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  "But what about your kids?"

  "He always took excellent care of our kids and would visit with them on a regular. I had no complaints. Now with him dead, shit done changed. I ain't never worked. I always depended on Carmelo to take care of us. But I refuse to be like the rest of these women, and me and my kids end up in the projects struggling because I decided to marry the game, but it divorced me before my time was up. That's why when you offered to hit me off with a bunch of money, and all I had to do was crush the dreams of some bright-eyed, dumbass teenager, I jumped at it."

  "It's good to know you won't be losing any sleep over it."

  "Hell no! She's young. Her fast ass will find some other rich thug and forget all about Carmelo."

  "I hope you're right." The man pulled out the money from his coat pocket and handed it to Lynette.

  "Thank you. I'm gon' put this money to good use." Lynette then flipped through the hundred dollar bills, making sure every dollar he promised was there, not even feeling the need to be discreet.

  "I'm sure you will."

  "Do you mind entertaining any curiosity for a second before I roll outta here?" Lynette asked, feeling extra confident now that her pockets were swollen.

  "Ain't nothing wrong with even exchange."

  "Cool. So tell me the real reason you contacted me after Carmelo got killed."

  "I told you. Carmelo and I were doing business together, and when I heard he had a wife and kids, I figured you might need some help."

  "Okay, I'll accept that. But what about you making it a condition that the only way I would get the money was if I let that girl know I was his wife?"

  "She had the right to know. You know how you said she would find another thug and forget about Carmelo. . .well by you telling her that he was never hers to begin with, will make it much easier for her to do just that."

  "You mean easier for her to move on to you." Lynette smacked her lips, letting Renny know she was hip to his game.

  "Not necessarily me, but whomever she decides to kick it with."

  "Yeah, right! You know you're itching for some of that young tight pussy. But, I advise you to be careful. Manipulating your way into somebody's heart is the quickest way to get yours broken."

  "Oh, you're a comic now. With that money I gave you, you can take your show on the road."

  "Joke if you like, but I'm an old school ho that has been around the block many times ...too many to count. When you're young like that little girl, Nichelle, you're resilient. By the time you get my age, you're too fuckin' tired to care. Your only concern is that all your financial needs be met, and to be left alone. But men like you ain't satisfied until they have it all, and there is where the problem lies." Lynette stood up, happy she was no longer feeling light on her feet. "Nice doing business with you, Renny, and good luck you're gonna need it."

  Lynette slid her fingers though her shortcropped hair, feeling good about her brief visit. She got what she needed from Renny, and couldn't wait to get the hell out of New York. Her job there was done. She buried her husband, and at the same time, was able to finance her future, which meant using her new money to lure in a new baller.

  Nichelle sat in class, depressed, tired, and nauseous. She already missed a week of school dealing with the loss of Carmelo, and couldn't afford to get any further behind in her work. With a baby on the way, she was determined to graduate. At the very least, she needed a high school diploma if she wanted a chance to give her child any sort of future.

  "Mr. Chambers, can I speak with you for a minute?" Nichelle asked after the bell rang and class was over.

  "Sure. I wanted to talk with you anyway. I heard some students in one of my earlier classes discussing what happened to a friend of yours, and your boyfriend. I'm sorry. I know that must be very difficult. "

  "It is, but I'm trying to hold it together. That's why I haven't been in school. I know I've never been a model student," Nichelle nervously giggled, "but I really want to do better. That's why I wanted to talk to you about working on my writing. I want to get serious about it, even maybe one day have a career doing it."

  "Are you serious?" he questioned, sounding pleasantly surprised.

  "Yes. With the loss of my boyfriend, it helped me put a lot of things into perspective. I want to concentrate on getting myself together and turn my life around."

  "I'm proud of you, Nichelle, and I'll do whatever I can to help you accomplish that."

  "Thank you. I needed to hear that. Where I'm from, I don't have dream-believers, I'm surrounded with dream-killers."

