CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

MYSTRO

 

Mystro replayed the game with Bruiser over again in her mind. If she could admit it to herself, it was some of her best work. Just the look on Bruiser’s face was enough to make her smile.

In her opinion, this was what she needed to save Baby Dom and make the best of her remaining time. She couldn’t wait to get with Native who in her mind had been too opinionated.

But for the moment, Mystro won, and she was grateful.

Lying on her bed face up, she heard a loud scream. She sat up on the edge and frowned then looked at her open door.

A wave of people moving from the left to the right, struck her.

“Fuck is going on?” She said to herself.

Feet planted on the floor, slowly she walked to the door. For some reason at that moment, she felt as if warm hands were holding her back. Preventing her from stepping out.

But curiosity got the best of her.

Pushing out of the entryway, she took her position amongst the crowd. At first it was hard to see the object of everyone’s attention. But soon it became obvious.

Bruiser’s cell?

Nah.

Baby Dom’s cell?

It was one in the same, but the first way sounded easier. Less painful. Shoving past people who all of a sudden seemed to be in her way, she moved toward the attraction.

Elbow pointed and stabbing in people’s sides.

Fist pushes toward their backs.

Whatever was necessary, she did, until she happened upon the door. Yep, it was Bruiser’s cell.

Nah.

Baby Dom’s cell.

The pain she had in her stomach before even seeing what was happening felt final. Like if she didn’t see her friend’s face, life as she knew it would be over. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized how much she truly cared for the young bull.

Of course, she fucked with her.

After all, she made a sworn pact with her enemy for her safety.

But this was different.

It wasn’t until that moment that she truly realized Baby Dom wasn’t just Baby Dom. She was the little homie.

She was family.

Shoving a little more, she saw what she wished she hadn’t.

The bottom of Baby Dom’s body was on her bed, but the top part was hanging off. Her eyes open.

Life gone.

Mystro knocked niggas to the left and right to move closer. Inmates moaned but now was not the time to try her. They knew it so they moved out her way.

It wasn’t until she was inside fully that she saw Bruiser in the corner smiling.

“Junkie must’ve shot herself up with a bad batch,” Bruiser said, announcing her innocence without being direct. “I’m not surprised. Are y’all?”

Most mumbled no.

Mystro trembled.

Slowly Bruiser approached and placed a heavy hand on Mystro’s shoulder. With her lips close to her ear, so that she could feel her hot, funky breath, she said, “I win. Always.”

And walked out.

 

NATIVE

 

Native decided it was best to stop the war with her girl. It wasn’t that serious in the first place. But more than it all, it was a waste of time.

So when she stepped through the door the only thing she said was, “Put your shit on. I’ma take you to get a bite to eat.”

That was all Brisa needed to bounce around the walls of their apartment like a trapped gnat.

Native on the other hand decided to grab a shower.

So she wasn’t there.

But Brisa was when the call came through.

“Hello!”

“You have a collect call from, Mystro, an inmate at Washington Alley Prison For Women. To Accept--.”

CLICK.

There was no fucking way she was about to have her night destroyed. Not for Mystro’s inmate, prison, dyke chronicles.

Nah, she was spending the night with her baby.

And at the same time, pausing, momentarily, the worst news Native would receive in years.

 

 

Brisa got on Native’s nerves all fucking evening.

But this time, she truly didn’t get what was going wrong.

When she told her to get dressed to hang out, she was sincerely trying to make a go at the relationship or whatever. Afterall, she didn’t have a problem putting Mystro in her place.

She figured it was time to take her own advice.

The only thing was, Brisa spent the first part of the night, worrying about the broad on the left with the big titties and the red hair. And the other part of the night, worrying about a cook, who only passed their table to go in the back for work.

“I know what you doing.” Brisa said, her upper lip over the rim of a glass of Hennessy that Native didn’t want her to have in the first place. Because when she had too much, it made her breath smell like shit.

This was supposed to be classy.

“What you talking about?” Native asked reluctantly, looking over at Brisa with disgust.

“You been staring at that bitch’s titties all night.” Brisa stated.

“What?” Native turned up her nose like the air stunk.

“If you were gonna just come out here and treat me like shit, why even invite me out?” Brisa asked sincerely.

Native wanted to dip and leave Brisa and her brown liquor to the hood shit by which she was accustomed.

But she was growing and had to be better, right?

“Listen, bae, all I wanna do is spend time with--.”

“And what about that bitch who walked past the table? Who was trying to--.”

“Fuck is going on?” Native asked. “For real? ‘Cuz I’ve known you long enough. What you guilty about this time?”

Brisa paused for a moment. How the fuck Native get onto her so quickly? In the back of Brisa’s mind it was best to start an argument now because she was certain when that call came back, that Native would be heated.

Lips back over the rim of the Hennessey glass Brisa said, “Nothing.”

Native didn’t get an answer to what was troubling her until later on that night.

The moment Native stepped in the house after Failed Date Night; the phone rang. To get away from Henny Lips, she rushed to pick it up without even looking at the caller ID screen.

“Who is--.”

“You have a collect call from, “Pick up Na-,” an inmate at…”

Native didn’t need the rest. She followed the instructions. Accepted the call. And learned what she didn’t even know was possible.

“Fuck you been?” Mystro yelled, her voice filled with anger and pain.

“What you--.”

“I been calling you all fucking day! I did what you said. Tried to handle shit right! And she killed the lil homie! She fucking killed her!”

Mystro continued to pour out her heart not caring who may be listening in on the call.

Native was present but her heart was hardened.

“She…she gone?”

“This shit hit hard, Nae! It hit hard. I…I can’t fuckin…” Mystro’s words were fragmented like text messages, but she got the jist.

A family member, someone they both loved, was dead.

And then Native’s eyes rolled onto the bitch in the corner. Who was supposed to be her girl. She rejected the call.

The look in Native’s eyes told Brisa everything she needed to know.

First, that their relationship would never be the same.

And second, that her friend needed her now more than ever.

“Mystro, I got you. I promise.”