Sisterly Love

 

April 2000

 

“Last stop, Philadelphia!” Brooke hears the driver announce before the Greyhound bus comes to a halt. 

She didn’t even realize she was sleeping, but the clutch on the .380 in her fanny pack never left. Just to be sure she has everything, she takes the black bookbag in her lap and opens it up. There’s about $500 that she stole from her Aunt Eve. Bitch deserved it. Brooke thinks. The sky is dark and it’s colder than she’s prepared for in the early spring night weather. It’s time to show outsiders the way into Realadelphia, where the real hustlers play and all the divas are business in heels; life is all about the survival of the ruthless. Brooke chuckles and shakes her head knowing there’s more to Illadel than drama. Philly can get on that real wild psychopath shit from time to time, but she’s proud to call it home.

With her bag on the front of her, Brooke strolls through the bus terminal. She knows that with her long, straight back cornrows, baggy clothes, and mean mug she looks like Cleo from Set It Off. She’s not worried about that though, all she wants to do is get a cheesesteak, blunt, and Pepsi, but not in that order. After over a year in Long Beach, California she’s back in the city of brotherly love for good. Don’t get her wrong, it was okay in the LBC; her paternal family is from there. It’s a second place in her heart to live, however, that was never truly home to her. Even though Philadelphians are rowdy and madcap, the soon to be 16-year-old is a Philly girl forever and a day.

“I love my city!” Brooke shouts. It wasn’t her choice to leave the 2-1-5 area code. It all started when Brooke was a high school freshman and she accidentally, on purpose, almost burned down her school. When her homegirl, Elise, came to her and told her some asshole in their class sexually assaulted her, Brooke handled it.

How did she handle it? With skills learned from her mother, Nettlyne, she put together a small bomb and rigged it to blow up in the assaulter’s locker. The asshole lived but was stricken blind and a hallway was destroyed. Brooke never got caught by the law, but her grandmother, Virginia, found her written down plans and told her father, Aries. They decided Brooke was a little too crazy to deal with, so they sent her to California with her Aunt Eve. Some call Eve a fanatical Christian, but Brooke considers her to be a fanatical fraud.

Brooke still doesn’t know why her so-called guardians thought Eve was a good role model. All she did was leave her sons with their grandmother to party. Then she’d go to her church and front for the congregation. She also was male centered; she fell in love every other week and had them laid up in the house even when she wasn’t there. To keep the peace, Brooke spent a lot of time outside of the place. California living as a teen was different than when she’d visit family there as a kid. She didn’t have many friends but managed to get herself affiliated with some Long Beach Crip gang members and a few others. Still, being back home to her, feels natural and right.      

***

            The streets of Center City are mostly empty in the after-midnight hours, but Brooke walks along taking in the sights like a tourist. Since she only has a bookbag for luggage, she decides to hop on public transportation Philly calls, SEPTA, headed to Southwest Philadelphia. She gets to an open late Chinese store a few blocks from where she’s going. Some young people shoot craps outside, but her attention is on a guy with a hood over his head. She peeped his eyes on her when she stopped at the payphone a block or so behind her to let her grandmother know she’d be arriving soon. That put her on ready, but she remained calm. It would be nice to be conceited and say he was in awe of Brooke’s chocolate beauty even in that outfit, but she’s not dumb.

            Southwest Philly is where Brooke knows she got her roots at. From Bartram Village, a notorious Philly housing project, to Baltimore Avenue is her playground. The hooligans on the corner shooting dice, playing in the water plug on a hot summer day, and having some Fred’s water ice during summer nights, gives her so many happy thoughts. Things could turn into a warzone at any given moment, but she still has more good memories than bad. Stay alert! She thinks as she returns focus to the potential danger in her path.

            The hooded guy follows Brooke from the store and shuffles behind her as she makes her way down a quiet strip. Once they’re in a dark spot, he makes his move. The assailant tries to shove her face first into the side of the closed corner store’s wall, but she quickly breaks free from the culprit’s grasp ending up behind him. After tossing her bag to the side, she kicks him in his lower back roughly into the wall. It causes him to stumble then face her, but now she busts his head all up with her fists, before giving him right body blow then left body blow until he collapses to the ground.

When he does that, she stomps on his chest and stomach. He must’ve thought she was just a sweet piece of prey and not the juggernaut, young lady she is. If their combat veteran father didn’t teach them anything else, he taught his two daughters, Brooke and Autumn, to defend themselves accurately. As she heard in a rap song, if a person wants to get shot, karate chopped, or stabbed, it’s on!  Brooke Fitz can make the best of a bad situation, and the failed robber just learned a lesson tonight.

“Stupid muthafucka.” Brooke says then kicks the fool in the side making him whimper some more. She pulls out her .380 and points it at him. “Strip bitch!” She orders then shoots a round off near his head to let him know she’s serious. He groans in agony from her hits, but does as she commands until he’s completely nude. “Now get the fuck outta here and think about where you fucked up at.” She orders and the culprit quickly runs away naked, but she keeps her weapon pointed at him until he’s out of sight. After going through the supposed robber’s pockets and finding only $20, she escapes the scene and heads towards her destination.

To regular folks the botched robbery would be shocking, but to Brooke, it’s average and part of ghetto living. Brooke is accustomed to anarchy and lunacy due to her upbringing. The Fitz sisters have a schizophrenic mother that’s been in a mental institution for the last three years and a functioning but crack addicted father roaming the streets of Philly. Life ain’t been no crystal stair for the young Nubian princesses, and she could recollect for days about it. However, Brooke shakes those thoughts from her mind to be happy because she’s back in her stomping grounds. Before long, she’s in front of the black and tan rowhouse with the blue azaleas in the small front yard that’s near and dear to her heart. She opens the unlocked storm door then rings the bell on the light-colored door, wishing she found her keys lost in the bag. 