  "Not with me. Everything starts with a dream, and if I have my way, all of yours will come true."

  "Mr. Chambers, can you excuse me for one second? I'll be right back."

  "Nichelle, are you okay?" he questioned, seeing the grimaced expression on her face.

  "I need to go to the bathroom. It must have been something I ate at lunch. It ain't sitting well on my stomach. I'll be back though, so we can talk some more ...if that's okay?"

  "Of course. I'll be here for a while, going through papers. Comeback when you're done."

  "Thanks." Nichelle couldn't get out the classroom fast enough. Her nausea was on overdrive, and thought if she stayed any longer, she was going to puke all over her teacher. By the time she reached the bathroom, she barely made it to the stall, vomiting half in the toilet and half on the floor.

  "Damn, this pregnancy shit is no joke!" Right when Nichelle reached over to get some toilet tissue to wipe her mouth, round two kicked in, and her head was back over the toilet, vomiting some more.

  In between barfing, she could hear voices and people coming in an out the restroom, but she didn't think anything of it, until the bathroom door that she didn't have time to lock came flinging open and knocked her down on the floor. The side of her face and clothes were saturated with her vomit. Before she even had a chance to look up and react, somebody clawed their hands in the crown of her head, dragging her out the stall.

  "Look what we got here! You look like shit, and you stink, with all the vomit on you," Lerrick teased, standing in front of Nichelle while two of her crew held her. "I see you ain't got your pitbull in a skirt, so now what you gon' do?" Lerrick mocked.

  "Lerrick, I don't want no beef, and I don't want to fight you," Nichelle coughed, still feeling the need to throw up again.

  "Oh, poor thang! You in mourning `cause yo' nigga dead! That's what yo' uppity ass get! I guess it's back to the `hood for you!" Lerrick and her crew laughed, getting a kick out of Nichelle's current predicament. "Well, fuck you!" Lerrick said, spitting in Nichelle's face.

  As the spit rolled down the bridge of Nichelle's nose, her insides were boiling up in anger. But she tried to remain calm, thinking about the safety of the baby she so desperately wanted growing inside of her. "Lerrick, you and your girls have had your fun. You spit on me and got me looking stupid. Now, can you please just let me go? No hard feelings." Tears began welling up in Nichelle's eyes because she knew how vulnerable she was at that very moment.

  "Ahhh, are you scared, Nichelle?" Lerrick continued her cruel taunts.

  "No, I'm pregnant, and I'm thinking about my baby right now, so please do the right thing and let me go."

  "Bitch, please! I ain't letting nothin' go!" With that, Lerrick began her punishment on Nichelle, first landing a couple of blows to her face. "I see you ain't got no slick shit to say now," Lerrick goaded, knowing Nichelle was defenseless to retaliate.

  "I think that's enough," Cinthia, one of the girls holding Nichelle said, after Lerrick landed a few more punches. But, Lerrick was consumed with jealousy and blurred of all reasonable thinking, to the point that it was evident that Nichelle was in a great deal of physical pain, the type of pain that ran much deeper than punches to her face.

  "Yo, I'm outta here! You taking this shit too far!" Kyla, the other girl said, getting panicky. Both girls let Nichelle go and she fell to the floor.

  "Come on, Lerrick, let's go! She ain't lookin' too go
od."

  "Ya'll some punks! Go head and leave. I ain't done yet."

  "You buggin'... we out!" Cinthia and Kyla took off running, leaving Nichelle and Lerrick alone.

  "I guess it's just you and me now."

  "Lerrick, please!" Nichelle cried out, trying to stand up.

  "Shut the fuck up!" she barked, lifting her Timberland boot back with all her might and stomping Nichelle in her stomach three times.

  Nichelle screamed out in pain as she held her midsection.

  "Now, I'm done," Lerrick snickered. "Shit, I got your nasty ass vomit on my hand from roughing up your face. I bet you don't feel pretty anymore," she continued, walking over to the sink to wash her hands.

