Page 4 of Not A Homie, Lover Or Friend
Pulling him in closer to me, I wrap my arms around his neck. Myles’s hands eased around my waist as he had now finally focused on me. “You’re pretty as fuck, Harvey. I love you, Shorty.”
“I love you too, now can you calm down?”
He winked. “For you, yes.”
I knew it was hard for him to try to put what he felt aside. It didn’t matter how hard we felt Myles was being toward his sister; his mother had set the precedent for how he acted toward his siblings. To have your young son fill the shoes of a man when he should have been living a teenage life is part of the reason, he acted the way he did. What Myles didn’t understand was that he didn’t need to be that way. His job was done. His focus needed to be on other things, not who the hell his sister was sleeping with.
I didn’t know if any of us would ever get him to see the light, but I prayed like hell one of us did because if not, Monfua was a dead man.
FLEX
I just finished teaching a dance class. I rented out a small studio twice a week to teach ballet to teenage girls. I remember when my first group of girls stepped into the room and saw me, they didn’t think I was the girl who could teach them pliés, grand Jetés, fouettés, and pirouettes.
I had moved to Parkside Cove not too long ago to escape the small college town where I had lived. Covana was ok, but everybody knew everybody. My mother and father were both locked up doing life sentences because, apparently, they thought they were a modern-day Bonnie and Clyde. I was born in prison and given to my uncle and his wife after birth.
They cared for me in a way that they believed met their high standards. They ensured that I took piano lessons, ballet classes, and even learned a second language. The older I got, the more rebellious I became, and by the time I was seventeen, they had had enough and put me out. I understood that they were trying to give me the perfect life, but it was suffocating and torturous. I felt as if they were forcing me to be something I wasn’t.
I tried staying on the straight and narrow, but the influence of friends was a muhfucka. I had gone from couch surfing to finding an outlet, which was dancing, well, stripping. However, with that, I had become the whore of Covana, and the pressure of finding my place was becoming hard. Once I saved up enough money, I moved. I ran and ran straight to Parkside Cove.
I couldn’t ask for help from my family because they had completely washed their hands of me. Honestly, I felt like it was something they had been wanting to do for a while. My aunt helda big influence over my uncle, and although I knew he loved me, I also knew he loved his wife more.
Now, here I was, surviving, but I had goals and things I wanted to do. To achieve them, I had to put in the work. So, teaching ballet and dancing at Freak Gods was it. I had been trying to save as much as possible to open my own dance studio, so that I could teach ballet full-time. It was a happy place for me. However, on the other side of that spectrum, most people thought I was too ghetto to do something they felt was classy.
Once the last student left, I slid my sweater on and grabbed my bag. As I was heading toward the door, someone was entering. My eyes widened because it was as if I had seen a ghost. “Scooter!” I yelped.
He gave me a nod. Scooter looked rougher than he did prior to his getting locked up. I knew being behind bars did a number on him, but damn. Scooter and I had been on and off for years. I’d met him when he did his first bid, which was two years. He wrote me from jail, saying he saw my picture from my dad. We started with letters, then moved on to phone calls. I’ve done my share of trips to see him, but that shit got tired after a while.
Scooter sold me every promise in the book. He was determined to become this big ass rap star. He could ride the hell out of a beat, but he couldn’t stay out of trouble. That’s when I knew that dream, he had wouldn’t happen. I felt like he would never reach his full potential because he couldn’t get past the street life.
After his two-year sentence, he got out, we linked up, and shit was cool. I allowed him to stay with me, but just as I thought, he couldn’t get his shit together and got locked back up. When he got out for the second time, we had gone through the motions all over again. Every time he told me he was changing, nothing changed but his antics. He ended up getting a five-year bid for robbery. He claimed it was money owed to him, but the policesaid otherwise. He had a year left, but somehow, he was standing right in front of me.
He stepped closer to me, allowing his rough hand to stroke my cheek. “Why you ain’t come see me?” he mumbled.
“I’ve been busy. When did you get out?”
He dropped his head before he raised only his eyes to me, “I’ve been out for a short time. Bishop looked out. Just as he did with Keith.”
My mouth slowly parted to say something, but I couldn’t get anything out. He’d asked me to keep an eye on Keith, and I hadn’t. Keith wasn’t as bad as Scooter, but he was going down the same path. I wasn’t a fucking babysitter. I wasn’t chasing a teenage boy around the city to make sure he stayed out of trouble. “I-I—”
He placed his finger to my lips. “I know you don’t have shit to say. Where is my money?”
Confusion sat on my face because I didn’t know what he was talking about. “Huh?”
“Flex, I’m not fucking around. I need that shit, where is it? My nigga told me he slid you some bands that night. I’ve waited four years, and I need it.”
That’s when it clicked. “I told you before. He never brought it.”
When Scooter was arrested, one of his friends was supposed to bring me money to hold for him, but he never showed up, so I thought Scooter was lying just to get on my good side. To hear him bring that shit up years later made me think twice. Hell, maybe it's good he didn’t bring me any money because I would have my own studio by now and would have dealt with the consequences of Scooter later.
I could see frustration emerging on his face. “I heard you’re working at Freak Gods.”
I didn’t say anything; I just nodded, and so did he.
“Bet,” he said as he began to back away. “Flex done Flexed on me,” he said as he exited the door.
Scooter showing up didn’t scare me, but made me curious. He didn’t try to fuck, nor talk me into going with him. I knew something was up, but I didn’t know what it was just yet.
MONFUA
