Page 33 of Cove City, Volume II

I decided to spend time with Best and my mother since I had been in the penthouse with Pierre for the last couple of days. Since Pierre had gone to show support to Bishop and his adopted son at a party, I decided to spend my time with the older ladies.

Being back in my Benz, that my man bought for me, felt good. Hell, calling him my man felt even better. I had decided to take the long way to Best’s house because I wanted to take in the Cove. As I approached, I noticed that once I crossed the street, the city's dynamics changed. You could tell it was where the lower class lived. It was crazy how a single intersection separated the middle class from the poor.

When the light turned green, I slowed down to take in the neighborhood. It had brought back memories of the letters between Naheem and Best. To know the Mercier family had sucked the city dry, and Parkside Cove hadn’t had a chance to catch up, was sad. Although I was planning to leave Cove City Press, I knew my article was important. I needed to make the city aware that there was still hope. That the rich, or in this case, Lake Hill, didn’t define the city. To make it right on some parts of the Avery name.

I came upon a small church nestled near an abandoned store. What caught my attention was the type of people entering. There were a few older individuals, but the majority were young adults, particularly young black males. I pulled over, parked, and got out.

The festive sounds came from the church’s doors every time someone stepped inside. I glanced at the Youth for Christ sign that illuminated on top of the church. When I opened the door, the light that cascaded in the air gave me an awe-inspiring feeling. I had become even more intrigued as I stepped further inside. You could tell some things needed to be done and fixed, but oddly, it didn’t matter. The happiness, the welcoming presence, and the pastor preaching, you didn’t notice, or you didn't care about what it looked like inside.

“Hallelujah!.

“He belted into the mic.

“Welcome one, welcome all to Youth for Christ.”

The pastor was young and edgy, with tattoos on his arms and neck. He smiled with pride as he extended his hand toward the crowd, welcoming them in.

“Amen. Listen, I see you, young brother, come in, don’t be afraid, ain’t nothing too hood for me. God said Come as you are,.

“he continued.

A lady behind him took the mic and graced it with soothing, holy tunes. While another young woman sat at the organ, letting her fingers glide across the keys. He spewed encouraging words to the young men and gave the older people hope. Things like this are what the people needed to see. This is what I wanted to showcase in my magazine. It had inspired me. I wasn’t sure who he was, but I think I wanted him to have a full spread in my first issue.

I backed out of the church feeling motivated and couldn’t wait to get started. “Tuesday?”

I heard my name being called. When I turned to see, it was Navi coming up the street. She looked like she had been crying all night, as if her heart was broken.

“Navi,” I smiled.

“What are you doing at his church?”

“Who?”

She pointed to the church, “Preach.”

So that was the man she was talking about. Now it made sense. I didn’t know what to say because from the way she looked, any word would break her down.

“I was in the neighborhood.”

“We broke up, you know. He chose this. The Holy life over me.”

“I’m sorry, Navi.”

She shrugged.

“I gave up my career for him. I’ve,.

“she paused.

I stepped closer.

“You what?”

She didn’t respond. Instead, she stared at me with tears coming from her eyes.

“Navi, if you ever need to talk, I’m here,.

“I said and stuck my hand into my purse, pulling out a pen and a piece of the envelope from the letters, writing my number down, and handing it to her.

She took the paper and gave a weak smile.

“Thank you. Do you date one of the blue guys?”

“Blue guys?” I asked.

She laughed.

“Yeah, one of the Cove people.”

I chuckled. “Yes.”

She nodded.

“Be careful, that’s all I can say,.

“she finished and walked right into the church. I didn’t think it was a good idea for her to go in there and prayed she kept her calm in the house of the lord. However, I wasn’t here to judge her; I was here to be a friend.

I rushed back to my car, hopped in, and took off. The Cove had its wild parts, but it damn sure had its interesting ones, too.

