Of Hustle and Heart (17 page)

“You know, your temper tantrum is immature and unattractive,” I say.

She turns around. “Duh! I’m seventeen years old, you idiot!”

She makes a good point.

CHAPTER 29

ZINA

I
drive around in circles for almost two hours, annoyed as hell. On first impulse, I would’ve run straight for Tony’s, but he’s taken that option away. The argument we had a few days ago weighs on me in a different way than this thing with Shannon does. I can’t handle him thinking I’m some wicked thief. I miss him, and I don’t want beef. If I haven’t apologized already, I need to. I can’t remember, because it happened so fast. I hope it’s not too late. I get on the freeway, heading in his direction.

When I get to his place, I park as far away from his building as possible. But I make sure his living room window is still in view. The light is on, and he passes the window twice. I sit in my car, wondering if he’s alone, envisioning Natalia comforting him in ways that I can’t. I take my phone from my purse and finger it nervously. I text him.

Can you please forgive me?

Six minutes pass with no response, and it shatters what’s left of my heart. I turn the key in the ignition, glaring at his living room window. He hasn’t come near it since I texted him. I kill the car’s engine, get out, and walk across the parking lot to Tony’s building. I sit on the sidewalk in front of his place. I text him again.

Do you know what this is doing to me? I don’t know what to do. C’mon.

I grip my phone and bury my face into my knees.

Please.

My phone alert vibrates.

Come see me
, it says. I gulp.

I’m outside your window
, I text back and wait.

He draws back the curtain, glances down at me, and disappears. I hear his footsteps coming toward me, but I’m afraid to look. As he walks, his stride is rapid and alarming. I look at him, and he stops cold as soon as our eyes meet. He shoves his hands into his pockets, hesitating as if
he’s
scared of
me.
He winks at me, and I stand, dusting myself off. He turns and walks back to his apartment. I run to catch up with him, falling into rhythm, trying to close the distance between us.

When I turn the corner, he’s standing underneath the porch light, waiting for me to catch up. He hides his eyes, as if he’s not ready to look at me. I stand as far away from him as I can.

“Where are you coming from?” he asks.

“I was invited to a party.”

“Did I buy that for you?”

“Buy what?”

“What you’re wearing.”

I look down at myself and shake my head.

He stares at my outfit and then unlocks the door and walks in. I hold my place on the front porch.

“What are you doing? Come on,” he beckons, his voice low and husky.

“You didn’t say that you have forgiven me.” My lips tremble, and my eyes sting.

“You came all the way here to stand on the porch?”

“I’m scared. I don’t want you to throw me out again. You can’t do that.” I sniff, fidgeting under his glare. “What we did…what
I
did was wrong. I’m s…sorry.” My voice cracks as he stands in the doorway.

“I’m sorry too,” he says.

I sob, walking over to him. He grabs my wrist, pulling me forward.

“I still need you to protect me…” I say.

He kneels down in front of me. “I will always protect you, Zina,” he says. “Why don’t you know that by now?”

It was still early, even though an hour had passed since I’d arrived at Tony’s. I spent that hour on his balcony, thinking about the evening, questioning if I’d been stupid with Zack for no reason and wondering what he saw in his malicious, fire-crotch fiancée. Still, I like Zack; he’s been good to me. I won’t blame him for who his girlfriend is. I think he even tried to protect me from her. I get lonely on the balcony and go back inside with Tony.

“First you want to stay on the front porch, and now you’re hiding out on the balcony. I thought we were good,” he says when I walk into the dining room. He sets his paperwork down on the table.

“We are, duh.” I plop down on his couch as he gets up from the dining room table. “I’m sorry for stealing from you.”

He comes over and pulls me from the couch. My wedged platforms put us nearly eye to eye.

“You don’t have to say it again. I know you regret it.”

I’m relieved to hear him say this.

“I reacted badly. I was harsh. I should never have treated you that way.” He shakes his head at the memory.

“I understand why you did,” I say. “I…we messed up.”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Let this be the end of it,” he says.

I nod. My toes hurt in my shoes, so I lean against him while I adjust my footing. He wraps an arm around my waist, supporting my weight.

