Page 11 of Cove City: Volume II
“Uh, twenty-five years.”
“And when was the last time I took a vacation?” I asked, still looking through her drawers.
“I-I don’t know.”
I shot up. “Exactly. I’m taking leave.”
George swallowed deeply. He knew that without me, this place was nothing. He had been afforded the luxury of running Cove City Press because the Media executive was a sexist racist. I had been pushing articles out faithfully to cover the most intense stories, ones that had cost me a lot. It made me turn my back on a man I loved with all my heart. So, when George was picked over me with his lack of knowledge and journalist skills, I had become numb. He hadn’t done anything right for Cove City Press, not even taking time out to keep the place running smoothly. It had been I who had been keeping things runningin here, and every visit from the executive, George, would smile and take credit for everything. I was fucking tired.
“George, you got this because I don’t. Maybe now you will get that goddamn coffee machine fixed,” I snapped as I left without any information.
I needed to find out where Tuesday was from. The last thing I remember was her mentioning TSU, and if that was the case, I already knew who I needed to see. This wasn’t about to be a cake walk, but for my son. I was willing to challenge the world for him.
June 1990
Anything left to give
Naheem,
I don’t know whether to be happy you replied or upset. How are things with Angela? I saw her, Naheem. I saw every bit of her, and she’s pregnant. When were you going to tell me you are about to be a father? I’m still trying to figure out why a piece of hope lingers in me. I should be happy for you, but I’m not. I wish it were so easy to discard love, but it’s not, and to see her pregnant without you telling me only makes this more complicated.
I understand you want me not to write this story, but it’s happening. You said compromising was not an option, so why start now? Now, whether you want to share information or not, I will find out. Again, this is my job. I went through four years at TSU for this. Your father has his hands in many things in the Cove. I saw him and Clark Mercier together. What was that about? Do you want to tell me, or do I need to continue to peel layers back and find out on my own? Naheem, I’m going to search high and low for information, and you and I both know where it leads.
So let me tell you what I know so far. I know that your father has been paying Clark and his white counterparts to stay out of the way while he feeds people, like my sister drugs. I also know that your father, along with a few other wealthy families, has been endorsing Clark Mercier. I also know that your father is giving back to the community, but at what cost? You are just as evil as he is if you're taking part in any of it. How do you help a community by flooding the streets with drugs?
I gave all the sympathy I could give. I no longer feel sorry for you and your hidden secrets. Stop calling me Bunny, it’s Best toyou. Naheem, I don’t have anything left to give. I hope you are a much better father than yours.
Dying Love,
Best.
A word was put out to look for Quinton and I hadn’t heard anything yet. I was trying to understand why. That nigga didn’t have any place to run so the fact that his bitch ass was still in hiding was beyond me. Bishop said he needed to meet up with Naheem and the way I was feeling I didn’t want to see that nigga’s face.
Naheem's ass was shady, and no matter how much good he called himself trying to do, the good didn’t outweigh the bad.That nigga was funky as fuck, and I could smell him even when he wasn’t around. When I stepped into my house, loneliness struck again. After leaving my mom’s place, I began feeling hopeless. I figured if anyone could get through to Tuesday, it would have been her. My mother always knew how to make things shake. She was the queen of making shit happen, but I guess Leek, Paige, and I had used up all of her superpowers. I walked over to my wall of photos and glanced at my life in five-by-eight form.
As my eyes traveled down the timeline, I began removing what served me no purpose, starting with Quinton. Every photothe nigga smiled in was a fake one. “This was the night we left the club and robbed a nigga.”Snatch.“This is the day after I caught a body for him. Fuck is he smiling for?”Snatch.“This was the night he got his bike not knowing the nigga blew all his money on it and had nowhere to lay his head.”Snatch.
I paused as I stepped closer, really glaring at a picture. It was a picture of me and Sasha, with Quinton standing off to the side, staring at us.The nigga was jealous!His mouth was curled up slightly as his eyes narrowed in on us. “Bitch ass nigga!” I snapped.Snatch. Rip. Rip.
Right then, I knew he had done that to Sash. There was no doubt in my mind. He was jealous. He hated the fact that Sasha was with someone, whether it was me or that nigga Zeus; he hated it. He knew exactly what he was doing, feeding me all that bullshit about those two. He probably wanted us to kill each other so he could slide in. Then, my mind drifted back to what Sash told me about that night. My head began to spin. The nigga killed my fucking seed.“Aghh!”I shouted.
Now I understood why Tuesday felt so betrayed. She trusted me. It was my people who violated her, and I wasn’t around. The feeling of not being there for Sasha or Tuesday was fucking with me and it made me feel worse than before. I needed to find this nigga and I wasn’t going to sleep until I did.
Before I left the house, I decided to try my hand with Tuesday again. However, when I pulled out my phone to dial her number, I began feeling like a sucker. A chasing ass nigga who was becoming obsessed. I had become the nigga I said I would never be. Instead of calling her, I decided to send her one last voice text.
Record.Tuesday, I promise this is my last message. I would much rather explain in person, but you won’t give me the time of day, so I have no choice. What you saw was a nigga trying tomove on. I was trying to free myself from something that was like a noose around my neck. Had I held on to that, it wouldn’t be you and me. I need you to understand what you and I have or had is different for a nigga. I hope you stay safe, wherever you are, and know a nigga loves you, and if you need me, I’m here. I love you the long way, Tuesday, I do.Send.
I was honestly praying my message was enough to trigger her to call because knowing I gave my heart to someone, and it being stored as a memory was breaking a nigga down. First, it was Sasha who took a piece of my heart; now, Tuesday not only took my heart but the last piece of love I had left in me.
If Tuesday and I didn’t work out, I didn’t know if I would have anything left to give.
TUESDAY
End.
I closed out of Pierre’s message. I didn’t know what to feel. A part of me wanted to go running into his arms, and cry my eyes out, but another part of me wanted to stay away. I wanted to keep hiding in my own bubble. Niggas were always a problem. If it wasn’t another female, it was their troubled past; if it wasn’t that, it was an intimacy issue. I knew I was making this harder than it was supposed to be, but I was the fucking victim.
I set the phone down and kept working on my story. I had emailed George to ask if he could give me more time to submit my article. I had to come up with a bogus excuse why I couldn’t come into the office. So far, it worked.I began to search the Cove City articles, starting with the name I saw in one of the letters, which was James Avery. I scrolled through until I came across something. My eyes scanned the article to see Best’s name as the writer.
