Hittin' the Bricks: An Urban Erotic Tale (18 page)

Fiyah was so into his imaginary set that he lost track of the time. He glanced at his watch and cursed. Panicked, he ran through the old lot and toward his building, so bent on getting to the crib that he never even noticed when his notepad fell out of his pocket and tumbled down to the grass.

Fiyah was sweating when he stepped through the door of his apartment. The television was playing on a Spanish language channel, and Milena was lounging in her chair. The living room was trashed from her company. A cigarette dangled from her fingers and a tall can of beer was wedged between her trim thighs.

She turned her head as Fiyah walked in.

“Your ass is late. Your parole officer just left. He said to tell you this is strike one. He said the next time he comes through after curfew your ass better be here.”

She took a long pull on her cigarette, then went back to watching television like it wasn't no thang. Fiyah walked into his bedroom, patting his pocket as he searched for his notepad. A look of panic crossed his face. He glanced at his watch and then ran back out into the night.

It was dark as shit in the abandoned lot. Fiyah retraced his steps with his hands patting the grass in a wide arc. He found it! It was in the damp grass halfway between the cardboard he'd been sitting on and the sidewalk. Relieved, he stuck the notepad down in his back pants pocket. But as soon as he turned to go he got hit from both sides.

It was Bullet and that man- ass Rolo.

Them two big goons squeezed him on either side like book-ends. Fiyah braced himself because he had a good idea of what was coming next.

“What it do, Fiyah?” Bullet said. His voice was low and vicious.

Fiyah shrugged. Bullet sounded fed. He had a long nasty cut down his face that Fiyah could see even in the darkness. “I'm chillin’ man.”

“In the muhfuckin’ dark?”

Fiyah shrugged. “It's quiet out here. I like to keep the bullshit to a minimum when I'm doing my thang, ya dig?”

Bullet nodded. “Oh, okay ‘cause my brother Brody You remember Brody right? That big niggah who can brody a li'l nig-gah like you for your life? He's waiting for you. Go get ya cute fuckin’ cousin and bring her to the crib on Lexington and don't be fuckin’ late. Ya heard?”

“Man, fuck you.”

Bullet snatched Fiyah's chest so hard he couldn't breathe. “Listen up, you dumb little bitch. You mighta been in the joint with my brother but you ain't seen one of his ass- fuckings yet. That niggah say he wants your cousin? Then bring him the bitch and be done with it.” Bullet released him and Fiyah staggered backward. “You better have that ho at the crib in a quick minute.”

Rolo caught Fiyah from behind and yoked him hard, slamming
him backward across her iron thigh as Bullet poured his fury out on Fiyahs face. They fucked him over real good, busting his lips and almost breaking his jaw. Fiyah had taken ass-whippings in the past, but they were putting it on him so good that this one was one of the worst.

By the time they got tired his left eye was so swollen he could barely see out that shit. Fiyah staggered back across the street to his building. Blood was running from his nose and it felt like a couple of his teeth were loose. Even though he was in bad condition, Fiyah counted it as all good. He could survive a beat- down. What scared the fuck outta him was the thought of Brody coming after him with a burner. Ready to dead him in a split second.

Fiyah literally crawled up the steps in his building. He didn't know what the fuck it was gonna take to convince Eva that she needed to get down some kinda way with this program, but for his life, and for hers too, she was gonna have to play the fuckin’ cards they'd both been dealt. Because this time the beast had sent a dyke bitch and his brother to deliver his message. The next time that psycho muhfuckah would be coming to bite them himself.

E
va had finished up her shoot early and taken the train down to Brooklyn. Brownsville was congested with all kinds of people and walking through the projects always brought back sad memories for her, although she forced herself to hold on to the thought of what was good about the place. Her son was here, and he was happy and healthy. Eva thanked God for that and she always made sure she came around in the late afternoons when Miss Threet might have him playing outside.

On the few occasions that Eva had come to building 420 in
the spring and summer and her baby wasn't outside on a nice day, she had called her old friend Sherri out the window then stood there talking to her long enough for Miss Threet to hear her on the second floor and peep out her own window.

Always, always, Miss Threet seemed glad to see Eva. She would come outside and tell all her foster kids to go over and say hi to Eva and give her a big hug, especially Cameron, and then she'd hold long conversations with Eva, asking about her dreams and what she had planned for her future.

