Promise kept, p.8
Promise Kept, page 8
“Yeah,” Starla let her eyes run over him. “I can see exactly where you stand now. Catch you another time, homie.” Starla slid into the car. Before she could even close the door completely, Ruby was pulling off.
Asher watched the car as it sped through a red light and disappeared into traffic. Long after it fled his view, he continued to stand there, stare, and think. Though he had tried hard not to show it, Ruby had rattled him. Was he that transparent? If so, who else had figured out the role he had played in usurping the power structure of his set and drug organization? What concerned him deeper still was Promise.
It was no coincidence that Promise had disappeared immediately after B-Stone’s murder. This was even before the rumors started circulating about the white girl seen fleeing the room where B-Stone’s body was found. Regardless of how hard he tried to convince himself that Promise had nothing to do with B-Stone’s murder, he couldn’t argue with the facts. Ruby’s little confession had filled in some of the blanks that he hadn’t had access to before, and this changed the timeline of events as he’d previously known them, but not the conclusion. Promise had been in that room. In his heart, he didn’t think that she had murdered B-Stone, that much of what he’d told Ruby was true, but everything else was still up for question. Was Promise simply a victim of Ruby’s bullshit or an accomplice in something more sinister?
There was an unspoken price on Promise’s head in the hood. So, he understood why she had stayed away, but with this new information, Asher could’ve cleared her, or so he hoped. There was still the chance that the homies would be more concerned with their pound of flesh than the facts. Asher was running the show, but B-Stone had been a national treasure. Somebody would have to answer for that death. What complicated things further was the fact that, if Asher presented what he knew to save Promise, it might put the target on Ruby’s back. Or worse, his! The last thing he needed was somebody picking at the loose string that could unravel the whole ball of yarn. Ruby had taken a heaping shit in his lap, and now he was charged with the task of cleaning it up.
It was crazy how, even after all this time being apart, Ruby was still able to play on Asher’s insecurities to the point where they started fucking with his head. The truth of the matter was, Ruby had struck a nerve when she threw his affection for Promise in his face. He’d never courted a girl for the pussy, including Ruby. You were either fucking or you weren’t. Yet, he found himself locked in an unfamiliar dance while trying to get into Promise’s pants. He was weak for her, and Ruby saw it. That’s what she was really mad about, that he was willing to go to such lengths for a woman he had just met when she was the one who had been there since the beginning. That weakness could’ve gotten all three of them killed had it played out differently. What Ruby’s anger-fueled revelation had shown was that, for as tight as Asher’s plan had been, there were still some loose ends that would need to be tied up. A man in Asher’s position couldn’t afford to have weaknesses of any kind. He was the alpha of a pack of wolves, but the fates of B-Stone and Ab showed him how easily those same wolves could turn on you. No, he would not be the third name added to a mural erected in the hood to honor their fallen soldiers. Asher had swum through a river of blood to get to where he was and would be damned if he let a broad pull him under to drown. Before he allowed that to happen, he’d cut the dead weight and let them drown in his place. With that in mind, he had a decision to make . . . swim or drown?
CHAPTER SEVEN
Promise had finally managed to navigate the floor in the heels without killing herself or dousing anyone else with liquor. It was crowded by then, so she had to pick her way through a gauntlet of drunks and strippers prowling for a dollar or two. Her eyes stung from hurt and embarrassment, but she wouldn’t allow the tears to fall. Not there. Not in front of the people who had marked her as weak anyway. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of proving them right. Her thoughts and emotions were all over the place, and anger scratched at her heart. She was so deep in her feelings that, when she passed Larry and he tried to question her as to where she was going, she completely ignored him. She would likely get an ear full over the slight later on, but at that moment, she didn’t care. She just needed to get somewhere quiet and collect herself.
In a rare act of kindness, fate had smiled down on Promise and spared her the embarrassment of the first tear falling until she was safely in the privacy of the bathroom. Thankfully, there was no one in there at the time. She paced back and forth, twirling the ends of her hair around her fingers so tightly that she could’ve pulled it from her scalp with a bit more force. She needed to get herself together.
