“Nah,” Malik said, “Just the streets.”
“Bet I could still beat you.”
Malik laughed, shaking his head. “Keep dreaming, cuh.”
Two girls walking by slowed down when they saw him. One of them twisted her curls and smiled. “Hey Key…”
“What’s good?” he nodded, but didn’t say much else. He wasn’t the type to entertain more than a hello if it didn’t involve sex.
Just then, a group of older dudes from the next block pulled up on bikes. They slapped hands doing their little crip handshake, trading updates.
“Yo, we ran into them Blood niggas over by the liquor store,” one of them said. “They ain’t do nothin’, just a bunch of talkin’.”
Malik stayed posted on the edge of the sidewalk, listening without adding much. Crescent business was his business, even if he kept his hands clean these days, he always needed to be up on what was happening in the hood.
They blabbed more about crip shit and how much they hated the boys they should’ve been in school with and making friends with. Malik hated it but felt too much like a hypocrite to tell them that. Yea, he had his hands in more clean shit but still his heart bled blue.
After a while, he headed back home. His Pops was watching a western on TV and his Mama was folding towels.
“Come ride with me,” Anthony said suddenly. “Store run.”
Malik nodded, going back out the door with his Pops following him. The summer was coming to an end so it seemed the kids were doing more shit they had no business doing, just to trade stories when they were back in school.
They rode in silence for a few blocks before Anthony spoke. “Your Mama said you been quiet lately.”
“I’m workin’,” Malik muttered.
“I know, but that ain’t what I asked.”
Malik kept his eyes on the road. “You didn’t ask nothin’.”
“You got that habit I had too. Thinking you gotta hold everything by yourself.”
Malik didn’t respond, just shifted in his seat.
Anthony looked over at him when they pulled up to the store. It was just a small mom and pops shop but the hood loved it. It was neutral territory too. No one did much if they ran into their opp there. It was a safe spot like a game of hide and seek—it was the base.
“You know you’re loved, right, son?”
Malik let his father’s question linger for a few seconds before he said, “yea.”
“Okay, just wanted to make sure you knew.”
Malik pulled into his partner’s driveway and the sun didn’t even ease the tightness in his chest. No matter how nice the day was or how many pills he tossed back, stopping by Pharaoh’s house never got easier, but there would never be a time when he didn’t stop by.
A deep sigh pulled his chest in as his eyes surveyed the house. It was decent— similar to the one story house he resided in. The grass was splotchy, making him tuck a mental note in his head about getting someone to come see about it.
Malik leaned back in his seat, his eyes aching since lack of sleep seemed to be finally catching up with him. Days with barely any sleep and nights full of coding wasn’t what kept him up though. Pharaoh and that fucked up night did…guilt did.
The block was still the same. Just streets over from his own house, the kids and women looked identical to the ones over his way. This block still repped blue— children wore it on their bodies and the women went as far as weaving it in their hair.
A small smile creased his lips thinking about it. He loved his people. That was certain.
“You good?” he said out loud to himself, checking the Glock tucked beneath the seat. Crescent Park was home, but enemies sometimes encroached on your home to settle old beefs. When you’d knocked on the devil’s door, you had to expect for him to come back and collect his due.
With Plugged In, Malik had respect from all sides— from most people.
Still…respect didn’t make you bulletproof or make your enemies forget the time you walked their dead homie down.
