The Fix 2 (12 page)

“What's popping?” Li'l Monk rolled up on the group. His tone was even, but his face was hard.

“Nothing, babe. We were just on our way back with the cigars.” Sophie held the blunts up for proof, but Li'l Monk didn't give them a second look. He was staring daggers at the young man who had been trying to get with Sophie.

“Looks like y'all brought back more than cigars,” Li'l Monk said. “Who this nigga?” He nodded at the young man.

The young man matched Li'l Monk's glare. He knew the brute was trying to intimidate him, but he didn't scare so easily. “The name is Chief, maybe you've heard of me?”

Li'l Monk looked Chief up and down. “Nah, I ain't never heard of you.”

Chief laughed. “You're a funny guy, but I like that. Judging by the way you're looking at me, I take it this is your chick?”

Li'l Monk didn't answer, he just kept glaring at Chief.

“Oh, the strong, silent type, huh? I feel you, big man.” Chief's voice was dripping with sarcasm. “Look, player, I didn't mean no disrespect. I was just trying to get to know the lady, but she explained to me that she had a little situation. I know how to take a hint.”

“I sure can't tell, because if you did, you'd be walking the other way instead of trying to get cute with me,” Li'l Monk grumbled.

Sophie could see the storm raging in his eyes so she stepped between her man and Chief. “He didn't mean no harm, baby. Let's just go upstairs and smoke, Li'l Monk.”

“Oh, you're the infamous Li'l Monk?” Chief recognized the name. “I heard a lot about you, man.”

“Is that so?” Li'l Monk asked, trying to keep himself from slapping the smug grin off Chief's face.

“Yeah, you work for Omega, right?”

“Nah, I don't work for nobody, but that's my partner,” Li'l Monk corrected him.

Chief gave him a comical look. “Tomato, tomato, same shit right? We got some friends in common, so I expect we'll be seeing more of each other. No need to get off on the wrong foot, right, big man?” He patted Li'l Monk on the shoulder harder than he needed to.

Li'l Monk looked at Chief's hand like it was covered in shit and flared his nostrils. “My nigga, I think you best be going.”

“You got it, tough guy. I don't want no static, B. I was just taking a walk through garden, checking to see how ripe the fruit was, but sadly even the most delicious-looking apples always seem to have worms in them.” He cut his eyes at Sophie.

That was the last straw.

Sophie saw it coming first, but there was little she could do to stop it. “Li'l Monk, don't!”

Li'l Monk gripped Chief by the front of his shirt with one of his massive hands. “You just couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?” He slapped Chief viciously across the face. The force of the openhanded slap sent blood flying from Chief's mouth. “Bitch niggas like you always think it's fun to rattle cages until you wake the animals sleeping in them.”

“Nigga, get your fucking hands off me! I'm with King Tut!” Chief yelled.

King Tut was a name Li'l Monk did recognize. He was one of the new young dudes Ramses had recruited. If Chief was truly under King Tut, then by extension that made him family as being a part of their organization; but family or not, he had violated and needed to be disciplined. “Well, then Tut should've taught you better. Blame him for this ass whipping your disrespectful ass is about to take.” Li'l Monk slapped him twice more. Every time Li'l Monk's hand made contact with Chief's face it sounded like thunder.

“Baby, please stop.” Sophie tugged at Li'l Monk's arm, distracting him.

Chief took the opportunity to fish the small Gemstar razor from his pocket. In desperation, he swung the blade for Li'l Monk's face, but Li'l Monk moved out of the way at the last second so instead the blade came down across his chest.

Li'l Monk winced in pain when the razor opened his skin. It was a small cut, but it burned like hell and he could already feel the blood trickling down his chest. He turned his dark eyes to Chief and cracked a smile. “At first I was just going to rough you up, but now I'm going to maim you.” He cracked his knuckles. “I hope you got insurance.”

“Come get it, nigga.” Chief swung the razor again, but this time Li'l Monk was expecting it. He grabbed Chief by the wrist and twisted it until he heard his bones snap and the razor fell harmlessly to the floor.

“I don't give a fuck about you”—Li'l Monk slammed his fist into the side of Chief's head—“King Tut”—he slugged him in the ribs, breaking two of them—“or nobody else your bitch-ass name drops.” He punched him in the stomach. When Chief doubled over, Li'l Monk grabbed him by the front of his pants and his neck, lifting him over his head like a wrestler. With a grunt, Li'l Monk slammed Chief to the floor with bone-jarring force. “It don't matter who you wit', li'l nigga, this is my fucking strip. You and everybody else will either respect it, or become a victim of my wrath.” He raised his size twelve boot, ready to deliver the finishing blow to Chief's exposed face, but Charlie and Neighborhood grabbed him.

“Chill before you kill him!” Charlie tried to reason with Li'l Monk.

“That's the general idea. Now get the fuck off me,” Li'l Monk growled and tossed Charlie to the side like a rag doll, and started back toward the unconscious Chief. Neighborhood jumped on his back, while Charlie latched onto one of Li'l Monk's legs, while Tasha pushed at his chest. They managed to slow him down, but they couldn't stop the juggernaut. In the end it was the beauty who soothed the savage beast.

