Picasso's Promise

Episode 32| P-I-M-P

"Wait—" my breath halted, pausing as if a punch had been sent to my chest. "You said he put a cigarette out on your mothers face, and that—that he hit both you and your sister."

"Your point being....?" He inquired, waiting for me to go on. "You're acting like cops don't cover for each other. Look it up. It's not uncommon for police officers to also have cases of domestic violence. I'm not saying it's an epidemic, but it's not unheard of and there's even a lot of ways to keep your badge with cases on you."

"But, but how?"

"Cops are extremely protected. Even more protected than the people they're assigned to shield from harm's way. Most cases against cops are thrown out and even if it does make it to court, it has a low chance of conviction. Doesn't matter if they're guilty or not, because the general consensus is that cops do things for the greater good. And at the end of the day, court is based on character. When you have a cop up against a single mom with a suspended license, it's not hard to see who wins that case."

I shook my head. "That isn't fair. People like your mom deserve justice, too."

"All she wanted was peace," he murmured, "and eventually, from what her last remark to me was, she finally got it."

"Oh, and what was that?"

"Death. She said she would find peace in death, and within a small frame of time, she got it. I wasn't there to see the scene, but my sister was and said she couldn't get the smell out of her nose when she walked in. She refused to eat meat for weeks after that and couldn't even get herself to buy it."

"I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"For what you went through," I said, nestling my head into the crook of his shoulder. "I'm sorry for bringing up my dad and dragging this out of you. I should've kept to myself."

Picasso enclosed me in his arms, making me feel exceptionally small in his embrace. His broad shoulders seemed to swallow my frame whole, dwarfing in contrast beside him. "You don't need to apologize for that. It's a good thing I found that out, though. Because of that, it made me interested enough to ask Mr. Langston about your dad since I know he wasn't lying. What surprised me the most wasn't that they knew each other, but what he said about your dad when I met up with him the other day. If we weren't fighting, I would've told you sooner. But Mr. Langston didn't stop communication with your dad after high school. In fact, they kept in contact well up until he died."

I puffed. "I have a hard time believing that. My dad never talked about him."

"Your dad also never told you grew up in South Central. I bet he didn't tell you a lot about where he grew up and the people from here. That doesn't negate that they did know each other. He had proof when we talked, saying some real weird shit."

"Weird like what?"

"He said your dad was in the process of getting a divorce before he died."

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My world was off its axel the next morning, unstable at the weight of pressure sitting on my chest. I did not know what to believe or what to do with the knowledge. My dad was gone, too far underground to save me from my current woes and make sense of these revelations.

"You're taking the word of some old pimp?" Danielle questioned me the second I unloaded on my day. It was our break between first and second, congregating outside the gym so we could wait for Amber. "I don't think you got enough sleep last night, Sydney. That's the only reasonable explanation why you'd be so gullible."

"I got the information from Picasso."

"And he got it from a pimp," she repeated.

"You don't have to keep saying that."

"Uh, yeah I do. Why are you trusting what a criminal says? C'mon, you can't be that naïve."

"She is that naïve," a girl behind us barked. I didn't have to look to see it was Genesis' bestie Yenifer.

"Wow, you actually know what that word means?" Danielle did a slow clap. "Someone, quick, give me a doggie treat so I can reward this bitch for having a brain."

Yenifer popped her mouth open to reply, stumbling on her words for a rebuttal. "Uh, you won't be sayin' that when I, uh-"

"Clear that cock out your throat and say that shit louder," Danielle order. "I don't have all day."

I froze in my spot at that, waiting for the blow of Yenifer's punch. How was she not ready to knock a swing into Danielle after an insult like that? I had to collect my jaw off the floor when I saw Yenifer back off, not saying a word to either of us.

"That...I did not expect. What kind of magical powers do you posses? I want to know so I can repel that ogre away from me just as fast as you did." I begged to ask.

"I mean, unless you can gain a brother for her to crush on, then I don't know what else will work. If it weren't for that, I don't think I'd be safe either. I can't stand her how she treats you. She thinks she can get away with anything because she's built like a tree. Too bad for her my brother isn't into tree climbing so she'll have to settle with being his shadow."

"You have a brother who goes here? I never knew."

"Yeah, he ditches so much that I forget he goes here, too, sometimes."

Relaxing my back to the walls, I let out a yawn as the doors to the gym open and Amber walks out with a large duffle bag on her shoulder and a wade of singles in another. This morning, her bag was half the size it was now. She brought snacks to school to resell and baked cookies as well on the side.

"Hello broke bitches," she said, fanning the single to her face. She let out a sharp puff, pushing the door harder to open. "I hate this door so much. It's so slow and heavy."

"Sounds like my ex-boyfriend," Danielle commented.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm sorry for any guy you date. You probably bully them all."

"I'm sorry for anyone you date. You probably lie to them all," she echoed. "Oooh, doesn't feel good when it's directed towards you, huh? Huh?"

I knocked my shoulder into hers, playfully. "Stop."

"No, you're the one who needs to stop." She motioned to Amber. "Please, Amber tell her to stop being gullible." Before I could tell her to shut up, she shared with her my interest in speaking Mr. Langston, but rather than saying his name she said his occupation a matter of six times in one minute.

"Did I forget to mention he's a PIMP?" she said for the seventh time.

"Are you gonna start rapping the song? You sound obsessed with the word."

"Not as obsessed as you are with getting kidnapped!" she blurted.

"Oh, God. I'm never telling you anything."

And that, for once, was the truth.

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