  Nichelle's excruciating pain had quickly turned to pure contempt. Seeing the pleasure on Lerrick's face was all the motivation she needed to set shit straight.

  Lerrick was so busy gloating over her socalled victory, she didn't even see the wrath of Nichelle coming until her blood gushed across the mirror. Lerrick's heart almost stopped beating from the shock of witnessing the entire right side of her face slashed open from the slicing Nichelle did with her razor.

  "I pray you see me in your nightmares!" Nichelle uttered, in a haunting tone, leaving her enemy in the bathroom begging for help.

  "Make sure that nigga pay you every fuckin' dime before you let him re-up on anything, you understand?" Renny towered over one of his street soldiers, burning through his eyes, making sure he was grasping each word coming out his mouth.

  "On everything. . .1 got you. I won't front that nigga shit else until he all paid up."

  "No, motherfucker, even after this nigga no longer got a negative balance, you ain't frontin' him shit. We don't front our product."

  "Oh, Radric used to let me front the nigga because he buy a lot of product from us and he always been loyal. This the latest he ever been paying up."

  "Radric was my man, and God bless his soul, but he ain't wit' us no longer, so I run these projects now. And the frontin' policy is dead," Renny said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Business tactics like that is how your money get fucked up. Kasaun, if you don't learn nothing else from me, remember this. Don't neva let nothing leave your hand unless the person you're giving it to is putting something right back in it. You give a motherfucker some drugs, they pay what they owe right then ...it's as simple as that. I hope we're clear."

  As the young soldier nodded his head and continued talking, trying to convince Renny he understood everything he said, the ice-blue Benz speeding down the street caught his attention.

  "We good, Kasaun, I'll speak to you tomorrow," Renny said, rushing dude off. He recognized the car being the one he saw Nichelle driving at Carmelo's funeral. He quickly walked across the street towards a parking lot when he saw her pull in. When he got closer, he saw Nichelle getting out the car. He waited to see what direction she was going, and she crossed the street coming to the side he was standing on.

  Nichelle's head was down, but when she walked past him, Renny made his move. "Hey, don't I know you. Isn't your name Nichelle?" he asked casually.

  Nichelle quickly glanced up, "No, you don't." She then quickly looked right back down, not wanting to make eye contact.

  But Renny saw enough of her face to know something was wrong. "Nichelle, what happened to you?" He reached for her arm and held it.

  His concern sounded so authentic, that Nichelle couldn't help but turn around and look him in the eyes. "Do I know?" she stared intently. "Oh yeah, I met you at Carmelo's funeral," she said, immediately recognizing his face once she took the time to look.

  "Yes. But I want to know who did this to you?" Renny felt a sort of anger smoldering inside him that had him somewhat taken aback.

  "I really need to go and lay down. I'm not feeling too good."

  "You live around here?"

  "Yes, in the building right over there." Nichelle pointed to one of the projects that Renny now had on lock.

  "I'll walk you home," he stated, still holding on to her arm.

  "You don't have to do that for me."

  "Yes, I do." It was obvious somebody had fucked Nichelle up pretty badly, and Renny didn't think she was in any condition to be alone. He honestly wanted to pick her up and carry her to his crib so he could take care of her. She looked so helpless to him, like a wounded puppy.

  "Oh, God!" Nichelle murmured as a sharp pain shot through her stomach. She felt a wet warmness in her panties, and when she looked down, she could see blood seeping through her gray jogging pants.

  "Come over here and sit down," Renny directed. When he held her arm, about to guide her over to the bench, he saw the blood. At first he thought maybe she had unexpectedly started her period, but with a bruised face and the way she was holding her stomach, he figured it was something much worse than that. "Come on, I'm taking you to the hospital."

  Renny lifted Nichelle off her feet and carried her down the street until he got to his truck. He laid her across the back seat, and he was worried because it seemed as if she was going in and out of consciousness. He also heard her mumbling something, but he couldn't make out what she was saying. But he put all that out his head and focused on getting her to the emergency room.

