There was the MCM bags, Gucci designer shoes that her boyfriend showered on her. And what was not to like about the shopping sprees to Mondawmin Mall in Baltimore, Maryland, and Fifth Avenue in New York City. Tone had been more than generous to Sonya with his money. Although most times Sonya thought his generosity came with a price, the expensive gifts were to buy her silence. Those things were just material possessions, things she really didn’t need.
Rrrrrrriiinnngggg! The sudden sound of the telephone shattered the silence, interrupting Sonya’s thoughts.
“Hello,” she said with a nasty attitude, picking it up on the first ring.
“Yo, what’s up?” Tone barked into the phone. “What’s the emergency? Why you blowin’ up my pager?”
The other end of the phone went silent as Sonya listened intently, trying to ear hustle and pick up on any background noise or voices that might indicate where Tone was at, or what he was doing.
“Yo, Sonya, what’s up? You there?” he shouted.
“Yeah, I’m here,” she spat. “Where you at?”
Tone began, “How many times I gotta tell you, I’m handlin’ business.”
“You so predictable, Tone. You keep givin’ me the same lame excuse. What the fuck you brought ya cousin down here for if you still gotta do everything? Huh?” she complained.
“Yo, you buggin’, Sonya,” Tone told her. “I can’t have this conversation that you wanna have right now over the phone. I ain’t tryin’ to get indicted explainin’ myself to you. We’ll talk when I get there, man.”
Tone was beginning to realize that there was no pleasing Sonya. Either he could spend time with her by staying in the house and be broke, or he could hustle his ass off and spend crazy money on her. But he couldn’t do both. His drug business needed his full attention. Though Sonya might beg to differ. She always preached moderation. Tone didn’t seem to know the meaning of the word. To him drug dealing wasn’t an occupation. It was a lifestyle.
He was fond of saying, I’m doin’ everything I can to get everything I can while I can.
Sonya was right, Tone was predictable in a sense. She knew her inquisitive questions would lead to him giving her the cold shoulder. Tone wouldn’t divulge any information over the phone, or anywhere else for that matter. Like most street dudes, he had a sneaky suspicion that the phones were being wiretapped by the police. This was his defense mechanism. Tone called himself protecting her, shielding her from the streets. She called it being secretive.
He once told her, What you don’t know, you can’t tell. It didn’t matter to him what Sonya thought. He couldn’t ease her fears of him cheating on her or leaving her. So he dealt with it the best way he could, by ignoring it.
“What time you plan on coming home?” Sonya asked reluctantly.
Tone replied, “Couple more minutes. I’m on my way home now.”
“Don’t have me waitin’ fa you all night,” she added. “You hear me?”
“Yeah man, I hear you!” he snapped. “Bye.”
Sonya sighed. She really didn’t have the patience to deal with his inconsiderateness right now, or any other time for that matter. Listlessly she sat on the couch as she continued to stew in her own anger. Time went by ever so slowly as she anxiously awaited Tone’s arrival.
About an hour later, the squeaky sound of the door opening signaled his arrival home. Sonya was very much aware of Tone’s presence. She listened intently as the soft sounds of his footsteps made their way toward her. Soon he was standing right before her, blocking the television with a smirk on his face. Rolling her eyes, she glared up at him evilly.
“Yo, what’s up?” Tone said.
“You’re what’s up!” Sonya complained. “Tone, I’m beginning to feel like you don’t got no kind of fuckin’ respect for me. This is not what a man does when he lives wit’ his woman. You waltz in here all hours of the night. Nigga, I barely see you. We hardly ever spend time together..... All you do is eat, sleep, and run the streets. It’s like you and me ain’t a couple. And if that’s the case, lemme know so I won’t be sittin’ here lookin’ all stupid and shit.”
“Are you alright?” he asked, hinting that there might be something else bothering her.
Honestly, Sonya wasn’t doing well at all. She couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t focus in school. Stressing over Tone was beginning to affect her schoolwork.
“No, I’m not alright,” she pointed out. “Are you alright wit’ the way things are goin’ wit’ us? From how things appear, obviously you are.”
He speculated. “What are you talking about?”
She just glared angrily at him, as if to say, Really? Do I have to clarify that statement?
“What are you talking about?” Tone repeated. “You can’t be serious.”
“To tell you the truth,” she began, “I don’t know how long I can keep puttin’ up wit’ this. Sooner or later you gonna have to make a decision, me or the streets.”
The entire ride home, Tone thought of all the things he was going to say, all the valid points he would raise during their argument. Suddenly, he was having a tough time remembering it all.
“Stop givin’ me ultimatums,” he warned. “You knew what it was when you met me.”
“Yeah that’s true,” Sonya replied. “But you ain’t never spend this much time in the streets before.”
“And I ain’t never made this kind of money before either,” he told her. “So I guess we even.”
Tone turned and stormed out of the living room, heated at Sonya for having to explain himself. In hot pursuit, Sonya quickly got up out of her seat and followed him into the bedroom.
“It’s funny how you always questionin’ me about where I’m at or what I’m doin’. I don’t even know if you fuckin’ even goin’ to school at