Promise paused her pacing long enough to stand in front of the mirror over the sink. Her face was beet red, and tears danced in her eyes. She was on the verge of a breakdown, but the worst part was that she couldn’t even say why. She didn’t know Sin from a can of paint, so whatever he said or felt about her shouldn’t have mattered, but for some reason, his words had managed to wound her. It was at that moment that she realized that her current emotional state had more to do with being rejected by yet another man than it had to do with Sin. “Look at you crying over some dick you ain’t even tasted. Did you risk everything to come to a new city and still be the same weak bitch?” Promise chastised herself. It was her voice speaking, but in her ears, she heard her aunt Dell’s words. Adelle, or Aunt Dell as she called her, was one of the few people who could reduce her to such a state. Six months later and with a river separating them, her mother’s sister was still living rent-free in Promise’s head.
It had been close to four years since Promise’s mother, Fatima, had been killed, but Promise could still remember it vividly because she had been there. It happened on a Sunday. She was certain of this because Sundays were the designated day of the week when she and her mother would set everything else in their lives aside and do something together. More often than not it included watching a movie, be it on the big screen or small one. Normally when they went to the movies, it was in Newark at the Cineplex on Springfield Avenue, but that day they had rode out to the theater in Mountainside. It was one of the select theaters that would be showing some movie that Promise’s mother wanted to see. It was called Broken.
Promise was tight because normally she got to pick the movie, but for some reason, Fatima had been adamant about seeing that particular film. Broken was an indie love story set in some fictional city and told the tale of a Black girl from the wrong side of the tracks who had fallen in love with a white musician from a prestigious family. No one wanted them together, but their love wouldn’t be denied. In the end, they borrowed a page from Romeo and Juliet and made a suicide pact, but at the moment of truth, it was the girl who alone kept her promise. The movie closed with the musician cradling the dead girl in his arms, weeping over what could’ve been had he not been so weak.
Promise hadn’t been impressed by the film, but it did something to her mother. She knew this because she could remember hearing her sobbing in the darkened theater as the closing credits rolled. It wouldn’t be until later that Promise would come to find out why the movie had cut so deeply into Fatima. She explained to Promise how Broken had been written and directed by Promise’s father and depicted the story of their short-lived love affair, minus Fatima killing herself. Her death in real life had been an emotional one. It had been the film for which Promise’s father would build his résumé and go on to find great success in the industry. It was the first time Promise could ever remember Fatima speaking more than a few words here and there about her father, other than to answer the occasional question or tell Promise how well her father was doing in his career out west.
“One day, he’s gonna send for us,” Fatima would tell everyone. It was the only lie Promise could say she ever heard her mother tell.
After the movie, Promise and her mother had been heading home on 78-W. A pickup truck traveling at a high speed moved to merge onto the highway near the Maplewood ramp and blew through the yield sign. The driver never even bothered to look over his shoulder to check the flow of traffic. If he had, he might’ve seen the Town & Country minivan that was cruising in the slow lane. One minute Promise had been messing with the radio, trying to turn it from the R&B station to rap, and the next her head was bouncing off the passenger’s side door as the car flipped six times before coming to rest on two of the three remaining wheels, only in the oncoming traffic lane. Everything after that came in pieces because Promise was in and out of consciousness, but the one thing she could remember was the vacant look in her mother’s eyes. She lay with half her body jammed between the steering wheel and dash, while the other half was through the broken windshield. When the police report came back it would document how the pickup truck had been going almost 80 mph when it tried to merge. The driver had been drunk, and Fatima and her daughter had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Promise’s luck held up better than Fatima’s because she managed to escape with only a broken arm, but her mother . . . she wished that she could’ve said that Fatima died instantly from the impact, but she didn’t. She slowly bled out while they waited for the ambulance to arrive. Just like that, the only person in the world who truly loved Promise was gone.
