Page 13

After chilling at Solace’s apartment in Southwave, I drove back to my home in the Silver Coast Heights that I shared with Hurricane.

It was the upper-class area of Sable Cove, and you had to have big paper to live like we did.

I could see the beach from my upper balcony and backyard.

It was my dream home, but Hurricane sometimes made me feel like we were still in the damn Southshore Terrace projects.

It was ten at night, and it was way too early for Hurricane to be home, but to my surprise, he was there. I heard him talking loudly like he was on the phone as I walked through the foyer.

“You know I ain’t mean that shit. I’m sorry, bro!” He shouted, but his voice was unusual.

I found him in the kitchen and stopped in my tracks when I saw him standing at the sliding door leading to our backyard.

He was shirtless in a pair of gray basketball shorts, Gucci slides, and a few gold and diamond chains, but what was alarming was the twelve-gauge shotgun he was holding to his side, and he wasn’t on the phone.

I stood in the kitchen entrance and watched him talk to himself for close to a minute.

“You were always like blood to me. I would never intentionally do some shit!”

The backyard was pitch black, so there was no way he was talking to someone through the glass.

“Bro, you gotta stop showing up. This shit is driving me crazy!” His last words caused me to speak.

“Hosea, who are you talking to?” I uttered lowly.

He turned around and gazed at me like he didn’t know me.

His eyes were red and low, and the sunken look in his face let me know that he was going through it in his head, again .

Hurricane was 6’5 in height, athletic built like Carmelo Anthony, and his features resembled Future, but a finer version.

He had shoulder-length black and brown locs and tattoos from his face to his legs.

I couldn’t deny how fine he was physically, but the person he was, internally, overpowered his looks for me nowadays.

“To Coast… He’s outside.” I looked over his shoulder and gazed into the dark.

“He’s not here, Hosea. He’s gone, and he hasn’t been here for two years,” I replied with my voice trembling.

Ever since my brother died, Hurricane hadn’t been the same.

The schizophrenia that had been dormant since he was a kid was back, but it was something he didn’t take seriously.

A year after Coast was laid to rest, he confided in me that he was hearing voices and seeing my brother when he was alone.

I supported him and went to counseling with him, but his illness brought out his impulsive ways.

His ruthlessness, hypersexuality, and fucked-up ways wasn’t who he really was, so I stuck by him.

He was my brother’s friend, and I didn’t want to leave him suffering alone.

When he had an episode, those were the times I was forced to stay with him.

This wasn’t the first time I caught him talking to Coast. I hoped it was the last, though, because his episodes brought me into a deep depression, but I knew it wasn’t.

When I told Hurricane my brother wasn’t outside, his face appeared like he had lost him all over again.

“I miss my nigga, man,” he wept as he slid down the glass door and dropped his gun. I felt bad for him, so I dropped my bag and sat next to him on the floor. Everything that happened earlier in the day with us got pushed to the side.

“I miss him, too. We all do, but you can’t keep beating yourself up over his death.” I wrapped my arms around him.

“I know I been a fucked-up nigga to you, and I apologize. Coast don’t like that shit.” He gazed at me with glossy eyes, but no tears fell.

Even though he was going through it, his apology meant nothing to me. He’d apologized so many times that I was numb to it. I didn’t want to trigger him more, so I did what I had to do.

“You know I accept your apology. I know you’re going through a lot, mentally, but have you been taking your meds?”

“Yeah, I have, but they don’t work. They only make me more aggravated.”

“You need to relax. I’ll help you get ready for bed. Have you eaten?”

“Nah, I ain’t ate, and I can’t go to bed.

I gotta go back out and find who killed my boy.

It’s been too long, and ain’t a soul came up that did it.

I done killed so many niggas that didn’t do it, I’m surrounded by souls yelling in my ear.

I needed you home because you know you’re my only medicine that helps me.

” He slid me close to him, and my body locked up.

I still wasn’t over what happened between us, but I couldn’t fight him. He was really gone, and the moment he was having might’ve been the worst one he’s had. The look in his eyes was spooky, so I did whatever he told me.

“Why you so tense? You scared of a nigga now?” he asked with his voice low and raspy as though he was reading my mind.

“No, it’s just been a while since you touched me intimately,” I replied softly.

He pulled me onto his lap and pulled his already erect manhood out of his boxer briefs and shorts.

“Take your thong off and ride me,” he uttered seductively as he eyed me like a piece of meat. I took off my thong and proceeded to sit back on his lap. He started rubbing on my vulva.

“Damn, that pussy don’t get wet no more on sight for a nigga? I’m hard soon as I lay eyes on your pretty ass face.”

“I do get wet for you, but damn, you ain’t even kissed me or nothing. You just expect me to get wet with no foreplay?”

“Who you fuckin’, Yumila? You been giving away what’s mine?” He put his hand on my neck, something that he liked doing.

