Page 29 of Brother to Brother

She got up as if pulled by strings and floated over to the doorway leading into my room, she stopped and looked down at the strike plate, her shoulders bouncing once, twice, a third time before she rushed into the bathroom and closed the door. I could hear her crying but sometimes, with bitches, that’s all they needed was to cry it out, so I left her to it while I went and grabbed a couple of shot glasses down. I took one shot while she cried, and downed another when the shower started up.

“Well, that escalated quickly,” I muttered to myself, my own eyes locked on the sleeping boy. I didn’t know what to think, the fact that the whole thing had jump started my heart as hard as it had.

Maybe it was more like I didn’t want to admit how much I was beginning to feel. Not just for Noah, but for his mother too.

Shit.

Chapter 15

Melody

A month or more had passed since the incident with Noah and his stitches, and my little boy’s cut had healed admirably. His first permanent mark was forever etched in a straight notch through his eyebrow, however. When he was older, it would probably make him look more edgy, perhaps even devilish, the way his father had looked. Grinder very nearly had the same scar, only on the opposite side, though his story had been much more sinister at how he had arrived at it.

I wish I could say that I was fully recovered from the incident, but after my hot shower and a shot of tequila which Archer had insisted I take on the doctor’s orders, I had slept and I had slept hard and well. However, all good things must come to an end and I think that was thelastgood night’s sleep I’d had since.

Archer was barely at the apartment at night, and even so, I swear he could sleep through just about anything short of a nuclear bomb blast. It was as if he and Noah were father and son in that regard. My little boy could sleep through just about anything too. I envied them their particular superpower.

If it wasn’t the Charger out front, it was one of the neighboring apartments. If it wasn’t music, it was the couple in apartment number two downstairs and to the right of ours. They fought near constantly and their screaming should have been heard for miles. I was exhausted, I wanted sleep, I wanted sleep so bad I cried very nearly every night until it found me… because let’s face it, I very rarely, if ever, foundit.

I blame my total lack of sleep on the monumental mistake I made coming back to the apartment that day. It was sunny, and warm. Unseasonably warm according to the radio. I was loving it. Except for the fact the air was so humid as compared to the dry desert heat of Arizona, it was very nearly just like being home.

I had gone to the grocery store to pick up just a few items and I had them tucked in the crook of one arm against my hip, while I had Noah in the other, equally balanced on the other hip as I kicked the back door of my sad little hatchback closed. I didn’t even bother to lock it. There wasn’t anything worth stealing in it. It didn’t even have a CD player, but rather the factory radio and a broken tape deck. I figured if anyone wanted to go through itthatbadly, they could have at it; I might as well save myself the broken window which I wouldn’t be able to afford to get fixed anyways.

I was saving myassoff for first, last, and deposit on a place for me and Noah that was anywhere but here, and like I said, I blame the lack of sleep when it came to my frayed rope and what happened next. I was headed towards the stairs up to the second floor when the owner of the Charger started blaring his bass heavy rap music and without even thinking, my last thread of sanity snapped.

“Oh will you give it a fuckingrestalready! You know there are people who actually live here who would like tosleepevery once in a while,” I said over my shoulder.

The owner of the car stood up straight out of the car and turned, “What did you say to me you fat white bitch?” he demanded and I carried on up the stairs.

“You obviously heard me just fine,” I called back crossly and the young man, probably younger than even I was at a mere twenty-eight, started up the stairs in my direction. I dropped the groceries and fumbled the keys into the lock, my hand shaking while Noah stared at the man with wide innocent eyes.

“Oh Iknow,you ain’t talkin’ to me that way, I’m about to teach yo ass some respect! What you think you doin’ talkin’ to a nigga like that?” I shoved open the door and went to slam it into his face but I was too late. He kicked in the door and cradling Noah in my arms I protected him with my body as we both went down.

My son shrieked in terror and I heard my voice echo his as the man towered over us both and I went sprawling into the living room of Archer’s apartment. Noah struggled out of my grip and crawled away, sitting up. His voice rising in a panicked cry I could do little to comfort because the gangbanger standing in the doorway had all of my attention.

I put my hands up and beseeched him, “Please, not in front of my son, don’t shoot me in front of my son.”

“Oh I might shoot you bitch, but I got a different lesson in mind,” he said, licking his bottom lip and grabbing his crotch with his other hand. I felt myself blanch.

“I’ll do anything you ask, just please, not in front of my son.”

I started to cry, the tears of pure terror slipping down my cheeks, and I did nothing to wipe them away. I was frozen, adrenaline pounding through my veins with every heartbeat. I wanted to pick up my son, but I didn’t dare move. The man smiled, his deep ebony skin making his teeth seem so very white, the metal in his mouth from several gold teeth gleaming. I would say his smile was like the Cheshire cat’s in a way, however it was far too malevolent for that. I was staring pure evil in the face and I found myself silently praying to Grinder, to God, and to anyone else who would listen, to give me the strength and cunning to get my son and I both out of this intact.

“Take off them panties,” he ordered and I broke into a sob.

“Please don’t, not in front of my son!” I begged and he cocked the gun shoving it forcefully in the air in my direction.

“I suggest you do what I tell you and maybe I won’t!” he shouted.

I shook and moved mechanically to comply. I was still in my work uniform, which was a little light turquoise 1950’s dress with white apron and white accents at the collar and short sleeves. They were paired with white ankle socks and white Chuck Taylor sneakers and fit the diner I worked at. I had loved the uniform when I started, but right now, sprawled on my butt in the living room with the short, mid-thigh length skirt riding up after my tumble, I loathed it for giving this creature the perverse idea to rape me in front of mychild.

I shimmied my white cotton underwear midway down my thighs while the perve pointed a gun in my face and I was about to resign myself to my fate when he froze and looked like he was about to shit himself. I stopped and it was Noah’s screaming cry of “Unca Atcha!” that let me know who was behind the thug.

Archer took a slight step to the right and I could see him framed in the open door, a gun of his own pressed into the close shaven scalp of our assailant, a calm, but angry look on his face. He nudged the man’s scalp and said, “Hand over your piece before I redecorate the inside of this place with your face.” The man put up his hands and Archer took the gun, shoving it into the back of his waistband.

“What the fuck you think you doin’ in here? Huh?” Archer demanded.

“Man, I was teaching yo bitch a lesson!”

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