Sidney Berry had her life planned out: after high school go to culinary school, become a world-renowned chef and marry her childhood sweetheart, Aiden. But after a tragic incident that shakes her world at the end of her senior year, her plans derail...
Nixon's gazed passed over to Chante. Now Sid wasn't the only one urging her to speak. He was pleading with her with his eyes but Chante stayed mute and glued to her seat.
"You let him get involved, Chante?"
"I needed help. I was about to lose the space..."
"Then you should've talked to me! How come you ain't ask me?" Nixon roared at her before pulling himself back.
"You were gone and what's the fucking difference, Nix? If I get it from you it's like I'm getting it from him anyway!" Nixon stood from the chair so quickly that it slid across the room into a toy chest.
"That's fucked up." His voice was loud and full of hurt as he pointed at Chante before turning his back on them both.
Sid threw a sharp look at Chante to which Chante just shrugged her shoulders. They were supposed to be enlisting Nixon's help not pissing him off. He would be integral in keeping Kru out of the way so that things would come together.
"Nixon, she's just talking crazy because she's scared. I am too." Sid's quiet voice in the midst of their yelling seemed to bring both of their roaring flames down to a simmer.
"You see what just happened here? The way y'all held each other when that door opened. It was beautiful. But in an instant. Just at the mention of Kru's name, you guys were yelling at each other." Sid stared at the jagged cuticles of her fingernails. Wrecked from constantly chopping, submerging her hands in seasonings, and repeated washing. Her dad's hands often looked the same.
"It's what he does. Over and over again. Take something so beautiful and literally destroys it. I won't keep watching this happen to the people I care about. Nixon, that's why I asked Chante to call you tonight. I'm going to kill him. I hope that me saying that doesn't get me killed right now. I know you're close with him but I also know that if he's doing what he's doing to Chante, what he did to my dad...he must be doing the same to you with your music. Am I right?"
Nixon cracked his knuckles as he paced the multicolored rug with the alphabet printed on him. Seeing him so troubled in a space like this made Sid think of him as a little boy. One who loved music and had dreams of commanding stages and moving his entire family out of the ghetto. Instead, he was still here. There had to be a reason.
"He gives me enough to be aight. But not much more." His voice held none of the sing-songy vibes it did on his records. This man sounded defeated. "I do all my production and everything." He whispered to himself more than to Chante and Sid. He was confessing what had probably been on his mind for years. Sid could only imagine creating music that someone else fully reaped the benefits of. It made her break and instead of seeing Nixon as that little boy, she saw him standing in her father's shoes. Someone trying to make his dream. Though they'd barely spoken more than two words to one another before Sid found herself rising up from the couch and walking over to Nixon. She placed a hand on Nixon's shoulder as he hung his head. Sid was about to say something to comfort him, get him firmly on her side but he started speaking.
"I knew your Dad." The energy in the room shifted between Nixon and Sid as he looked at her and spoke. "He always volunteered at the soup kitchen. My family and I didn't have much but he...the food was always on point when he was there and he would always give me and my brother extra if we wanted. Always looked my father in the eye too. Never made him feel like less of a man for having to bring us there. I was sad when he died." Nixon cracked his knuckles before shaking his head. "Kru did that?" He asked. Sid simply nodded. He looked over at Chante who was near tears. He straightened his back and wiped at his eyes. "What do you need me to do?"
"You think you can line up some shows out of state for a bit? Get him to go with you?"
"If there's money that he can take, there's no problem getting him to follow me. But what do you plan on doing?"
A drumbeat sounded on the door. Their necks all snapped toward the sound as it continued. But no one moved.
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