If You Pee In Runnin’ Water, It Don’t Make No Splash
53
My phone was completely dead by the time we got to the damn beach. It was a little ways away from the touristy area and quiet, which was good ’cause my ass needed some time to pull it together. I was glad the sun was starting to go down. The humidity was making me sweat up a storm. My borrowed clothes were sticking to my back and my hair was irritating my shoulders. I waited for Lania to pile all her shit back into her purse and we walked toward the ocean, looking for a good spot to sit down. My high was wearing off, the after-effects making me feel a little depressed.
“Want to try something new?”
I wanted to do anything that would make the sad hole in my heart go away. We sat down facing the water and Lania pulled a small white packet from her purse.
“Put a little of this under your tongue, it’s better than sex—I promise.”
“Shit. I doubt that, but we’ll see.” I cringed; it was bitter in my mouth like a crushed-up aspirin. “Ugh, you ain’t got a Pepsi up in that bitch, do you?”
Lania laughed, dabbing a little of the shit underneath her own tongue. She waved at the ocean. “Water, water all around and not a drop to drink.”
We both chuckled and stared out at the sea, waiting for our shit to kick in.
“Lania, you think Key been fuckin’ dudes the whole time y’all been together?” I couldn’t help it. Maybe the shit was working, making me ask questions I shouldn’t be asking, but I did. A few minutes passed before she answered me, her words floating to my ears like a song drifting in from the ocean.
“Keyshawn is not gay.”
“Um, I don’t know if you just saw what I saw, but that looked pretty damn gay to me.” This bitch was in de-fuckin’-nial.
“Some families have secrets buried so deep that it’s the only thing holding the roots in the ground. You pull up those secrets, you loosen the soil, weakening the tree.” Shiiiiiit. I glanced at Lania’s ass out the corner of my eye. If that wasn’t the highest, most poetic shit I ever heard and ain’t hardly understand. I sat there, silently rolling her words through my brain.
“If I tell you something you have to swear you’ll never repeat it.”
Hell, I forgot her ass was sitting beside me for a second. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t just watch her ass murder a muthafucka’ or nothin’—but I guess maybe she wasn’t counting that as a real secret, I don’t know. “I promise. I’ll even tell you one that you can’t say shit about to no-fuckin’-body either.”
She nodded, satisfied with our deal. “I owe a huge debt to Angelo Testa. It’s the kind of debt that you repay for life, until either you die or Angelo dies. You see, I knew him long, long before he became the powerful man he is now.”
I waited.
Lania took a shallow breath, her voice shaky as she continued, tears slowly welling up in her golden eyes. “Me and Angelo are bound by the blood of relation. We’re brothers.”
What the fucccccccccck! The TV audience in my head jumped back to life, screaming in unison as my eyes bulged out my damn head.
“You’re . . . I mean . . . you were a man?”
“I’m completely post-op, did hormone injections, pills, all of it. My other brother, Keyshawn, met me long after it was all said and done and I myself never had the heart to tell him different.”
The audience’s heads tilted to the side in confusion. Huh? Did he—she—just say . . . No. No.
“Wait, Lania, you said Keyshawn is your . . . other brother?” Boy, these pills was definitely some goooood shit. ’Cause I could have sworn they was putting words in my ears that this bitch’s mouth wasn’t even saying.
“Right. Keyshawn is my stepbrother by marriage. We were dating and in love way before me and Angelo’s mother met Keyshawn’s father. We tried to stop seeing each other, but it never lasted long, so instead we agreed to just keep a very, very open relationship, never revealing our relationship. Key was doing well and shit was going good until he was traded to Miami. Curtis had his eyes on Key the second he stepped out of that locker room. When Key turned him down not too long ago, Curtis started digging for dirt. He was a fool. He paid one of Angelo’s goons to dig for him, so we’ve been feeding Curtis phony information and coming up with dead ends.”
I sat there, staring at Lania, captivated. Their story was way more fucked up than the shit Chelle and I had done. No wonder we all got along so well.
“So, what happened back there with Curtis? Wasn’t just you on some angry bitch, don’t-touch-my-man type shit?”
“Fuck no. Last time I saw Angelo, he told me about a rumor in the owners’ box. Something about Curtis wanting to trade Keyshawn to the highest bidder, like fucking livestock.”
“That’s nothin’ new. Players get traded all the time, Lania, it’s part of the game.”
“True, but Angelo said the rumor also involved Curtis wanting Key injured after the trade so he’d never play again. I told Key about it and apparently he must’ve cut a deal with Curtis to stay in Miami and make more money. No person ever thinks they have a price until someone is willing to pay it. What Key didn’t know was that Curtis was going to fuck him and trade him anyway. So, I deaded that shit . . . literally.”
It was like hearing the ending of a long, dramatic bedtime story. The sun had almost completely set and every part of Lania’s story made sense except for one little-ass piece. “Why would Keyshawn give up da ass just to keep playin’ ball? That don’t make sense, not when the nigga has the fuckin’ Mafia on his side.” I had a bitch thinking with that question.