I don’t know what had come over me, but a nigga was tired not only physically but mentally. My time out on the streets, from dodging the unknown to being faced with the truth, I had come to a point where I no longer gave a fuck. Nobody cared about me, not even my own brother, a nigga who knew he was my blood and didn’t give one single fuck about me.

With everyone who turned their backs on me, and the friends who didn’t even pick up the phone to check on me. I had gone back to Mali’s to see that they had moved. The niggas moved and didn’t say shit. I came to the point of no return, and I knew it.

Karma was a bitch. She knew the right time to sneak up on someone. She knew how to make a muhfucka feel vulnerable to where they wanted to blow their brains out. Karma was a bitch. She was the epitome of get your lick back. She was sneaky, unforgiving, and ruthless. She knew how to manipulate you. She knew to hold off long enough and strike at the right time. I hated her, but she hated me more. Karma was a fucking bitch.

The night heat was nothing to be trifled with; it was the height of summer, and being outside was not an option. I had no weed, no drink, no food, no water, not even a fucking cigarette to keep me sane right now. I was struggling to find shelter, my stomach hurt so bad that it felt like I had to throw up, and my mind kept telling me it was my end. Hell, even niggas on death row got a final meal, God wasn’t even offering me that.

I came upon a homeless guy who sat against the wall; he looked like he was on a trip to the moon. What made me stop was the small can he had near his side. I knew it was fucked up, but I didn’t care. I bent down and snatched the can, rattling the change inside. The homeless man woke up, grabbing my leg.

“That’s mine!.

“his ashy voice tried to yell.

I jerked my leg to the side to get him off me, causing me to slam his head back on the wall.

“Fuck off me! This mine now nigga!”

Stomp!

I kicked his ass and walked off. I poured what was in the can into my hand, tossing the can into the street. One, two, three, four. I spotted a five-dollar bill. Nine, fifty, sixty, seventy-five. Nine seventy-five. I hurried into the corner store and bought the cheapest bottle of vodka and a loosie. As soon as I stepped foot out of the store, I cracked the bottle open and chugged it down.

“Ugh shit!”

I closed the bottle and stuck it into my pocket. I walked another mile before the heat and the liquor mix started doing a number on me. I had gone to cross the street, but the light had turned red. I saw a truck coming, but they were some ways away. I stepped into the street when a G-wagon, which was approaching suddenly, stopped. Shit, I thought God was about to do his big one, but the light had turned red, which made the truck stop.

I glanced toward the truck, but I couldn’t see because my vision had started to become blurry. I continued walking until I was across the street. My head bobbed side to side as a laugh came from me.

“In my Porsche with my Porsha and show off my Flex. Corny ass nigga..

“I laughed.

I thought about the jail rapping nigga.

“Those were some cold lines, though,.

“I mumbled.

I dropped the ball with Flex. Hell, I dropped the ball with Sasha too. My mind went from funny shit to serious ones. I was one house away from where I was intending to go, and the closer I got, the more I knew what time it was.

Bottle to my lips. I took another swig as my walk began to turn into a stumble up the driveway. I smiled and pointed when I saw my bike.

“The nigga ain’t touch my bike. That’s my muhfuckin cousin right there,.

“I slurred.

Bottle to my lips. I staggered up the porch to the door.

“Ay, P! Open the door!” I yelled.

I just wanted to talk. Pierre was my family, my only family, and he had to listen, right? I had the liquid courage, which helped me express my feelings. I didn’t know if it would make up for the shit I’ve done, but it was eating away at me, and I needed Pierre to hear me.

“Pierre, nigga open the fucking door!.

“I shouted as I banged on the door this time.

“One, two, three!.

“I slurred as I stepped back and shoulder the door. “Argh!”

The door didn’t budge. I glanced down at the bottle in my hand and smiled. I stepped off the porch and to the side of the house then tossed the bottle through the window. The alarm screamed, but I didn’t give a fuck this was my cousin’s house, and he had to let me in.