“And you think they’ll pick me?” I repeated, looking for some way to back out. Signing these papers meant I was admitting to needing help, and that was painful for someone who’d spent her entire life trying to prove she didn’t need anyone.
“We’ll never know if you don’t sign, Sis.” Teagan tapped the stylus on the tablet, making the screen light up. Slowly, I grabbed it and signed my name.
“Perfect! It’s done!” she said. “Now we wait. I’ll get started on breakfast.” She walked toward the kitchen, and I went back to painting. Pressing my brush on the canvas, I smiled at the woman I was working on.
“You’re not done yet. You’re a warrior,” I whispered to her and to myself.
The gatesto the prison slid open slowly, like they weren’t ready to see me leave, like seven years of my time and my rap career weren’t enough. I stood there for a second, taking it all in. I was a free man, and I’d be lying if I said the air didn’t taste different out here. I stepped through the gate with two trash bags, a parole packet, and silence. I didn’t know what was next. I wasn’t walking out the same man that walked in. Everything had changed.
“Don’t bring yo’ black ass back here, Lo,” one of the COs yelled out behind me as I trekked across the street. I didn’t answer, didn’t look back. There was no need. That knucklehead version of me that went in at twenty-five was long gone. When I got here, I was just an angry nigga that cared too much aboutwhat other niggas thought of me. I cared so much that I let it dictate me right into a damn concrete box. That version of me was dead. I’d buried him somewhere between year two and countless trips to the hole. I wasn’t coming back here ever again, and I didn’t need a correctional officer to remind me of that.
“Remember the little people when you are back on top, Lo!” the same CO called out, and I waved him off. Getting back on top of the music industry was the furthest thing from my mind. The industry, my label, my friends, my fans, they’d all abandoned me and moved on years ago. I’d already come to terms with that. This next part of my life didn’t include music, and I was cool with that.
“Quae Lo! Quae fuckin’ Lo!” My sister Jessica’s loud ass screamed out my old stage name. I looked up to see her jogging toward me with tears in her eyes.
“Jess,” I called as she approached. She didn’t wait for an invitation to pull me into a hug. I stood there, stiff at first. Then I let myself relax into it. I didn’t know how much I needed to feel the touch of someone who loved me. It felt good. Jess was all I had. After our mom overdosed when we were kids, we got tossed into the system—different houses, different cities—until Jess aged out and fought to get custody of me. She was barely eighteen, barely surviving, but she did it. And I’d been trying to repay her ever since.
“You still my little brother under all that beard and muscle, or nah?” She stepped back and looked at me.
“Still the little brother that will mush you in the face,” I joked as I thumped her on the forehead and pushed past her.
“Boy, bye. You haven’t mushed nothing in seven years. You probably a weakling. Don’t get fucked up.” She laughed while pushing me on the shoulder.
“I see you kept my baby looking nice.” I walked over to my candy-apple red 2018 Dodge Challenger with black rims,windows still tinted dark as midnight. I walked over slowly, my fingers brushing across the surface. There wasn’t a scratch on her or a smudge out of place.
“You waxed her?” I asked.
“Yep, me and your nephew did every other Sunday,” Jessica replied. “Told you I would not let your lil’ car fall apart. It’s been chillin’ in the garage, waiting on you.”
“Straight?” A tightness worked its way into my throat, but I swallowed it down. This car was the last thing I bought before I lost it all, right after I signed my record deal, dropped my first single, and got that advance. I thought I was up forever. I bought the car, then I bought Jess her house a few weeks later—a little three-bedroom, ranch-style home in the good part of Azalea, big enough for her and my nephew. I remembered her crying when I handed her the keys.
I thought I was setting us both up for life. I didn’t even get six months to live the dream out before it all went left. One night out literally changed everything for me. I lost everything, but Jess never folded. My big sis never switched up. She sent letters, put money on my books, and showed up when I felt too ashamed to look her in the face. No one else bothered to care. I turned and looked at her as she stood with her arms crossed and a smirk on her face.
“I guess that means you’re driving,” she said, tossing me the car keys. I didn’t waste any time making my way to the driver’s seat and sitting down. I gripped the steering wheel, hesitating. I was back behind the wheel of my car. It almost felt surreal. I remembered feeling like the man in my city when I dropped fifty racks on this in one day.
“You good?” Jess climbed into the passenger side. She must have noticed my hesitation.
I nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just,… damn. I didn’t think I’d ever sit here again.”
“Well, you are, baby bro. Take it all in.”
Silence sat between us as I started the car. The engine rumbled to life beneath my hands. For a second, I just sat there, trying to remember how to drive or how to get around the city. I was sure a lot had changed. Shaking it off, I put the gear in drive and pulled off from the curb, letting the memories of me pushing my car through the city guide me.
“What?” I could feel Jess watching me from the passenger seat.
“Are you gonna let me help you this time, or you still tryin’ to find your own way?”
I swallowed hard, not wanting to answer. We’d had this conversation a million times.
“Jess, I just don’t feel comfortable staying with you. I’m a whole grown ass man.”
“You bought the house, Quade.”
“Don’t matter. It’s yours,” I shot back.
“Where are you going to go?”
“I told you about the transitional housin’ program. They have a room waiting for me.”
