By the time she made it home and slipped the spare key into the dead bolt on the door, the sun was cresting the northeast building of Messalina projects. Pushing the door she stepped inside, glancing around the small apartment with a heavy heart that felt as if it was one beat away from bursting. The mess, which greeted her eyes, was a comfort, to her overworked mind. A dirty house didn't require much mental effort to get the job done. No, it took elbow grit. Elbow grit that she was more than happy to give, despite the burning ache in her muscles. She rolled her shoulders, deciding to start in the kitchen first, and then work her way back from there.
Cleo cleared the dishes from the sink, stacking them on the counter beside the drain. Once the basin was empty, she switched on the tap, filling the sink with hot water and dishwashing liquid. After the dish water was prepared, she loaded the glasses and cups. Grabbing the rag from where it hung on the faucet, she began to wash the dishes in earnest, picking up a rhythmic tempo, while she went. Washing, rinsing, and then stacking, that was her system until every cup, plate, silverware, pot and pan were washed, dried and put away in their respective places in the cabinet. Wide open, like a G on mission she attacked the counter with such ferocity, she damn near rubbed a hole in the dish rag.
For the next couple of hours she battled the apartment as if it had sexed her man and owed her money, and it worked. It had kept her mind occupied with tedious details. That was until she got fly and turned on Liberty's boom box. She thought listening to music while she cleaned, would help to keep her mental off of all things related to him. The one who shall not be named. It worked too, for a while. Then the first chords of the instrumental to a song she associated with him and him alone, reached down into her chest cavity and snatched all the air from her expanded lungs. She gasped for a viable breath as the living room carpet blurred. Before she had the chance to recover from Force MD's assault, TCD started to wail the first verse of, Tender Love. A pain ripped her so deep it tore fist sized chunks from her already tattered soul. Her knees buckled, but she tightened her grip on the vacuum cleaner, forcing her legs to remain upright. Pictures of his devilish smirk, forged war on her psyche until her heart surrendered and betrayed her still combatting brain. God! Why did it hurt so much? Exactly, what had she done to deserve this type of agony? Clutching her chest, she stumbled toward the front door, and barreled out of the screen, to drop down on the stone steps outside.
Burying her face in her knees, she allowed the sobs to wrack her body and the tears to run unchecked. Too weak to do anything else, but drown in the conflicting emotions that was determined to drag her under to its bottomless depths. Damn. Where had that come from? The pain of losing him, was turning her into one of those crusty old poets her English teacher had made the class read. The ones who didn't mind eating a bullet when the girl they were sweating dissed their corny asses. Sniffing back the snot in her nose, she patted her face dry with the heel of her hands. He had played her enough, she be damn if she played herself too. Still unable to lift her head and confront the stretch of her existence without...him. She continued to cover her face, shutting out the ratchet ass scene of the Ninth, and the blatant reminder that it was not the Circle. Dang. Not even eight hours strong and she already missed him like he'd been sent down south on a ten year bid.
Fresh tears stung her eyes. How would she survive this? The ache in her soul, transformed into a sucking black hole, consuming hope, peace, and comfort how a gang of fat chicks would descend upon a buffet on an empty stomach. Wide open and holding nothing back. A hand placed flat between her shoulder blades, made her jump like Kris Kross. Her palms fell away, and her blurry vision greedily gulped down her intruder. A wealth of dreadlocks, and flawless dark chocolate brown skin greeted her stunned stare. Tech? Now what the hell did he want? To tell her more shit about him? Well he shouldn't have wasted his time. She already knew the dirty low down on, he who shall not be named. First f-ing hand!
With a long drawn out sigh, Tech reached out and brushed the tears from her face with the side of his index finger. When she flinched from his touch, he allowed his hand to drop. "Don't tell me these or for Gianni, girl." He rubbed his thumb over the wetness on his finger. "They'll be wasted for nothing if dat's who dey're for, lil' one. You heard me?"
"They're not." She lied, looking down at her hands clasped in her lap, wishing he'd just go and leave her the hell alone.
