They cracked up with laughter.
Turk’s big body had gotten smaller since being shot. He wore a colostomy bag on his hip. A set back that he would have to endure for a long period of time. On the bright side, he was there to be apart of the Bartram Village legacy. His eyes were dull and weak from the everyday pain that he lived with after taking a shot to the stomach.
“Damn dog,” Lamar said solemnly, walking up to them. “I’m hungry as shit.”
“I’m out here eating,” Trap said, fanning his face with his money, and laughing.
“Walk me to the store, man. I ain’t tryna hear that gangsta shit.”
They laughed and made their way to the corner store when Lamar’s cell phone rang. It was Nikia.
“I really need to to see you,” she said as soon as she heard his voice.
“You good? Why you sound like that?” He was worried, a shocking trait that he was hard-pressed to activate.
“I was at the salon and this bitch...You know what, we gotta talk in person. What I have to say shouldn’t be said over the phone.”
“OK, I have a rental car. Where are you?”
“Home.”
He looked at his watch. “I tell you what. I’ll be there to pick you up at six. I have to do some things, but I’m going to take you to a nice restaurant so we can talk.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she said softly.
He knew how to melt her. “I miss you, and I guess I needed time away from you to realize how much that I would. You’re all that I know.”
“Is that only reason why you miss me?”
“No, babe,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ll be there,” he said and hoped things didn't escalate. No apology for hitting her. No true acceptance that he left her, causing him to miss her.
“OK, and I miss you, too, big head. I’ve been worried sick about you. I heard Gunna and Turk were shot. Are they OK?”
“Yeah, they good.” He wasn’t trying to talk about that. “Get dressed to kill, I’ll be there at six. I’m in a white Impala.”
CHAPTER 18
Lamar opened Nikia’s door in front of the Liberty Place and handed the key to the R2L restaurant’s valet in Center City Philadelphia. They entered the building and boarded an elevator, exiting at the thirty-seventh floor. An early evening dinner, for just the two of them. He needed to be alone with her for many reasons. At the maitre d’ lectern, he admired her beauty. Nikia looked good in a black dress that stopped right above her knee. Red pumps. And a hot pink purse. Her smile and energy injected him with resilience and hope.
They were escorted to a table with a spectacular view of the city’s twinkling lights, with no interruptions for miles. He had been doing so much dirt in the city that he was elated that the glass was reflective so he could enjoy the view and watch his back. Brilliant. They ordered drinks—milkshakes, because Lamar was carded—enjoyed the candlelight ambiance, and heard a saxophone whistling somewhere.
She said, “This is nice of you. Sexy.”
“GQ Magazine. I’ve been reading.”
“Is this the part when you kiss me and we make up?”
“I guess it is.” The waitress dropped off their drinks.
“Because it’s getting hard.”
He leaned over and kissed her.
“Lamar,” she said sheepishly.
“Let’s not argue, baby.”
“I was in the shop earlier,” she said, switching the subject, “and over heard this chick named, Janice, talking about how her boyfriend named, Tic, shot Gunna and Turk. She scared for their lives. Really shook up.”
Lamar couldn’t believe what he had heard. He stared out at the window at the lit-up Art Museum of Philadelphia, attempting to remain as stone-faced as possible. Straight poker-faced. Did I kill five people in vain? A waitress came over and took their orders. Seafood Boil, shrimp, clams, and king crab, for him. For her, chilled oysters on the half shell.
When the waitress left, Lamar asked, “Is that all she said?”
“Yes, I’m so glad that you were with me, and not on that corner, which is where you belong.”
“You might be right.”
“I know that I am.”
“Me, too.”
“When are you going to leave the streets alone?”
“I gotta make sure that we’re straight, ‘cause I’m not tryinna be a working slave.”