“Shit girl, I thought you’d never show up! Once again it’s on!” Mimi exclaims after she opens the door and lets Brooke inside on the porch. Slender, honey brown toned Milan Devereaux, better known as Mimi, has been Brooke’s best friend forever since the third grade.

While Brooke was just a poor, unknown kid, Mimi was a hood empress because of her infamous father, Saadiq Devereaux. The man was well feared and respected in Philly as well as beyond and with that reputation, people wanted to affiliate themselves with a God. Even at eight years old, Mimi had flunkies and one of them thought they could bully Brooke since she was the new kid. That bully got a beatdown she’d never forget nor outlive. Mimi was impressed and started a friendship with her feisty peer.

Brooke seems to be the only friend to keep Mimi in check without fear of her. To Mimi, she appreciated Brooke’s down-to-earth aura and that she wasn’t excited about Mimi’s material things. When Mimi was having issues with reading and telling time, Brooke didn’t mock or tease her. The girl just took on the task of mentoring her friend to be better with no strings attached. The two connected on a sister level and blood couldn’t make them any closer. Brooke stares at her best friend or Rock-Girl as they call each other, all moneyed up in designer clothes and custom jewelry with a smile as wide as Texas.   

“My bad, got caught up in something.” Brooke says as the two exchange hugs.

“Are you back for good?” Mimi asks as she leads the way into the living room.

“Yup, Philly is deep in my blood.” Brooke answers while locking the front door. The song, Out on A Limb, by Teena Marie plays at a low volume in the lavish rowhome that used to be two separate houses. Even in the ghetto, the things in the place probably cost more than four middle class families make in a year. There are upscale electronics and trinkets including a 50-inch TV with surround sound. Professional styled photos of various people and things line the sky-blue walls. The comfy cream-colored, leather sofas take up most of the wall on the left side of Brooke while other aristocratic furnishings fill the rest of the space. 

“Why’d you leave Cali all unannounced?” Mimi asks as she heads to sit on the middle couch. 

“I left a note on the fridge.” Brooke says cavalierly as she watches Mimi roll a weed filled blunt on the mahogany wood coffee table.

“Well, why ain’t you even tell us you was taking the bus? We was worried for five fuckin’ days!”

“I’m alive and fine so worry no more.” 

“Why didn’t you take a plane?” 

“I couldn’t carry the orphan maker,” Brooke says pulling out her gun. “On a plane.”  

“So, why you come back now?”

“Because I missed the east coast. I love having all four seasons. The sun all the time and the earthquakes just ain’t for me.” 

“Yeah, right. Don’t lie to me, what’s the real reason?”  Brooke takes a seat next to Mimi then puts her bag on the floor.

“My aunt’s new boyfriend was more interested in me than her. He walked in on me showering one day, so another day I accidently walked into the bathroom while he was shitting and threw hot grease all over him. And she ain’t like that.”

“That muthafucka didn’t touch you, did he?”

“Hell no, you know what I’m about.” Brooke states sternly. When they were nine, going on ten years old, Mimi’s mom, Beth, had a party. One of her male guests made his way into Mimi’s room where both Brooke and Mimi were asleep. They were awakened by his hands groping their bodies. Both girls screamed for help, but the music was too loud downstairs. He was strong, but both little girls scratched and bit his disgusting ass until they managed to escape. They told Beth, but she was too drunk and high to comprehend, but Mimi’s second oldest brother took matters into his own hands.

Even though he was just fourteen years old, he, with a crew of street soldiers, kidnapped the pervert. Then they had Brooke and Mimi watch as they fed the bastard alive to hungry pitbulls, penis first. Mimi vomited while watching, but Brooke was intrigued that Mimi’s family were doers not talkers. She never really remembered her blood relatives have her back like that without wanting something in return. The experience should’ve been disturbing to the young girls, but it just made their friendship and Brooke’s love for her surrogate family stronger. It also made Brooke, in her opinion, able to face any trouble that comes her way.

“How’s Martina taking it?” Mimi asks and Brooke sighs. If there was one thing to be upset about leaving California, it would be the fact that she won’t see Martina daily anymore.  He’s her California best friend and he’s the only pansexual drag queen that she’s ever known. She’s never met someone prouder than him to be who he is. He showed her the ropes of dealing with being an outcast teen and kept her hair nice and right. That wasn’t the only thing, he always had the best weed, taught her how to suck dick, and could eat the yoni like no other! Just because he acted like a girl and screwed a few guys, he still knew how to please Brooke. Even with the sexual trysts between them, they never wanted to be in more than a platonic relationship. 

“I promised to visit as much as I can.”  

“My Cocoa Puff is back!” Beth exclaims as she comes downstairs. Brooke looks at the butterscotch Krimpet colored woman she considers an alternate mother. Due to cosmetic surgeries, her body is mostly an immaculate hourglass even after pushing out three children. She’s dressed fancy like Mimi, although it’s the wee hours of the morning. As expected, Beth appears to be inebriated, but she’s not completely wasted like Brooke remembers her being. Still, a smile spreads across the teen’s face as they meet each other in the middle of the floor for hugs. The breath of Beth is filled with vodka, but Brooke doesn’t mind. Although she has predominantly positive things to say about Beth, her life is all about partying and bullshitting.

She’s forever tied to a few of Philly’s biggest hustlers, so since she was sixteen years old, she’s been on an unearned throne. In Brooke’s eyes, Beth isn’t a walking stereotype on paper. She hasn’t worked legit ever, but she’s not on welfare. However, her only love seems to be shaking her booty, flashing lots of cash, and getting high and/or drunk. Brooke knows Beth had a horrid childhood and that trauma has never healed. However, her concerns have always been shallow to Brooke. From what she remembers, Beth hasn’t put morals and discipline into her kids since Brooke has been in the substitute family. Even though Brooke doesn’t see her grandmother as a role model, she did teach them basic life skills that Mimi had no clue about. Brooke didn’t mind helping to make Beth’s kids better people without incentives. However, all three of Beth’s kids see her as more of a big sister than mother. They cuss, drink, and smoke with her, but Brooke noticed that they do have some respect for her which is probably because of the patriarch’s influence. “You still makin’ all that beautiful art?” She asks when they part.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve been inspired, but that should change since I’m back home.”  Brooke replies.

