The beat hit differently tonight, heavy, and soulful. It was the kind of song that made you cry even if you didn’t know why. Moms probably had it on repeat in one of her solemn moods.
I stepped further in, the smell of food wrapped around me as I eyed the big portrait in the foyer of Pops, Momma, and myself when I was a baby. I shut my eyes and took a deep breath, willing myself to walk towards the kitchen since she cooked. Moms was in a good mood whenever she had the house smelling like this.
I passed the front room that was decorated in all-white with splashes of gold. Candles were lit, the entire space smelled like vanilla and pine. Finally, I made it to the kitchen, and that’s when my world collapsed. She was slumped over the kitchentable, head down, lips parted slightly open. Spit mixed with foam leaked out of her mouth, the pipe laid in her lap as her arm dangled like a puppet with cut strings.
Momma’s chocolate skin looked pasty, she had on her favorite flowered cotton night gown with pockets with her apron still tied to her.
The pipe was still smoking; her crack was fentanyl laced. I knew it without having to ask. Pops made his men test all of his product before putting it out on the streets. He taught me the same, so I knew the smell. It usually smelled like burnt plastic. My chest caved in the more I inhaled the smell.
“Mommy.” I whispered, but my voice cracked.
“Mommy—not you too.” I dropped down to my knees so hard, the tile beneath me cracked.
I crawled over slowly to her, praying to God that I could get her the help that she needed. I prayed and begged God to save my momma for me. I needed her more than the next breath I took if she wasn’t alive. When I got to her, I grabbed her semi warm face that was slick with sweat. Her lips were a light shade of purple.
Frantically I opened her halfway open eyes, her pupils were pin-sized and glazed over. I shook her as hard as I could, losing my mind in the process.
“Mommy! WAKE THE FUCK UP! Please!” I slapped her cheek.
Her head lolled, as more spit leaked out of her mouth and onto my hand.
“Not the same fucking day as Pops.” I dropped my forehead to hers and grabbed at the sides of her face.
“I need you! What the fuck am I supposed to do?!”
I pulled her into my arms, I felt weak with her limp body in my arms. Her heavy body caused us both to fall to the kitchen floor. I ignored the sting and pulled her close. She smelled likelavender lotion mixed with death. I pressed my face into her neck and sobbed hard until my lungs burned.
“I wanted you to be done with that shit. I wanted you clean for me.” My hands clutched her desperately tighter.
I rocked her back and forth like I was the parent as I pleaded with her in denial from the truth. I already accepted Pops fate, I couldn’t accept my momma’s fate on the same day.
“I don’t got nobody left, momma.” I sniffled out.
Helplessly, I looked at the ceiling for answers that wouldn’t come because I already had the answers. I just didn’t want to accept them. I was all on my own now…
The music kept playing like it didn’t care.
“Take your time, baby don’t you rush a thing…”
My tears hit her cheek, I kissed her temple, wiped her forehead then begged her a hundred more times to wake up. Right in those moments of holding her while the rest of her body turned cold in my arms, I felt it. The last piece of me that was soft died right along with my parents. It was just me now, and I swore on her lifeless soul that I would never love anything again without owning it first.
THE GRAND MASTER DON’T JUST PLAY THE BOARD, HE OWNS IT…
Tonight,the pieces moved exactly how I wanted. The strip club on Fig was hot and thick with weed smoke, sweat, along with perfume and cheap ass cologne from men that just wanted a quick nut or to forget about the nagging ass women they had at home waiting for them to return.
“Blow that shit the opposite way of my view.” I eyed Tone seriously.
Tone huffed out roughly but made sure to do what I directed. I cared for him deeply. I couldn’t flat out say that it was love, he was my blood brother. I didn’t know my Pops fathered any other kids until his death. My first time meeting Tone was at Pops funeral. He was there through it all, the only man besides Pops that witnessed my transformation after the loss of momma.I lost control back then, Tone was the only person who called himself trying to ground me. For that I kept him close, he got to see what most people didn’t with me.Normalcy.At least something close to that.
Still, I kept my guard up. Pops always preached to me about the person closest would be the one to bring me to my knees if I didn’t watch close enough. Not that I took everything that Pops taught me to the heart. Especially since I spent a countless number of years trying my best to clean up the fucked-up streets of Los Angeles in general. I had to remind myself constantly that Pops should have taken his own advice. If he had taken it, he and moms would still be alive.Rosco was too many steps ahead of him.
Most people looked at me as a kingpin, a drug dealer and half of them assumed that I was on drugs stepping in Pops shoes, so they respected me and stayed away. I let people think whatever, about it all. I knew who I was, I had multiple self-titles under my belt that people didn’t know about. Money was never the issue because I made so much. I became a grown ass man at thirteen so there wasn’t shit a person could teach me or tell me.
When I looked in the mirror, I saw a powerful chemist, with the ability to make a change. Didn’t matter to me if it was by force, or if it happened by accident. I never talked about the chemist part much, people heard the word chemist and automatically thought that I had a college degree along with other certifications, but I taught myself with the help of my mom at a young age. If it wasn’t for me meeting one of my partners named Nemesis back when I was fifteen, I would have still been providing poison to the black community like Pops did. Nemesis helped me set up my private lab and helped me put together different potions. He also was my official teacher; he provided me with tons of books and tested my skills to strengthen myknowledge. It all kept me busy, grounded, and stopped me momentarily from breaking people’s necks.
It took me years to create a new perfect scientific flower that I later named Owlette. It was potent, a feel good but healthy drug that I mixed up with my weed to help balance my up and down impulsive moods. One moment I felt good, the next I felt low. Other dangerous times when I experienced dark days, I found myself forgetting my purpose. Owlette helped me remember, I’d never go to a doctor after meeting Nemesis and learning how crooked they were.
I didn’t need a therapist either, I found my own remedies and had Nemesis who was another powerful chemist that had a cure for just about any health concerns assist me.
