Page 4 of The Hellcat Barbies: Aubree

As I made a move to grab the reacher that my mom used to pull the attic door open, my mouth went dry.

I wasn’t sure what I was nervous about. If I found anything, it wouldn’t make me happy.

I didn’t want material possessions or even money.

I wanted my brother. But if there was anything of his in the attic, I damn sure wasn’t leaving it there.

Trying not to make any noise, I slowly climbed the ladder that led to the opening of the attic.

Once I was inside, I looked around at all the boxes of Christmas decorations, other seasonal décor, and some boxes of things that belonged to my father.

The attic was spacious, but there wasn’t enough room in it for me to stand to my full height of 6’1. Easing toward a corner, I looked around boxes and plastic bins. “Bingo,” I mumbled when I found Ish’s medium sized black safe. It was behind the box with the Christmas tree in it.

As long as Ish hadn’t changed the code, I would be able to get into the safe easy. The code was his birthday then mine. With bated breath, I punched the numbers in and when the door swung open, I exhaled a deep breath.

Stacks of money and two square packages were tucked away inside the safe.

Grabbing a stack of cash, I saw that each stack inside the safe was in $10,000 increments.

After sifting through all of the stacks, I counted $40,000.

Money and coke. I could take some of the money and buy a camera.

One with good quality. I would have to wait until I started work to give my mom some money.

She sold Ish’s car, and she’d been using what was left for bills, but she wasn’t a fan of spending drug money.

If she found out that Ish had money and drugs hidden in her home, she’d have a heart attack.

Teachers didn’t make as much as they should, but my mother was blessed.

She loved teaching, and she was able to live a comfortable life with the salary she made.

My mom was the type that felt like if she took money from me and Ish then she was basically condoning what we were doing, and she made it clear every chance she got that she absolutely despised the way we made money.

I damn sure wasn’t trying to see another day in jail or prison, but I damn sure wasn’t about to let good coke go to waste.

The next day when I left Chicago’s gym, I was on my way to Cook’s house when the car sitting idle beside me at a red light began to blow the horn.

Looking over to see who or what they were blowing at, I saw the passenger side window rolling down.

My brows dipped at the realization that in an effort not to go back to prison, I didn’t have any heat on me.

That was dangerous as hell, and I made a mental note to get a gun ASAP.

Turned out, the person blowing at me didn’t have beef. I noticed one of my brother’s friends, Nice trying to get my attention. I rolled my window down just as the light turned green.

“Go to that store right there,” Nice shouted while pointing at the gas station up ahead.

With a subtle nod, I turned on my turn signal and merged into the turning lane.

Nice was cool from what I knew, but he’d always been Ish’s friend.

We were cordial by default. My gut twisted as I thought about Ish.

It would never sit right with me that my brother was no longer among the living.

When I walked out of prison, he was supposed to be there on the opposite side of those gates waiting on me with a big grin on his face.

We were close in age. Only a year apart.

When we were coming up, some people thought we were fraternal twins.

I was the odd man out with red hair and freckles while Ish had peanut butter colored skin, light brown eyes, and thick coarse hair that he kept in braids.

Ish and I were both knee deep in the streets, and we knew all that came with it.

Even still, finding out that he’d been murdered was like a punch to the gut.

Some lame nigga pumped my brother full of bullets and left him dead in his car.

There had been no leads, and I hadn’t heard anything about who may have done it.

Robbery was always a motive, but jealousy could have played a part too.

If it wasn’t personal beef, a robbery, or some envious shit, I wasn’t sure why my brother would have been killed.

God knew how badly I didn’t want to go back to prison, but if I ever found out who killed my brother, it would be over for their ass, and I wouldn’t even care if I got caught.

I pulled into the gas station with Nice right behind me. We exited our vehicles simultaneously, and he walked over to me with a broad grin on his face. “Damn, nigga. We supposed to be like family. Why didn’t you reach out and tell me you were home?”