“Are you stayin’ wit us?” Beth asks as she goes towards the couch.

“I’m gonna definitely need you to put me in school when my records get here.” Brooke answers.

“Yeah, you better be comin’ back to Bartram with us.” Mimi adds in before lighting the blunt. Brooke heads towards Mimi to get puffs that she’s been missing for days. “That’s all you brought with you?” She asks as she points to Brooke’s backpack.

“It’s all I needed. Y’all still got my stuff here?” Brooke asks and Mimi nods then inhales the weed smoke.

“Yeah, but you need new, fly shit. Them dusty bitches at school can’t rock shit hotter than us.”

“I gots to get a job first.” 

“Or boost like we used to.”

“Naw, I’m tryna do things legit. Martina hooked me up and is sending me a tattooing kit here. I’m gonna be doing tat parties until I get this job thing situated.”

“That’s what’s up.” Mimi says.  

“Did you call the Bowmans and let them know you safe?”  Beth asks.

“I’ll be going there after this smoke.” Brooke sighs out at the thought of her bio-family outside of her sister. Mimi hands Brooke the blunt and she takes three tokes then she dials her grandmother’s number. As soon as Virginia answers and Brooke says hi, she starts screaming her lungs out. Brooke can hear her Aunt Sundae in the background too. “I’ll be home in thirty minutes.” She lies then hangs up before calling for a cab.

“You could wait and have Ky drop you off. Well, when he gets home.” Beth suggests before she puffs the blunt Mimi hands her.

“Nah, ya know how my grandma can get about us and boys.” Brooke states.

“Damn, she still be actin’ like Carrie’s mom?” Beth replies then exhales smoke. 

“That’s what I hear.”

“Well, you always welcomed here Cocoa.” Beth states making Brooke grin and nod.

“Is Kobe here? We’re not waking her up, are we? It is a school night.” Brooke says.

“She’s with her dad’s family this week.” Beth responds. “Well, welcome back and don’t leave us again!” Brooke nods then the three ladies chat until the cab comes ten minutes later. 

***

“I see ya fast ass got kicked out ya aunt house,” Virginia says while standing in the doorway smoking a cigarette. Brooke rolls her eyes as she stands on the steps freezing because of the chill in the air. Since their parents were out of commission, that left the Fitz sisters with Virginia. She seems to collect all her family’s children, but especially her grandkids. In Brooke’s eyes, she must’ve been a shitty parent because five of the six kids she gave birth to, have their children living there. To Brooke, it all comes down to if a person didn’t get good parenting, how can they give it?  Even though there’s two boy cousins, it’s mostly girls in Virginia’s house. Altogether there’s nine of them sharing the tiny area including Brooke’s 18-year-old unemployed Aunt Sundae and her three-year-old daughter, Kareema. Virginia gets money for the kids, so Brooke assumes to her grandmother, it’s the more the merrier. 

It’s nowhere near a healthy place to be. Besides being crammed into just three bedrooms together, there’s mice and roaches, but most of all Virginia is out of pocket. She comes off as a church lady that can do no wrong in public, but at home she’s an abusive alcoholic bitch. She beats them for no damn reason. They get extension cords, shoes, frying pans or whatever she can pick up and throw at them. A belt would be like a back rub in a French tub to the kids. Virginia has most of the children scared to breathe around her like she’s Joe Jackson or something. That’s not Brooke and it never will be.

Brooke is a renegade and will take that title any day over being a pussy. It’s a trait that came from Nettlyne since she was the first black sheep. She doesn’t think her mother was ever playing with a full deck in her mind. From what she remembers and the stories she’s heard, Brooke knows her mother was always crazy. At the time, she wasn’t officially diagnosed with the mental disorder since Virginia preferred prayer over getting actual medical help. Her bio-family were consumed in Virginia’s manic world, but Nettlyne’s soul couldn’t be broken down like her siblings. As soon as she hit eighteen, she jetted away from her family and all their awful ways and traveled the country. Her travels led her to Texas in the 1980’s where she met Brooke and Autumn’s father.

Aries was three years older than Nettlyne and three years into his Army service. He came from a family of poverty and alcoholism but wanted better for his future. However, alcoholism had already tainted him, which aided his downfall. Still, the two lost souls crossed paths at a cookout and magic happened. They married within a month of meeting and out of that union, two daughters came. By that time, both adults tried to be normal, but it was too late. Aries went to Grenada, but Operation Desert Storm got him Gulf War Syndrome. He received an honorable discharge from the military, but he was damaged goods from then on.

The Fitz family tried to restart their life in Nettlyne’s hometown, Philadelphia. Things were too far gone; Aries couldn’t keep a job, which caused him to drink more and at a party he discovered crack cocaine. Nettlyne’s disorder was worsening, but she tried to be the stable parent to her daughters. However, she knew that she needed help, so she started speaking to Virginia again. For the next several years, Brooke and Autumn would be dependent on Virginia and other random family members because their parents completely lost sight and failed them. Yet, even as Brooke felt thwarted by them, she never stopped loving them. She does blame them for her and Autumn’s lives now though. 

Brooke comes out of her recollection as her grandmother whacks her on the side of the head. Anger rises in the teen as memories of Virginia’s abuse come back to her. When she looks her grandmother in the eyes, Virginia remembers when she felt the rage from Brooke one time when she was twelve years old. She slapped her in the face with an iron, but then Brooke charged at her like the defensive line towards the offense and tackled her to the floor. Brooke knows when people think about grandmothers, they picture an old hunched over lady in a big brim hat. Virginia was very promiscuous at an early age; she knew how to use her body to get what she wanted. She had her first kid at fourteen and went on to have more by four different guys. She has a few gray hairs, but for the most part she looks and acts like a young and dumb fool.  