“So I’ve thought about what you asked me to do before the ugliness between us happened,” he says.

“What?”

“About your brothers…”

I step away from him. I remember now. He looks at me, sorrow drawn over his face.

“I don’t want you to be the kind of human being who wishes death on someone,” he says.

“My mind hasn’t changed,” I say. “The world would be a better place
without
the type of niggas who shoot kids dead in the middle of the street.”

“Someone could say the same about you—that the world would be a better place without someone who sees violence as a means to an end,” he says.

“I
don’t
give three fucks about what someone says about me. Fuck them,” I whisper. “Why do murdering motherfuckers like that get to live?”

“Don’t ask me for this,” he says.

Our eyes meet. He sees my refusal to relent. “It doesn’t have to be you—just someone. Please do it. Now.”

He leans in closer as my chest threatens to implode from the cataclysmic heat rising between us.

“Why do you think it’s so easy to take someone’s life? Why do you think I can do this? You ask like it’s nothing.” My eyes narrow. He steps closer and kisses me gently on the mouth. “You’re asking for something I can’t give.”

The kiss throws me into another world, one not shared between an adopted niece and her uncle. I’m too dizzy to press the issue. I stare at him, mouth open and woozy. He has no idea what he just did to me. He lowers his face into my hair and presses his hand into the small of my back.

“Tony,” I whisper, “I hate them.”

“I know you do.”

“But this is how you protect me right now.”

He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the couch.

“Sit,” he says, pulling me next to him. “Listen to me. I’m not going to do this.”

I jerk my hands from his and jump to my feet.

“No, wait,” he says.

“Wait for what?” I snap. “This sucks.”

“Zina…you can’t be involved in a shit like this. It’s chaotic and filthy as hell. It’s bad enough you took what you took from my safe.”

“I said I’m sorry. I thought you weren’t talking about it anymore.”

“I know you’re sorry—it’s not about that. If I let this murder situation happen, it would change you,” he whispers. “I can’t.”

I am convinced that he’d do this, so I push my anger and grief away and wait for revenge to replace it. But it’ll never come, and I’ll never heal. Tony’s refusal is more devastating than being thrown out of his life. I sit down on the arm of his sofa.

“Don’t be upset with me,” he says.

“I’m not. But can I ask you about something?”

“Yeah, anything.”

“The safe, the dope we found…where’d you get it?”

“It’s mine.”

“All of it? The guns too?”

“Yes.”

I stop asking questions. Tony’s relieved when I do.

I don’t think much about Uncle Tony being what or who he is. Who am I to pass judgment? But knowing what I know and finding the safe in his apartment brings me to a pretty far out realization. He’s able to take care of me and pick up my mama’s slack because he’s in a business that never dries up. The dope we took from him hasn’t hurt his money one bit.

I get back to the south side of Houston at 12:45 a.m., breaking curfew by almost an hour. My window slides open effortlessly. I’m careful to be quiet as I crawl inside, shoes in hand. I’m neither drunk nor high; I didn’t get the chance to be. My bedroom door is ajar but not enough for anyone to see in. I shut the window behind me and lock it.

I turn my burner phone on and see that I’ve missed twelve calls from teenage potheads seeking a hazy release. I toss the phone on my dresser, before my real phone rings and vibrates something serious in my Andy McQueen purse. Blanca’s calling.

“Hello.”

She sounds excited as she fires off a million questions.

“Hey, lady! How was the party? Did Zack look hot? Was his family there? Spill your guts, woman! Does he have a girlfriend? He’s cute and sweet, so he might,” she says. “You better watch out. You might have to fight another chick for messin’ with her man.” She stops to take a breath and waits for my answers.

“Bee, all my grooming and prepping for Zack’s party was a bust. I even brought him a card, but I didn’t give it to him. His girlfriend was there, and she was rude as hell. I left.”

I know what she’s thinking. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost one twenty.”

“You should go back, Zina. And hurry the fuck up.”

“What?
Why
would I do that?”

“He invited you, didn’t he? He likes you.”