Reaching out to Nice had never crossed my mind. Again, he was cool, but we’d never been friends. “It’s only been a few days. I’m just trying to get my shit together. Gotta start over from scratch you know?”

“I definitely feel that. This your whip?”

“Nah. It’s Cook’s. He’s letting me drive it until I get one.”

Nice bobbed his head. “Well listen, you know Ish was like a brother to me and if he was here, you coming home would have been a movie. It would be my honor to do at least half of what I know he would.” Nice reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash.

“Oh nah, bro. I’m good. You don’t have to do that for real.”

Nice kissed his teeth and waved my comment off. “Bullshit. It’s give it to you or some sack chasers. Take this money man. After six years in the belly of the beast, you deserve it. You busy? I want you to ride with me somewhere real quick.”

“Nah. I’m not busy,” I stated slowly.

“Bet. I’m about to run in the store and get some cigars. You can leave your car parked out here. It won’t even take an hour. I just want to show you something.”

“Aight. Let me move the car.”

I was curious as hell about what Nice wanted to show me.

Inside the car, I counted the money he’d given me, and it was $4,100.

Damn. I didn’t expect that. Shit, with the money I already had I could buy a car for sure.

I didn’t have to have a Maybach or a Bentley, but I wanted a decent car that wouldn’t conk out on me two months after purchasing it.

Chicago told me he also had rental properties.

That nigga was a life saver for sure because I’d been worried about who would approve me for an apartment or house with a felony on my record and only a part-time job.

Chicago and his brother were goals for real.

They were Diamond Cove legends. Real dope boys that made it out of the game unscathed and had never snitched or snaked anyone to get to the top.

They hustled with everything in them and turned that shit into generational wealth for themselves, their children, and their grandchildren.

After parking the car, I put my money away, and exited the vehicle.

I waited by Nice’s BMW until he walked out of the store and hit the unlock button on the key fob. Looking around the car appreciatively as I sank into the leather seats, I admired the interior of the car.

“This is nice,” I observed.

“Thank you. Just got this joint last week. You smoke?” he glanced over at me before putting the car in drive.

“Yeah. I’m not on probation. I can indulge.”

“That’s what’s up. I got some gas. Roll up while I drive. We’re going right over here to the gas station off Ocean Boulevard.”

My brow hiked, but I didn’t respond verbally. I wasn’t sure why we were leaving one gas station going to another one, but I assumed I’d get my answer once we arrived. “Where you want me to dump these guts?” I asked as I split the cigar open.

Nice removed two bottles of water from a black plastic bag. He passed me the bag and one of the bottles of water.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, man. I don’t even want to get all sentimental and shit, but Ish was my nigga.

I loved him, and he loved you. All he cared about was you being straight.

I’d be less than a friend if I didn’t do what I could.

I’m not even saying you need the help. I know you’re a hustler, and you’re about your business.

But I also know that a lot of us could get a lot further if we had people that already made it looking out for us.

You feel me?” he glanced in my direction.

All I could do was nod. I was never too proud to cry ‘bout my brother, but I just didn’t want to.

I’d cried more in the past few years than I had in my entire life.

I loved Ish, and I’d never forget him. But he wasn’t coming back.

And I got tired of being reminded of that shit.

I tried not to let the shift in my mood show as I rolled the blunt.

Nice’s phone was ringing nonstop and each time he answered, he was delegating various tasks to who I assumed were his runners.

Six years was a long time. A lot could change in six years, but I could remember when I was home, and Ish was on top.

Ish was that nigga, and Nice was a runner.

With Ish being gone, Nice was on top. That was how shit went in the streets.

It didn’t take Nice long to arrive at the gas station. He was pulling alongside a food truck as I finished sealing the blunt. Without me having to ask, he grabbed a cigarette lighter from the cup holder and passed it to me.

“See that truck right there,” he pointed with his pinky finger.

I glanced over at the blue truck that had the words, Something Nice , written in white letters. “Oh shit that’s you?” I put two and two together, and Nice nodded proudly.