 Before Brooke was sent to California, Virginia claimed that Southwest Philly was turning the children rotten, so she moved them to North Philly. It was still the ghetto, and they were still cramped into a rowhouse. Brooke begged Virginia to keep her in all her old schools, but she said no. It wasn’t until Beth stepped in and let Brooke use her address to stay in the district and promised to attend all school-related activities on Virginia’s behalf. That was enough to allow her oldest granddaughter the small favor. Most of Brooke’s blood family in her opinion will always be horrible, but instead of turning to hard drugs and liquor like some of her aunts, uncles, and cousins, Brooke takes solace in Mimi and her family.

“It wasn’t like that.” Brooke replies.

“Flee from sexual immorality. Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexual immoral person sins against his own body. Corinthians 6:18.” Yeah, you damn sure fuckin’ know! Brooke thinks. “So, you come crawling back.” Virginia says as she scratches her russet-colored arm. “Well, we don’t have much room, so you’ll be bunking with Sundae, ‘Reem, and Iyenda.” She says finally moving to the side to let Brooke in. The house is quiet and dark, but Brooke still sees her two boy cousins, eleven-year-old Javon and six-year-old Rasheen, sleeping on floored twin-sized mattresses in the dining room.

“I’m gonna probably be at Mimi’s a lot.” Brooke whispers. 

“Is that girl’s mom still gonna put you in school?”  Virginia asks while going towards the kitchen.

“Yup.” Brooke replies simply, headed upstairs. First, she peeks in the smallest room where almost fourteen-year-old Autumn is asleep on the top bunk with her trusty notebook beside her. Since the second grade, Autumn has been a rising young authoress. What love story is brewing in ya head now? Brooke thinks as she stares at her sister that shares the same complexion as her. Their other two cousins, fifteen-year-old Angelique and eleven-year-old Mercedes are on the bottom bunk and a floored mattress.

After pulling out a Mahogany Hallmark card with $100 in twenties inside, Brooke slips it in the notebook then exits the room. She goes into the middle room where Virginia said she’d be sleeping. Her two three-year-old cousins are asleep on one twin-sized floored mattress, but Sundae isn’t in the only twin bed with a bedframe in the room. Brooke spots the aged Scooby Doo sleeping bag and pillow on the floor just for her. She huffs and shakes her head annoyed, but it’s temporary because she’ll be going right back to Southwest in a few hours.  

***

The noise of a busy house on a school day in the morning comes to Brooke far too soon in her opinion. That was the first sleep in days that she slept more than two hours and laying down. Brooke huffs, but sits up with plans to nap at Beth’s place soon.

“Mommy me need juice.” Kareema says with a squeaky voice.

“Big sis!” Autumn yells after she rushes into the room still in her pajamas but holding her notebook. “I’m so hype you’re back home!” She says as she sits next to Brooke on the floor.

“I don’t call this dump home.” Brooke says in French. Nettlyne and Aries may not have remained role models, but they managed to instill quality skills into their daughters. One being fluency in more than one language; the young ladies speak French and Spanish along with English.

“Yeah, I stay at Nadia’s most of the time until the hag gets bitchy and forces me back.” Autumn replies in French as well.

“I already know when y’all talk that foreign shit, y’all talkin’ shit ‘bout us.” Sundae says groggy, but loud from the bed. “Y’all hear her askin’ for juice!”

“She’s asking her mother, not us.” Brooke states in English then returns her attention to Autumn, ignoring whatever snide remark Sundae made. “Do you still got that bank account Mom set up for us? If so, put that cash in there.” Brooke suggests in French as she starts to stand.

“Nope, the hag took all that dough, but I had Auntie Naomi open me a new one.” Autumn replies in French.

“Nadia’s mom?” Brooke asks in French and Autumn nods.

“That’s where I put the money I get babysitting on the weekends.” Autumn replies in French as she gets up as well. “I know you got business to handle, and you’re headed back to Southwest. I just wanted to say thanks and welcome back to Philly.” She says in French then turns her attention to the toddlers who are both up and making noise. “Come on y’all!” Autumn says in English then follows the girls who race out of the room.       

 As much as Brooke wants to let her homegirls know she’s back, they’re probably on their way to school, but she can get ready to go back to SWP. Her stomach is growling for any meal since all she ate was chips and juice during her cross-country journey. Virginia gets food stamps, so she has a fridge full of food to choose from. It’s not like Eve; she got them too but sold them and had them eating oodles and noodles with hotdogs all month. Still, she’d rather go to Beth’s and cook there, so she waits for the house to empty out then uses the bathroom before putting on the outfit she was wearing earlier. Sundae has Nick Jr for the girls on TV downstairs while she stays upstairs watching talk shows and eating the breakfast she only made for herself.

“If you see Chase, tell his fine ass, my ex locked up now, so it’s whatever.” Sundae says causing Brooke to suck her teeth as she picks up her backpack.

“I ain’t sending out no coochie hoe messages. Do ya own dirty work.” Brooke replies before she starts exiting the room.

“Cock blockin’ fuckin’ bitch.” Sundae says low, but Brooke heard her, yet she doesn’t care to respond since she’s going to a better place.

Brooke gets back into Southwest Philly via SEPTA and before long, she’s at her favorite home. Because she’s had keys to the house since the fifth grade, she only surprises the strange man sitting with his ashy bare feet on the coffee table and a beer in his hand.

“Who are you?” Brooke asks boldly with her hand on her .380.

“I thought all Babs’ kids were gone ‘til two.” He replies then takes a sip of the drink.

“Mama B!” Brooke shouts as she steps near the stairs and sets her bag at the bottom all while keeping her eyes on the mystery guest. 

“She went to Chester Ave.” He says, but that just makes Brooke pull the .380 to view.

“Bullshit! She’d never leave a stranger in here alone.”

