Page 25

. . .

Malik leaned against the side of a boarded-up corner store near Longley Ave, duffle at his feet, and a cigarette hanging from his lip—not lit.

He didn’t smoke, but sometimes he needed the feel of something to hold between his teeth when his thoughts got too loud.

It was usually a toothpick, but he bummed a smoke from Gran Betty.

He was back at work even though mentally, he was in Aku’s condo watching her sleep. He shot her a text when he thought she was up, but Aku hadn’t responded yet.

Malik pushed all that to the back of his head, because he needed to keep his head on the swivel. When he saw his customer walking up, he handled his business.

The drop was clean. Quick exchange. Fist bump. No talking. They never talked much out here anymore. Talking got you remembered…got you followed.

He slid the strap of the empty duffle over his shoulder and made his way back through the alley, eyes sharp...always sharp, even when he was tired.

“We wasn’t supposed to be here this long, Key.” Pharaoh’s voice was in his head like always.

That day stuck to him like a second skin—some shit he couldn’t get rid of even when he tried with prescription pills.

And maybe they weren’t.

But Malik was, because Pharaoh wasn’t - not in the way he used to be.

He hopped in his car, headed to see his boy since Quesha had been blowing his phone up all damn day. Malik wasn’t in the mood for her shit, but that was his life. Showing up even when he didn’t want to. He felt it was the least he could do.

Pulling up to the house, he realized his Glock was still in Aku’s car.

He felt naked without it now that he was back in the hood.

Thankfully no one from his side had been hit, but them other niggas couldn’t say the same.

Which meant, tensions were higher than ever.

That get back felt personal to them like they wasn’t the ones who rolled up to Crescent looking for death.

Malik didn’t knock this time, since the screen door was open.

Quesha’s voice met him before he could stumble in good enough. “I been callin’ you all damn day.”

Malik licked his lips, looking down on her since she was short. That sexy height he loved on Aku didn’t sit on Quesha. “I seen it - was busy.”

“You always busy.” Her hair was braided, sweeping across her ankles. She wore one of Pharaoh’s old tees, her belly poking just a little, from too many late-night dinners and too little sleep.

“And you always yellin’,” he muttered, heading to the fridge.

She followed him, stomping her feet.

“The lights ‘bout to go off,” she told him, crossing her arms over her chest. “We got two days. Pharaoh’s therapy bills took all the extra.”

He paused with the fridge door open. Cold air hit his face. The light inside flickered like it was tired too. “I’ll handle it.”

She sighed, leaning against the counter. “You always say that, like it’s easy.”

He didn’t respond. Just grabbed the last bottle of water and twisted the cap. His stare was blank.

“It’s not just me and Pharaoh no more, Key. Bren needs shoes, diapers, and food…” She rolled her neck with each word. He liked it more when she was still so mad at him that she barely said anything to him. “If Bren had her daddy , I’d actually have some damn help.”

His jaw clenched, his hand squeezed the flimsy water bottle. “You really wanna go there tonight, cuh?” His question came with a warning.

“I’m just sayin’,” she snapped. “I didn’t lay down and make her by myself.”

“No, you laid down with a nigga who used to beat on you and throw up flags he wasn’t willing to die for.”

Her face cracked, but only a little. “That ain’t fair, Key.”

Key and Malik were two different people. Hearing his street name did nothing for him anymore. Where there used to be pride and street cred, he was starting to despise it all—it came with too much. The name had been given a price he could never pay off.

“And none of this shit is,” Malik said, stepping around her. “None of this supposed to be how it is. Pharaoh wasn’t supposed to be in that car. Jules wasn’t supposed to be in that casket. And your dumbass wasn’t supposed to fall in love with a nigga we both knew had it out for me.”

“I didn’t fall in love,” she snapped. “I was scared.”

Malik turned, his eyes caught hers and held them there. His heart didn’t even remember the times he was so deep in love with her that he was willing to take a bullet for her—had taken a life for her. “That’s the thing with fear. It don’t care who gets hit, just who gets caught.”

Quesha wiped her face, hating that he didn’t see her like he used to. Now, she was just another mouth for him to feed. Another burden tying him to Crescent—holding onto him so tight he never saw a life where he left it for good.

Life had done them both dirty so long ago and no matter how pretty Aku made dirt seem, wasn’t shit about it beautiful.

