“Cause of that, right there,” Soya spoke up. “That nigga.”
I rolled my eyes, while listening to the automated prompts. “To accept this call, press one.”
Wasting no time, I pressed one. “Hello?” His voice broke into the line. “Hey, baby,” I responded.
“Hey,bae.What’sgoingon?Whereyouat?”TooLow questioned.
“I’msittingoutsideontheporch.”
“Oh, yeah? Who all out there?” He nosily questioned. “Just the girls.”
“The girls who?” He pressed.
I sighed. “Me, our neighbor Casey, Soya, Chell, and Bunny.” Soya shook her head. “See what I’m saying?”
I gave her the finger, while trying to focus on my call. “So, you out there kicking it, huh?”
“Ummhmm.”
“Yeah. You been doing that a lot lately. But I don’t recall you hanging outside when I was home.”
I paused for a second, knowing exactly where this was headed. “Well, when you was home I had you to preoccupy my time.”
“And now you wanna hang out and run the streets, huh?”
I frowned. “Run the streets?” I stood up, not wanting every-body in my business. “Where did that come from?” I questioned, as I entered my apartment and ascended the interior stairs.
“I’m saying. You let ya cousin move in, then next thing I know, you always outside. In muthafuckas’ faces,” Too Low fussed, as I stepped into my open living room area.
I sighed into the phone, as I glanced around my neat living space. Even when in deep conversation, I was always looking for anything out of place, because I was anal like that. “Bae, why are you tripping? You know damn well that it’s always about you and nothing else.”
“Shit, I can’t tell,” he rebutted. “You know that I always call
around this time, and lately you been out on that porch, barely listening when I talk.”
Gazing around, my eyes landed on the oversized pictures of us that lined the wall behind our sectional. One photo was of us, dressed alike in Burberry in the club. Another was a selfie of us, outside, with the sun beaming right on our faces. Then the last picture was of us at Hermann Park on the famous hill. Too Low had insisted that I get those pictures enlarged, and showcase them for everyone to see, as soon as they entered our home. Although I thought that the pictures would probably be more aesthetically pleasing in the hallway or something, I’d caved, giving my man what he wanted. Still, I tried to give it some pizzaz, as I’d used gold frames to compliment the blue and gold décor throughout the apartment.
Me and Too Low had been living together since I’d first gotten the approval for my apartment, nearly ten years ago. I’d gotten this apartmentwhenIwaseighteenandhadmaintainedit.After living here for about three years, Too Low’s hustle had elevated, and he’d moved us into a home. Wisely, I’d kept my government apartment, just in case things fell apart, which they eventually did. Too Low got locked up when I was twenty-three. He ended up doing two years. Six months after his sentence, we realized that it was best that I move back into the apartment and save money. I think that after having a nice home in the burbs at such a young age, I no longer had ambitions of leaving my rent-controlled apartment behind. Instead, I realized that I needed to make the system workforme,andwheneverIdiddecidetomoveagain,thenit
would be into something I actually owned.
So, me and Too Low had been living what some would call a ghetto fabulous life. He hustled. Had a nice Cadillac Escalade. Had an overflowing closet. We ate out a lot. Literally used thespare bedroom for the abundance of clothes we had, and I’d had
bookshelves installed to hold my expansive collection of novels. Over time, the amenities in the apartment became dated, and although the apartments had been rebuilt, they didn’t deem it necessary to keep up with more modern appliances like none rent-controlled complexes. But that had nothing to do with the way that I wanted to live, so Too Low had replaced all the old white appliances with stainless steel ones, including the microwave, dishwasher, stove, and refrigerator. We replaced all the light fixtures with our own, including a contemporary chandelier in the dining area, and modern ceiling fans in the living room and bedrooms. I also had a custom accent wall in the dining area. All the TVs were mounted, and I had an electric fireplace installed under the 86’ TV in the living room. Thankfully, management in the leasing office considered all the changes superficial, and we stored all the old appliances in a storage unit, until whenever we decided to move. I now had also used the storage unit to store a lot of Too Low’s clothing, now that Soya and her baby had been living with me.
Realistically, my man had been putting his freedom on the line to take care of us. Still, if I was being honest, he’d been a small-time hustler, at best. Too Low had never pushed kilos. Just ounces. He flipped his work just enough to have steady income. And when he was busted at the trap house, he barely had twelve ounces, but that that was more than enough to get sentenced to five years in the penitentiary, apparently.
When he went to jail, he had twenty thousand stashed at the apartment with me. And after fighting his case, and getting out on bond, that money was soon gone. So, Too Low had no choice but to hustle all the way up til the day that he had to turn himself in, after getting sentenced. By then, he’d managed to scrape together ten racks. One might think that he’d done a little something to ensure that I was straight, but I knew better. With his expectations
of me answering at least six collect calls daily. A video chat. Emails. None of which were free, he was merely using the stash he'd left me with for his own means of communication. He also expected a hundred dollars a week for commissary.
Holding my man down was like second nature to me. I did whatever for Too Low without hesitation. Everybody in that prison unit knew that he had a real bitch out in the free world. But sometimes…listening to the way he’d constantly question me, you’d think that I was a finicky, sometimey bitch. He could never just relax and trust that I had good judgement. He had to micromanage me. Keep me in line.
For the most part, I really never cared that my man was so strict. Because although Too Low hustled, he was a low-key nigga. He’d hit the trap, hit his licks, then bring his ass home. I could always pop up at the trap, and it was never no weird shit going on. I didn’t have issues with other women. If he had cheated, then it had never gotten back to me. We didn’t have those types of problems. He literally preferred hanging with me. At all times. So, him constantly needing to talk to me from jail wasn’t outside of his norm. However, until Soya moved in, no one had ever really pointed out how unhealthy our attachments were.
Being without Too Low had been lonely, which was why I’d gladly allowed my cousins to move in. In between babysitting and chilling with my kinfolk, things didn’t feel so bad. But Too Low didn’t like it. We’d actually argued, once he realized that I’d moved people into our space. That’s when I had to tell him how sad I felt with him not being here with me. Only then did he relent and accept that me having my cousins here wasn’t the worst thing to happen.
Initially, I thought that Too Low just had an issue with Soya. However, after a while, I just had to be honest with myself. Although I was a one-man type of girl, I was far from green. My