“Take it easy,” He responds as he starts to remove his feet from the table.

“Put ya hands up then don’t move.” Brooke demands as she aims the gun right where his heart is. It’s already locked and loaded.

“You sure you know how to use that thing?” He asks with his hands up. She looks at him in the eyes.

“Try me.” Because the porch door is open, Brooke can hear the storm door open then someone turns the knob of the front door.

“What the shit?” Beth shouts, muffled from outside before she knocks roughly. “Open the fuckin’ door!” She bangs.

“You go open it. Keep ya hands up and walk slowly.” Brooke orders and the man huffs but complies.

“Why’d ya lock the fuckin’ door?!” Beth asks as she barges in. “Oh shit.” She says as she notices Brooke with her exposed weapon.

“What the hell is goin’ on Babs?” The man asks still with his hands up. Beth flags him off and keeps her attention on Brooke.

“I know what you thinkin’ but this is not a normal thing. It’s been so long, I forgot you might’ve wanted to stop by early. No need to fret, he’s harmless and ya don’t need to tell that son of mines either.” Beth says lightheartedly, yet nervous.

“Who is he?” Brooke asks.

“Gary, he’s just a very old friend I ran into at the market and invited him in for a brief drink. He wasn’t gonna stay long so you don’t even need to mention this to Ky at all.” Beth responds as she lightly pats Brooke’s gun down to her side. The way that Brooke continues to stare at the man makes him keep his hands raised. “You know we all been missin’ ya grub that’s why I went to the store earlier. I got all the stuff you need for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I been in hell without my everything omelette every two weeks. I even had Mimi clean the kitchen, a little.”

“So, I gotta do it the right way and cook.”

“I will make sure all the dishes you need will be washed and ready.” Beth says and Brooke sighs but finally puts away the gun.

“First, I wanna soak in the tub.”

“Go ‘head girl! Light some candles, play some music, and get out when ya ready. No rush.” Beth says before placing a light kiss on Brooke’s cheek then scooting her towards the stairs. The need to bathe currently outweighs Beth’s faux pas so Brooke leaves the older woman to her business and gets ghost. 

***

“Damn, it smells good in here!” Mimi exclaims when she comes in from school. All I Can Say by Mary J. Blige is playing from the radio in the kitchen. She takes another deep inhale as she starts towards the smell and music then finds Brooke dicing tomatoes while singing along to the song. “Hell yeah! You back in business ‘cause we definitely ain’t had no good shit since you been gone.” She states while she stands in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room.

“Yeah, the pots and pans had dust on them!” Brooke says as she picks the tomatoes up and puts them in the lettuce filled bowl on the counter next to her. “Mama still can’t bring herself in here to cook.” Brooke says softly before she grabs the bagged croutons in front of her.

“That would be one true miracle if she does.” Mimi says as she starts taking off her red, high-heel calf boots. “Where she at anyway?”

“She said she had a doctor’s appointment when I got here.” Brooke answers as she opens the bag and continues cooking.

“Bet. Ooh, have you called Jason yet?”

“For what? That was 8th grade, kiddie shit.”

“You both bust ya cherries together though. Y’all two was cute together.” Brooke flags the comment off.

“He stopped writing me like four months ago and when I’d call, he was always sleep. Fuck him.”    

“You say that now ‘til you see your first love again. He on the varsity team at Bartram.” Mimi says as she tosses her boots to the side.

“Nah, after Martina, nobody’s measured up.”

“Some tranny was better than a real nigga?” Mimi asks as she makes a disgusted face.

“Never judge a book by its cover.”

“Whatever. You home now; all the freaky deaky Cali shit is a no go ‘round these parts. The Southwest Harlots are gonna be here soon. I told them all that yous in dire need of a makeover. You too cute to be lookin’ like some broke ass nobody.”  

“I am a broke ass nobody. That’s how I want it right now.”

“Not on my watch! Super Fly Bitch to the rescue!” Mimi declares while doing a superhero stance making Brooke shake her head with a smirk. “What you cookin’ on?”

“Salad and lasagna.”

“With the beef and pepperoni?” Mimi asks excitedly.

“Yup, so go do some homework.”

“Is Chase here?” Mimi whispers.

“I haven’t seen him since I been back.” Brooke answers.

“Well, fuck homework, I’ll be on the net.”

“Alright, food will be done in like twenty minutes.”

“Cool,” Mimi says with a nod then heads to her room to get online. Nobody else is home when the food is done, but Brooke and Mimi eat anyway then go to her room to smoke a spliff. They chit-chat some more about various things until Shalia, Elise, and Darnella get there within the next hour. Of course, when Brooke sees Darnella, Elise, and Shalia, the rest of her homegirls, it’s really a party. Copper hued and short Elise puts the puffy clothing bag of self-designed and handmade ensembles on the desk chair then rushes to Brooke for hugs.

They’ve been friends since 7th grade and Elise is forever grateful towards Brooke for being Louise to her Thelma. That’s why Brooke always gets first dibs when she needs fashion help. While special dark chocolate toned Darnella says what’s up, her eyes are on the blunt. Brooke’s only Harlot friend that goes to a different high school from the rest. She’s heavy into botany and is the resident pothead because she’s been smoking since they were eleven and has been growing it since they were thirteen. Shalia, the heavyset cinnamon colored doctor of hair and makeup comes in with a trunk of cosmetic magic completing the fivefold of cute, but hazardous ladies.

“The Southwest Harlots are back in business!” Brooke yells. These young ladies are Brooke’s ride or die friends for life! They may share friendly gossip about each other to each other, but there’s no backbiting. Nobody steals men, money, or drugs from one another. If one needs help, all pitch in even if it’s just being present. They move as a unit; if there’s beef with one, there’s beef with all. They have a strong and deep bond that a million crews put together couldn’t compete with.

