Brooklyn, page 26
“Who is she? God?”
“She’s not God, but she’s smart. She’s been doing this a long time. A lot longer than you.”
Brooklyn sighed.
“And she’s been good to you. I think you owed her a phone call at least before you made that deal with Chance’s bitch ass.”
Brooklyn shook her head. “Call her for what? If we’re partners—”
“That’s where you went wrong. You took that shit too seriously. Ya’ll were never partners, Brooklyn. Stacey’s the one taking the most risk. Everything starts and ends with her. She thought you understood that. All of us did. She called you ‘partner’ because she respected your hustle. You’re not like Carla and Missy. You weren’t afraid to get your hands dirty. She was showing you love as a female in the game. She says you remind her of herself sometimes. But don’t get it twisted. That’s her work we’re moving.”
Brooklyn rolled her eyes. She was done talking about it. “Fuck it. Whatever.”
They got back to their apartment and Brooklyn could tell that Hassan was upset with her. Typically, when she returned from her trips out of town, he showered her with affection and attention. This time, instead of pulling her into his arms and asking how her trip went, he sat on the leather sofa in the living room with his head in his hands.
Brooklyn stood watching him for a while, wondering what he was thinking.
He looked at her, seriously. “You shouldn’t have lowered the price for Chance. And you definitely shouldn’t have said those things to Stacey.”
Brooklyn hadn’t expected that. “Did you hear what she said to me? About my brother?”
Hassan didn’t respond.
“So, she gets to call me disloyal and a snitch, but I can’t defend myself?”
“That’s what you were doing?”
“Yes!” She huffed. “Somebody had to defend me! You stood there playing peacemaker the whole time.”
“Wow.” Hassan shook his head. “Okay.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Stacey doesn’t have to fuck with me anymore. We can still stick to our plan.”
“What plan?” he asked, confused. “I heard you telling Stacey about some move to Maryland. When were you gonna tell me about that?”
“Tonight! I thought I was going to tell Stacey about the deal I made with Chance, and she would see the light. The shit just makes sense, so it never occurred to me that she would say no. Then I was gonna tell you that I found a spot in Towson where we can open a business. I spoke to the guy who owns it, and all we have to do is put a deposit down and start setting up.”
He listened as she outlined the details. The money and time needed to get the necessary licenses, buy equipment, hire stylists, and find a place to live in the area. Brooklyn laid it all out for him, not even flinching as she rattled off numbers in the six-figure range. He had always thought Brooklyn was so smart. But hearing her now, she sounded like a kid playing with Monopoly money like it was the real thing.
“That’s not happening now,” he said when she was done. “Maybe someday down the line.”
Brooklyn frowned. “Why not?”
“Because my money’s tied up right now. I told you my mother found a house in Westchester she likes. I’m gonna help her make that happen. Better schools for Laray and all that.”
Brooklyn vaguely recalled him mentioning something about that months ago. She had been half listening at the time.
“The money I have is going toward that. It’ll be a while before I have enough to do this business thing.” He sighed.
“Then let me put my money with yours from now on. Instead of working with Stacey, I can work with you. She doesn’t have to know—”
“We don’t operate like that.”
“So, you just do what Stacey tells you to do, like a little kid?”
He shook his head. “I think you see this as a ‘crew’ and Stacey is the head of it. But that’s not how we see it. It’s a family. Stacey’s the matriarch. We trust her because she earned it. Ever since I met you, it seems like you’ve been desperate to prove how ‘grown-up’ you are. Establishing your independence and whatnot. That’s been your whole story. So grown that you didn’t want to listen to your parents. Now, you’re too grown to listen to Stacey. You don’t see a pattern?”
She sucked her teeth. “No, Dr. Phil. Why don’t you help me out.”
Hassan got up and walked to the kitchen. He pulled a bottle of water from the fridge, took a long swig, and came back to the living room.
