Hard White

He had a strong craving for Jamaican food. This hunger led Melquan to 225^th Street and Laconia Ave. Melquan wasn’t about to let his ongoing drug turf disputes keep him from satisfying his hunger. The .380 tucked in his waistband was strictly for defensive purposes. He donned a hoodie to help camouflage his identity. Melquan walked to the restaurant like normal people do.

On entering the Jamaican restaurant, Melquan removed his hoodie and immediately chilled in a far corner of the restaurant next to the Snapple machine. In this strategic position he retained the element of surprise. He was able to see whoever entered the restaurant after him. He patiently waited to place his order.

“So what ya wan…? Curry goat, peas, and rice? What size… small… medium or large?” the cook asked in thick Jamaican accent.

Prior to his beef, Melquan used to frequent the restaurant so much the cook knew his face, and his favorite order.

Unexpectedly, Nashawn suddenly entered the business establishment. He didn’t even see Melquan laying in the cut. Nashawn walked to the counter, glancing around.

“Yo bombo-claat, Ras, where you at…?” Nashawn shouted. “Where you at my man…? I ain’t got all fuckin’ day. Come hit me off now, Jah!”

Nashawn could feel someone watching him and immediately scanned the surrounding. He jumped back when he spotted Melquan in the cut.

There were no words exchanged between the drug adversaries. Melquan stared menacingly at Nashawn. When the shock wore off, Nashawn did the same.

Melquan gripped the gun he kept in his waistband. Nashawn saw the outline of a gun and knew Melquan had the advantage. From his vantage point, Melquan could drop Nashawn if he wanted.

Nashawn backpedaled out the store with his eyes peeled on the man in black hoodie, standing next to the Snapple machine. Once across the street, Nashawn was in the wind. He quickly disappeared into the projects.

“Me nah like dat blood claat yout’… Ya hear me. Your order is eight-fifty,” the cook abruptly announced.

Nashawn’s presence had made him uneasy. Even though he had the advantage, Melquan felt like a sitting duck. He paid for his food and quickly left, vowing not to take a chance like that again. The next time he wanted anything from the store, he would send someone to get it for him. On the way back to his building, Melquan called Mike Copeland’s cellphone.

“Yo, guess what?” he immediately said. “I just seen faggot-ass,” he continued without waiting for an answer.

“Yo, I was thinkin’ from what I saw that nigga ain’t no threat. Truth be told, that nigga ain’t even worth it. If we hit ‘em up and he don’t die, da nigga’s the type that might tell on us… Shit’s startin’ to go good right now. I don’t wanna fuck shit up over that dumb ass nigga.”

The brief silence on the phone was long enough to let Melquan know that Mike Copeland wasn’t particularly feeling his idea for a ceasefire.

“Yo, I don’t agree with you on that one. I say we smoke him. Save ourselves the trouble of having to do it later…”

“A’ight, if you say so then...” Mike Copeland spat, like the end of a eulogy. “And so we lay it to rest…”

Early evening and Melquan jumped from the cab, heading to a neighborhood sneaker store in Bay Plaza. His on again, off again relationship with India was sinking into jeopardy. Melquan thought of buying India and Zach couple pairs of sneakers. He hoped gifts would smooth things over with her. India liked when he bought things for Zach and spend time with him. The boy’s father was currently not giving his kid the time of day and file custody papers for the boy out of spite.

“Yo Butta, stop the car!” Nashawn ordered after spotting Melquan. “You gotta ratchet up in here, kid?”

“Nah, who be ridin’‘round wid fuckin’ guns in they whips these days? It’s too hot uptown. The gun squad is definitely pullin’ cars over, big homie. And I ain’t tryin a go back up north,” Nashawn’s friend, Butta said.

“Who you talkin’ ‘bout…? That kid you was just talkin’ ‘bout that pulled out on you earlier? What’s his name?”

“Nashawn, I got an idea, son. Let’s just follow da nigga and see where he goes. If you know where da nigga resting his head, it’ll be easier to do him.”

“Yes son. You a fuckin’ genius Butta… Yes let’s follow da muthafucka ‘round for a minute. He don’t know your whip, anyhow.”