Even though Brooke doesn’t like some of the things they do, besides Mimi, they all have their own hustle. Shalia is good at five finger discounts or does makeup for strippers. Elise sells knockoff apparel that she handmakes fooling her clientele into believing the name brands are real. Darnella is a stripper in an underground club where she also sells weed. Brooke doesn’t judge because it’s a cold, cruel world out here and they all are trying to survive. Now it feels like she’s home. They smoke and laugh while Shalia hooks up Brooke’s natural hair with Aaliyah tresses that hang down under her shoulder blades. Next, the rest of The Southwest Harlots eat lasagna then laugh some more while Brooke tries on the clothes. The others secretly envy Brooke’s voluptuous, virtually flawless body in between outfit changes while listening to R&B and Hip-Hop.

“Yo, I missed the shit outta my crew!” Brooke says while she sits crossed leg on the floor as she reads their fortune on her tarot cards. She scratches the Ouija board tattoo that she designed on her left bicep as they hear the doorbell ring. Mimi gets up to answer it.

“Hey girl!” Brooke hears and cringes; soon, footsteps rush up the stairs until Mimi and Priscilla enter. Priscilla is a mustard complexion, annoying, kid. Brooke can’t even call her a peer because the other teen is so damn childish to her. She’s not a member or even affiliate of The Southwest Harlots in Brooke’s eyes. They only know each other because of her being in Mimi’s old drill team. She’s a hot ass mess; always instigating unnecessary fights or arguments, always negative, but acts like she’s holier than thou because she can sing. Ain’t nobody really checking for that squawking she does! Brooke shouts mentally, but she doesn’t want to be petty though. When Priscilla made her way into the room behind Mimi, Brooke just tilted her chin up at her.

“Damn, I thought you was all the way across the world,” Priscilla says to Brooke as she goes to sit on the bed. “What made you come back to this shit stain city?”

“Because Illadel is where I belong.”  Brooke answers simply. 

“You better than me because ain’t shit goin’ on in Philly. I’d be living it up on the beach everyday if I was you.” Priscilla says as she shakes her head.

“You ain’t me.” Brooke responds coolly.

“I guess you missed Jason too much.” Priscilla says as Elise passes the blunt to her. Here this bitch go wit old shit I was trying not to think about! Brooke thinks. She could yank Priscilla’s weave tracks out her head and drag her down the stairs or cuss her out, but Brooke pities her. She’s able to wear name brand clothes and shoes because she steals from stores and just about anyone, except Mimi. So much so, that Mimi told Brooke that Priscilla isn’t allowed in most of her aunts’ or cousins’ homes anymore. Her mother is jealous of her, which causes them to have arguments and fistfights whenever she’s around. Brooke can admit that Priscilla has talent for singing but is too afraid to put any real work into it so it’s dissipated.

Priscilla perpetrates like she’s worldly by telling a bunch of farfetched tales about dining in Paris, shopping in Italy, and listening to classical music daily. However, when Brooke went with Mimi to visit Priscilla one time, she lived in a mediocre home with her two younger brothers that was decorated cheaply and had no evidence of going anywhere past New Jersey. Then she had one album of classical music that had never been opened. All she’s got going is the façade that she works so hard to prove every day.     

“No more than usual.” Brooke says nonchalantly.  

“So, you goin’ to Bartram wit us?” Priscilla asks with an inhale, and Brooke nods. “Well, ain’t nothin’ but a bunch of jealous bitches and nut ass niggaz.” Brooke just nods and shrugs feeling the effects of the weed.  

“And you fit into both categories.” Mimi adds in making Brooke cackle. Priscilla sticks up two middle fingers at them. 

“All I’m doin’ is tryna get her in the know about things around here.” Priscilla replies then sucks her teeth.

“I’ve been through worse,” Brooke says. They still talk here and there, but soon Darnella and Priscilla leave for the night while Shalia and Elise put on their pajamas for the sleepover. Before long, the Bacardi that Beth bought for them knocks Elise and Shalia out first and now they’re resting on the bottom bunk.

“It’s good you back right now ‘cause girl, you missed out on a whole bunch! My new boo is the truth.” Mimi whispers then takes another swig from the Bacardi bottle as they sit facing each other on the top bunk with three lavender scented candles lighting the room.

“This is the Chris bull?” Brooke asks in the same manner.

“Yeah, come with me Friday to The Gallery. My cousin will get us outta school early. Chris is gonna meet us there, but then he’s taking us shopping somewhere else.” Mimi states as she does a little shimmy.

“Us? That muthafucka is not gonna have me owing him shit.”

“Relax, he’s all for me and yes, us. Just me and you. I told him ya situation and he said he could help.”

“And he doesn’t want anything in return?”

“Not from you, this is all profit for you. Get what you can get!”

“Has ya brother met him?”

“Nah, Chase would go berserk if he knew about Chris. He’s a junior at Wilmington University.”

“And he’s taking trips back and forth here to see a tenth grader?” Brooke asks skeptically. Mimi is her number one Rock-Girl, but Mimi is like Beth, personality wise. They have hints of entitlement with naivety in their energy. Mimi is not into the education part of school, so her grades are crappy. Beth never finished any schooling past eighth grade, so even if Mimi’s grades are just barely passing, it’s all good in her world. In all these years of knowing her, Brooke never discovered hidden or displayed talent within any type of creative field in Mimi.

There’s the dancing the mom and daughter share is what pops into Brooke’s head. Money can be made from being a professional ass shaker, but that’s a fleeting career. They have nothing more to offer the world except to be attractive, theatrical, and expensive. Most of all, they seem to think everyone should be okay with that. As Brooke thinks about it, she kind of feels like she’s failing her homegirl because Mimi’s superficiality seems to have gotten worse since she’s been in California.

“My mom was 16 and my dad was 26 when they hooked up and they made a good ass couple for at least 14 years. Even though he’s locked up for life now, she still holds him down.” That makes Brooke raise a brow.

“She had a whole baby with his top earner not even a full year after he got booked.” 

