was out of the game. Still, God didn't create a fool: dealing with the Omarosas of the world required special gloves and special dispensations. And he was willing to bend accordingly to keep the peace. For a fee.
'What you no good, Omarosa?'
'I been a good girl, King. Don't need you and your gang after me. A girl could get all to quaking in her boots.'
'I hear you still sticking up Colvin's people.'
'You hear an awful lot.'
'Broyn was just in here sniffing around. Probably waiting outside to follow you.'
'He welcome to try.' Omarosa eased her finger off the sawed-off and allowed it to rest across her lap. 'So what brings you my way, King?'
'I wanted to check in on you.' He spoke with a purposeful affection. In ways he didn't understand, he felt some sort of fealty to her. Not that she was his charge, or him hers, but there was the charge of responsibility between them.
'I look like a girl that needs checked in on?'
'You out here without anyone. No support. No one to watch your back. No one to-'
'Love me? You worried about me, my liege.' Omarosa let the last words drip with venomed honey before she sat up. Without a glance her way, Bunny knew she'd been dismissed. 'The more sophisticated the mind, the more slippery the slope into self-deception.'
'What do you mean?'
'That's what you came to talk to me about isn't it?'
To her mind, King had two great loves in his life: Lady G and the streets. Love was his weakness. Omarosa had once broached the topic of he and Lady G, her with her young eyes and need of a strong male in her life. And her lack of judgment. King wouldn't entertain any thought of Lady G's misplaced loyalty. It was like he couldn't hear of it.
'I know the life I'm living and I know the woman I'm with,' he had told her.
'All due respect, you love the ground she pee on,' Omarosa said then. His loves would be the ruin of him. The old story.
Nevertheless, even now, she pressed her point with renewed vigor. 'I mean you've taken on the mantle and you wear the crown well… if lightly. Sometimes I think too lightly, but who am I to judge? The streets have been calmer though the mayor and police are quick to claim credit. You've even made it harder for a girl to earn.'
'You look like a woman who has trouble taking care of herself,' he smirked.
'You've done it, King. Taken hold of the streets, reached out to the young uns. Trying to train them up. You look around and see all the hurting still going on despite all you've done, and you look to do more. The problem with a man who wants to save the world is that he sometimes forgets about his family.'
King feared the opposite with Lady G. Some days he considered all the work he did, the endless meetings and relationship-building to be his distraction from thinking of her. Or worse, his efforts to impress her. He knew her, understood her. Stared into the core of her, he became obsessed with her, wanted to be with her constantly. Part of him believed he could be her savior, so protective of her that he wanted to take her away from all of the hurts; desiring nothing more than to commit himself to her. Like a marriage.
And he told Lady G as much. 'What we got goes deeper than a piece of paper. I'm not going to leave you. I'll be here for you as long as you let me.'
King only thought about her, talked to her, wanted to be with her and was fueled by her. Lady G filled him with bliss, became his whole world. When they pressed close together and held each other, it was a tender and fierce snuggle, a desperate clutching after one another. Never wanting to let go because it was the only time he knew peace. And she felt safe. He was going to protect her forever; she would shield him as best she could. He belonged to her and her to him. They shared their essence, poured themselves out upon each other, needing the other to validate them. He wanted so badly to be loved by her. She wanted to be there for him. It all sounded so very romantic. It was a black hole of need. Things would be so much easier if he didn't give a fuck.
'Just try to have fun.' Omarosa drew him back in to the moment. 'It's allowed, even for you. Just don't get too attached.'
'You know that's not how I roll.'
'I know. You one of them 'fall in love with the pussy' niggas. But the game is deep. Any of us can get caught up if we forget that and lower our guard.'
Iz sometimes missed when it was just her and Tristan. The apartment squat was nice during the rain or cold of winter, but there was something special about their summer squat. A tract of woods under the bridge across from the Indianapolis Zoo. On the banks of the White River, sealed off by a rusted trellis and a concrete overpass, it was their corner of the world. Few predators roamed the area, especially the two-legged variety. A couple of vets stayed down the way in a neighboring stretch of woods. Another homeless man who rode a yellow ten speed with duct-taped handle bars slept beneath the neighboring bridge. But this spot was theirs. A blue tarp stretched between trees; layered with plastic and insulated with blankets, it had the appearance of a tattered biodome. Yellow drums collected rain water. Tristan maintained a fire pit. Their world was them. She felt safe.
Three sets of candles, each on an overturned milk crate lit the room to a delicate amber. Too dim to read by, but enough to stave off the darkness whenever Tristan wasn't around. Sometimes Iz texted, checking her Facebook and e-mail from her cell phone. Most times she sketched in her notepad to pass the time between school and whenever Tristan returned from her business with Mulysa. Pencil etchings of black and white hands clasped together, a larger — though still clearly feminine — one engulfing another. Tristan's face. The way she captured the perpetual hurt in her eyes. The tiny scars on her neck which she never spoke about. The steel of her set jaw when she was about to hit someone. Tristan in profile peeking out the window. Tristan watched over her as she slept; Tristan not knowing that she knew she did it most nights.
'Knock, knock,' Mulysa said from the doorway.
Iz froze. 'Tristan's not here. I thought she was with you.'
'She was, but I sent her on an errand. I'm here to see you.' His eyes filled with hungry intent.
'I ain't interested.' It wasn't as if she were in a seethrough teddy. A white hooded sweatshirt over another shirt and faded blue jeans. But she still felt the probe of his eyes. She always wore her running shoes. Even to bed. Even when Tristan watched over her. Iz pulled her blanket up around her, not wanting him to see anymore of her than he absolutely had to.
'I ain't asked nothing.'
'Whatever you selling, whatever you proposing, I ain't interested.'
'You're a rude-ass host, nukka. Least you could do is offer me a drink.'
A row of bottled water stood along the window sill like an Army troop at attention. Two sleeping berths had been scooted next to each other. Clothes piled between the bedrolls and the wall, a barrier against the cold. Two backpacks leaned against the wall. One had her journal and some personal belongings. The other was one of Tristan's, mostly filled with clothes. She kept her 'work' backpack with her. Iz never asked what was in it.
'You want a water?' Iz asked.
'Don't mind if I do.' Mulysa pulled up one of the upended milk crates. 'I did have something I wanted to discuss with you.'
'My answer ain't changed.'
'Hear me out now, damn. Look here, I ain't tellin' you nothin' you don't know, but you one fine piece of ass.'
Iz shifted uncomfortably. Her right hand crossed her body as if shielding herself from his lecherous view. She clicked a button on her cell phone to check the time.
'Hope you weren't trying to call Tristan. You know when she's on a job her shit gets turned off. Besides, I didn't want our conversation interrupted.'
'You know she's going to kick your ass for coming in here talking shit to me.'
'We ain't doing nothing but talking and having some water. I ain't done anything… untoward. In fact, I just wanted some company while I finished my business.'
Mulysa rolled out his kit with the delicate precision of a watchmaker. Searching around the room, he found a jar that would satisfy his purposes and filled it with a thin layer of water. Removing a Q-Tip from a wad fastened by a rubber band, he ripped the cotton from one end. Iz's eyes widened in anticipation. He revealed a baggie of crystal
