Nothing was clicking for Jersey. She stood there blinking away as her eyes kept analyzing the white paper card in her hand.
I heard about what happened. Get well soon.
I love you.
- Tilly.
It didn't take her long to connect everything. Tilly was the Latina police officer, the one she had an encounter with at Malcolm's bar. She was also the same cop who managed to ask her questions regarding Rudy's death.
Her chest tightened as a cloud of curiosity and betrayal circled her mind. She wanted a full explanation. She had the intention to toss the potted plant out of the window. Instead of doing that, she just set the plant on the nearby table and diverted her attention over to the men who were having a mild conversation.
They kept their discussion quiet, trying not to talk loud enough for Jersey to hear. She also realized they tried speaking in codes as if she wasn't fluent. She tried her best to listen in a while, occupying herself with the drawer attached to her table.
"What do you know so far?"
"Shit." Malcolm cursed, leaning his head against the sofa, and hunched his shoulders stiffly. Talking to an outsider wasn't his thing. However, he didn't see Kareem as an outsider. From what he could understand, Kareem had dealt with Seema in the past, and he'd heard that she was the cause of Malcolm's injuries.
Things were getting pretty serious, which meant that Malcolm would have to increase his security. He couldn't risk getting hurt again, and most importantly, he didn't want his family to end up hurt.
"Not too much..." Malcolm trailed off. "Just some nigga in a hoodie telling me I fucked up. He mentioned Catcher."
"Catcher?" Kareem's eyebrows hiked up in recognition. "I know that lil' nigga. He fights over at Newts."
"And he also works with her." Malcolm added, referring to Seema.
Kareem scoffed while rubbing his hands together.
"How you want to handle this shit?"
"I want them killed." Malcolm blurted out without hesitation.
Kareem glanced over at Jersey, who was busy rummaging through her drawer. He didn't like doing business in front of women. Having Jersey around did make him a little uneasy.
"Aye, it is what it is." Malcolm pushed out, causing Kareem to look over at him. "All I can do right now is heal and stay low, but I want them handled."
Kareem nodded his head in agreement. "You do that...and work on bulking up your security. That bitch is not playing with you."
"I'm already on it."
The men finished up their conversation, and Jersey ended up locking the door behind the mysterious yet handsome man. She placed her eyes on Malcolm, who was busy gnashing his teeth while holding his stomach.
He's in pain.
She walked into the bedroom and grabbed his medicine off the dresser. When she walked into the living room, Jersey handed them over and watched as he tossed the two tabs back with his water.
"T. gifted you a small plant."
Malcolm held a grimace on his face as he eyed her thoroughly. "What?"
"You heard me..." She trailed off, walking into the kitchen. Jersey made her way inside with the small plant. "Tilly sent over a houseplant, or is she your bitch?"
Malcolm continued to furrow his eyebrows as he examined the Dieffenbachia plant that sat planted in a white flower pot. She tossed the small card in his lap, and he picked it up.
I heard about what happened. Get well soon.
I love you.
- Tilly.
Malcolm tossed the paper card on the floor and looked up at Jersey, who was still holding the plant in her hands.
"Get rid of that shit."
Jersey didn't hesitate to open the window and toss the plant outside.
Crash!
The sound of the pot crashing against the concrete didn't go unheard. It caught a few stranger's attention, even Malcolm's.
"Are you still seeing her?" Jersey questioned him while placing her hands on her small hips. Her little frame and anger didn't bother Malcolm at all. However, he thought she looked sexy with her eyebrows bunched up and lips poked out.
Instead of speaking or frowning, Malcolm just eyed her openly.
"Don't sit there and look at me like that." Jersey continued, folding her arms. "Malcolm, this is serious. Before we made it official, I told you that I didn't want to be bothered with this kind of shit."
He licked his lips and began to speak.
"I'm serious, just surprised that you're acting like this."
"Acting like what? I just want to protect myself."
"Come here." He demanded while patting the vacant cushion.
"I don't think I should sit next to you right now." She stated stubbornly while looking off. "You're already in pain. I wouldn't want to put you in more pain."