“Do good things and go real far,” Miss Threet would always say to her. “Life only hurts until it starts feeling good, baby. Everything that is back here for you, will be right here waiting after you make something of yourself and reach some of your goals, Eva. Just keep praying and asking God to bless you, and ask Him to bless me and all these beautiful children I got here with me too.”

Looking at her son brought great joy and great sadness to her heart. Eva was so happy and grateful for the way Miss Threet was raising him and how she seemed to love him so much and how her baby seemed to love Miss Threet right back. He was always shy with Eva, and she told herself that was only because he didn't know her. But he was hers, there was no disputing that. Those twin strawberry- shaped birthmarks under their chins was their secret connection, and Eva looked forward to the day when she could come totally clean with Miss Threet and tell her the truth about the baby boy she had rescued from the laundry mat early one morning four years ago.

She was tired by the time she climbed back on the number three train back to Harlem. Mello was spittin’ spoken word at the Corner Pocket Poetry Café tonight, but Eva had already told him she had something to do and wouldn't be able to make it down to see him, so they had agreed to hook up the
next day. It was dark in the apartment when she unlocked the door, and she crept into the living room on her toes. Her aunt Milena was asleep in her chair with beer fumes coming off her in waves. A lit cigarette hung between her fingers. Eva cursed under her breath as she took it and put it out in the lid of a mayonnaise jar that had taken the place of an ashtray.

Creeping into her bedroom, Eva tried hard to be quiet. She hated coming home late and waking Rosa up in the middle of the night. That shit was traumatic. When she was Rosa's age she'd been awakened many times in the dark of night. Either by loud, drunken voices, or by painful adult hands. Either way Eva remembered being terrified and disoriented as she came out of her sleep. She wanted Rosa to sleep straight through the night with nothing but sweet dreams to remember in the mornings.

Standing in the darkness, Eva peeled off the cute little dress she had worn to work. Her bare breasts stood out prominently in the moonlight, and her flat stomach and round ass were ever sexy in her bright orange thong. She switched on the small fan that was on her nightstand, aimed it at her bed, then flopped down on top of her covers to enjoy the breeze.

She turned her head and her eyes fell on a picture of her and Fiyah when they were kids. It had been taken at South Street Seaport and they were both licking from the same strawberry ice- cream cone. Eva smiled as she remembered that day. Her father had taken the picture and sent it to Milena when she was in rehab. Some of her best memories of growing up were when Fiyah lived with them in Brooklyn.

Eva turned her head back and Fiyah was standing in her doorway. There was blood on his face and craziness in his eyes.

“Get fuckin’ dressed.”

“What?” Eva jumped to cover her body. Her breasts were
too full for her small hands, and she snatched her dress off the floor and held it under her chin. “Why didn't you knock? What the hell happened to your face?!”

“You
happened to my fuckin’ face. Get dressed.”

“What you talking about, Fiyah?”

“Get the fuck dressed now, Eva!”

“Stop fuckin yellin! Rosa's sleep! What the hell is going on?”

Fiyah crossed the room and got up in her face. “Ask me one more question, Eva. Go ‘head. Ask me one more fuckin’ question.”

Eva was stunned. She didn't know who the fuck this cat was who looked like Fiyah. This cat was off the charts, and his whole grill had been busted.

She turned her back and started pulling her sundress over her head.

“Nah. Don't put on that old- lady shit. Put on some club clothes, goddammit. Something tight that a niggahs gonna really like. Get some of them fuckin’ Birthday Cake shorts you be sportin’ for that poser- ass Mello.”

“Poser? You's a fuckin’ poser!”

Fiyah barked on her. “Put some muthafuckin’ shit on!”

Then just like Eva had feared, Rosa woke up.

“Eva?” the little girl said. Her voice trembled in the night and Eva's heart cracked. The last thing she wanted to do was put a single ounce of fear in Rosa's heart. India's murder had already left enough of that there.

“Go back to sleep, Rosa,” Fiyah told the child. “Everything is okay.” Then he grilled Eva again. “Get fuckin’ dressed, Eva. I mean that shit.”

