'… go through all her pockets.'
Esther stretched the pair of damp jean out along the floor and reached into a pocket. Something jabbed her finger and she dropped the jeans as if she'd been bit. Visions of junkie needles and a future living with Hep C or AIDS flashed through her head. Gingerly, she opened the pant pocket. It was a hair clip. 'Oh.'
'You okay over there?'
'Yeah. just surprised by all the random things I'm finding.'
'Me too.' Wayne opened a pink purse. Inside was nothing but damp panties. He tossed them onto the pile of them he'd found in purses, pockets, and packages. 'I have never seen a larger collection of panties in my life.'
'A girl's got to have drawers. Found some over here, too.' Esther rifled through another purse. 'She's fond of leopard prints.'
'Found a prescription.' Wayne turned a coat pocket inside out. 'Abilify.'
'Found another one.' Esther smiled at keeping pace with Wayne's finds. Having two older broth ers, the blood rush of competition reared its head. 'And…'
Wayne paused with his hands full of bras and a bewildered look on his face. The sight caused Esther to burst out laughing. 'What?'
'Here.' She handed him a social security card.
'Bam!' Wayne exclaimed. 'That the biggie. This should make getting her some assistance much easier.'
'It's almost time for drop. Should I throw those in the wash?'
'Yeah. Only cause she's in the hospital and we don't know when Tristan will be back.'
'Or if.'
'Right. But, as much as you may want to, don't get into the habit of doing that kind of stuff. I know it may seem like you're helping, but you wouldn't be. We're not their personal assistants. We don't do for them what they can do for themselves.'
'Got it. I'll take care of this. Someone's already here.'
Esther toted the two trash bags, waving off Wayne's initial move to assist her. Wayne peeked out the window. Rhianna carried her newborn, swaddled in two layers of blankets. Normally, he'd let her wait outside until it was time for drop, as it was important that the kids learned and respected boundaries. But he wasn't going to leave her outside with the little one.
'Good evening, Rhianna.' Wayne bowed before her and waved her in.
'You so silly.' Her hair flared, interlocked lockets in need of re-twisting. She carried herself with a fierce sexiness. Upon closer inspection, her worn, bruised skin added a hint of purple to her sepia complexion. Her half- jacket, with nothing underneath, exposed her pierced belly button and tattoo on the small of her back. Over blue jeans. She had the sour tang of unwashed ass.
'How's the little man?' Wayne teased the blankets away from his face to get a better look.
'Good.'
'What's his name?'
'Haven't made up my mind yet.'
'So what do you call him?'
'Baby.'
'Girl, you a trip. Let me hold him.' Baby struggled as if he wanted to crawl back into her womb and wait for a better world. Wayne hoisted 'Baby' with ease and noted the brief grimace of worry on Rhianna's face, and it reassured him in an odd way. Her attachment to the newborn.
The child was all Rhianna would know of love. She'd spent too much of her teen years going to parties or hooking up. Too worried about food to dream of a future. She had no room for baby thoughts or baby dreams. And a still, quiet voice within her hoped his thoughts and dreams would rub off on her. From the moment she found out she was pregnant, she knew she didn't have a choice but to be with him. She'd have this baby. Have someone to love. Things would be different this time.
Rhianna's mother once crossed a set. She had the rep for sleeping around, not caring which block they came from or what set they claimed. And she had a knack for choosing the precise wrong ones. Word on the street for those who listened, had it that she once dumped Geno for Speedbump, two up-and-coming young princes of the streets. The two men exchanged words. The argument was heard by Speedbump's brother, who came down to get his brother out. Bama, who was country crazy and only needed an excuse, saw the brewing fight and got his weapon. When Bama came out, all he saw was Geno and Speedbump's brother after Speedbump. He didn't realize or care that Speedbump had broken away from his pursuing brother — who only wanted to keep his brother safe. Geno caught three bullets to the back. He survived, but he was never the same. Dropped out of the game.
The streets buzzed with the news, the blame quickly traced back to Rhianna's mom, who was set to get a retaliatory beat down. Possibly take a bullet herself when the female members of the crew caught up with her. They caught up with her at her aunt's crib. She called the police even before she heard them bang at the door. Rhianna couldn't have been older than four. Her mother beat her, slamming her face into the bathroom sink, and when Five-O showed up, she blamed the girls. The confusion bought her mother time. That evening, she was gone.
'You alone?' Wayne asked.
'With my boyfriend.'
'Where'd he go? Or does 'boyfriend' imply much more of a commitment to the relationship than he's ready for?'
'He didn't even leave a tip.'
'Chivalry is dead.'
'Said he was coming through though.'
'You see Lady G lately?'
'Nah, I ain't trying to hang with her no more.'
'Thought she was your girl.'
'She was. Till she did King like she did.'
'Everyone makes mistakes.'
'You hang with Lott?' Rhianna asked.
'No, but he's been on the creep tip. No one knows where he's at.'
'Cause he know, too. You don't just do your boy like that.'
'We supposed to be family. Family can work through problems together, no matter how hard, because at the end of the day, we still blood.'
'I ain't trying to hear that.'
'If we can't find a way to forgive and…'
'Ain't. Trying.'
Someone pounded on the front door then — either impatient with the lack of immediate response or just noticing the doorbell — rang the doorbell five times in a row. Wayne passed Baby back to Rhianna, his mood spoiling with each additional ring.
'Hey, my dude.' The young, white, red-headed boy had a heroin thinness to him and the disposition of someone who would sell out his dying mother for his next fix or to avoid prison. A patch covered one of his eyes, the surrounding area of his face webbed with healed-over scars.
'What's up?' Wayne said. 'You here for drop?'
'My breezy said I could swing through. And I'm all about the free swing, you feel me?' He raised his fist for a bump. Wayne let it hang there.
'I'm Wayne.'
'My people call me Fathead.'
'Where you stay at?'
'Used to stay with this one dude. Partner had a cat. One day the cat turns up missing and he blamed me. Said I let it out and shit. So he kicked me out.'
'Did you?'
'I ain't trying to keep track of no pussy that walks on four legs. Shit. Dude still owes me so I took his bike and pants.'
'You took his pants?'
'Wasn't like they were his no way.'