Malcolm threw his head back and couldn't help but smirk. Jersey was a piece of work; however, he knew she was serious. She looked like she was ready to punch him in the face.
"Bring your ass over here. You know I can't move around too much."
"How does she even know where you're located and where I liv—she's a cop." Jersey continued with her rant as she ran her thin hand over her face. "A fucking cop. Why are you fucking a police officer?"
"Jerse," Malcolm called out, trying to calm her down. "Sit the fuck down and let me explain."
"Explain what? How you're still fucking with her?"
He touched the side of his head and briefly rubbed it. After calming himself down, he looked over at her and said, "Sit down, now."
The stern expression etched on his face did something to Jersey. Reluctantly, she walked over and took a seat beside the frustrated man.
"You're doing all of this ranting and shit. Give me a chance to be honest with you and explain the whole situation."
Jersey sat there with her nose flared as she eyed Malcolm. She had to fold her hands to keep from punching him in the mouth. She was just that upset about Tilly and her petty gift.
"I was just fucking her for the hell of it...and to get information. You know who I am, and you know what I do. I'm on the detective board, with so many clues and accomplices to shit I've done that they just can't prove. The law wants me bad, Jersey. I've always stayed steps ahead of them because I received information from Tilly."
She blinked a few times, processing the information.
"As I continued to fuck her, she grew clingier. She wanted more from me—a relationship. At the time, I didn't want that. I was stuck on being by myself and making my money. Tilly started talking about meeting her family, marriage, and babies. That shit drove me far away from her. I called it quits."
"She wanted more and that scared you, so you decided to leave her alone?"
"I wasn't scared...I just wasn't ready to make that kind of commitment with her." Malcolm stated honestly. "I didn't have any plans to make the relationship serious with Tilly."
Oh...oops. Jersey said to herself as she pursed her lip. "So, you decided to stop fucking with her altogether?"
"Basically, yeah. I haven't contacted that girl in months. She can't seem to let go."
Jersey raised her eyebrows and said, "So, she's wacky?"
"Wacky...loony, all of that," Malcolm muttered with his head leaned against the couch. "All of that weird shit."
"You must've really put it on her." She commented as she surveyed him. Malcolm had a demon dick, that she knew.
Malcolm shook his head as he stayed quiet.
"I don't think you should let this situation slide," Jersey spoke while picking up the paper card that was now on the floor, thanks to Malcolm.
"I mean... she knows about us being in a relationship. She's taking advantage of her authority by messing with us. I know she looked my name up in the database system and got my address. Malcolm—handle it because I'll whoop her ass. Cop or not. I'll catch her when she's off the clock."
"Sit this one out, I'll take care of it." Malcolm couldn't help but to place a small smirk on his face. He put his caramel eyes on her and said, "Now give me a kiss. You're feisty as hell."
"I know," Jersey whispered as she stared into his eyes before leaning over. She pressed her lips against his and tried moving away, but Malcolm caught her by the back of her head. He smashed his lips into hers once again and even deepened the kiss. Their tongues eventually met, entwining into one. He caressed the side of her smooth face, wanting to do more than just that. When they pulled away, they sat there in silence.
"Damn." Malcolm cursed, gnashing his teeth again.
"I told you to slow it down," Jersey warned him, pulling up his shirt. His wound was bandaged neatly, thanks to his girlfriend. "Yet you continue to do things."
"I'm going to kiss you, regardless." He pushed out in a low tone. "Can you help me take a shower?"
Jersey plastered a smirk on her face.
Hell yeah.
ººº
The smell of garlic and peppers filled Preach nostrils as he walked inside Savino's. His eyes surveyed the rustic-style restaurant closely. He couldn't help but notice a lot of olive-toned people. They were busy watching, dining, and trying to make decent conversation.
"Can I help you?"
Preach's eyes diverted over towards the woman who stood before him. He blinked a few times, examining her thoroughly. She was a waitress; he knew that from her apron and the restaurant's name stitched on her shirt's pocket.
Her name was Celestia.
The waitress's black hair was pulled into a ponytail. She held a smile on her face as she batted her eyes, showing off her lengthy lashes.
"I'm here for...the owner of the restaurant."