He looked at Brooklyn long and hard. As beautiful as she was, as unique and unpredictable, he had seen more than a few warning signs throughout their relationship. Red flags that he had excused or ignored before that were now starting to concern him. She seemed to have no sense of what it meant to be part of a family. In the years since her father’s stroke, she had barely mentioned it. He wondered if her ability to cut ties with those she claimed to love was something he should watch out for.
“I’m going out,” he said. “I’ll be back.”
Brooklyn watched him leave, feeling more frustrated and misunderstood than she had in years. Chance and his big mouth! She was convinced that things would have gone differently if she had been able to explain the deal to Stacey before it got back to her through the streets.
Stacey’s icy demeanor and cold rejection of her stung deeply. She had called Brooklyn a snitch, conjured up memories of what happened with Amir, and had questioned her loyalty.
“Go sit on the sidelines,” Stacey had said.
Brooklyn scoffed now as the words echoed in her mind. She would never be relegated to sitting on the sidelines with the likes of Carla and Missy. She was not about to be demoted, not in Stacey’s life or Hassan’s.
It all seemed so clear to her now. Stacey had been right all those years ago when she warned Brooklyn that she and Hassan were chasing a dream. He was married to the streets and to the hustle. Not just the streets in the sense of the drug game. But he was specifically addicted to the streets of New York. No matter how much money he and the crew made or how much power they attained, Hassan wasn’t going to leave his family behind. Candy would always have more influence over her son than she did. Brooklyn hadn’t minded it at first. But now she realized that Hassan’s mother wasn’t the only woman who held more power over him than she did. Stacey had power, too.
She hated the feeling of being an outcast. Stacey and Hassan had both demonstrated to her that night that she wasn’t truly one of them. The stain of Amir’s blood, Alonzo’s incarceration, and her theft of the church’s money had always clouded Stacey’s view of her. Her ambition and drive made Hassan and his mother question the advice Brooklyn gave him about his plans for the future. Her desire to steer her own life rather than be subject to the whims of a man put her at odds with Carla and Stacey. With her old life in Staten Island little more than a distant memory, Brooklyn realized more than ever that it was time for her to get out of there. It was now or never.
She ran into her bedroom, grabbed her suitcase from the back of the closet, and began packing desperately. She pulled clothes from their hangers roughly, sending them clanging to the floor. She grabbed the tampon box from the back of her closet with her hidden cash and tucked it into a large duffel bag along with all of her jewelry, designer bags, and shoes.
She thought about Hassan and how he would feel when he found out what she had done. She assumed he would feel betrayed, probably curse the day he met her. She imagined that he would tell his mother that she had been right all along, that he never should have trusted Brooklyn in the first place.
She thought about Stacey, too, and realized that she had her to thank for this. Stacey had always reminded her that she was too smart to be just a hustler’s wife. And now Brooklyn had finally gotten the message. She didn’t need a man to rescue her. She would save her damn self.
She knew that Hassan could come back at any minute. Racing against time, she started making trips to her car loaded down with everything she could carry. She took Hassan’s expensive watches, his thick gold chains, and diamond stud earrings. She grabbed a kilo of cocaine and tucked it all into her pink Nike backpack. With her heart racing, she locked the door to the apartment, loaded the trunk of her car with the remaining bags, set her pink backpack on the passenger seat, and rushed around to the driver’s seat. As she pulled the door open, she saw headlights approaching and squinted in the direction of the car screeching to a halt behind her.
Hassan jumped out of the passenger seat of Roscoe’s car and started rushing toward her. Brooklyn leapt behind the wheel and stuck the key in the ignition. She pulled the door closed behind her, but Hassan was there to block it. He stuck his arm inside and grabbed her arm.
“What are you doing?”
She floored the gas, but the car was still in park. Hearing the engine revving, Hassan grabbed her roughly by her sweater and tugged her out of the car. Brooklyn tumbled to the pavement cursing wildly.
“Get the fuck off of me!”
“What’s wrong with you?” Hassan demanded as she fought him. Brooklyn was clawing at his face, scratching and slapping him. He grabbed her arms and held them, frowning. “What’s your problem?”
