When the phone hung up, I cranked up my car and drove off, going in the direction of the Walgreens Pharmacy at the end of the block. Amir and I always used protection when we had sex, but I wanted to provide it this time. I had a motive behind this purchase that I would never tell a soul.
When I walked up to the counter, I got the magnums and rushed back to my car.
I took one of the condoms from the package and used one of the earrings from under my radio to poke small holes through the condom wrapper, hoping to penetrate it enough to deceive Amir in a way he didn’t deserve. My heart thumped the entire time, like it was warning me to stop, but what I was doing today wasn’t just about deceit. It was about survival and making things better for myself and my family, because at the end of the day, that meant more to me than my morals.
By the time I pulled up to the office, Amir pulled up right behind me. He got out of the car, towering over the vehicle as he leaned against it. I walked down the sidewalk, and had to fight through the pain to make myself look okay, and most importantly, look desirable for what I wanted us to do. I hope that Allah forgives me for my plans and rewards me in a way that will dry my father’s tears. Plus, I may be able to dry mine along the way. Maybe, just maybe, Amir would marry me if I became pregnant with his child.
That's if the holes inside these condoms are big enough to matter.
Chapter 11
Amir
Delilah had never seemed that anxious for sex, but she had wrapped my dick with a condom herself and begged for me to fuck her on top of the coffee desk in her small office. I left her breathing hard and scrambling to straighten shit back up before her first client came through. I knew it wasn’t Jasmine because when I left Crew’s spot this morning, she was still in bed. I couldn’t get her ass off my mind after last night, and I kept beating myself up for missing out on the opportunity to feel her in every way possible. I, however, had too much respect for her. Too much respect for her family to take her down like she was a random hoe.
When I left Delilah’s office, I drove over to The Bronx to scoop up Elijah. He was visiting his people in the Pink House Projects, which was a place I never went to unless I was doing something dirty like I was today. I sat idle in front of the projects, watching as three small Muslim kids played baseball on the sidewalk outside with a rock and a stick, making do with what they had. Because they all had thick black hair and similar face shapes, I assumed they were brothers. Laughing, getting along, playing with one another like brothers should.
It was funny seeing kids using sticks instead of bats, because my brothers and I couldn’t even get along, even thoughwe had a mansion with everything a little boy could want or need.
As I watched them, admiring the way they played the game, I was only distracted by my phone for a few seconds. When I looked down and then back up, I heard a sharp crack in my windshield.
I had PTSD from when Abraham’s bullets came through my windshield, so I immediately reached for my gun, but when I looked through the glass, I saw the little boys standing there with their hands over their mouths because they had hit my windshield with one of those rocks.
I got out of the car, and they stood there, almost frozen in place as I approached them.
“I hope you little niggas got jobs,” I said with a sarcastic tone.
I wasn’t really mad at them. How could I be mad for kids being kids? I’m not like my father was. I don’t expect little boys to make grown man decisions all the time.
“No, we don’t have a job. We're barely old enough to walk to school alone,” one of them spoke up.
“Yeah, I can tell, but why y’all not playing on the other side of the building, where there are no cars? Or better yet, why y’all not playing with a baseball, wiffle ball, or something that wouldn’t break anybody's window?”
“Rocks are all we got, right now, and we have to practice. We are trying to go to the league. I’m going to be playing for the Yankees one day,” one of them said.
I looked to the other one.
“And I’m going to be playing for the Royals. Short stop.”
I laughed, loving the fact that they had dreams.
“Listen, be more careful with these rocks because you might run into somebody who is not as understanding as I am about their windshield.”
One of them put his fist up to his mouth.
“Wait, I know who you are.”
“Oh yeah? Who am I?”
“You, you’re the last living Quatar.”
He said that like I was the last living Air-binder or some shit.
“And how do you know that?”
“Cause the Quatar family are legends around here. When the family got wiped out, everyone talked about how it was just one Quatar left. Amiri or something like that.”
“It’s Amir,” I corrected him.
