White Lines (42 page)

“Born—” Jada’s voice was feeble, as she tried to intervene.

Born wasn’t having it, though. He ignored her. “This is the third time I came through here unannounced and found shit missing. I know what I gave you, Chuck. And I know what you sold. So where the fuck is the rest of my work?”

Born’s tone was even, the look in his eyes was menacing, and Chuck was scared to death. Jada stood in guilty silence, knowing that it was she who had stolen from her beloved. Not poor Chuck. But she didn’t confess, or say anything in the young man’s defense, for fear that she would be incriminating herself. She watched the events unfold in silence.

Born saw the pleading look in Chuck’s eyes. The look that said, “I’m innocent. I really didn’t do this.” But something wasn’t right, and Born was determined to get to the bottom of it, by any means necessary. He gun-butted Chuck dead in his jaw, and sent the young man’s bloody spit flying from his mouth.

Jada screamed in shocked surprise, “Born, stop!”

Ignoring Jada’s pleas, Born stood over Chuck, menacingly. “You think I’m fuckin’ playin’?” Born advanced on the young hustler, mercilessly pummeling him with his gun.

Jada cried, tears streaming down her face, while Chuck cried out in pain as he was pistol whipped. She cried for Born to stop, but he was immune to her cries, and continued to beat Chuck savagely.

“Tell me you did it!” Born demanded. “Be a fuckin’ man!”

Omar stood his ground, feeling genuinely sorry for his boy, Chuck. He knew that Chuck wouldn’t steal from Born. But someone had, and Omar knew that there would be hell to pay. Omar said little in Chuck’s defense, since he knew that Born was too powerful and too unpredictable to be questioned about the accuracy of his assumptions. Omar wondered how much had actually been stolen from the stash, since Born was beating Chuck as if he had taken his entire life savings. The beating got more and more vicious, with Chuck curled up in the fetal position to block Born’s blows. He was whimpering in pain, and Born continued beating his ass. “Tell me you did it! Say that you took it!”

Finally, Omar spoke up over Jada’s crying. “Yo, Born, man. That’s enough. You’re gonna kill the nigga.”

Born didn’t stop. He
couldn’t
stop. He felt like a man possessed. He kept hitting Chuck with the gun, stomping him with his Timberland boots. He was like an animal uncaged, and he was no longer himself. Chuck spoke through his bloody mouth, “Yo, Born! I swear to
God!
I never stole from you.”

Born kicked Chuck in his face. Somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, Born knew that Jada had really been the one stealing from him. That was really why he was so angry. Her car was spotted in Park Hill more and more often. The only stash house that was being stolen from was this one. None of his other spots ever came up short. She was seen acting wild and out of her mind at a party. He knew in his heart of hearts that she was the culprit. That was his motivation for bringing her along on this visit to the hill. He didn’t know
how
she had gotten to the stash. Maybe Chuck had known all along that she was taking the
crack—maybe he was even giving it to her. If that was true, then he deserved this beating. And even if he wasn’t giving it to her, Born reasoned that Chuck should have noticed the shortages sooner. He should have told Born that
somebody
was stealing the shit. He was convinced that somehow Chuck deserved this ass whipping. But Born really wanted to believe that, if she was indeed the guilty party, she wouldn’t stand there and watch Chuck take such a brutal beating, knowing that she was the real thief among them. But Jada did not confess, and Born continued to fuck Chuck up.
“Tell me you did it!
” Born’s voice was demanding, almost pleading. He was desperate, desperate to believe that Jada wouldn’t do this to him.

Omar called Born out of his trance. “Born! The nigga might not be breathin’ and shit, nigga. Hold up!
Born!
”

Finally Born stopped, and stood there panting, out of breath, with his chest heaving. Jada stood close by, with tears flowing like a river down her face. Born stared at Jada. She was traumatized, but Born held her gaze. His facial expression was filled with pain. Chuck was motionless, and Omar shook his head in pity.

“Yo, Born, get up outta here. I’ll take care of this nigga. I’ll get him to the hospital. Just get her outta here and lay low, my nigga.” Omar’s tone was calming, and Born knew he was right. He needed to get out of there before the cops came, and Chuck needed to get to a hospital. The poor guy needed immediate medical attention.