Brooklyn kept fighting, scared now that she had been caught red-handed. “I’m leaving. That’s it. Get off of me!”
Roscoe took out his cellphone as he watched the melee. He dialed his sister’s number.
“You should come over to Hass’s crib. Brooklyn’s wilding out.” He hung up and walked over to the fracas.
“You’re leaving?” Hassan asked Brooklyn.
“Yes. I’m out. Stacey don’t want to do business with me, you don’t want to move or open a business or do anything! So, I’m leaving. It’s as simple as that. All this snatching me out of the car, and grabbing on me for what? I don’t want to do this anymore, Hass!”
She saw the hurt on his face for a quick moment. Then he nodded, let her go, and stepped back. “Okay. So, leave.”
Roscoe shook his head, peering at the pink backpack on the passenger seat. It was unzipped and some of its contents were visible. Suddenly, he understood why Brooklyn was making such a scene. He opened the door and pulled out the bag.
“Nah. She can’t leave with this.” He held up the kilo of cocaine.
Brooklyn’s heart dropped. Hassan’s mouth fell open and he looked at her, shocked.
“You can’t be serious.”
“That’s my shit!” she lied.
Roscoe dug into the bag and pulled out Hassan’s jewelry, his watch. “This yours, too?” he asked Brooklyn sarcastically.
She looked at Hassan, her eyes pleading. “How do you think I feel, Hass? You took Stacey’s side over mine. You heard that shit she said to me about my brother. You know how much that hurt me. Talking about ‘patterns’ like I haven’t been fighting my whole life to survive! I asked you to come with me. Let’s get the fuck out of here and start over. And you walked out!”
Hassan saw red. “You’re trying to blame this shit on me? You ain’t never been shit! You stole from a nigga when he was at his lowest, took your Pops’ money, too, and never looked back. You’re mad at Stacey for telling you the truth. YOU’RE the reason your brother killed himself.”
Brooklyn threw a punch at him and missed. Hassan grabbed her again, this time securing her in a reverse bear hug as she kicked and bucked her body desperately trying to break free.
“I should fuck you up!” He spoke the words directly into her ear. “You wanna leave? GO! But you trying to steal from me?”
A yellow taxi approached, and Stacey got out. She approached the scene wearing a black hooded sweat suit and a scowl.
“What’s the fuckin’ problem?”
Roscoe walked over to her, shaking his head at all the drama. “We pulled up and Brooklyn was leaving. Hass tried to talk to her, and she got all agitated. While they were going back and forth, I peeped this in the passenger seat.” He held up the pink backpack and held it open while Stacey peered inside.
“This bitch done lost her mind.” Stacey stormed over to where Hassan was still struggling to hold on to Brooklyn. “Let her go!” Stacey yelled.
Hassan pushed Brooklyn away and she tumbled to the ground. Scrambling back to her feet, she rushed toward the car, but Stacey blocked her. Stacey reached inside and took the keys out of the ignition. She turned and faced Brooklyn.
“It’s not bad enough that you’re running again? You had to steal from this man?”
“Give me my keys, Stacey.”
“These ain’t your keys. Hass bought you this car, didn’t he?” Stacey reached inside the car and popped the trunk. She looked at Roscoe. “Take all that shit out.”
Roscoe began unloading the trunk. Brooklyn stood with her chest heaving.
Stacey locked eyes with her. “You’re the type of bitch that don’t listen. What did I tell you when you started fucking with Hass? I told you he’s a good dude and I warned you not to break his heart. And what did you do? You tried to run off on him? Tried to steal from him?” She shook her head in disbelief. She pointed her hand like a gun and pressed it to the side of Brooklyn’s head. “I should blow your fuckin’ brains out!”
“This ain’t none of your business, Stacey. Back up!”
Stacey had heard enough. She scooped Brooklyn up like a wrestler and tossed her hard onto the trunk of the car. She punched Brooklyn in the face, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and pulled her onto the ground.
“Hass can’t hit you. But I can, bitch! Get up!”