“She was lonely and missing my dad and Mr. Jacob reminded her of him.”

“I’m not judging, I’m just pointing out facts. It’s not just shopping sprees and island hopping. I love Papa ‘Diq and Mama B, but their whole love life was a big tornado of madness and drama. I’m not saying they didn’t love each other, they just didn’t know how to love each other right. I don’t want you repeating shitty history in the next generation.”

“Daddy ain’t do no college, but he always wanted me to have a college man. I’m just following my daddy’s wishes.” Mimi says with a shrug, making Brooke scoff and shake her head.

“I don’t know what I’ma do with you.” 

By 3am everybody is knocked out, well except for Brooke. She had some ecstasy Martina gave her for the bus trip to make sure she could watch her own back on the long ride. That usually keeps her up for at least 24 hours straight. She climbs over Mimi and hops off the bed then exits the room in search of a nice cold drink. Old school R&B plays softly from Beth’s room. The door is cracked and Brooke can see her room’s TV on too, but the music is coming from a clock radio.

Brooke walks closer and lightly pushes the door open more without Beth noticing. Beth has an old Rick James album cover and a rolled dollar bill snorting up white powder lines. Brooke realizes Beth is getting severely high; as much as her oldest child tries to booze and weed her down, she still needs the nightly dose of heroin. From what Brooke can remember, Beth had a lot of issues dealing with horse even before she met Saadiq. Thoughts of what she knows about Beth’s backstory come to Brooke.

Elizabeth Devereaux, better known as Beth, was the firstborn child of a white drug addicted mother. Since her father was an unknown trick, she never met him, but he was Black. She was raised in a hick Pennsylvania town far away from people of color. It was the 1960’s and nobody around wanted to deal with her race trading mother, nor the half breed she birthed. That just caused Beth’s deadbeat mother to keep taking drugs then taking her anger out on her child. By the time Beth was six, she had a three-year-old little sister named Linda and an evil white stepfather. He did unforgivable, horrible things to her especially in the kitchen. Up until she was twelve years old, she was treated as a slave child; used, abused, and hidden away from the rest of the world.

That’s also when Beth discovered Linda was a victim of their mother’s husband too after she overdosed on their mother’s cocaine. The girls got lucky and were put into foster care together in a town three hours away from where she grew up. It was there that Beth would meet the first Black people to come into her life. They were not the greatest folk within the first impression, but after a life of abuse, every kind gesture, no matter how little, was meaningful to the desolate girls. The adults liked their weed and liquor, but they didn’t burn her with cigarettes, starve her, rape her, or beat her or Linda. She had to undo the hate people made her have for her skin and learn she wasn’t wrong, her abuse wasn’t her fault and she deserved happiness. Still, the pain was too deeply embedded inside her.

At age thirteen, Beth was introduced to heroin. To Brooke’s knowledge, she never stuck a needle in her arm, but she snorted heavily. She had a dishwasher job to help support her sister and her habit, but it wasn’t enough. Needing that hit daily is what got her into prostitution where she met a pimp in Pittsburgh that would eventually lead her to cross paths with Saadiq Devereaux. The hickory brown man from Philly was suave, dangerous, and paid. Then as Mimi says,

“The soulmate door blew off the hinges and now we livin’ happily ever after.” 

There are some other stories that say it didn’t go down so smoothly. Beth had a bad habit to the point where Saadiq kept her held hostage during her whole pregnancy with her oldest child so she wouldn’t use heroin. That was the start of her recovery and for some years she rarely fell off the wagon. Then Saadiq went to prison and things slipped from the rails in Beth’s mind and the drug started calling her again. Brooke is almost sure that none of her children know now that she still takes the narcotic.

Beth seems to successfully hide the addiction from them. In Brooke’s mind, she knows Mehki would be infuriated, Mimi and Jacobea aka Kobe, would be disheartened causing them all to regress and come apart. Brooke cleaned Beth’s room a few times and ran across a fair share of drug paraphernalia that became discarded and forgotten, but she kept her findings to herself. She gently shuts the door completely, seeming to never have been noticed by Beth.

“Now I need my Pepsi.” Brooke mumbles while heading towards the stairs.   

Brooke can hear noises coming from downstairs. The TV is the only thing on, and she can hear late night soul music videos playing. She gets on her belly to see what’s up. There’s two people sitting on the couch with what looks like a plastic sandwich bag full of white, yellow, and blue pills. They’re whispering while separating the pills into piles on the coffee table. Brooke guesses it’s Mehki and a friend, but she can only see their hands.

She stands up and waits for about five minutes then she coughs to let them know she’s coming down. By that time though, nobody’s around. Brooke doesn’t care; her thirst is on the prowl plus it’s the perfect time to have a blunt to herself. Brooke gets into the kitchen and gets her grub on, but just as she’s finishing off a Pepsi, she gets poked in her side, scaring her and causing her to choke. A masculine chuckle comes to her ears as someone pats her back. She turns around seeing red, but she’s greeted by a sly grin on a young man’s face.

Mehki L’Ouverture Devereaux, also known as Chase, is standing before her. He’s a golden-brown color, just a smidge darker than Mimi and stands taller than Brooke with well-toned arms from what she can see under his black T-shirt and gray baggy sweatpants. His face has a pimple or two and a small ancient scar on the left side of his upper lip that’s surrounded by a thin goatee, yet Brooke can admit it’s still adequately gorgeous. He holds a basketball under his arm with his trademark fitted cap on backwards.

“You shouldn’t be sneaking around this late.” Mehki says. Brooke sticks her middle finger up at him causing him to grunt.

“It ain’t like I’m stealing jerk!” She exclaims with a hand on her hip. He drops the ball off to the side and just gazes at her.

“You a long way from home cuz. Cali is that way.” He says while pointing in the west direction.  