“To go where, Fiyah? I ain't going nowhere unless I know where the hell it is.”

“We going to a party.”

“Where at?”

“At my manz crib. Across town on Lexington Avenue.”

Eva cursed. “Oh, so you taking me over there so you can dish my ass off to Brody? Hell fuckin’ no, Fuego! You ain't selling me out like that!”

“Eva, all you gotta do is play along with him for a hot minute. Ain't nobody asking you to have a baby for that niggah!”

She tried to push past him and get out the door, but Fiyah moved faster. He swung her around by one arm and she went sailing onto her bed. Then he dove on top of her and held her down. “Bitch you wanna live?” he said, his eyes wild, his mouth inches from her face. “You wanna eat? You wanna grind? You wanna fuck, Evita? Then do what the fuck I tell you to do!”

“Why? So that mothafuckah can put his brand on me? So he can fuck me up and scramble my brain and put lumps all over my fuckin head?”

“All that swagger is for them
other
bitches!” Fiyah exploded. “Them dumb hoes! He ain't gone do none a that shit to you and he already told me that! Brody just wanna take care of your stupid ass! You ain't gotta stay with him long, Eva. Just chill for a quick fuckin’ minute. He'll give you any fuckin’ thing you want! Jewels, clothes, a brand new whip, you name it …”

“I don't want
shit
that maniac got! I see how he takes care of his bitches. He shoots them up with dope then fucks them up with both fists!”

“Don't play yourself, Eva. Brody is feeling you. Them other bitches don't even count. You're the one who's gonna have all the status. He'll bump all them guttersnipe chickens off the throne just to get with you.”

“He can keep his birds. He just can't have me.”

“You don't get it. Me and him had an understanding, Eva. That cat's about to come at my throat!”

“And so what? You just said fuck me? You get down with a fuckin’ beast in jail and then toss me off just so he can eat?”

“You
owe
me!” Fiyah exploded.
“My
life was on the line, not yours! I went to jail for your stupid fuckin’ ass! If it wasn't for you I wouldn'ta fuckin been there! You
owe
me!”

Eva got real quiet. Guilt rose up in her heart because Fiyah was right.

“You
owe
me,” Fiyah repeated, his voice a little calmer. “We used to be some slick- ass Bonnie and Clyde muhfuckahs back in the day, remember? Robbing and scheming. Getting over to get doe any possible way we could. Well Clyde got his ass locked down on The Rock, and Bonnie grew some ass and became a fashion model. Which one of us ate off that?”

“Let me pay you back some other kinda way, Fuego. Brody's got his hands too deep in the drug game. You know what kinda stumble I took when I was a kid and how hard it was for me to make it past that. I been clean for years, Fuego. Rasheena and Jahden did me so bad that I can't even be around nobody who deals with dope no more. That shit would kill me. Please. I'll pay you back, I swear. But let me find some other way.”

They locked eyes, but there was nothing but stone in Fiyah's gaze.

“This is
el Barrio,
baby,” he said, his voice low and cold. “We
all got
dues to pay. I paid mine, Evita. But you still fuckin’ owe. Now grab your
shit,
and get fuckin
dressed.
“

Eva jumped bad. “Well can I get some fuckin privacy, then? Unless you wanna be looking all at my ass and shit!”

Fiyah stood up and headed out. “Just hurry the fuck up and change.”

Eva slipped into a pair of jean shorts and a tank. She grabbed her purse from the dresser, then kneeled on her bed and raised her window. She climbed out onto the fire escape and braced
herself for the hang- fall. She'd done it many times before back when she lived in Brooklyn and was still robbing and drugging. It was how she used to get outta niggahs’ cribs with their wallets in her hand.

But this time Eva was window- dropping for a whole different reason. Crouching down, she looked back at Rosa before closing the window once more.

She put her finger to her lips …
ssshh …

In the living room, Fiyah was fed. Pacing the floor past his snoring mother, he wondered what the fuck was taking Eva so long. He stormed back to her bedroom and stood outside the door. “Yo, Eva! Hurry the fuck up!”

He opened the door a crack and saw Rosa sitting up in the bed. She was alone.

Fiyah cursed.

“Where's Eva?” he demanded.

Rosa glanced at the window and put her finger to her lips
… ssshh …