With her mother dead, and her father having never publicly acknowledged her, Promise found herself a ward of the state . . . at least, for a time. There was an uncomfortable stretch where Promise was left floating through the system while the issue of who would look after her was sorted out. This is when Adelle stepped up, and things started sliding downhill. For all Adelle’s bullshit, she did pull Promise out of the system. Mainly because of the pact she had made with her late sister, Fatima. They’d promised each other that, in the event something happened to either of them, the surviving sister would take care of the kid the other left behind. So, when her time came, Adelle did so, but grudgingly.
In the beginning, Adelle was the picture of the grieving sister who only wanted the best for her orphaned niece. Whenever she sat with a social worker, or if she had an appointment at the Public Assistance office, she kept a poker face that J. Edgar Hoover couldn’t even have cracked. Once the state approved the checks, and the food stamps started hitting that card, it became a different ball game. Adelle never made it a secret that she allowed Promise under her roof more out of obligation than love.
Adelle and her daughter Brianna had been exceptionally cruel to Promise. She was treated like an indentured servant, having to basically slave for Adelle and her brat for her room and board. There were three rooms in the place, but Promise was still made to sleep in what was essentially a storage closet that hadn’t been insulated. She burned in the summers and froze in the winters. Her auntie and cousin treated Promise like a dog, verbally and physically. Their biggest kicks came from attacking her physical appearance. Promise was a bit on the chubby side, and they reminded her of this by calling her Ms. Piggy or Fat Bitch. Her weight was a regular topic of conversation, and it shredded her self-esteem. At one point, it had gotten so bad that Promise had considered taking her life to be free of the constant abuse. It had been a year since Adelle had kicked her out into the streets. Sometimes it felt like a lifetime ago, and others it felt like the events had just taken place yesterday. Promise didn’t miss Adelle or her bitch of a cousin, but she’d have been lying if she said they didn’t cross her mind from time to time.
She braced her hands on the sink and let out a deep sigh. That was a different time, and she was a different person now. “You are strong,” she said confidently to her reflection. Behind her the bathroom door opened. She quickly wiped her eyes and tried to clean herself up, not wanting any of the girls to see her vulnerable. That was the last thing she needed. To her surprise, it wasn’t one of the other strippers who came into the bathroom, but Sin. “What are you doing in here?” She didn’t turn to face him but spoke to his reflection.
“I came to check on you,” Sin told her.
“I’m good. And in case you hadn’t noticed, this is the ladies’ room,” Promise pointed out.
Sin shrugged. “They ain’t got nothing I’ve never seen before.” It was then he noticed that her face and eyes were red. She had been crying. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Thanks, but I don’t need your pity twice in one night,” Promise said sharply.
“Check this fly shit out. Whoever that nigga was that broke your heart and is causing you to channel all that anger in my direction, I ain’t him!” Sin had finally had enough of Promise and her shitty attitude, and it was time for him to check her.
“You don’t know me!” Promise shot back. He had hit a sore spot for her.
“Nah, I don’t know you, but I know your type. You’re one of those girls that’s so used to dudes dogging you out that you don’t know how to accept kindness from a man. You’re broken, baby girl, and I ain’t in the fixing business. When you get yourself together, you can go on and bring me the bill for the night, so we can settle up,” Sin turned and started back toward the door. Her next words stopped him.
“I’m sorry,” Promise said softly. Sin had been nothing but nice to her the entire night, and she was repaying him by being a bitch. “You’re right. I was out of line for coming at you sideways for something that has nothing to do with you. I got some issues I’m still trying to work through.”
“Ain’t no shame in that. We all got issues. You just can’t let whatever is going on with you block them blessings when they come,” Sin told her.
“Blessings?” Promise chuckled. “I work in a hole-in-the-wall strip club for tips. I hardly call this a blessing.”
“You don’t like your life? Change it!” he challenged.