“Only one way to find out.”
Oooh, this is gettin’ gooood. She whipped out that little phone of hers and dialed Key’s number, hitting the speaker button so I could hear everything.
“You got some nerve callin’ me right now.” Keyshawn’s voice came out of the speaker in a loud growl.
Even though it was just over the phone, instinctively, my ass leaned back.
Lania didn’t look fazed. “Oh, please, boy. I did you a favor and you know it.” She started to sing into the phone while making some sorta kissy face. “There isn’t even a mess for you to clean up now is there?”
“You already know ya Mafia brother done came over here wit’ his fuckin’ flunkies and mopped up. What I tell you ’bout callin’ dat mu’fucka e’retime some shit go down? I’m tired of havin’ blood on my hands, Yylannia.”
“I kept your hands clean. Now shut up. I have a question,” she snapped at him. In the blink of an eye her tone went from soft and playful to razor sharp. “Why did I catch you in the predicament you were in, given we could have resolved this in any number of ways with the snap of a finger and, eh-hmmm, saved your ass, sweetheart?”
We both waited for Key to answer, the phone hanging silently between us like a question mark.
“Because I fuckin’ wanted to, Yylannia. You an’ your damn brother got a problem with that shit? Huh? I wanted to!”
Triple whammy, were the words my mental studio audience shouted at the scene unfolding before me. I looked down and traced a heart in the sand with my finger; I knew exactly how Key must have felt, to have those kinds of feelings and be scared to act on ’em ’cause you afraid of what people might say or think. His family’s approval obviously meant a lot to him. I scratched a squiggly break through the heart. That looked a lot better.
“But you told me you turned him down repeatedly and . . . and what about me, Keyshawn? I thought we had an agreement. You seemed happy.”
“What about you, Yylannia? There ain’t no we, jus’ like there could never be anything wit’ me an’ Curtis. What would the star of the muthafuckin’ team look like fuckin’ the owner? If that shit got out it would discredit me, ruin my fuckin’ career. Jus’ like if anyone found out we actually kinfolk. And, what the fuck was Ris doin’ up in here with you? Angelo know she was wit’ you?”
“Of course not, and it doesn’t matter, Key.”
“So what you think he gon’ say when he find out or . . . Oh, lemme guess, y’all cool now, you gon’ save her ass too? You trust her like that?”
Lania glanced up at me nervously. I could see her doubting me all of a sudden as Keyshawn continued.
“That shit you pulled was sloppy and reckless, Lania. And, for future reference, I ain’t askin’ you or anyone else’s permission to use my own gotdamn dick.” The phone went silent, his growl echoing across the beach out and into the waves.
Someone in the studio audience in my head held up their hand. Sooooo, you mean to tell me, if Lania, who is a “she” now, woulda just kept her ass as Lance, a “he”, then, um, he coulda been on some happily-ever-after shit with Keyshawn fo’reals, ’cause the nigga like dick any damn way? The rest of the studio audience whistled and cheered and I shook my head. This shit was just too damn much for me. Here I was, all along gettin’ jealous over Keyshawn spending time with Michelle and the kids. Thinking that nigga wanted to be with Michelle when, in all actuality, that nigga wanted to be Michelle.
“You know Keyshawn does have a point, don’t you?” Lania was looking down at the sand.
I almost didn’t hear her over the conversation I was havin’ in my damn head. “Huh? What you say, Lany?” Laughin’, I nudged her with my shoulder, and the movement made the entire ocean sway with me. “Ooooh, there goes that shit finallllly kickin’ in. I was startin’ to think it was a dud or sumthin’.” I looked over at Lania, my mouth opening to ask her if she was okay, and I had to blink to clear the stars from my eyes, my ears suddenly ringing.
“Bitch, you hit me!” I already knew what was goin’ on. One of us wasn’t gonna leave that beach. Lania done sat there and spilled her fuckin’ guts and now after listenin’ to Key’s ass she was second-guessing shit and trying to clean up after herself. Detroit raised my ass; I knew to throw punches that would break a bitch’s nose before I could read or ride a bike.
Lania tried to hit me again and I grabbed her fist, twisting it until she screamed in pain. She grabbed my hair with her free hand and twisted it, tightening it around her fist and pulling my head back until it was in the sand. It felt as though each strand was being torn from my scalp; the pain made me lose my leverage on her hand and I let go. Fuck, I really wanted to break that shit, too. Lania climbed on top of me, straddling me, grinning. Her hands wrapped around my throat, and I clawed at the ground, reaching around for something, anything to hit her with and coming up with handfuls of sand.
The bitch laughed, taunting me. “Larissa, what’s the matter? You’re so pale. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Now I didn’t know if black people could actually ever go pale and shit, but I could feel all the blood draining from my face. I stared over Lania’s shoulder, tears welling up in the corners of my eyes and sliding down my face, splashing into the sand. I was staring directly at the Ghost of Christmas Past. And it was staring down at me, directly over Lania’s shoulder, with a pistol pointed dead center at my muthafuckin’ nose. For the first time, the studio audience was completely silent.