Born turned and snatched Jada roughly by the arm, and led her out of the apartment. They took the stairs two at a time, with Jada still in tears from the vicious scene she’d just seen play out. She was distraught, and Born’s silence only fueled her state of panic. He drove away, eerily silent, his face was set in a deep scowl. Jada was shaken as they arrived back at their house, and they headed inside to the safety of home. Jada plopped down on the couch, crying both for her own indiscretions and for poor Chuck. She hoped the young man survived, because if not, she would die from the guilt. She closed her eyes, realizing that this had gotten way out of control. Born knew that someone was stealing. It was only a matter of time before her name got added to the list of suspects, and she
knew she couldn’t lie to him if he asked her. She began to panic, and wished she could call Sunny to tell her what was going on. But Sunny had problems of her own, and Jada had nowhere to turn.

Born went upstairs and changed his bloody clothes. Then he came back down and looked at Jada sitting sadly on the couch. He said nothing for a long time, staring at her as she sat sniffling on the sofa. Finally, he cleared his throat. “I’m going out,” he said. “I’ll be back late, so don’t wait up.”

Jada nodded, and Born left. She was actually glad that he left, since facing him was a difficult task with the amount of guilt she was feeling. She sat still for close to half an hour after Born left, sobbing and realizing that things were way out of hand. She had to get control of herself. After an hour Jada was itching to get rid of the guilty feeling she had inside, and she reached for her purse. She pulled out the crack vials she had stolen from Born, and held them in her hand. She marveled that such a tiny object had brought her such huge problems.

She went to the bathroom, shut the door, and got high. She sucked on the crack pipe and felt her head get light, felt her worries slip away. Piece by piece she felt the pain dissipate, and in its place came peace. By the time she was done smoking, all was right in the world, and she emerged from the bathroom feeling elated like never before.

She walked into the living room and put the radio on full blast. Appropriately, Toni Braxton was singing “You’re Making Me High,” and Jada sang along and danced offbeat. She was laughing at nothing in particular and just picking at her clothes like she saw a stain that was only visible to her. She thought she saw crack lying on the floor, and she panicked. The last thing she wanted was for Born to come home and find that. She bent down to pick it up, and she realized that it wasn’t crack at all. It was only a tiny piece of white paper. She stayed down on the floor, picking at the carpet and hoping to discover small shards of cocaine hidden within the fibers of the carpet. She laughed to herself, though she had no idea what the joke was. She never heard Born come back into the house.

He stood in the living room entranceway staring at the woman he
loved. Jada was crawling around on the carpet, laughing insanely to herself, and oblivious to his presence. He watched her, his heart breaking slowly and painfully. The evidence was right before him that Jada had been using his drugs. He thought about Chuck, thought about the heartless beating he had delivered to the innocent young man while Jada looked on and said nothing. Born wanted to die from guilt and regret. He had known, even as he begged Chuck to tell him that he had done it, who the guilty party really was. He knew that Chuck’s refusal to admit it was a sign that the young man really wasn’t lying. Born had wanted to believe that Jada wasn’t capable of betraying him like this. She wouldn’t hurt him like this. Especially because she knew how his father’s drug use had affected him so deeply. He wanted to cry, but he held his emotions in check as he watched her crawl around the room, zooted. She turned, and saw him standing there. He could tell by the look on her face that she knew she had been caught.

Born stood in the doorway staring at her like she was an intruder in his home. Jada was twisted, as she stood to her feet. She was unmistakably high. She was fidgety, moving around, picking at the nonexistent lint on her clothes. But even in her state of mind she could tell that his gaze was scornful. She tried to straighten herself up, tried to appear like she wasn’t high. But her attempt was pointless. Born recognized the signs; he knew the deal. Jada was so full of energy that she couldn’t keep still. Born stared furiously at the stupid look on her face. He tried to look into her downcast
eyes.

“Once a fiend, always a fiend, huh, Jada?” he asked her, rhetorically. “You still a crackhead, baby girl?” The expression on his face was one of pure hurt, pure pain.

She shook her head emphatically and attempted to spread what she hoped would be a seductive smile across her face. Instead, she twisted the corners of her lips into a wicked grin that sent Born’s fury to new heights.