“Li'l Monk!” Sophie's voice cracked like a whip. She stood between Li'l Monk and his victim with her arms folded.

“Move, Sophie,” Li'l Monk ordered.

“No,” Sophie said defiantly. “I'm not going to let you do something stupid to get yourself in trouble. It wasn't that big of a deal.”

“Anytime a nigga come through my hood acting like he don't know what time it is, he gotta learn.” He was so angry that his body trembled with rage.

“And you've taught him.” Sophie pointed to the unconscious man. Sophie placed her hands on either side of Li'l Monk's face and made him look at her. “A true leader knows when to take a man's life and when to spare it. You've made your point, Li'l Monk. Let this bullshit go.”

Li'l Monk's body relaxed. He was still angry, but no longer trying to get to Chief. Sophie was one of the only people who could have that type of calming effect on him. Still, he was still angry as hell and needed to expel the built-up energy before it consumed him. Li'l Monk growled like a bear before putting his fist through the window of a parked car. The glass cut his knuckles up, but didn't do any real damage.

Sophie looked at Li'l Monk's bleeding hand and shook her head. “Are you happy now? Let me see it, you might need stitches.” She reached for his hand, but he pulled away.

“I'm good.” Li'l Monk turned and started walking down the block.

“Li'l Monk!” Sophie called after him, but Li'l Monk didn't turn around, he just kept going. Sophie made a move to follow him, but Neighborhood stopped her.

“Best to let him go his way and cool off. Them Monks can be a sour and unpredictable pair when they're angry,” Neighborhood told her.

“I know how to deal with my man,” Sophie said with an attitude. She hadn't meant to be short with Neighborhood, but she was in her feelings about everything that had happened.

“Just like a lion tamer knows how to deal with lions, but it don't change the fact that they get bit every so often. Take an old man's advice and give him some space,” Neighborhood told her and walked off.

After a few minutes Tasha was able to calm Sophie down and they went their way. Charlie had vanished not long before, leaving only Droopy and what was left of Chief. It had been a full five minutes and the young man was still on the ground, sleeping soundly. Droopy gave a brief look around before kneeling beside Chief and going through his pockets. He relieved him of his cash and the two gold chains he was wearing.

“Bitch-ass nigga.” Droopy stomped Chief once more for good measure before running off to enjoy his spoils.

Persia spent the rest of the school day on high alert. Since Marty was dead and Sarah had gotten suspended, she would be on her own if something went down. There were a few other girls in the school who she was cool with, but not cool enough to depend on them in a fight. This was a situation Persia would have to deal with alone, which was fine by her. Her father had raised her to never show fear or back down, no matter what the odds, but just to be on the safe side she put a lock inside of one of her gym socks and carried it around in her pocket for the rest of the day. She saw all three of the girls in the halls throughout the course of the day, but outside of a few dirty looks exchanged nothing happened. They were trying to rock Persia to sleep, but she was no dummy. She knew they were just looking for the right time to pounce.

Thankfully, Persia managed to make it through the rest of the day without incident, but this changed as she was preparing to leave school. While she was in her locker, loading books and taking out her purse and Discman, she accidentally dropped one of her CDs, cracking it. The worst part was that it had been one of her favorite CDs, Mary J. Blige's
My Life.
Persia would always listen to that CD when she was going through something. It was like soul therapy for her. Persia decided that before she got on the bus to go home, she would walk the few blocks to Best Buy to replace her CD.

Persia had intended on getting in and out of Best Buy and back to the bus station quickly, but Best Buy happened to be crowded that afternoon. They were having some type of meet and greet event, and it had brought out scores of young people, and media outlets. At first Persia thought it was for a rapper, or singer, but when she found out that it had something to do with an upcoming sporting event, she lost interest and focused on the task of tracking down her CD. As Persia was browsing the R&B section, she couldn't help but to notice there was a young man in the rap section who kept looking over at her. He stood about six foot four, with rich chocolate skin and innocent eyes.

When Persia finally caught him looking at her, there was an energy that passed between them that she couldn't explain. She could tell he felt it too. The hairs on her arm stood up, as they silently communicated, using nothing but their eyes. Persia felt like she knew him, as if the chocolate young man had been the figment of some long-forgotten dream, made real. It was only when Persia felt the subtle warmth building at the center of her that she managed to tear her eyes away. It had been ages since she had slept with anyone and the last man she let touch her had defiled her in ways that she cared not to remember.

Persia kept scrolling through the CDs. She found the Mary J. Blige CD she had been looking for, and stood there for a few minutes, reading the track list. Persia knew the album forward and backward, but it was a stall tactic to keep from making eye contact with the young man again. She wondered if he was still looking her way, but dared not peek. Eventually her curiosity got the best of her and she looked over her shoulder to where the young man had been standing. Part of her was disappointed when she'd noticed that he had gone and part of her was relieved. If he had still been standing there staring, she didn't trust herself not to say anything to him and with those gorgeous lips of his, there was no telling where a simple exchange of words would've taken her.

