Page 7 of My Brother's Keeper
I stood from the couch, walked over to him, and placed my hand on his. He stopped pacing and gazed at me. “I-I’m losing my fucking mind,” he muttered.
“You can’t be doing this shit. You have to find another way,” I told him.
He shrugged. “What am I going to do, huh, Flex? I can’t go pop dick on a pole, I can’t get a decent fucking job because of my record, and the little piece of shit I do have ain’t nothing for real. I have a nigga taking care of my brother when I’m supposed to be doing that. How do I compete with a rich nigga?”
I could see agitation starting back up. I didn’t know how to respond to it, so I continued to stare. He snatched his hand from mine. “Exactly. It almost seemed better in jail. Shit, at least there I was somebody. My voice was heard. My raps,” he paused.“Were appreciated. I guess this is what you get when you sell your soul to the fucking devil.”
I didn’t know what he meant by that, but what I did know was that I was going to try to help him any way that I could. I walked past him and into the kitchen, “Let me feed you. You need to eat something.”
“Keep your food, Betty, no Crocker. I’m not hungry.”
“Look, I want to help you. I know the things you’ve been through, so let me,” I mumbled as I continued to move around the kitchen.
A wild laugh came from him. “Says the girl who was supposed to give me money, Flex. You don’t have to butter a nigga up. I’m going to leave, it’s obvious my beef isn’t with you.”
I stopped and turned to him. “Let me help you. What do you need me to do?” I asked.
I knew his trust in me was slim, but maybe doing something for the greater good would bring me some luck in the long run. I wasn’t sure what I was walking into, but at this point, I didn’t care.
PEANUT
Zay and I hopped off our bikes as soon as we parked at Lake Hill Mall. It had been a while since I’d pulled into a mall; to me, they weren’t what they used to be. Honestly, I don’t have many memories of being in them, other than when my brothers decided to go because my dad always said no. Shit, I should have gone anyway, it’s not like his drunk ass was going to remember anything by the time I would have walked out the door.
I hated him for every day he made our lives a living hell. Mison and Xavier had a decent childhood, but I didn’t. By the time my mother passed, I was entering Middle school, and with a speech problem like mine, talking wasn’t an option, which made it hard to make friends. The times I did try, I would somehow end up in fights because the bullying became overwhelming. My pride and voice were all I had, so I would fight for them. It’s how I got my name. People would say my fists crack niggas heads open like Peanuts. The shit stuck, and I’ve been moving with it ever since.
When we stepped inside the mall, it was packed. People were everywhere. I knew the holidays were approaching soon, so maybe people were out doing some early shopping. Xavier pulled his phone out, I assumed to text Dio to see where he was, while my eyes scanned the people walking around.
The thing that stood out to me the most was the families that looked like mine used to. It wasn’t often you were in places where more than four or five Black families were. Today, however, they were out, and a bit of jealousy struck me because things like this are what I wanted and never had. Instead, I had a mother who wasn’t given a chance to see her sons grow up, and a father who fell into the lane of depression and couldn’t pull himself out. So, on the other end of that, we were left shit out of luck. Then, Mison ended up on the same path as our father, and that shit was a problem.
Zay tapped my shoulder and began walking, signaling me to follow him. As we made our way through the thick crowd, he was stopped every two minutes by someone asking about school and how they had seen him play on the court. Zay was popular as hell. I knew his time in Toussaint was coming to an end because soon he would be off in the big league doing what he loved, leaving me stuck with Mison’s drunk ass; however, I was super proud.
I spotted Dio and Samara heading our way, but when the Black Cat girl came out of one of the luxury stores, I knew it was my time to talk to her. I tapped Zay’s shoulder.
Here comes Dio. I will be right back.I signed.
He nodded while I walked off. Seeing her without the cat suit and makeup was nice. Shorty was bad. Her dark, brown skin, slim frame, fresh face, and that gap between her legs were everything. I strolled toward her as she talked to her equally bad friend. When she raised her eyes and saw me coming toward her, she stopped walking. I didn’t know how I was going to pull it off because I didn’t like talking, but somehow in my mind the shit was going to work.
We stared at each other until I reached her. Her friend smiled. “Hi,” she said to me.
She glanced at her friend, then back at me. “You two know each other?” she asked.
My mouth wanted to move, but I was afraid. Black Cat girl looked at her friend. “Morgan, give us a minute, please,” she said softly.
Her voice was smooth, comforting, and sexy as hell. When her friend walked off, she crossed her arms over her chest as she stared at me. “Can you talk?” she asked.
I said nothing. She came closer toward me.
“I saw you at that party. I don’t want to be rude, but can you hear?” she then asked.
I said nothing. She had my tongue tied, and hell, I was already remixing words. My tongue grazed my lips, and I was about to speak until she did something, something that really blew my mind.
Are you deaf?She signed.
A nigga’s heart skipped a beat. This had to be fate because what were the fucking odds?
I saw you signing at the party. I wasn’t trying to be nosy, but—
My hands started to move.No, you’re fine. I’m just shocked. Not many people know how, but I can hear.I explained.
