The wood grain didn't yield to the punishing grip of C's hold. No matter how tight his trembling palms choked the steering wheel, it declined to submit to the escalating strength of his wrath. None of that shit mattered, though. Not while his eyes betrayed everything he thought his battered soul already knew. Watching the other half of his bleeding heart wrapped tight in Tech's bullshit embrace snatched logic and reasoning from his rage saturated brain. Cleo and Tech? He shook his head. The thought refused to compute.
C's grabbed the handle of the driver's door, anxious to sink to the bottom of the entire filthy situation. Before he could push it open his moms grabbed his arm. Irritated, he side eyed her.
"What?" Ice cold fury replaced respect in his tone.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" She asked, gaze never leaving the view that the windshield provided.
"To handle this." He yanked his arm from her hold.
"What right do you think you have to interfere now, Caesar?" She demanded, tearing her eyes away from Cleo to glare at him. "For the past year you haven't even spoken her name. Now you want to dictate with who she spends her time? It's a little late in the game to sprout concern. Don't you think?"
C's squeezed his eyes shut as he clenched his back teeth together. "I didn't leave her because my love for her ran out."
"I know, mijo," she said, covering his hand with hers. "But does she?"
"Regardless, if she does or not, this vato is straight sheist. Wouldn't be surprised if he the reason she squared off at school today." He slammed his fist down on the dashboard. "I didn't give her up for this. She deserves more than a hombre who's got a chick and a jit stashed away across town."
C's opened his eyes to stare at Cleo. She'd broken free of Tech's embrace and now was descending the stairs two at time in an attempt to get at a short thick red bone cowering behind an older lady wearing a body dress with a red scarf wrapped around her head.
"Fuck," he forced through the slits of his teeth as he pushed the door open to hop out of the car.
Elbowing people out of the way, he reached the bottom of the stairs in time to snatch Cleo out of the air mid lunge. Soon as her body slammed against his, the trife scenery of the Ninth dimmed and faded. He couldn't see or hear shit. In that moment she was the only thing that existed for him. For the first time since he'd wrecked shit between them, he inhaled and exhaled without the usual ache that followed each breath. Just holding her stripped away a year's worth of pain and added depth to the shadow he'd become when he chose to love her more than he loved himself. Damn. Even after all that time, she still had his wild ass on a leash.
"Let me go, C's," she said, twisting and bucking against his hold.
His grip around her tightened. "Not 'til you get your shit together and get back on your level."
"Let her black ass go. I'ma let Coco beat her lil' ugly ass up under those damn stairs," the older chick yelled as she shoved the scared shitless red bone in front of her. "And you better whoop her ass, Coco."
"I 'on't feel like fighting right now, ma! My neck hurts and I'm tired." The girl squeaked in a high pitch voice that violated his nerves.
The older lady grabbed the girl called Coco by the collar of her shirt and snatched her to the tips of her toes. "You either beat her or fight me. Either way, your dumb ass is fightin somebody today."
"Senora, there is something profoundly wrong with you," Angela hissed, slamming the passenger door. "She's a child, not a dog you can force to fight. Take her home now or I'll report you to child protective services soon as I can wrap my hand around a telephone."
The older lady's face scrunched in a frown. "Who the fuck is this Mexican bitch? Somebody better check her nosey behind before I kick her ass back across that got damn border."
"Keep talkin' slut and I'ma fuck you up right after I drag your daughter," Cleo gasped between huffs and grunts.
"Cleo," his moms cried. "Watch your language."
"Calm the hell down, Trouble. This old bitch isn't gonna do shit. Bet her raggedy ass grill do more barking than biting," he said, attempting to get his own rage in check.
C's refused to let an old ass dust rat snatch his chill, but the notion was better thought than acted. Especially when homicidal fantasies spun like stop and go rims in his mind. He would burn the Ninth to the ground before he allowed the project's trifest to disrespect his moms. Before he could slam the old slut back in her lane, the blurring of colors in his peripheral rushed his attention. He swung his gaze in the direction of the movement in time to watch Tech skid to a stop five feet away with his hands balled in tight fists at his sides. Cleo's bucking body stilled in C's tight hold.
"Ya outa bounds and order, Gianni," Tech growled in his bullshit Haitian accent. "I'm da king in dee's bricks and she," he gestured a hand towards Cleo, "is ma queen. Touching her is a capital offense dat's punishable by two metal jackets to da dome. So I suggest ya take ya hands off of what's mine, before ya get sent back through da front gates feet first and toes up."
"You may be king of these shitty ass bricks, but I'm the motherfuckin emperor of the city. The only reason you're able to still move around in my town is because I allow it. But if you continue to fuck my patience, I'ma send your ass back to New Orleans in a box. You say she's yours?" C's dipped his head and pressed a kiss along the column of Cleo's neck. A reluctant moan slipped from her lips, while the slight tremble in her body spoke mad shit about how bad it wanted to be invaded. A, sub-zero temperature, smile chilled the corners of C's mouth. "I say come get her."
