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“What?” Eshon didn’t know what she was talking about. “Go where?”
“I’m sayin’, we have no ties to anyone here, so let’s get our shit and leave the city. This is not our fight; it’s the boys’. We can just walk away and start over somewhere else.”
Eshon leaned forward in the seat. “Start over? Start over with what? And where, Brandy? My life is here. All I know is this city. Harlem is home and it will always be home.”
“It doesn’t have to be. Kip is gone!”
Eshon didn’t need to be reminded of that. “I know that.”
“You think we can go back to Harlem after this, if we survive this shit? What our lives used to be, it all changed the night at that club. We at war, Eshon, and it’s gonna get even uglier. I don’t think I’m ready to see how ugly it’s gonna get.”
“What about Jessica, huh? I’m supposed to give her a pass after what she did?”
“She’ll get dealt wit’.”
“I want her to pay for everything she did. We had her back since day one, and she betrays us by tryin’ to have us killed.”
“I want that bitch dead, too. But she’s locked up right now. And who’s to know if she’ll get out soon? And if she do, what makes you think Maserati Meek won’t be there waiting for her wit’ an army of his own?”
Eshon frowned. She never thought she would see the day that Brandy wanted to back down from a fight—no matter what kind of fight it was. The disrespect from Jessica was blatant. How could she let it go? How could she forgive that bitch? Eshon couldn’t rest until she saw that bitch dead. Jessica was a terrorist too. She was responsible for all the lives lost that night at the club. She arranged everything. She knew what was going to happen. There was no way Eshon was going to allow her to live and breathe the same air on earth as her. She needed to pay for her sins.
She needed to die.
“Brandy, if you wanna leave, then leave. I’m not running. I’m staying!” Eshon said with conviction. “You don’t understand the hate I got inside for this ho. She’s fuckin’ the weird nigga that killed Kip and then tried to kill me—to kill us. All of us! And over what? Some dick?”
There was no changing Eshon’s mind. Brandy saw it on her face. Eshon had that look that said she would rather die trying to implement justice for Kip than run like a coward to a different state. It almost felt like she had Kip inside of her.
Brandy sighed. “Fuck it, if you staying, then I’m staying.”
Hearing that made Eshon smile. She needed Brandy around. She needed a true friend in her life, and Brandy was it. Where would she be without her?
“Thanks,” Eshon said.
“Fuck it, I’d rather die side-by-side with a friend than live separate and die alone,” Brandy said.
The two ladies continued to share a
cigarette and talk. They were scared, not knowing what tomorrow held for them. But they had each other’s back. They were going to succeed in vengeance or die trying. Brandy’s nerves were still rattled—going up against men with the knowledge and mindset to blow up buildings and kill anyone that got in their way was daunting. They were up against something a lot more evil than they’d ever seen. Brandy prepared herself for the worst—saying, fuck it, they couldn’t live forever.
***
There were two hard knocks at the hotel door. Devon recoiled from the bed and grabbed his pistol and cocked it back. He glanced at The Kid, Eshon, and Brandy. They looked nervous. Papa John was still MIA, no doubt laid up with some bitch somewhere. If it had been him at the door, he would have called first to let them know he was on the way back.
Devon took the initiative to approach the door and see who’d come knocking—friend or foe. With his silver Berretta in hand and by his side, he cautiously stood at the door, looked through the peephole, and asked, “Yo, who is it?”
“It’s Twitter,” the knocker said.
Hearing the name, Devon relaxed and his uneasiness faded. He opened the door and allowed the man inside. Eshon, Brandy, and The Kid were clueless as to who he was. Twitter? What kind of character was he? The Kid hated being clueless, but he had to remain quiet and allow Devon to take charge like he was told to do.
Twitter glided into the room with a natural smile looking lost in time—a Blaxploitation character from the ’70s. He was a black man of average height and had a neat Afro with larger-than-life sideburns. He was impeccably dressed in a light leather jacket in the month of June and a black silk shirt with the collar wide open, showing off a thin gold chain bearing a gold cross. There was a gold tooth in the upper right corner of his mouth, diamond earrings in both ears, a gold Rolex around his wrist, and pinky rings on both hands. He looked cheesy and sharp at the same time. He carried a large black duffel bag.
Twitter greeted Devon with dap and placed the duffel bag on the bed.
The Kid looked at Devon, and Devon said, “He’s a good friend. I gave him a call earlier. I forgot about it.”
“Yeah, me and Devon go way back,” Twitter said. “And I’m sorry about Kip. He was a good dude—my nigga fo’ sure. I’m gonna miss him.”
Eshon and Brandy were on the sidelines thinking, What part of the game is this? Kip had never mentioned him. Twitter saw the confusion on their faces and made it his personal business to introduce himself.