"The Don." She whispered under her breath.
"Preach." A deep voice called out.
It was Frank. The same guy who wanted to talk to him at Newts.
As expected, he was dressed in his usual leather jacket with matching jeans and combat boots. His hair was gelled back, and he wore a clean-shaven face.
"Get out of here, Celeste," Frank instructed the woman with authority in his voice. "Go take some orders."
Celeste rolled her eyes over to Preach and eventually walked off.
"Don't pay her any mind," Frank spoke, trying to get Preach's attention. "Are you ready to meet the Don?"
Hesitantly, Preach nodded his head.
They made their way to the back. Things didn't go too smooth for Preach. The awkward stares didn't go unnoticed. Most of the staff managed to glare at him. Instead of saying anything, he just moseyed into the office of the Don.
"Don...I have someone I want you to meet."
An older man sat behind the desk. He was busy scribbling on his giant notebook that rested on his desk. Preach's eyes widened in surprise when he realized a small monkey was sitting right in the man's lap.
Two more men occupied the room. Another older man was busy going through some books and a younger guy who sat on the far right.
The Don's eyes diverted over toward Preach, who stood there awkwardly. He was caught up in the moment and didn't know what to do.
The Don narrowed his eyes at Preach. He certainly wasn't expecting Frank to waltz in with a black man.
"This is the fighter?"
"It is, boss." Frank nodded his head. "Preach, I want you to meet Don Venturi."
Venturi scoffed while shaking his head. "You got to be kidding me."
"And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Preach questioned the Don.
Venturi rested his arms on the table, and his pet monkey managed to hold on to the left. He placed his attention back on Preach. So did the other men in the room.
"Exactly how it sounds. Frank said he would bring me a fighter, not some measly boy."
"Trust me, Don." Frank stepped up, trying to lighten the mood. "Preach here, is a fighter. I've been to a couple of his fights. He's like Joe Frazier in the ring. Mike Tyson, on a good day, he's cold with the knockouts."
Venturi narrowed his eyes as he ran his long index finger across his wrinkled forehead.
"I'm not doing any business with this...kid until I see him in action for myself."
"What business are you talking about?" Preach questioned him.
"The Don has been looking for a good fighter to put money on," Frank announced.
"Take a seat, uh.... what's your name?" Venturi questioned Preach.
"Preach."
"Your name, your government name. I don't like nicknames."
"It's Laurence." Preach muttered.
"Take a seat, Laurence. We have a few things to discuss." Venturi declared.
ººº
"Your food smells good, Jersey." Frida complimented, leaning against the archway of the kitchen. "Who taught you how to cook?"
Jersey was busy baking her famous lemon pepper chicken. Well, it wasn't exactly famous. She just knew that Malcolm loved her baked chicken. He was always asking her to cook it.
Today she took the liberty of creating some of his favorite foods—garlic mashed potatoes with sauteed squash and zucchini. She added the Hawaiian rolls as a treat.
"My grandmother," Jersey answered sheepishly as she closed the door to her stainless-steel oven. "She taught me how to cook a little."
Vivienne pimped out women and sold drugs on the side. Still, she managed to cook for everybody in the house. Jersey would sit on the barstool and watch her cook. She would sometimes allow the young girl to get her hands dirty.
[Flashback]
"Make sure it's fully coated," Vivienne instructed her daughter. "We don't want the chicken half fried."
"Okay." Jersey pushed out as she flipped the chicken thigh over with her small hands.
"Now, lay it flat in the skillet." Vivienne continued with the instructions as she watched her granddaughter lay the floured chicken inside the cast iron skillet filled with hot, clean oil.
"Ms. Vee!" A soft voice yelped out hysterically.
Jersey looked over and realized it was Jennifer, one of her grandmother's sex workers. She was a biracial woman—mixed with both Filipino and African American. Jersey knew a little about her. At the time, she was only nine years old. However, she overheard some of the other workers calling Jennifer an airhead and a stuttering college dropout. She joked around a lot and would get drunk and rant about how she couldn't maintain her grades while in college, so she had no choice but to drop and become a sex worker. The whole thing was ridiculous, and Jersey was thankful for not understanding her situation at the time.