After purchasing the sneakers, Melquan walked a short distance to the entrance of India’s apartment building on Driesler Loop, Co-Op City. It was a cool evening and he pulled the hoodie over his head. Although the hoodie may have hidden his identity, it also obscured his vision. Melquan was completely unaware of the car, occupied by Nashawn that was slowly following him.

From a safe distance, Nashawn watched Melquan enter the building, taking note of the building address. A few minutes elapsed before the Nashawn made his move.

“Yo, what you about to do…?” Butta asked with concern. “Remember you ain’t got no ratchet. What if Melquan sees you? You said da nigga had a ratchet on him earlier?”

He walked over to the building and entered. Pretended to be looking at the buildings intercom list, Nashawn struggled to select the right bell. Finally, he gave up and tapped lobby door and motioned for the security guard.

“Ah, excuse me, sir. I’m lookin’ for my friend who just entered the building a few minutes ago. He was wearing a sweatshirt with black hoodie. I had to find parking and he didn’t tell me what floor he lives on to buzz his intercom… Would you happen to know, sir?”

Before answering, the Hispanic security guard quickly scrutinized Nashawn. He found his mannerism non-threatening and his speech to be very polite.

“He live on the seventeenth floor, I think, ah, it’s seventeen G. You can go up if you would like.”

“Nah thanks, man. I’ll just buzz him when I find parking. If not, I’ll wait for him outside in the car a just lil’ while longer. He should be comin’ down soon anyway.”

Nashawn walked out the building with a smile on his face. He got back in the car and Butta drove off. He knew Melquan’s exact location and there was no need to stick around.

Heading back to the projects, the devilish grin smeared Nashawn’s rugged face. Now, he wouldn’t be the only one watching his back when he entered a building. His mind started scheming a way to send Melquan a mesaage. Put him on his p’s and q’s.

“Damn!” he hissed aloud. “So much for a fuckin’ surprise, I can’t even open the fuckin’ door.”

The more he struggled with the lock, the more Melquan thought he was tripping. He couldn’t open it to save his life. He checked the apartment number, seventeen G, this was the right door. Melquan thought as he tried the key again and again. He removed the key, looked at it, and began blowing his breath on it. He tried to open the door again, to no avail. It suddenly hit him like a ton of bricks. India changed the damn locks. Why else wouldn’t his key work? Melquan sighed loudly, and banged his fist against the door.

India peeped through the peephole before opening the door. Melquan had a blank look on his face. They pause for a moment. No one says a word. Long stares replaced what they had to say. Finally India spoke, breaking the icy silence.

“I’m waitin’ on you. You the one changin’ locks and blockin’ the door,” Melquan said, bravely controlling the anger raging through him.

India watched him with concern in her eyes. She wondered where he was coming from. And why he was acting as if he had an attitude with her. India wanted to hug Melquan just to be engulfed in his warm embrace. She missed him, but now wasn’t the right time to display those feelings. Instead she stepped aside and Melquan entered the apartment. If there were going to be a scene, it wouldn’t be in the hallway. Having her nosey neighbors in her business was the last thing she wanted.

Melquan walked into the apartment and headed straight for the bedroom. India followed closely behind him. She watched him threw his bag that been on the floor in the corner of her closet. Reach underneath the bed, Melquan pulled out his stash box. He removed all the money from it and stuffed it into his pockets. Then he removed every article of clothes from the closet and placed it on the bed.

“It’s obvious you don’t want me here anymore. You changed the locks. So I’m a just pack my shit, and bounce…” his voice trailed as he continued packing.

Melquan grabbed a duffel bag, and started putting his clothes inside. He was too vindictive to even realize how emotionally charged this process was. In his mind it was over and there were no two ways about it. India didn’t have to tell him twice. By changing the locks the message was loud and clear.

India moved to face Melquan. She wanted him to look her directly in the eye. There were more than questions on her mind. Melquan wasn’t in the mood for any of her mind games. He tried to walk by her, but she blocked him.

“Please don’t be like what? Huh? You’re the one who keep kicking me out. Every time we have an argument or a disagreement it be ‘Melquan please go’. What’s up with that?”