“That’s easier said than done. I’m eighteen, with no work history, sleeping on my friend’s cousin’s couch in a city that’s alien to me.” Promise hadn’t meant to spill all her business like that, but she needed to get it off her chest.
“My dad used to call that hitting your bottom,” Sin said. “The good thing about hitting your bottom is that there’s nowhere to go but up from there.”
“I sure hope so,” Promise replied.
“Who knows? Maybe one day a handsome young man will walk through those doors and offer you an opportunity that might change your life.” Sin spoke like he was prophesizing things to come.
“In this dump? I seriously doubt that. I can’t see anybody who’s really about something, hanging out in here.” Promise chuckled. After she said it, she recognized her slight to him. “My bad. I didn’t mean . . .”
“No apologies necessary.” Sin cut her off. “I guess it’s easy to make assumptions about people based on how they’re dressed, rather than what they got going on.” He eyed the thong bathing suit.
“Touché.”
“But seriously, don’t let my thug nature fool you. I’m about a dollar, baby. I’m only putting it out there like that because I feel like you ain’t quite picking up on my generosities tonight,” Sin flexed a bit.
“Yeah, I guess you all are handling or whatever. I wasn’t really clocking like that.” Promise lied. She’d had Sin pegged within the first hour. He wasn’t a trick, but he also wasn’t shy about spending if the ends justified the means. This is what he had been fishing at for half the night, and she knew this but let him keep casting his line.
“Of course, you were,” he countered. “All that flash and cash will get anybody’s attention, which is why I do it when I’m in places like this. It’s a vetting process I like to use when I’m thinking about putting money in somebody’s pocket. See, most of these other women in here are trying to fuck me or swindle me out of my paper. You were the only one who was willing to work for it. That tells me that you got some principles about you.”
“First of all, I told you that I wasn’t on no flat-back shit. Second, who said I need you to put anything in my pocket?” Promise snaked her neck, arms folded.
“You did! Or was that somebody else telling me how miserable they were working for tips, and sleeping on somebody else’s couch?” Sin replied. He saw in her eyes that the remark stung, so he tried to clean it up. “I’m not judging you, Promise. We all do what we gotta do to eat, but why stay at a place where you hate being?”
“So I guess this is the part when you sell me on the idea of how I can come up if me and you get together?” Promise asked sarcastically.
“Chill, shorty, it ain’t even that type of party.” Sin laughed. “This ain’t about no pussy, this is a potential business arrangement. At least, for now it is.” He winked.
“Sin, your ass is crazy. I don’t even know what you do. For all I know, you could be a dope boy, and I’m not with selling no drugs,” Promise told him.
“I don’t sell dope. And as far as what it is that I do . . .” Sin paused, thinking how he wanted to word it, but doing a poor job. “It’s hard to explain. I can show you better than I can tell you.”
She thought of Donna’s earlier warning when he said that. “I appreciate the offer, Sin, but I think I’m gonna thug it out here for a while longer.”
“Well, if you change your mind . . .” Sin pulled out a twenty and scribbled his cell number on the bill. “. . . hit me up.”
Promise stared at the bill for a time before accepting it and stuffing it into the Crown Royal bag she used to hold her tips. She had already been to the dressing room once that night to empty the bag of singles into her knapsack, and it was almost full again. Considering the way her night had gone so far, she might have to find something bigger to hold her cash for the night. As she was tightening the string on her bag, the bathroom door swung open, scaring both of them. Big Sally stood in the doorway, looking from Promise to Sin with an expression that said she had just caught them with both their hands in the cookie jar. “Girl, you know how long I been looking for you? I needed you to cover the bar for five minutes while I use the bathroom. I ain’t had a pee break since I started my shift!” Sally brushed between them toward the stall. She didn’t bother to close the stall door when she flopped her big ass down on the bowl. You could hear a loud stream of piss spraying from her gash into the toilet. She was watching Promise with a sly grin on her face.