The story she forgot was the one when families were packed up to partake in the gold rush, finding themselves empty handed and hungry.

Or the story where those diamonds in the cave came with blood.

Malik saw the real, felt it when he inhaled and exhaled.

They stood in the silence after that, both knowing what was behind the words.

Blood, history, and hurt that never really scabbed right.

Shattered hearts and a little girl without a Daddy and a Mama that didn’t think she was good enough to leave the hood and really give her kid a fighting chance outside of the hood.

Government assistance kept Quesha stagnant and that one night full of bruised egos and a lover’s quarrel left him stuck too.

The sound of Pharaoh’s wheelchair rolling down the hall broke the moment. He peeked in, slurred voice barely audible but smiling anyway. “Malik…”

“What’s up, cuh,” Malik said, swallowing his pain.

“I—I wanna watch Friday. The one with the ice cube.”

Malik smiled, a real one this time. “Say less, cuh...I got you.”

Pharaoh wheeled himself back, satisfied.

Malik’s eyes shot to Quesha. “I got the bills, I always do. Get him situated and put that movie on for him.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

He tugged her arm. “I got Bren with the school shit too. Don’t worry. I got y’all like I always do.”

“For how long though ‘cause I heard you with a bougie bitch now?”

Pushing his tongue into his cheek, he swallowed all the vile shit he wanted to say. “You got too much other shit to worry about, Que.”

Quesha walked to the sink, turned on the water. “I ain’t your charity,” she said low. “But I ain’t too proud to ask when it’s for my daughter.”

“You ain’t never been my charity, Que,” he said, grabbing his keys. “You just part of the damage.”

He left after a brief conversation with Pharaoh.

And as he passed through the blue-lit streets again, past the same walls he’d bled for, Malik couldn’t stop the image of Aku from floating back into his head.

The way she looked at the party - all joy and twerk and gold jewelry.

The way she looked at him as she rode his dick taking every piece of him—the dirty shit he didn’t want to get on her.

The way she didn’t bring up the shooting or ask too many questions.

She didn’t know it, but he needed her that day. Not to fix him, just to remind him he still had light in him somewhere.

Maybe she did know. She got him out there when he didn’t want too…gave him her body too when he was probably the least deserving nigga in the world. The lives he took, the blood he shed, the tears he caused Black Mamas? How was something so perfect laid in his hands after all that?

He smiled, windows down, Nip talking to him through music.

Aku laid it all in his hands. Now, it was time for him to take them the rest of the way.

Malik sat on the edge of his bed, just thinking. Light from the streetlamp spilled through the curtain, cutting across his room like a crooked scar. His hand gripped the orange pill bottle so tight the label was starting to peel.

He turned it over in his palm, thumb grazing the childproof cap.

He didn’t take one. His chest felt heavy, and his head was loud. Aku’s voice played on a loop. He grabbed his phone to see if he missed a notification. Still no text from Aku.

He knew she was probably mad at him for dipping without saying anything, but he had to work and needed to think. They were moving so fast his head was spinning.

He hadn’t meant to ghost her like that.

He left a note on her bathroom mirror. Folded paper with ink smudged from his wet fingertips. “You deserve rest. I needed air. -M.”

Didn’t mean shit though if she ain’t read it.

And knowing Aku? She probably read it and rolled her eyes so hard they hit the ceiling.

He sighed, rubbing his face raw with both palms, then tossed the pill bottle across the bed.

It bounced before landing softly next to a hoodie he wore the other day.

Looking around his room, he started cleaning up.

It was time for a fresh start, starting with getting his space clean.

Malik played some music and got to it, rapping along to Lil Baby.

The music wasn’t too loud even though his people never really tripped.

The music paused when a call came through.

His phone lit up on the dresser. It was Zaire.

Malik answered with a low, “Cuh?”

Zaire came in loud like always. “I was gon’ wait till the morning, but nah—I had to call. You got people askin’ ‘bout Plugged In, cuh.”

Malik blinked, still half in his own head. “Who?”

“Some exec from Tech Tank, Caleb. He was at the club with me tonight—saw the app when I was ‘bout to place a re-up. Said the encryption had him shook. Like, in a good way.”

Malik leaned back on his hands, lips pressed in a line. “What he want?”

“He tryna fly you out. Talkin’ licensing, scale-up, maybe a collab app. Cuh this the type of opportunity that don’t come ‘round twice.”