“I would rather you leave than have a heated argument with you. My son lives in the apartment. Was I wrong last time? Put yourself in my shoes. What would you do? You left me no other choice. You’ve cheated and you’ve lied, done me wrong over and over, Melquan. It’s gotten to the point where I have to question everything you tell me.”

“Oh really…? So whatever I say don’t matter, you just gonna think it’s a lie anyway, right? Those things are accusations, figments of your imagination. You know nothing have ever been proven.”

“Melquan, you’re acting like I’m doing something wrong. You’ve got to recognized that you’re the one causing these situations. I’m not the one to be faulted here, I just reacted, I never acted.”

“No baby, you overreacted. You blow things way out of proportion. All you had to say was take that out of my house. Or, don’t come back with that shit on you… I could respect that if you say it in a nice tone of voice.”

“Okay, I agree, I can be a little nasty at times. And I’m sorry but, Melquan I’ve told you that same thing before. It’s not like we haven’t had similar conversations, Melquan. On top of all that, I’ve been calling you for the past few days. You don’t even return my calls, Melquan. I’ve called your mother’s home and left messages. And still there were no phone calls from Melquan. Which leads me to believe something ain’t right.”

India threw her hands up and was about to walk away. Melquan grabbed her and kissed her hard. When they were both out of breath, he let her go.

“Baby, sometimes it ain’t what you say, it’s the way you say it. You got a way of makin’ a nigga feel like he ain’t shit,” Melquan painfully explained. “It’s like I ain’t on your level, or sump’n.”

“I’m so sorry, honey. It’s not like that, really,” India said, kissing Melquan’s lips. “I’ll try to be more understanding. But sometimes I panic because the custody thing, you know that.”

“Look, I want everything to go right for you and Zach. I ain’t tryin’ a fuck shit up. But you know how I’m living right now. I’m eating off the streets. Sometimes shit just happens. I don’t plan on bringing the bullshit to your door. I’d never knowingly jeopardize your custody situation.”

India moved back away from Melquan and stared at him incredulously. Then she smiled awkwardly as tears welled up in her eyes. She spoke softly.

“For whatever its worth, I love you. And I really care for you, Melquan. I don’t want you to leave me… I don’t want you to go anywhere. I want you right here with Zach and me. I want us to be a family. We can work this out, Mel,” India reassured him, clinging to Melquan.

The close proximity of their bodies was causing Melquan to calm down. He rather enjoyed touching India in such a sensual way.

“You know, married people go through this all the time. There will be arguments, fussing and fighting, but at the end of the day, the only thing that keeps them together is an open line of communication… Let’s talk it over, boo. Melquan, let’s do what married people do…” her voice trailed.

Her tongue was down his throat and words would not suffice. They kissed passionately for another couple minutes, breathing each other’s essence. Melquan embrace became firmer, his arms gripped her shoulder tightly, and India was lifted off her feet. She marveled at his strength.

He carried India into the bathroom and turned on the shower. They quickly pulled off each other’s clothes. Their bodies were continually drawn to each other, with India sitting on top of the sink way before the shower got warm.

Melquan’s nature hardened and soon he penetrated India. She willfully accepted every inch of his manhood as it went deep into her womb. Hot water produced steam and it formed a thick mist. Their naked bodies were joined together in passion.

He fucked her good and she screamed loudly with a care, the way he remembered her. It was just like in the beginning when the sex was new, and their passion was hot. Cries of pleasure constantly escaped India’s body and only served to excite Melquan even more.

She kissed his lips and sucked hard on his tongue. Melquan continued to rhythmically pump India with rapid succession. India raised her hips to meet his every thrust. Their bodies moved easily against each other in an enticing sexual dance. Finally, India wrapped her legs around Melquan’s waist, pulling him deeper inside her.

India worked her back and Melquan shot his load. His knees buckled as the semen raced from his body. Momentarily weakened, Melquan collapsed against India. They were both lost in the moment.

“Oh, he’s with his father. We got the whole house to ourselves. I’m glad you asked. You really care Melquan. C’mon, let’s do it again.”