“No. You know I’m not,” I replied with my voice trembling.

“You lyin’. Coast told me you fuckin’ Mula. You fuckin’ my homie?” His grip got tighter, so I tried to stand up because I didn’t want him strangling me. I was scared because I didn’t know where his mind was, but he didn’t let me get up.

“No, I don’t even talk to Mula. You told me to never speak to him.”

“Tell that nigga you’re mine,” he gritted lowly.

Hurricane stood up to his feet while holding me.

He sat me on our glass island. I felt a grainy substance where my hand rested, so I looked at my palm.

It was a white substance. I knew it was crushed up Percs, but what angered me was that it was on a drawing I had done of a bathing suit I wanted to get material for and make.

On top of his mental illness, he abused drugs and alcohol.

When he mixed controlled substances with his psych meds, it triggered him.

I didn’t address him about ruining my drawing; it would’ve made him madder.

I was trying to get back on my designing, but Hurricane made it hard for me to be creative.

He pushed my legs up to my shoulders and then put his face in my pussy. I moaned from the feeling, but no sooner than it felt good, he bit me.

“Ouch!” I shouted and pushed him away from me as hard as I could.

He chuckled, and the next thing I knew, he grabbed me off the counter, bent me over, and slid inside me. I was wet from the saliva he left on me from the fucked-up head, so his forceful entrance wasn’t painful.

“Mmmm, that pussy wet now.” He pulled my head back and kissed my lips. I hated it when he wanted to have rough sex, but it would be over fast.

He pulled out and laid me on our cold, black marble floors in missionary. He sucked on my neck, and it hurt because he was leaving me hickeys. I silently cried to myself as Hurricane got his rocks off. Moments like this made me want to be with my brother.

“You’re mine, Yumila. You ever try to leave me for another nigga, I’ll kill you and that nigga,” he uttered coldly in my ear. My face was turned with my eyes closed, so he grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him.

“Okay.”

“Tell me you love me.” He gazed into my eyes as he stroked me slowly.

“I love you,” I replied innocently.

He planted a kiss on my lips and then picked up his pace again. Hurricane was hitting my G-spot so I rubbed my clit to get my nut. If I had to fuck when I didn’t feel like it, I was going to get off too. He let off inside me and then lay on top of me, tongue-kissing me until he caught his breath.

“Stop actin’ like I don’t dick you down good even when you hate a nigga. I’m about to shower and leave, though. I want your ass home when I come back.” He stood to his feet and disappeared into the house.

I didn’t want to see him anymore for the night, so I went to the guest room and locked the door.

I showered until I heard him leave. As soon as the front door slammed, I went to my room, dried off, lotioned, and then slipped on my knee-length silk Versace print robe.

I went to the kitchen and poured a glass of Clicquot mixed with some Au Vodka to make it stronger.

The vodka I drank was two hundred dollars a bottle, so I was aiming to be on my back, sleeping within an hour.

I went to my bedroom balcony for some quiet time.

The cool summer breeze brushed against my exposed skin when I stepped outside, instantly relaxing me.

The full moon glowed brightly, and I got caught in its light.

I got lost in the silence but found myself in tears.

The wind brushed my tears away for me as I sipped my drink.

I pushed my day to the back of my mind because Hurricane’s episode had me thinking of Coast. I wished I could see him like Hurricane could, but his face was a blur unless I looked at pictures of him, which I didn’t do too often because the pain was still heavy on my heart.

I had fallen weak since he’d been gone, and I was desperate to be strong again. If he were alive, I wouldn’t have been in the relationship I was in. I was always off limits to my brother’s crew, but there was always Mula. Tall, dark skin with a wavy ass fade, juicy lips, and an immaculate dresser.

Mula had me in a chokehold privately for years.

Had he ever persuaded me, I would’ve stood in that fight to be with him.

I had a crush on him in the past, but he always treated me like a friend.

We had history that I was sure he’d moved on from, such as our sacred moments when we were forced to be on the grind together.

He was there for me the whole week I was planning Coast’s funeral, but as soon as Hurricane let it be known we were an item, all his care went out the door.

I was fucked-up about it for a while, but I let that hurt go with every other pain I felt.

I snapped out of my thoughts when my phone vibrated on the balcony table. I looked at it and it was my event planner.

Jackie: Your reservation for the yacht for your brother’s birthday party was bumped to the top, so you will be able to rent it. It sails into Shore Deck the night before, so I’ll be decorating with my team as soon as it docks.

Me: Thank you, Jackie. My bro likes to party in style, so he’s going to enjoy looking down on his celebration.

Jackie: I’m sure he will. I’m going to make it exquisite for him.

I smiled as I set my phone down. My brother's birthday was in two weeks, so that was something I could look forward to. His birthday being around the corner was only going to bring out the worst in Hurricane…