“You’re so cute, baby. Come on, and let’s go to bed.” Jada’s words were slurred, her vision slightly blurry. Born stood staring at her, still.

“Look at you.” He shook his head again, and continued to look at her.
Jada was still twisting around, picking at all the lint visible only to her on her Guess jacket. He wanted to cry, but was too much of a man to ever let her see him vulnerable like that. He was too enraged to cry, and give her the satisfaction of seeing that he loved her that much. He was disgusted, and angry. Born kept his distance from her, because he knew that if he put his hands on her, he’d catch a case.

Jada stood there, high as ever, watching the man she loved look at her like she was a disease. That look was so familiar. He looked at her like she was filthy, like she was contaminated and disgusting. Jada had seen that look on the faces of countless men in her lifetime: Mr. Charlie, and all the men she’d fucked for Kelly. But never—
never
—on Born’s face. And now there it was.

His voice was ice cold as Born frowned and said, “I shoulda known a nigga can’t turn a ho into a housewife. All that talk about you cleaned yourself up, you turned over a new leaf—you was playing me all along.” Born shook his head, distraught. “You’re just another fuckin’ fiend, Jada.”

“Born, what are you talking about? I didn’t do that—”

Born charged at her, and she instinctively shielded her face with her arms, and crouched into a defensive stance against the wall.

“Don ‘t lie to me, you fuckin’ bitch! I already know!
” He was close enough to her face that she could feel his breath, and his rage.
“Stop fuckin’lying!
” He stood with his chest heaving and his adrenaline rushing. “You stole from me, Jada! You lied to me. You made a fuckin’ fool out of me.”

Jada began to cry, and the enormity of the situation became clear. Born knew that she’d been using crack, that she’d been stealing from him, that she had lied to him. It was over, and she wanted so badly to explain. “Born, please listen to me …”

But Born was done talking. And he was so close to crying that he had to get away from her. Born turned and walked out of the house, leaving Jada by herself, and slammed the door in his wake. The entire house shook from the force of him slamming the door. Jada was a mess. Still high, she slid down to the floor and couldn’t stop hearing the sound of Born slamming the door in her head. He had slammed the door on their relationship as well, and it was enough to send her spiraling backward.

Born went to his mother’s house after finding Jada high. That was his home away from home, and the one place where he knew he could be himself completely. He felt so many emotions at once, and at the forefront of all of those was rage. He was so angry that he walked right past his mother, as she stood washing dishes in the kitchen, and into his old bedroom, where he locked the door and turned his radio up.

The room still looked the same as when he’d been a young man living in his mother’s house. There was always one guest or another—cousins, uncles, and sometimes Born’s own friends—who found it necessary to stay at his mother’s house from time to time. She was always willing to help out a friend in need, and this was one of the many reasons people loved Ingrid Graham. She knocked on his bedroom door twice, and called Marquis by name. But when he ignored her, she walked back into the kitchen and allowed him to have time to himself. She knew her son. She didn’t have to see his face to tell that something was wrong. Marquis would never walk into his mother’s house without giving her a hug or a kiss or saying something slick. Ingrid resumed washing the dishes, and sang along to the Al Green song playing from her portable radio on the counter. She knew that when he calmed down enough to talk, he would come to her.

Born paced his room angrily. He was sick to his stomach, and felt like he might actually throw up. Jada was smoking again. He laughed at himself.
How stupid and how blind he must have been not to notice! She was stealing from him. Born shook his head in amazement. He shook his head, because he had known all along. And that realization is what enraged him. Born punched the closet door in frustration, and didn’t give any attention to his throbbing knuckles afterward. A large hole remained in the spot he had punched, and Born covered his face with his hands in exasperation. He was devastated.

Jada, his sweet baby girl. How could she do it? How long had she been doing it? Why did she do it? Why didn’t he confront her sooner? The truth was, Born had noticed a change in Jada’s behavior long ago. He had seen her moods change quickly. She would be sweet and sultry one moment, and then sad and withdrawn the next. In his head, he had wondered all along if she had gone back to cocaine. But his heart wouldn’t let him believe she would hurt him like that, that she would throw away all that they had just so that she could suck on a glass dick. He couldn’t believe that he had played the fool.