Page 5 of Tangled Hearts

When he stepped out the house, she gulped down the drool threatening to fall.

Hov was extremely tall with skin the color of perfect milk chocolate.

He always stood up straight, with square shoulders and a solid build.

They said eyes were the windows to your soul and that had to be accurate for Hov.

On the outside he looked dangerous and deadly but one look into his cognac colored eyes and you saw the sweet and innocent little boy who only wanted to be loved.

He and Knycole had that in common. It was what bonded them and created their soul tie.

With his gun on his waist and off safety, Hov treaded down the stairs. “Don’t be rushing me. If yo’ greedy ass miss breakfast, I’ll bring you something back to school.”

“I know like hell you will.” She rolled her neck. Knycole had the people around her wrapped around her chubby little fingers. She didn’t know it though. She was a humble girl that didn’t understand the power of her distress calling out to every knight that had the pleasure of being near her.

Lightly, he mushed her on the side of her head. “So, kid, how’s school and shit?” he asked. He had a lot of hope for her and always showed it by inquiring about shit he usually didn’t care about.

Gripping the straps on her bookbag, she smiled hard. Having people ask about school always put a smile on her face. Rock and Hov both stayed on top of her heavy when it came to getting an education. “You know I got all A’s and B’s.”

“Make it all A’s, and I’ll cash out on you. On God,” Hov challenged her.

“Deal,” Knyc said, shaking his hand.

“Yo’, you’re corny as shit, you know that?” He chuckled.

She pursed her lips together. “But I’ll beat a bitch the fuck up for fucking with me. Regardless of what you say, I’m hood born and bred.”

“That I know,” he teased.

The two of them joked and laughed as they walked to the local high school – making it with enough time for her to eat breakfast.

“Have a good day, kid,” Hov told her when they arrived at the school yard. He wasn’t allowed on school property because he threw a boy out the window and was expelled.

“You do know you’re only two years older than me, right?”

“Two and a half.” He grinned, showing off his damn near perfect teeth. That smile was weakening.

Throwing her hand up, she waved him off. “Bye, boy, and tell my boyfriend to be here on time to pick me up.”

“I’ll tell that nigga.” Hov waved once more before turning to walk back home.

On his stroll back, he smoked a blunt and thought about how he secretly wanted to go back to school.

He wasn’t dumb or anything like that, his anger just always got the best of him.

It had a lot to do with his relationship with his mother.

Like everyone else, his mama wasn’t shit and didn’t love him enough.

Not a day went by that he didn’t wish his situation had been different.

He didn’t have the power to rewrite history, so he was going to make the best out of the cards he’d been dealt and pray that his words touched Knycole and Noir.

He loved them and would do anything to make sure they followed the right path.

Often times, he tried to get his best friend to go back to school and get his education, but like him, Rock was trying to make a dollar out of fifteen cents.

Feeling the sun beaming down on him, Hov pulled out his phone to check the weather.

The Jade City weather was so fickle. Even in almost November, the temperature could be in the eighties one day then drop to the forties the next which was what the app on his phone told him.

He didn’t know whether to put on something warm or cool.

“Boy, where you been?” Rock asked when Hov walked up. He was on the block making money. Rock passed some drugs over to Koolmoe, a loyal customer of theirs with his eyes still on his best friend.

“Just walked Knyc to school since Noir wasn’t feeling good.” Hov walked past him and into the house. He needed to close his eyes for a while.

Rock followed him inside. “She say she getting out of school early?”

“Nah, but she did say you better be on time to pick her up,” Hov replied before closing the bathroom door to shower before going to bed.

The outside of the corner store was quiet, but not the good kind of quiet. There were a few old heads in the back, a worker stocking cheap wine bottles near the fridge, and a group of niggas Rock didn’t fuck with pretending they didn’t see him walk in.

He kept his hood on and his hand low near his waistband just in case.

“Let me get two Dutches,” he muttered, locking eyes with the clerk.

One of the dudes from the back aisle slid closer to the register. “You good, bro?”

Rock didn’t flinch. “You see me breathing, don’t you?”

The tension shifted. That fake-cordial tone gone. One of the other dudes stepped up behind the first. Rock didn’t really have any beef in the streets but could smell when a nigga thought he was a lick.

“Nigga, we can’t even ask if you straight without you getting tough?”

“I ain’t got shit to say to y’all,” Rock snapped, shoulders square. “Y’all can’t run my pockets.”

He slid his money across the counter but didn’t turn his back. Not once.

“Whole lotta woofin’ from a nigga that’s outnumbered.” The boy’s eyes scanned Rock’s attire.

Rock took one step forward. “Say that shit again.”

The guy raised his chin. “You heard me.”

Right as Rock’s hand dipped under his hoodie, the door swung open. The bell chimed.

Hov stepped in, cool as hell, gun tucked casually in his palm but aimed low like it was just an accessory. His face held no emotion, but his energy filled the store in seconds. “Let that shit go.”

The cashier put his hands up in the air. “I don’t want no trouble.”

“Then run this muthafucka like a business, nigga. You got these young niggas up in here like they move something,” Rock ran his tongue across his lips, hand still on the handle of his gun.