“I think
Share My World
was a better album,” someone said over Persia's shoulder, scaring her damn near half to death. She turned and saw it was the chocolate young man.

“Damn, didn't anybody ever tell you that it's rude to just be walking up on people like that?” Persia asked, with an attitude to mask the fact that he had rattled her.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you,” the young man said.

“I didn't say you scared me. I'm just not used to people invading my space,” Persia shot back.

“I see your mouth is still as slick as ever, Persia.” The young man smirked.

Persia was taken aback. “I'm sorry, do we know each other?”

The young man shook his head. “I don't know why I'd expect you to remember. You were smashed out of your mind the night we met.”

Persia suddenly felt ill. She knew that during the period of her life when she was into drugs and partying she had done some things that she would've liked to have forgotten and some things that she just flat out didn't remember. She hoped to God that she had never gone anything embarrassing in front of that fine specimen of a man.

The young man picked up on the conflicted look on Persia's face and knew exactly what she was trying to figure out, which made him laugh. “Nah, it wasn't like that. I met you and your two white friends at a club. I'm Vaughn.” He extended his hand.

Suddenly it all came back to Persia and she realized why she felt like she knew him when she saw him. She and Vaughn had met for the first on the night everything had happened at the club. He was with the entourage of rappers they had met in the VIP area. Vaughn wasn't a part of the rap group, but the cousin of the group's manager, Tone. If she recalled correctly, he was a college student at the time. She remembered Tone saying he played football at some school in Virginia. Unlike the loud and brash rappers, Vaughn was soft-spoken and polite. In fact, it had been Vaughn who tried to stop Persia from going overboard when she was drug bingeing with everyone else. He seemed like a nice enough guy and to her knowledge hadn't had anything to do with what had happened to Marty, but in Persia's mind he was guilty by association.

“Now I know where I remember you from,” Persia spat and stomped off toward the register.

“Wait a second, Persia.” Vaughn caught up with her and grabbed her by the arm, but Persia jerked away angrily. He held his hands up in surrender, letting her know he meant no harm. “Listen, I'm sorry to hear about what happened to your friend, but on my life I didn't have anything to do with it.”

“Did you try and stop it?” she asked.

“No,” Vaughn said shamefully, “but had I known what would happen, I would've. When your friends left with my cousin and the guys, I went home to get some sleep and headed back to Virginia the next day. I didn't hear what happened until a few days later. I haven't spoken to my cousin since then.”

“Why, because you didn't want to be marked as an accomplice?” Persia asked sarcastically.

“No, because I'm no fucking rapist and don't want to be associated with one, even if it is my family,” Vaughn said seriously.

“So why are you telling me this? Are you trying to assuage yourself of the guilt?” Persia asked.

“To be honest, I don't know why I'm telling you all this, except for the fact that I feel like I needed to say it. I'm no angel, but I'm no monster either,” Vaughn said sincerely. “There hasn't been a day that has gone by where I don't ask myself if I had stayed, could I have prevented what happened to that girl.”

Persia wanted to spit in Vaughn's face and tell him to get away from her. She wanted to claw his eyes out and scream, “This is for Marty!” but she couldn't. What happened to Marty was no more his fault than it was hers. Marty was dead and so were her attackers, so there was no sense to holding on to old grudges. One of the things she had learned in recovery was how to let go of the past and hold on to the future.

“Vaughn,” someone called from the end of the music aisle. Persia looked up and saw an attractive white girl, dressed in a formfitting skirt and expensive shoes. Her pale green eyes stared at Persia accusingly.
Typical country nigga,
Persia thought about their interracial relationship. Vaughn held up his finger, signaling to the girl that he needed a minute.

“You better get going. I don't want your girlfriend thinking I'm trying to steal her man's heart,” Persia said sarcastically.

Vaughn laughed. “You can't steal something that's given willingly. Anyway, I'm not gonna take up too much of your time, Persia. I just wanted to offer you my condolences for your friend and to tell you that I'm sorry.”

“You said you didn't have anything to do with what happened to Marty, so what're you sorry for?”

“I'm not apologizing for what happened to Marty, I'm apologizing for allowing you to leave with that clown-ass dude you were with instead of making you mine that night.”

His statement made Persia blush. “You really think you've got game, don't you?”

“Whether I've got game or not is a matter of public opinion, but that's another story all together. Maybe one day I'll tell it to you.”

Persia twisted her lips in disbelief. “I hear you talking.”

“No, you don't, but you will. See you around, Persia,” Vaughn told her and started toward the white girl.

Persia stood there for a few minutes, watching Vaughn and the white girl. From her body language and the way she kept cutting her eyes at Persia, she could tell the white girl was agitated. This made Persia smile, knowing that she still had it in her to make other women insecure. She spent so much time being down on herself after her bout with addiction that she sometimes forgot that she was a beautiful girl. Her conversation with Vaughn reminded her of that. She promised herself that if she saw him again, she would thank him for the wakeup call.