Malik let the silence stretch before answering. “White?”

Zaire sighed. “Come on, cuh.”

“White?” he repeated.

“Yea. But he different?—”

“They always different ‘til they not. They like how gritty the shit look ‘til they try to polish it with Starbucks and ‘urban’ fonts. Next thing you know, Crescent Park ain’t even in the damn app no more, just white boys with faded haircuts and Black trauma in a slide deck.”

Zaire paused. “I knew you was gon’ say that.”

Malik laughed bitterly. “Course you did. Then why you call fuckin’ up my peace?”

“But let me say this. Caleb asked if he could keep the name. Said ‘it’s already perfect.’ He ain’t even flinch when I told him the app was built in a Crip neighborhood. Said he respects the fact that it was real, raw, and already saving lives.”

Malik rubbed his thumb over the bridge of his nose. “He say anything about compensation? Ownership?”

“He said he don’t move without equity deals – wants you in on it, a full seat at the table.”

Malik’s stomach twisted like it always did when something big hovered nearby. He looked back at the pill bottle.

“I don’t even know if I want them in it, Z,” he muttered. “I made that app with pain in my chest. I ain’t sleep for two days when that little girl got shot walkin’ to the damn bus stop. Pharaoh helped code the alert feature with his damn nose tube in…that shit sacred to me.”

“And it still can be. But only if you the one makin’ the moves. Cuh, you can’t be scared to scale just ‘cause the idea started in the hood. You made somethin’ powerful. Don’t let guilt or grief trap it here.”

Malik went quiet again. The weight of it all sat heavy in his gut.

“I remember sittin’ on Pharaoh’s porch with him sayin’ he wish he had a way to track where not to go.

From seein’ kids post up not knowin’ the next street over got beef.

This ain’t no damn app to make money. This for Crescent, for The View…

for them blue neighborhoods they don’t even put on no damn maps. ”

“Facts,” Zaire agreed, ‘cause he knew what colors really meant. “But…what if it could be all that and more? What if us in those rooms made sure the shit stayed ours?”

“You sound like her,” he mumbled.

Zaire dropped his voice. “This about Aku too?”

Malik’s head jerked like the word hit him.

Zaire didn’t wait for confirmation. “What you do?”

“Who said I did anything?”

Zaire laughed. “’Cause I know how scared hood niggas get when something good land in their lap, like an extended clip when it’s time to slide on niggas.”

“Mannn…”

“Heard what happened after I left too. I know she was still out there. That shit scared her off?”

Malik scoffed. “Hell, nah. She got my ass up out of there.”

“A keeper, cuh.”

“I snuck out,” Malik revealed.

“Nigga what?!”

“I ain’t sneak , I—” he sighed. “Yeah. I dipped.”

“Why?”

Malik’s voice dropped. “’Cause I ain’t used to that kinda peace cuz. She was layin’ there all soft and still, like she trusted me with her dreams or some shit, and I couldn’t breathe, Z. That shit scared me.”

“Man, she rock with you…saw that shit in her eyes...even before y’all got close, she said you had this…gravity to you.”

“Yeah,” Malik said quietly. “She said that same shit to me once.”

Zaire got real serious. “So don’t fumble it.”

“She ain’t text back.”

“She will. You just gotta mean what you say when you show back up.”

Malik nodded even though Zaire couldn’t see him.

“You think I should go to that meeting?” he asked after a long pause.

Zaire didn’t hesitate. “I think you should walk in that room like a storm. Show up in your blue hoodie, ghetto tatts, and Chucks…remind them what legacy looks like.”

Malik’s jaw flexed.

“Set your terms,” Zaire added. “But don’t stay small just ‘cause you started in a dark place.”

Click.

Malik hung up.

The streetlight outside flickered again, like it was agreeing with everything just said. He looked at the phone once more. Still no text from Aku. Still that weight in his chest.

But now there was something else too.

A small, burning thing.

Hope…Fear…Joy ..Pain…

He got up, picked up the pill bottle, and slid it back into the drawer without taking one.

Instead, he grabbed his laptop and opened the folder labeled Plugged In Build V3.

Maybe it was time…time to walk in rooms they told him he ain’t belong in…time to be his own blueprint.

Time to make sure Pharaoh’s name stayed in the code,

Time to make sure Jules lived on,

Time to show Aku he didn’t just dip…

He just needed to gather his gravity.