The group froze. Nobody reached. Nobody moved. They looked at Rock. Then at Hov. Then at each other trying to decide if today was the day they wanted to die over a Dutch, a couple dollars, and a chain.

Rock was still locked in, waiting to see what they wanted to do because he was on whatever time they were on.

“Rock,” Hov called again. “Let’s go.”

Rock blinked, backing off. He grabbed his Dutch then a small pack of generic colored pencils.

“For the inconvenience,” he tapped the pack on the counter talking to the cashier, then he slid past the crew like they were invisible.

The corner store had everything anyone would need.

It was a small little one stop shop everybody in the hood went to.

Hov didn’t move until Rock stepped out the store. Then he lifted the gun slightly, smirked, and nodded once. “Try it next time, though.”

He backed out the store, smoothly pulling the door shut behind him.

Outside, Rock was pacing near the car. “Them lil niggas ain’t gon’ make it to their next birthday with that dumb shit.”

“You bark too much… don’t act like that wasn’t us at one point. They trying to eat like we is,” Hov muttered, unlocking the car. “You like one of them little Pitbull’s with asthma.”

Rock climbed in the passenger seat. “Fuck you.”

Hov leaned back in his seat, finally cracking a smile. “You good?”

“I’m straight,” Rock mumbled.

“Nah, you was two seconds away from catching a murder charge. You not straight.”

Rock pulled his hoodie off and wiped his face. “I just be on edge.”

“You always on edge.”

The car filled with silence. The kind where brothers didn’t need to talk to still feel each other.

“All that for some pencils?” Hov joked watching Rock put his stolen colored pencils in his bag.

After a few minutes, Rock chuckled under his breath. “Niggas act like you can’t be from here and have talent.”

“You know I’m fucking’ with you drawing and shit. Everybody round here needs an outlet.”

Hov wished he had something like that too.

Something that didn’t revolve around his next flip or who owed him what.

His whole life had been about money. Chasing it, flipping it, losing it, and chasing it again.

Because when you grow up with nothing, that’s the only thing that make sense.

That’s the only thing people respond to.

If his mama would’ve had a little more money, maybe she wouldn’t’ve snapped on him all the time and kept her hands to herself.

Maybe she wouldn’t’ve gone missing in her own life, leaving him to figure shit out at ten years old.

Maybe he would’ve had a shot at peace before the world taught him survival.

But he didn’t.

So instead of sketchbooks and art shows, he got scales and re-ups. Instead of therapy, he got silence.

That’s why he watched out for Rock so hard.

Because talent don’t grow in chaos unless somebody protected it. And Hov knew what it felt like to have nobody do that for him. So, if he had to take a bullet behind some pencils, he would—just so his boy didn’t have to become another nigga with nothing but a temper and a hustle.

“Here you go getting all deep on a nigga… wannabe Jay-Z ass nigga,” Rock chuckled.

They laughed again and it eased the tightness in Rock’s chest.

Rock grinned then went quiet again. Like something else was creeping up behind the laughter.

“If something ever happens to me…” he started, eyes on the road.

Hov cut him off. “Don’t start.”

“Nah, I’m serious.” Rock looked over. “If something happens, look out for Rocky and Mae Lou. For real.”

Hov’s face sat straight. “I’m almost certain some shit’ll happen to me before you, nigga.”

Rock shook his head. “I don’t know... just in case though.”

The red light hit, and Hov finally glanced his way. “Alright,” he nodded. “I got you.”

Rock looked out the window. “Look out for Knyc too. She’s strong, but my lil baby be trying to carry too much. And Nick… Nick gone bring her down if I ain’t here to keep him away from her.”

Hov stared at the light. “You think supplying him with drugs keeps him away?”

Rock didn’t answer.

“I ain’t no therapist or nothing, but I don’t think it works like that.”

Rock turned to face him. “Did you just say you ain’t no therapist?”

Hov smirked. “You heard me.”

Rock snorted. “That might be the dumbest smart shit you ever said. And remember that before you start trying to give me some therapist ass advice.”

“Well, you the artist. Paint a better option, nigga. That way I ain’t gotta give you no damn advice.”

They both cracked up again, even though nothing was funny. It was just better than saying what they were really thinking... that maybe one of them wouldn’t make it to 25. That maybe loyalty came with caskets. Maybe love, in all its forms, wasn’t enough to keep any of them safe.

Hov pulled into the driveway of their spot, parking under the crooked tree near the gate.

“I’m hungry,” Rock groaned, stretching.

“Too bad. You blew the rest of your food stamps trying to impress Shakeisha.”

“I ain’t buy her shit!”

“You bought her crab legs, Rock.”

Rock grinned. “They was on sale and you know she was in her feelings when Noir posted all us eating like a family the other day.”

“Yea, you be playing a dangerous game with them,” Hov said.

“And remember you ain’t no therapist, nigga.”

They stepped out the car, still laughing. Still young. Still carrying more than boys their age should’ve ever had to. And even though neither one would say it, they knew what this was. Brotherhood. Loyalty. Protection.

Hov was the anchor. Rock was the spark. Together, they made shit make sense.

Even if the world didn’t.