Ignoring her, he swung his gaze to the parking lot below. "Bet it has someting to do wit the chicken he left the spot wit last night," he muttered to himself as he shook his head. "Can't expect da boy to know how to treat a queen, when all he deals with are concubines."
Being reminded about before day this morning, caused another tear to trickle from the corner of her eye. Once again she buried her face in her hands.
"Aw girl!" Tech said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and drawing her to his chest. "Erry tings gonna be alright. You just gotta learn to protect ya heart. Don't toss it to erry grinnin' snake ya see." He pushed her away some to stare down into her face. "Ain't ya momma given you da game already? Taught you the difference 'tween a boy and a man's mind?" He stared at her so hard his hazel eyes became laser focused slits of light.
"Like how boys only want one thing and grown ass men want the same thing even more?" She asked, swiping at her face.
Tech laughed. "Guess I forgot who yo' momma was."
"Yeah, guess you did," she mumbled, ducking from under his arm, not appreciating him making a joke of Liberty. Especially, since she already had that on lock.
"Listen here, Babygirl." His tone became, stroke level, serious as he reclined back, resting his elbows on the step behind them. Stretching out his long legs, he crossed them at the ankles. "A boy wants to fuck a hole, get his wherever he can, and den roll out with the fellas. A man...," He stroked her upper arm with the pad of a finger. "Do whatever to get the job done. Put in work on more dan just a nut. Men take care of der women, worship dem like a religion. Provide for dem, and even after all dat, men still love dey women like there's only today, fuck a tomorrow." His nostrils flared and the veins in his neck stood at attention, betraying his mode, which was clearly in force.
Cleo's neck rolled backwards, as she watched him as if he were a rabid junkyard dog just off the chain. "So what you trying to say he the boy, and you the man?" What was this shit really about?
Tech shrugged as he blew a dread off his forehead. "You tell me, Queen Cleopatra. Am I the man?"
"Well what the fuck is goin' on here?" Liberty asked, kicking the bottom of Tech's shoe. "Why you all up here in my girl's face, ain't you damn near twenty, boy?" She demanded, putting an emphasis on the word boy.
"Seventeen." Tech corrected, pulling his legs up and planting them on the step below him.
Liberty swayed from side to side, swatting at a fly that had been crazy enough to get too close to her. "What?"
"Just turned seventeen a week ago."
"Yeah well you look like a grown ass boy. And I don't want you up here." Liberty waved her arm wildly at the screen door. "Sniffin' around my girl, I don't care how much dope you serve, now get your Fugee, wanna be ass up outta here before I pull it and cock it in-,"
Before she could finish her rant, her eyes bulged from her sockets and her hands flew to her mouth as grayish white chunks oozed between her fingers. Whirling away, she vomited over the iron rails of the stairs. Cleo leaped from her seat to yank Liberty's long genie ponytail out of the way, shaking throw up from the frayed ends of the weave. Still dry heaving, Liberty slumped over the rail, her body inches from going over. Letting the ponytail drop she snaked her arms around her mother's waist and clung to her not caring she was at risk of going over with her. Out of nowhere a pair of arms wrapped around both her and Liberty, yanking them away from the rail. He deposited her on the stairs and yanked a passed out Liberty up in his arm.
After he climbed the stairs, he opened the screen door stopping just inside the entrance. Looking over his shoulder at Cleo he asked, "Which room is hers, lil' mama?"
"The first one down the hall on the right," she said, getting in front of him to lead him to the back. Opening the door, she stepped to the side, to let him enter the bedroom. "Lay her on the right side, the bed rail is broke on the other side and'll collapse if you put her down there."
Tech placed Liberty where Cleo instructed him, gently tucking her in as if she was a child. When he fluffed her pillows, she hummed her contentment, burying her soil head under the worn comforter. Cleo's hands itched to get a warm soapy rag, and cleanse some of the drying vomit from her skin, but Liberty would have her ass if she tried something like that. She wasn't in the mood to suffer a beat down from the wicked witch of the Ninth. Not after everything she'd went through over the weekend.