“I’m a Illadel girl to the heart.” She says, causing him to smirk and reveal one dimple in his right cheek. He opens his arms wide for a hug and even as she rolls her eyes, she accepts the embrace. The Ralph Lauren cologne he’s been wearing since he was fourteen lingers a bit amidst the sweat from his previous activities.  

“Look at Fitz all grown up,” Mehki says when she lets him go. He’s been calling Brooke by her last name since that evil man was fed to the dogs. Before the dogs ate him, Mehki gave the girls a chance to torture him. While Mimi declined, Brooke asked for a pen or pencil, once she received a black ink pen, she rammed it into the assailant’s right eye and yanked the whole thing out of the socket. His screams still echo in her brain, but she looks to them in pride, not fear. You a child, but was a soldier in there and soldiers go by their last names. That’s what he said to her when they were riding home in the backseat that night. She took it as a badge of honor. “Brooke Ramona Fitz is all grown up indeed.” Even as he says that he doesn’t ogle her lustfully, his eyes never leave her face. She’s standing there in black biker shorts and a yellow shirt that reads, Caution, Do Not Cross, in black letters. There’s no denying that the booty with the 36C cups is on point. Yet, his eyes never leave hers. “No more Barbie dolls and cartoons for you.”  

“I still watch cartoons.”

“Do you still love The Simpsons?”

“Always.” She says and he gives a rare smile, showing his white and sexy real, but slightly uneven teeth. “What about you? I thought I’d find them good ass peanut butter cookies you make oh so well in here.”

“It’s been awhile since I baked.” He replies.

“What about the photography? These jawns hanging around here should be in a museum.”

“I could say the same about you too Frida.”

This is a very odd thing going on here. Brooke thinks with a raised brow. When she was younger, he wasn’t this talkative; not around her at least. Even after the murder, she’s always been just his little sister’s friend, maybe his second little sister before Kobe. He would always playfully pop them on the back of the head as his greeting to them. While Mehki knows she can throw down right with cooking, it’s a surprise to her that he knows about her art. She can’t remember talking much to him about her life or the things she liked when she was younger.

“With your photos you get a piece of their soul on film.”

“I haven’t touched that camera in ages either.” He says as he steps into the kitchen. Brooke watches him open the fridge and he goes for a medium bottle of grape juice. “So, are you back for good?”

“Yeah, I’m not going back to Cali anytime soon.”

“Ain’t no party like an east coast party.” He states, chugs the juice straight from the bottle then scratches his arm. For some reason she zooms in on the tattoos on his arms that she doesn’t remember being there. Last time she saw him all he had was the Adinkra God symbol on his left bicep. Now he has a voodoo symbol of protection on his right bicep and a lion in flames on his left inner forearm. Brooke is surprised he’s not inked up any more than that considering a lot of Philly men are covered damn near head to toe in tattoos mimicking Allen Iverson. 

“You’re right about that,” Brooke responds casually just as his cellphone rings in his pocket. He quickly picks up just as he grabs the basketball again.

“It’s good to see you.” Mehki says even as he’s in a conversation that he has on the way out of the house. Brooke goes back upstairs for a large sketchbook and pencil she keeps in her bookbag then returns downstairs. Cartoon Network is on now, but Brooke is engrossed in drawing from memory the Loa, Erzulie. She represents beauty, creativity, love, and most of all, artistic expression. Brooke hasn’t drawn, painted, or sculpted in like three months and that’s highly unusual for the passionate pieces that stay floating around her mind. All she needed was banter with a chap and a little voodoo to reignite that creative flame in her heart.    

Friday

   It didn’t take long for Brooke to get back into the swing of things. Beth enrolled her in Bartram High-Main Building, one of the dingiest public schools in Philly. Now she doesn’t consider herself a scholar, but she should be somewhere better. Since Brooke’s friends are with her, she tolerates it, because she can still get some decent grades there. Her worries now are Autumn, school, and The Harlots especially Mimi. Now at about 3pm, Brooke with just her backpack on her back follows Mimi and Chris as they stroll through The Mall at Short Hills in New Jersey. They walk hand in hand while Mimi holds bags from Neiman Marcus and Bloomingdales in the other hand. 

Brooke is being ignored, but that’s okay with her because she’s lost in her thoughts about Chris anyway.  He’s Puerto Rican, slim built in his baggy clothes and kind of cute even though he’s nearly the same height as Brooke. In his hair are cornrows and he wears a lot of platinum jewelry too. He’s been in a vivacious spirit since Brooke met him a few hours ago and like Mimi said, he was willing to bankroll a few outfits and shoes.  He’s been attentive and generous to Mimi looking like a real prospect for main man material. Something about him doesn’t sit right with Brooke though. She noticed he has been trying too hard to be the good and generous sweetheart.

Mimi says he’s a paid D-boy holding a high position in a ruggish, but lucrative illicit syndicate. Brooke knows Mimi is and always will be a daddy’s girl and she loves gangsters like her father. However, Chris appears to be a different breed; the kind that can hustle in the streets and do education too. Brooke asked him a few questions about his college life and he gave answers, but they seemed staged. She asked him about his family, and he said he was orphaned in Puerto Rico, when he was seven, but eventually ended up with an uncle in Delaware. Brooke just nodded and smiled but made mental notes about everything Chris said.  

*

“Where’d you meet him again?” Brooke asks as they ride the 13 trolley back into Southwest Philly as the sun sets.

“He came into the Chinese store one night, paid for my food then gave me three big face C-notes because I was so pretty. Then we got to talking and he made sure I got home safely.”

“Why was he in Southwest?”

“Probably making that bread,” Mimi answers with a shrug. “That’s why I got all this.” She says as she hugs the bags in her lap.

“Does ya brother know of him?”

“Nope! And I know my girl ain’t no rat.”

“Naw, never that.”

“What did you think of him? You so stupid, you should’ve spent the free duckets he was offering all day.”

“Ain’t no free money and what I think is, you need to be careful. Not everybody was an ally to ya father or brothers, but I’ll keep your secret.”