Page 116 of Wings of Ebony
“It’s settled, then.” I check my watch. “Wait for my signal. I’ll reach out when I’ve got the General cornered.
“Wh-what are you planning to record?” she asks. “So I know.”
“His confession.”
Back in East Row, Ms. Leola moves around her living room shuffling between clusters of people. Her front room window is half shattered, but the rest of the chaos seemed to miss her brownstone. Chatter buzzes as homies slap hands, handshake, and catch up. Hazy light seeps through mustard-color drapes and scents of onion and Old Bay seasoning linger in the air.
People are everywhere, spread out on her suede couches. Half the block is here, since the Row’s in so much disarray. That’s what family does when one of us is hurting: We carry it together, in living rooms and over food.
I need to get everybody’s attention, tell them the plan. But where’sMs. Leola? They know her face, how much she means to me. I need her and Tashoutof East Row for a little bit.
Ole Jesse dips in and around people, offering to take their empty soda cans. His cart is piled high and parked outside Ms. Leola’s stoop. Cupcake works the room picking up snuggles where he can. He nudges my foot and I pull him into my arms. His purr warms me on the inside. The room is so crowded I lose Tasha. Last I saw her she was gnawing down on a piece of boudin.
I squeeze past some girls neck deep in a bowl of gumbo, making sure my sleeves are down tight. Don’t needmorequestions right now. Another dude at the coffee table cleans his piece, a ripped-up T-shirt sliding back and forth across the metal. I tiptoe for a better glimpse of Tasha’s neon-streaked braid and step on someone’s toe. A man with tangled gray locs, who Ithoughtwas asleep sitting straight up, yelps.
“Oops, sorry,” I say.
“That’s Bo,” Julius says, hurrying toward me. “Hangs outside of the shop I work at. He might look sleep, but trust: He don’t miss a thing.” Julius really came through. So many from the block are here. Kid even showed up. He’s glued to somebody’s phone and apparently winning whatever game he’s playing.
“You really came through with some crew.”
“What, you doubted me?” He says, smirking. “You’re fam. You know that.”
He offers me a fist, but I nudge him instead, playfully.Can’t touch him skin to skin.I spot Ms. Leola, exactly who I was looking for.
“Excuse me a sec.” I walk off, Julius’s lingering stare warms me all over. Ms. Leola peers at the people flooding her living room. Her expression is more wrinkled than usual.
Kid barrels into her, hugging around her waist. “Sup, Ms. Leola?”
“Kid, that you? You looking good, boy! Get yo’self in there and get you a plate.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He bumps his way through the crowd, eye on his video game.
She turns to me. “I didn’t know all these people was coming, baby. It ain’t no problem. I just—” She primps her clothes and the edges of her hair. “I was gon’ head out to my sister’s, but it’s fine. I’ll stay.” She counts on her fingers. “Now, I heated a pot of gumbo. Set out some drinks. But I’ma try to get some ham hocks. Do some turnip bottoms.”
There isn’t time for all that.“Ms. Leola, listen to me. Litto’s men fled. But it’s like stirring a wasp’s nest. They’ll be back. I’m sure of it. And this time we ain’t losing. So we don’t really have time for you to make sure everybody gets a plate.”
She looks like someone’s slapped her. Flashes of my shattered cuffs blown through the air like ash, the stillness of my father’s chest, his empty stare whip through my mind.
I pull her to me firmly. “I need you gone. Just in case,please.”
She considers me for a few moments. “I see that look in your eye,chile. So I’ma do as you say, but you be careful now, you hear?”
I hug her as tight as I can and she scoots off to get her keys. I spot Tasha’s braids moving through the crowd toward me.
“So, what’s the plan, Stan?”
“The plan is you’re going with Ms. Leola to her sister’s.”
“What?” She folds her arms. “Why?”
“Tasha, it’s about to go down. It’s dangerous and—”
“I don’t get why you the only one who gets to make a way. Rue,Momma taught me that too. I don’t wanna miss whatever is ’bout to go down at Ms. Bertha’s smelly old house.”
“T—”
“No, listen to me!” Her voice is about two octaves too high. “Moms raised a diamond. Those ain’t just words to me. These people trying tokillme. Trying to killallof us.”