  Renny fought his way through traffic headed, towards the nearest hospital. Every chance he got, he would glance in the backseat to keep tabs on how Nichelle was holding up, and it wasn't looking good, but at least her eyes were open.

  "Move your fuckin' car and drive!" Renny roared out the window and blew his horn at a car in front of him. The couple was so busy arguing with each other that they weren't aware that the light had turned green. "Hold on, Nichelle, we're almost there," Renny called out when he was a few blocks away from the hospital. But, this time when he turned around to check on her, she was as motionless as a dead person.

  "I'm surprised to see you home so early," Tierra's mom said when she came in the kitchen.

  "It was Nichelle's first day back at school since what happened to Carmello and Simone, and I wanted to check on her. I stopped by, but she must didn't get home from school yet."

  "I still can't believe Simone is gone. I ran into her mother at the corner store yesterday. She had her grandson, and I swear that little boy looks just like Simone. I know it must break her heart every time she looks at his sweet face."

  "I know," Tierra sighed, sitting down at the small round table.

  "I bet you the cops ain't got no leads."

  "hope."

  "Why, when it come to `hood crimes the cops can't never figure shit out? But if Simone was some white girl from one of those ritzy neighborhoods, that shit would be on `Nancy Grace' every damn day. They'd have a ton of pictures plastered from the time she was a baby, until the day she died. When is these young black people gon' realize that they are an endangered species?"

  "I don't know," Tierra shrugged, not in the mood for one of her mother's sermons.

  "Well, you better figure it out real soon, or that might be you being buried next time. A bullet ain't got no name written on it," she continued as she washed dishes. "I bet my life that whatever lowlife came and shot them people, Simone was not the intended target. She just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time."

  "So what? I'm supposed to stop living my life because of what happened to Simone?"

  "Damn straight, if you want to see thirty! Hell, make it another day, at the rate these heartless bastards is taking innocent people out this world. You need to stop running around with these hooligans and get a job, be productive."

  "So what, I can bust my ass working multiple jobs and barely be able to pay my bills like you?"

  Tierra's mother put down the bowl in her hand and turned off the faucet. "Listen here. I may not be rolling in the money like them misguided poison pushers you affiliate with, but I sleep easy every night when I go to bed. The only person who sometimes keeps me awake at night from worrying, is you. We lost your father to these streets, and I don't want to lose you too."


  "You want me to give up on wanting a better life for myself. I don't get it. You used to be so full of life. I remember when I was a little girl and you would get dressed up and go out with daddy, I was in awe of you. You were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I wanted to look and be just like you when I grew up."

  "You're not a little girl anymore, and it's time for you to get your head out the clouds and face reality. What's the sense of being beautiful if you're dead?"

  "I'm sorry, but I want more out of life, and these streets is gonna help me get it."

  "Well then, I better start making your funeral arrangements now, since it's more important to you that you're able to live your life reckless so you can die beautiful," she reasoned, throwing her towel down and leaving the kitchen, unable to bear being in the same room with her daughter any longer.

  (4"a q

  2

  2P~!

  When true love is lost, is it possible to rebirth it with someone else, or are you only trying to reignite a flame that has permanently died out? For many, taking another chance at love only to risk being burned again is a chance they aren't willing to take. But for the few who are keen on taking the gamble, the reward may pay out more than you could've ever anticipated.

  When Nichelle woke up, she dreaded opening her eyes to the same lifeless white walls that held her captive less than two weeks ago. But when she turned her head, a man who she had to admit was extremely handsome, was sitting in a chair with the most concerned expression, adorning his face.

  "You're awake. Are you feeling better?"

  "Much better. How long have I been here?"

  "A few hours."

  "Have you been sitting there the whole time?"

  "Yes, and I was prepared to stay cemented in this chair until you woke up."

  "Oh God, my baby!" Nichelle said in a panic, laying her hand on her stomach, not thinking about anything else.