“Whatever. You think everybody and their grandpa likes me. They don’t.”

“Well, maybe his grandpa doesn’t like you, but Zacarias does. Trust me.”

“Bullshit.”

I know Blanca; she is never gonna let this go.

“Anyway, this is not a high-school boy. He’s grown with a girlfriend. What if it’s over by the time I get there? What if he’s gone?”

“Please, woman! Stop making goddamn excuses. If I don’t think you should go, I would tell you.”

“Bee, its f ’in’ forty-five minutes away. I don’t want to drive back.” I think about Tony and how glad I am that I went to his place. My lip quivers as my eyes well with hot tears.

“Go. Now! You’ll feel better if you do,” Blanca says. “And stop crying, chica. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

CHAPTER 30

ZACARIAS

T
he volunteers from the church did an amazing job helping Clifton and my mother pull off tonight’s event. Their host and hostess duties have long been over. The horses have been fed and put away; the premises have been checked and secured.

Whitney sits next to me, angling her body against mine on the bench we share. When she touches my chin and moves in to kiss me, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

“Don’t answer it,” Whitney says as she grabs my face and kisses me hard, her hand traveling up my leg toward my crotch.

A text message comes through, and I break away to read it.

There’s a girl here looking for you.

The message is from my father. Whitney grabs my face and kisses me again.

“Wait a second,” I say as I push away from her.

What girl?
I text.

A black girl. Says she was here earlier
.

Whitney is sitting next to me, silently running her fingers through her limp curls. She yawns.
I have to get rid of her
.

My dad calls back again, but I let it ring. I tell Whitney my dad needs me because my mother isn’t feeling well.

“That’s fine. I’m tired anyway. I’m going to bed,” she says, kissing me on the mouth.

I find Zina sitting on the front gate across from one of the stables. My dad is with her.

“I’m leaving, son,” he says. “I just wanted to say bye and that I’m proud of you.” He put his arm around my shoulder. My dad nods at Zina. “She’s young,” he says. “Who is she?”

“Just…a friend, a good kid, that’s all.” He hugs me and says nothing more.

I watch as Zina struggles to climb down from the fence. I hurry over to lend her a hand. I put my hands around her waist and lift her as she buries her face in my neck. My breath catches in my throat.

“Thank you,” she says as she regains her footing.

“Why are you over here in the dark by yourself?”

She shrugs. “I wasn’t by myself. So that was your dad, huh?”

I nod.

“He said he’d wait with me until you came.”

“How’d you know I would?”

“I don’t know. Your dad was pretty sure you’d come.”

She seems uncomfortable,

“You came back. Why?” I ask.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I probably shouldn’t have. I assume your girlfriend is still here. She doesn’t seem like the type to leave you alone at a party.”

“She’s here. We’re staying the night. She’s gone to bed.”

I yawn, a sign that the wine is wearing off. She steps back, leaning on the gate, and shoves her hands into her back pockets.

“Um, I’m…I came…”

I lean against the gate, waiting for her to gather her thoughts. She’s digging a small hole into the dirt with her black sneakers. She’s changed clothes, and she smells like she just showered. There’s a hint of coconut and baby lotion in the air.

“I just thought I should…not be such a horrible brat about things.”

“What things?”

“I just…I just feel really bad. I had no reason to talk to you like that. You know what I mean?”

I nod. An apology. Glory.

“I wanted to…you know, fix it—”

“You think something needs to be fixed?”

She retrieves herself from the gate and steps in front of me. “I don’t want you to be mad at me.” She takes a few steps back and throws up her hands in surrender. “You were nice, cool enough to invite me to your party, and I—”

“I’m not mad,” I say. The quiver in her voice unsettles me. “You’re being a little hard on yourself.”

“Really?”

“Really. You apologized, I forgive you—done deal.” She takes a breath. “Well, the sun hasn’t come up yet,” I say, leaning toward her. “No school tomorrow. You want to talk?”

“Your girlfriend won’t be looking for you?”

“She’s had a few drinks. She usually sleeps pretty hard when she drinks.”

She pushes her course bangs away from her face. “I guess.”