Once they had Liberty settled, they backed out of the room. Tech closed the door after them, and followed her to the living room, and out the front door. Outside Cleo exhaled glad to be one step closer to having Tech out of her hair. It wasn't that he'd did anything wrong, in fact she was glad he'd been there when he had. Liberty and she would've been stains on the sidewalk if he hadn't been. The problem was, she didn't know what the hell he was about, and aside from, the one who shall not be named; she didn't trust what she didn't know. Ever.
"'Preciate you helping me with Liberty. Would've took me longer than it did just to get her in the house, let alone to bed." She stared straight ahead to avoid gazing into his hypnotic hazel depths. Plenty of girls from the Ninth had fallen victim to his eyes, and no matter what the deal was with him she refused to be his next baby's mama.
"Stop." He waved her words back at her, his lips turned up at the corner in a half smile. "Don't do dat. I'm here whenever you need me, all you have ta do is open ya mouth."
"You know what, I'm tired of this," she said, spinning to face him. He raised an eyebrow in question, but stood his ground. "Tell me what you about, so I can go 'head and shut down whatever this is you tryna do."
His gaze flared in surprise, like she'd opened a third eye on her forehead. "Hold up." He threw up his hands, shaking his head. "Why I gotta be tryin' someting, huh? What makes me the bad guy?" A smile beamed from his eyes brighter than a police cruiser spotlight, but his lips remained unmoving.
"Puhlease. You know what I'm talkin about." She smacked her lips, while her neck bobbed and weaved back and forth. "We don't talk. Ever! Saturday was the first time you ever tooted your mouth up to speak to me. Before that, you treated my ass like I didn't even exist. Flossin pass my steps with a different hoochie for each day of the week." A grin finally cracked his impassive expression as he watched her go from zero to two hundred. Pissed off that he thought it was a game, she waved her finger in his face, continuing on with her read. "And you expect me not think you're tryin' it. Humph. Being quiet and stupid are two different damn things. And I'ma tell you right now, I may be one, but I'm definitely not the other. Might as well get that in yo' dome right now, pimpin'."
"Alright. We ain't ever spoke before, but dat doesn't mean I haven't noticed you perched der." He pointed down to the step where she normally sat. She lifted her chin a fraction, but remained silent. "Regal as a queen, presiding over her court. Observin' erryting, studyin' how tings around her works. Ruling is in ya girl, anyone who's ever flirted with power can behold it when dey see ya. The innocence in those mystical eyes..." He grazed the side of her face, near her temple with his thumb. The calloused pad felt like sandpaper against her skin. This time she didn't flinch away, her gaze held his as she allowed him to touch her. A pleased expression settled on his strong Haitian features. "Can only camouflage so much. Doesn't completely cover that your mind is strategic, and so complex, even I can't imagine what all ya capable of. Perfect brain for wagin' war." His hand dropped to his side. "Had you been a man I woulda had to end ya, before ya had da chance to rise against me. No doubt da whole damn projects woulda backed ya in da endeavor."
Ignoring all the fluffiness of his speech, Cleo concentrated on the fact that he still had not addressed what the hell he was about. "You been comin through here for almost four years, and you finally started speaking the other day because..." She cocked her head to the side, waiting on him to finish her sentence.
"Wanted ta give ya room to grow." He answered, resting his elbows on the patio rail.
She turned his words over in her mind as she watched him through a squinted stare. "Room to grow? Humph." Her face scrunched into a, what the hell ever, expression. "Didn't I just see you last week hugged up with Coco from J building? Same Coco who's six months younger than me?"
"I'm not Gianni. Queens and concubines are never treated da same. You heard me?" He turned back to face her, moving so close his chest and stomach grazed hers.
Cleo staggered backwards and almost took a tumble down the cement stairs, if not for Tech's, jump the gun reflexes. He'd yanked her from bad times, and an even worse day, by the hand. When her body collided with his, an arm shackled itself around her waist, his embrace was tight and uncompromising in its hold.
