Page 68 of Falling Into Gravity

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 herdaddy, 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 webothknew 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.

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