"C's-," his moms began.
"See, Tech! She doesn't even want you," the girl called Coco squeaked, after finally swallowing some courage. She fucked life however, by stepping close to Cleo and him to penetrate Tech's move around space. "If she wants this dirty Puerto Rican so bad, then throw her ass back. It's not like she a keeper. Hell, everybody in the projects know her mama and she ain't nothin but hoes."
Before C's could react, Cleo slipped his hold. Leaving him grasping at nothing but air. She moved like a kilo of coke in the hood on the first of the month, quick and with unflinching purpose. In a fraction of a second, she snatched Coco backwards by the hair and slung her to the sidewalk. He could tell by the glazed crazy in Cleo's eyes, crack baby rage had her mental in a choke hold. If he didn't stop shit from escalating soon, Coco would be stretched the fuck out on a morgue table by nightfall. As Cleo lunged to straddle the still rolling red bone on the concrete, he slipped his arm around her waist and snatched her up mid squat.
Once C's had a bucking Cleo pressed firmly to his chest, he assumed sanity would focus the scene and slide twisted chaos into perspective. Assuming however, was for asses. Instead of hell being turned down, it retaliated. Coco's moms rushed him from behind, dropping 'bows on his shoulders and back. Before he could release Cleo and turn around to slide her ass, the loud crack of gunfire pressed pause on the madness. Random bodies dove for the ground, while the majority scattered in different directions of the Ninth.
Instinct drove C's hand to the waist band of his jeans. "Fuck," he growled, when his fingertips brushed cotton boxers instead of cold metal. He'd left his glock under the driver's seat of the Chevy. Cleo hadn't even been in his zone an hour, and yet there he was slipping like someone had iced down the concrete.
"Carolyn, why the hell you down here actin a damn fool with these jits?" The sound of Liberty's voice snatched his gaze to the top of the stairs. "Y'all asses makin enough noise to piss off the dead and gone."
Liberty glared down at them from the balcony. A nine dangled from her left hand, the barrel aimed at the ground. While a dark skinned vato, the size of a fucking wall stood a few inches behind her. Every so often his gaze strayed to Cleo and lingered a little too long for C's liking. Something dark and insidious whispered to his homicidal tendencies, hombre would one day be a problem.
"Your lil' shit startin' daughter jumped my baby on the bus. Since Coco knows better than to fight on school grounds, I brought my girl down here to whoop her ass," Carolyn said, shoving past him to yank Coco from the ground by her arm.
"Over my rigor mortis stiffened body," his moms said, bogarding her way into the conversation.
"Shut the hell up, Angela." Liberty's glare became demon possessed. "Because you and me both know that shit can be arranged. Matter of fact, why don't you and your switch out ass son find some motherfuckin direction, before I make it rain hollow points. That goes for you and your lil' hoeish ass child too, Carolyn. Cleo bring your ass up these damn stairs before I come down there and make you go one with me."
C's arms tightened around Cleo's waist. The last thing he wanted to do was turn her loose to be once again devoured by the trifeness of the Ninth. Yeah, he knew the Circle wasn't much better. That on more than one occasion, she'd almost caught her cut around his way. His hood could be treacherous, even when unprovoked. It had been known to offer vatos orange jumpsuit wishes and cemetery dreams. Hell, even his pops had fallen victim to the trap. Despite all of the Circle's flaws though, it still was a healthier option than the Ninth. Besides if Cleo relocated to his block, they'd be together. With her at his side, he could protect her from predatory pendejos like Tech.
Cleo twisted her way free of his grasp. "Go home, C's. There's nothing left for you here. I'll page you later, Tech."
C's stood at the bottom of the stairs and watched her until she entered her apartment. Once the door slammed after Liberty and her trick, he drilled Tech with a unit.
"Twenty-four hours," he said, while nudging his moms in the direction of the passenger side of the car.
"Da fuck is dat supposed ta mean?"
"It's notice, puto," he forced from clenched teeth. "If shit's not squashed between you and she by this time tomorrow, the next time you see me will be the last time you see me. So think real hard before you decide what you're gonna do next. Because it's up to you on whether you're gonna be a father to your jit or a memory?"
With that said, C's spun on his heel, opened the door and slid into the driver's seat. Once inside he gripped the steering wheel and exhaled.
"I'm not comfortable with leaving Cleo here, Caesar," his moms uttered. Her whispered confession sparked a shit load of doubts in his own game room.
"I know, ma. Me neither," he said, turning the key in the ignition. The engine purred as the pipes growled to life. "But it won't be for long. Put that on pops."