"Well, um..." She squirmed, not really feeling him being all up on her. For one his arms were not the right muscle tone, and his body didn't curve perfectly to hers as if they were made to fit together since they were first slated for creation. Nope. No matter what, he who shall not be named, had done, she just couldn't shake the nagging that Tech being in her grill was somehow wrong. "Liberty will be up in a minute, and..." Pressing her palms to his chest, she dislodged herself from his iron grip. She nodded toward the screen door. "Gotta lot to do." He folded his arms across his not so impressive chest, and had the nerve to smirk, as he watched her inch around him to get to her apartment. "Like, I need to finish vacuuming, cook something, plus deal with her behind too. Shoot. There's just so much to do it don't make no sense."
Once Cleo stood behind the safety of the screen door, she slowly exhaled as her skeptical eyes remained trained on Tech, who hadn't moved an inch to block her escape.
"Guess I'll let you git to it den." He stepped from the rail to the opening of the staircase. "Just wanted ta make sure you were alright. Dat Gianni hadn't put hands to ya or anyting crazy like dat."
Cleo glared at his back through the screen as anger bomb-rushed her mental. "He wouldn't do that, sparkin' females is not his thing. He's better than that."
"For his sake I hope ya right, Lil' one," Tech said, his tone just above a whisper. His hot gaze slashed her face as if it had been struck by a bullwhip. "'Cause I'll paint the sidewalks wit his blood if he ever thinks to raise a filthy finger to ya. You heard me?"
With that said, Tech descended the stairs two at a time until he reached the bottom. Cleo watched him strut over to his Cadillac, and climb into the vehicle. As he backed out the parking lot, Tim and Dre attempted to flag him down, but all they received for their effort was a bump from the horn and a lung full of smoke from the exhaust pipes.
Dre glanced up at her, his face screwed like he smelled something foul. When she shot him the bird in return, he rounded Tim to stand on the bottom steps. "What he want with you?" He demanded, like he was scaring some damn body.
"Nunya." Cleo yelled, slipping from the screen door to stand on her half of the porch.
Dre's head snapped back, as Tim just leered at her the same nasty look he always had in his eyes when he looked at her. "What the hell is nunya?" Dre screeched, reminding her of a shaved pissed off chicken.
"Nunya damn business." She snapped, drilling him and Tim with a laser accurate hate maker. "Now get your behind off my steps, before I toss some hot grease on both your stupid asses."
"Girl I'ma tell yo' momma you were out here cussin while she was in there sleep." Ms. Pearl said, from her screen door.
"Aw, Ms. Pearl." Cleo waved the old nosey ass lady off. "Ain't nobody cursin, ass is in the bible."
"Ass is what's gonna be tore out the frame, if I hear you say that word one more time." She opened and slipped from the screen with a broom in her hand, brandishing the long wooden handle down the stairs at Tim and Dre. "And y'all can just get. This here girl ain't fast so go find somebody else to get fresh with, before I crack you in the head with this broom, ya hear?"
"Oh why don't you go back in the house ole' lady. Ain't nobody tryna get fresh with her ugly tail," Dre said, as his beady eyes swept her from head to toe, and then strayed back up to linger on her thighs. "Ay, where you get that skirt from?"
"Why? You want one?" She said. "Always knew you acted like a girl Dre, but I never thought you'd wanna dress like one too."
Dre beady eyes narrowed to slits of nothing as his mouth opened and closed, and his high yellow face turned the same shade as the under belly of a dog. Before he could recover enough to string together a sentence Cleo spun on her heel, and entered the house. Slamming the door behind her to cut off the litany of random curse words that Dre had begun to fling after her. Inside, she drifted over to the kitchen, flipping off the radio. All she needed was to be taken down by another song that reminded her of...well him. Her time with him was done. There was nothing left to do but get pass the stupid ache in her chest. She wanted to be done with him, and considering all of his hoe moves over the past few days, so did he.