Page 4

COCO

“Can we talk?”

Quilo shrugged his big shoulders.

I hoped his favorite dinner would put a smile on his face.

Even that hadn’t softened him up.

“I know you’re upset with me, but I had to do what was best for you.”

“You really think uprooting me from everything I know is what’s best for me?”

Without hesitation, I nodded.

“You barely made it out of the eleventh grade because you stayed in so much trouble. You’re too smart to be throwing your life away, Quilo.”

He chuckled.

“Yeah, aight. You think I’ma do better here? You do know that trouble is everywhere, right? Moving to a whole other city doesn’t mean shit.”

I grimaced at him cursing.

“It’s a fresh start. You also barely escaped jail time this last incident.” Just thinking about it turned my stomach.

I didn’t want to see my brother behind bars or dead.

To think that he was following in our father’s footsteps truly instilled a fear inside me that I despised.

“Again… What is moving to this city gon’ do? If you ask me, we were better off in Orlando. At least I knew how to move.”

“That’s just it, Quilo. You shouldn’t be moving like anything other than a high school kid. Having to look over your shoulder—”

“Stop it, aight,” he cut me off so smoothly, my eyes narrowed.

“Look, I get what you tryna do. All I’m sayin’ is, don’t be mad if some shit happens here.”

Frowning, I said, “That’s a crazy thing to say.”

“It’s not. You gotta get outta that fairytale mind of yours. You want everything to be perfect when it’s not.”

On one hand, I hated Quilo’s outlook on life.

Then again, he wasn’t totally wrong.

I did want everything to be perfect.

Or at least put together.

Right now, things just felt so messed up.

Especially since I was back to square one with my job search.

As much as I hated to admit it, the position at Dr. Bell no matter how much it hurt me.

I’d go to my grave seeing to it that he walked a different path than that of the man who fathered us.

It took me a minute to get myself together before going back to the table.

Quilo took one look at me and knew that I’d been crying.

His fork clanked against his plate as he placed it down.

Clearing my throat, I picked my fork back up and tried to force myself to eat a few more bites.

This steak wasn’t cheap.

“I’ma do my best, aight?”

Quilo’s low declaration eased some of the tension in my head and chest. As long as he tried, I could hold on to hope.

Outside of the restaurant, evening had turned into night.

The street was now flooded with folks coming to enjoy the festivities downtown had to offer.

Along the curb just a few feet away from my car were four men sitting on top of a black Impala.

I knew by the way they stared at me, that they were going to say something.

So, I put my head down and let Quilo put me on the other side of him as we walked to the car.

“Yeen gotta be scared, lil’ nigga,” one of the dude’s said.

I found that funny because Quilo was taller and bigger than all of them.

“If we wanted ya bitch we could have her,” another one said.

We were almost to the car now.

For a moment, Quilo froze.

Hearing someone call me a bitch burned him.

I tugged on his arm, praying he dropped it.

“Say, come here, shawty. Wit’ yo’ fine ass.”

We finally made it to the car but not before the men started approaching us.

“Aye, baby. You’on here me talkin’ to you?”

Quilo stepped in front of me.

“Nah, she don’t. Move the fuck around, my nigga.”

The men cackled like Quilo wasn’t as intimidating as he looked.

“I tell you what. How ‘bout I beat yo’ ass, then take yo’ bitch. I’ll send her back to you after me and my crew done wit’ her.”

I scoffed at the implication.

“You ain’t gon’ touch my fuckin’ sister. I’ll kill all you niggas.” The steeliness of Quilo’s statement made me briefly glance his way.

“Open the door and get in the car, Coco,” he told me.

“Nah, Coco is comin’ with us.”

As soon as the one who ran his mouth stepped into Quilo’s face, Quilo punched him so hard, his fist made a disgusting sound going across the dude’s face.

He knocked him out cold.

All hell broke loose, with the other dudes rushing toward us.

One pulled a gun and aimed it at us.

Before I could react, my brother pulled a gun from his back.

“Quilo!” I shouted as gunshots rang out.

The men scattered to duck Quilo’s shots.

“Get in the car!” he ordered while standing like a shield in front of me.

Eyes wide, I rushed into my car and cranked the engine.

Instead of going around to the passenger side, Quilo threw himself into the backseat as I threw the car in reverse and tore away from the curb.

Bullets bounced off the hood of my car as I put some distance between us.

I nearly panicked when they retreated back to their Impala.

Throwing the car in drive, I sped down the nearest block to get away from them.