Brooklyn scrambled to her feet and looked around. She saw Hassan standing on the sidewalk watching her with a pained expression on his face. Roscoe finished unloading the trunk and lined all the items up inside the gate.
Breathless, Brooklyn looked at Stacey. “I just want to go. Y’all ain’t fucking with me no more. Fine. Let me get in my car and you’ll never see me again.”
Stacey grinned at her. She felt sorry for Brooklyn. She knew the young lady thought she had it all figured out. The qualities she once admired about her now gave her cause for concern. She saw how ruthless and selfish Brooklyn’s survival instinct caused her to be.
“You can go,” Stacey said, nodding. “Take the clothes on your back, the money in your pocket, and get the fuck out of here.”
Brooklyn looked at Hassan in disbelief. She looked at Stacey again.
“That’s not right, Stacey. I’ve been putting in work! Even before all that, I had my own money when I came to you. I’m not leaving with nothing!”
Stacey stepped closer to her. “You might not leave here at all if you keep talking shit!”
Hassan walked over with Brooklyn’s Fendi bag in his hand. He handed it to her and took the car keys out of Stacey’s hand. He slid the key to his apartment off the ring and stuck it in his pocket. Then he handed the remaining keys to Brooklyn.
“Take the car.” He tugged Stacey by her hand. “She can have it. Let her go.”
Hassan turned around and walked back into the house. Roscoe hoisted Brooklyn’s duffel bag onto his shoulder, wheeled her suitcase, and followed his friend inside.
Brooklyn watched, tempted to fight for at least the contents of the duffel bag. That’s where the bulk of her money was, along with her jewelry and items she could easily sell for cash. But the look on Stacey’s face stopped her. She could tell that one false move would give Stacey all the permission she needed to whoop her ass.
Stacey got in her face so closely that Brooklyn could smell her breath.
“If I ever see you again, I’ll leave your body right where I find you.”
She pushed past Brooklyn roughly and followed the men inside.
Brooklyn began to cry. Frustrated and lost, she got into her car and drove away slowly. Reality set in. She had no drugs, nothing but the money in her purse. She stopped three blocks away and counted it. $4,800. That’s all she had to her name.
She laid her head back against the headrest and exhaled. She was back at square one. Any hopes she had for starting over as a business owner in Maryland were gone. She banged the wheel in frustration and wept.
An hour later, she put the car in drive again. She merged into traffic and dialed Angel’s number as she drove. Angel picked up on the second ring.
“Hey, girl. What you doing calling so late?”
Brooklyn spoke between sobs. “I fucked up, Angel. I need help. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Castaway
The drive to Maryland this time felt different than all the others. She remembered the first time she’d made the trip. She had been a bundle of nerves with her backpack stuffed full of contraband riding the bus down I-95. Back then she had plans to be a contender in the game just like Alonzo and Stacey. It had worked for a while. But there was no denying the fact that those days were over now.
She needed a friend right now. She was broke and alone. She had burned every bridge except one. She couldn’t return to Staten Island, would never be welcome in Harlem again. Her only hope was to fall at Angel’s feet and beg for mercy.
She got to her friend’s sprawling home just before dawn. Angel was waiting for her with open arms.
“I canceled all my appointments for the day,” Angel said. “Clients are mad, but they’ll get over it. I could tell by how you sounded on the phone that you don’t need to be by yourself right now.”
Brooklyn looked as weary as she felt. She followed Angel into her living room and slumped down on the sofa looking defeated.
“What happened?” Angel asked. She sat across from her on the chaise, concerned. She had never seen Brooklyn so broken.
“Me and Hass broke up. He threw me out with nothing but my purse and my car.” Brooklyn began to cry.
“What? Why would he do that?” She thought back to the times she’d met Hassan and couldn’t imagine what would make him treat Brooklyn like that. “He loves you.”
Brooklyn couldn’t deny that. Even as she spun a convenient tale for her friend, she knew that what she said was true. Hassan had loved her. Just not enough to live up to her expectations.
