Page 51 of Wings of Ebony
Tasha weeps into her hands. Cupcake purrs, pushing up against her ankles. I scoop him up, holding in the urge to vomit, and place him in her arms. I kiss her forehead and hold it there, savoring the moment, in case it’s the last one I ever give her.
Bri’s right. This is risky. But so is doing nothing.
“Moms raised a diamond,” Tasha says sticking out her pinky. She doesn’t like it, but she knows this is for her, for us. I twist mine around hers and a single tear threatens to fall.
I let it. “And diamonds don’t crack.”
CHAPTER 17
THE CUFF IS WEIGHTYin my hands, like it’s made of solid gold. Its warmth is entrancing. Muffled whispers swim in my ear every time I touch it, no clearer than before. Julius clicks his seat belt as his car rumbles into motion. He can’t hear them. Bri couldn’t hear them. No one could.
No one but me.
The warmth creeps into my chest and I feel light, like I’m floating. It crawls around inside me in a wave of motion, swelling in my rib cage, swishing from side to side. Like it’s searching for something in my very bones.
“You listening?” Julius’s voice slips through the haze of thoughts and I stick the cuff in my pocket.
“Yeah, sorry.” I angle the vents, AC blasting a different way. “What you say?”
“I was asking if you heard about Kid and his folks?”
Kid was this little boy who used to live across the complex. His momma is a known crack head, his daddy too. They would just disappear for days sometimes. Their house didn’t have running water, I guess, because at night you’d find him filling up water jugs from Moms’s spigot. She knew he was doing it. The whole block did. Butnobody ever said nothing. Moms would say kids that are hurting don’t need judgment, they need lots of love and kindness.
Kid would come by during the day sometimes, offering to help do some chores around the house. Ms. Leola always gave him a task and put a little change in his pocket and food in his hand. Ms. Aretha on the back side of the Row always made sure he had fresh clothes when school started. Kid didn’t have parents around all the time that he could rely on, but he had the block and we take care of our own.
“Nah. Haven’t had my ear to the street in a while.”
“Somebody called the people. CPS picked him up.”
“Damn.Foreal?” I mean, that’s good for him I guess, but I don’t know how to feel. “I just hope he’s with people that’s gon’ do right by him.”
“What you mean?”
“Just that all that glitters ain’t gold. Being snatched up from home ain’t guaranteed sunshine and rainbows.”
“Kid gon’ be aight,” he says, shifting the car. “He’s bred from ’round here.”
Diamonds. “You right.”
We zoom past several more complexes and down past the older houses in the neighborhood; every other block there’s one boarded up with overgrown grass. Litto runs his stuff through Dezignz, according to Julius, so that’s where we are going. We pass Ole Jesse pushing his grocery cart of soda cans. He walks back and forth across these streets all day and I’m pretty sure he sleeps in one of those abandoned houses. Three or four clear trash bags spill over the cart’s edge as he rolls down the side of the street. I’d tell him toget on the sidewalk, but there isn’t one. His cart’s real full; he must be about to turn them in, put some change in his pocket. He tilts his chin as we roll past, sayingwhat’s up. We saywhat’s upback.
People spill out of LuLu’s Corner Store up ahead as we roll up to a red light and stop.
“So, tell me about Litto, everything you know,” I say. The crowd piles into an unmarked SUV with windows so tinted it looks painted black.
“What’s there to say? His boys are everywhere.”
“What do you know about Litto himself?”
“To be honest, nothing. Just heard the name. When I wasworkingat Dezignz…”
“Uh-huh.” I smirk and he does too.
“When that was my spot, I never saw him. But the guy who owns the shop made it seem like he worked directly under him. Rue, I gotta say this, even though I know your stubborn ass ain’t gon’ listen.”
“I’m listening.”
“You a badass, and I know you aren’t going to let anybody come for you or your family, but this is out of your league. Trust me on that.” He cares, still. It’s sweet.
