mma run to you. I love you, Mona,” August declared, leaning into my truck, studying my eyes slowly.
“Okay. I love you.” I winked, increasing my amplifier’s frequency. I needed to damn near bust my windows. I needed the bass to drown my sorrows so I could plot out my moves to the T.
When the knob wouldn’t turn anymore, August and Momma Orthella were safely away from my truck.
Clearing my throat, I shuffled ‘Bust-a-bitch-or-nigga’s Back Open’ playlist. Doe B featuring Jr. Boss’s “Chickens in the Coupe” blasted, causing my body to jerk as my fingers grasped the steering wheel harder.
The adults in the yard went crazy as August looked in my direction, dropped his head, and looked sternly. Ignoring what his stance meant, I respectfully drove from the yard, flashing the lights seven times. That was the signal for ‘I love you’. We came up with that months into dating.
Sliding my fingers into the door cubby hole, I scooped a lighter into my palm. Needing to relax and let the bass consume me, so my mind would be susceptible to receiving every strategy and mistake that could be made, I flicked the lighter repeatedly.
Driving the speed limit down the road, so I wouldn’t raise alarm within August to be behind me in seconds, the little demonic girl voice held out, “Go get’em, Mona.”
“No,” I hissed, slapping the seatbelt over my body as I approached the stop sign. “I need to think.”
“Go get’em, Monaaaa,” the voice screamed as I flicked the lighter faster and halted at the stop sign.
Nooooo! I thought, skirting from the stop sign and restarting Doe B’s song.
Relaxing in the seat and mashing more on the pedal, a message from Dropo slammed into my head like bricks, causing me to grimace.
When I catch yo’ brothers, I’mma slaughter them.
Especially that one who in them Feds fuckin’ paperwork.
Yo’ best bets is to brang yo’ ass back to the city an’ work off yo’ siblings’ debt.
I ain’t playin’ wit’ you, Mona. I know you a gotdamn mastermind.
You look like one. I’mma keep kickin’ yo’ folks door fo’ them niggas.
I know that mammie of yo’s gon’ apply pressure to yo’ fuckin’ neck.
I would kill’em fo’ you, but they my ticket of havin’ you in my face.
Not brang yo’ ass to me an’ see how I’mma come to the ‘Ham scoutin’ fo’ yo’ ass.
You gon’ get all my dope, guns, an’ money back them lil fuckas stole.
You gon’ bend ova backward to get my shit back right.
You can bet yo’ asshole on that. Thank shit a game … fuckin’ try me.
“Bitch,” I hissed, flicking the lighter for the last.
Tossing the lighter into the cubby hole of the door, I slowed for the final stop sign. Seeing the badass tricked-out black trimmed in gold box Chevy Caprice, riding buckey naked, aka no rims, in between black-on-black Tahoe trucks, I knew the city was about to be on fire.
My cell phone backlight flashed, causing me to peek at the screen.
My jaws clenched upon seeing Dropo’s name.
Sick of seeing his shit on my screen, but couldn’t remove his number until he was handled, I growled.
Instantly, I realized that I had removed my spare monkey suit from the back hatch, which caused me to make a harsh left turn to head home.
The sooner I arrive home to get it, the closer I’ll be to hitting the road.
Pastor Troy’s “Who, What, When, Where” made my gangsta soul rise as I did an illegal U-turn in the dying grass with more rocks than needed to be on the side of the road.
Fuck my monkey suit! Plain clothes and Air Force 1s have been used before to prove a fucking point, I thought, slinging dirt and little rocks in whatever direction.
I knew where I had to be and why. I had to stomp into my old neighborhood as if I hadn’t left that motherfucka many moons ago. I was confident August would have a fucking fit about me not informing him of my moves. I would take his punishment with a smile and a satisfied soul.
I was responsible for my old life’s chapter ending, not him.
I was a gutta bitch before him, and I knew how to handle that shit while with him.
There was no way I would get him caught up in my shit.
He didn’t belong there. So, I tucked that disobedience away once I was two blocks away from Kingsley’s main street.
Coming across the intersection that would lead me to the cemetery where I hid the stolen guns that I had taken many years from Dropo, the devilish imp was heavy in my head.
As the pretty chocolate bitch, in a black halter top dress, gave me blow-by-blow plays to settle a lot of talkative and useless actions, I pressed the brakes just enough not to flip my truck on its right side as I turned.
Semi-focused on the road, I became one with my mind, letting my thoughts run wild.
That’s until I arrived at the opening of King’s favorite cemetery.
I hadn’t gone with him and August when they tossed a motherfucka in a hole.
I knew of the ten places they would dump a person inside a hole because of a tour August gave me a week after meeting August.
It was an interesting field trip that left me wondering whether I would ever end up in a hole for testing him. I did. Three weeks of knowing him, I was in a hole with a board pulled over it. Then it seemed that every two months, I was in that hole.