"Ms. Vee, come quick!" Jennifer yelled. Her tan skin was red due to her being upset. She stood there wearing nothing but a blue silk robe. Her round breasts were begging to pop-out, and she didn't bother to hide her full natural bush that covered her pubic area. "Th-this John I just finished with ran out! He didn't even pay me!"
"Motherfucker." Vivienne cursed underneath her breath as she pulled a chrome pistol from her apron. She looked down at Jersey, who was looking terrified. "Watch the chicken, baby. I'll be right back."
Jersey stood there and watched her grandmother run out of the kitchen with Jennifer. She looked over at the chicken that cooked in the hot cooking oil.
How am I supposed to know if the chicken is done? She questioned herself.
Pop!
Jersey jumped hard as she stood inside the kitchen. She'd heard a lot of arguing going on and then suddenly a loud gunshot startled her.
[Flashback over]
"I learned from my grandmother, too. It's amazing how you can learn so much from them." Frida spoke, interrupting Jersey's thoughts.
"Yeah...it is." Jersey sighed, looking off. She soaked up a lot of habits from her grandmother—both good and bad.
"I stayed with my grandmother a lot...practically lived with her." Frida continued as she walked inside the kitchen. "My mom...wasn't present in my life."
Jersey nodded her head; she could relate to Frida.
"Mine too. It was the same for me. My mom worked a lot, so she would drop my brother and me off at my grandmother's. After her death, we had to move in with her permanently."
"If you don't mind me asking..." Frida trailed off, eyes squinted. "Who is your mom and grandmother?"
The big question.
"My mom's name is Terrie Coleman, and her mom's name is Vivienne Coleman—both from Brooklyn."
"Vivienne Coleman is your grandmother?" Frida questioned her as her eyes grew big.
"The infamous Vivienne, yes," Jersey answered.
"I heard about her. She took over Brooklyn for years. Your grandmother even had the police on her payroll."
"I know." Jersey shook her head. "And it's something I'm not proud of."
"Jersey, it's okay."
"It's not." Jersey objected with a headshake. "I'm not even sure if Malcolm knows this, but I was raised in a brothel. I saw a lot of stuff happen, and in a way, it messed me up—mentally. That's why I'm not proud of my grandmother and mom. They did...a lot of bad things."
"I understand...." Frida continued as she pulled a few napkins from the Kleenex box that was on the counter. She handed a few over to Jersey, who was clearly on the verge of crying. However, her tears didn't drop.
"I do understand. You see, I know who Vivienne is. I don't know too much about your mom. But your grandmother...she used to sell drugs to my mom."
What?
"I'm sorry, I didn't know." Jersey shook her head, very surprised.
"No, it's not your fault," Frida assured her. "My mom's addiction started way before then. She used to buy her shit from some other dealer."
The unexpected news did shock Jersey. She wasn't expecting Frida to inform her about Bernie's drug addiction. Hearing that the older woman was an ex-druggie made her see things differently. Bernie paraded around like she was a perfect gift from heaven. However, that wasn't true. She had a few skeletons in the closet herself.
"I just wanted to let you know that my mom's life is not perfect. She portrays it to be because Malcolm gave her a lavish life. And let's not forget that she is dating a wealthy attorney who owns a law firm."
Jersey nodded her head respectfully. She didn't consider the news as something she could celebrate. Drug addiction was a tough thing to beat. She was happy that Bernie was able to whoop her addiction's ass.
"I understand..." Jersey trailed off, "I'm happy for her. I know how it feels to...beat a drug addiction. It's not easy at all. It's so hard in the beginning."
Frida agreed and couldn't help but to place a smirk on her face.
"It's nice to see you and June on good terms. I didn't think she would come around. You know, she's not used to her brother being in a relationship."
"I realized that." Jersey concurred. "She's nicer to me now."
Before they could continue their conversation, Ryder walked inside the kitchen with a stack of papers in his hand.
"Hershey, come check this out."
"What is it?"
Ryder leaned his head to the side and said, "Come in the living room and find out."
TO BE CONTINUED