Читать книгу Taboo 2: - Yoshe - Страница 6

It was 8:32 in the morning in Atlanta, Georgia and Rasheed Gordon couldn’t sleep. He turned over and stared at the caramel-skinned beauty lying next to him. The woman was snoring, exhausted from the good loving that he had just given her for the last two hours. Rasheed put the sheet over her curvy frame and sighed as he sat on the edge of his bed, trying to figure out why he still felt unfulfilled.

When he thought about it, he really didn’t have anything to complain about at this point in his life. What man wouldn’t want what he had? Rasheed only had access to a different woman every night, money in his bank account, and a nice roof over his head. What could be missing from his life? For one thing, he had a beautiful baby boy, that lived in Brooklyn.

After pondering the thought for a few moments, Rasheed finally came to the conclusion that he didn’t want to live in Atlanta anymore. After living there with his older brother, Karim, for almost two years, it was time to go back home. The bottom line was that Southern living wasn’t for Rasheed Gordon, a native New Yorker. He thought that Atlanta was a great city, and looked even better on the videos that flashed across his television. The novelty of living in a new city had worn off.

Karim Gordon had made a substantial amount of money in real estate and promoting in the city of Atlanta, but Rasheed knew that it was no place for a man like him. Down there, he was an unknown, merely a shadowy figure that lurked behind his big brother. He yearned to be back in the five boroughs, in his Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood, where he was a shining star and loved by many.

At the beckoning of Karim, Rasheed thought that his life would be much better in Atlanta than it was in Brooklyn. And it was. It was just too slow for him. Rasheed found himself missing the fast-paced action of New York City and the eclectic mix of people who lived there.

The Gordons were a well-known family in their Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood. Miss Carrie, the matriarch of the clan, raised all seven of her children along with Karim and Rasheed right on Halsey Street. They were close knit, and even through tough times, death, or incarceration, they were supportive of each other.

Karim and Rasheed came to live with Miss Carrie when they were only seven and five years old, respectively. Their mother, Lavon, was murdered by their abusive father, Jihad, who eventually killed himself too. It was an adjustment for the brothers, who had lived the early years of their lives under the strict rules of their Muslim father.

For Karim, the living arrangement worked out fine, but Rasheed proved to be the hardheaded child. The shock of losing his parents to such tragedy obviously had a long-term effect on him. He chose to follow in the footsteps of his much older uncles and become one with the streets, as if he had something to prove. Unfortunately, it took him numerous scrapes with the law and brushes with death to see that the streets didn’t have love for anyone.

After his oldest uncle, Peppy, was killed by Dominican drug dealers, the surviving Gordon brothers—Nayshawn, Shaka, and Kemper—did a 360-degree turnaround. They took their hustling proceeds and obtained all sorts of businesses: a tire and autobody shop, a construction company, and younger sister Carrie opened a beauty parlor.

Ironically, Miss Carrie was a registered nurse for many years and was more than happy that her unruly children had finally come to their senses. Even though his uncles got their lives on track, Rasheed still chose to sell drugs and live a reckless lifestyle when he had access to jobs and money. He had to admit that the jail bids that he had done were because of some bad choices he’d made in the past. But it was the streets that he craved that caused him to have no regard for the law.

Rasheed walked over to the huge stand-up mirror that was tucked in the corner of his oversized bedroom. He looked in the mirror, wrapped his long locks in a ponytail, and flexed his prominent biceps, posing from every angle. Rasheed smiled and patted his chest.

A nigga looks pretty damn good to be thirty-three years old, Rasheed thought.

Looking at his reflection also made him think about his mother, Lavon. She was a gorgeous woman, with long, wavy hair, and her skin was the color of bronze, inherited from her own mother, Miss Carrie Gordon. Even though Rasheed had heard it numerous times, it wasn’t until adulthood that he realized that he actually was a male replica of his mother. He moved closer to the mirror to inspect himself. Rasheed shook his head in amazement.

“Damn, I do look like Mommy,” he said to himself. “God bless her soul.”

Rasheed looked around the room and sighed. He had recently expressed to Karim how he felt about moving back home. Rasheed knew that any mention of him wanting to leave Atlanta would not sit right with his serious-minded brother. Preparing himself for an argument, Rasheed felt his heart beating rapidly through his chest as he called out to Karim from his bedroom.

“Yo, Karim!” Rasheed shouted. “Can you make my plane reservations for me?” Realizing that he was kind of loud, he turned around to look at the sleeping female in his bed. She didn’t flinch. Rasheed shook his head.

This broad looks real comfortable in my bed and I can’t even sleep right now, Rasheed thought. Rasheed shook his head. He was going to be kicking her out real soon.

A laugh could be heard coming from the kitchen. “Hell no! You’re a grown man with your own money. You can make your own reservations. That’s the problem now. You’re always waitin’ for somebody to do somethin’ for you.”

Rasheed walked out of his bedroom. He slowly walked down the stairs that led to the kitchen area.

“C’mon, Karim. Are you serious? Can you make that call for me? You know that I’m not good with things like that and the money isn’t an issue. It’s just that I was all set to go to New York this week!” Rasheed said with a sour look on his face. He was also anticipating being home in time for the second birthday of his son, Messiah. It looked like that wasn’t going to happen.

Karim stood in the kitchen wearing a Ralph Lauren robe and slippers while fixing his breakfast. He was just as handsome as Rasheed, just shorter and stockier like their deceased father, Jihad. Although they were brothers, their differences were obvious. Karim was the calmer of the two, and while he didn’t take mess from anyone, he was the logical thinker. Rasheed was the brother who was quick to fight or pick up a weapon to settle his disagreements with violence.

Karim believed that he had too much invested and had worked too hard to throw away his life for that kind of temperament. This was one of the reasons why he wanted Rasheed by his side. His brother was the wild child of the Gordon family and Karim thought that moving Rasheed to Atlanta was a good idea, especially after he was shot in New York almost three years ago.

Annoyed with the constant talk of Brooklyn and Rasheed’s refusal to conform to their laid-back lifestyle, Karim was secretly glad to see him go at that point.

After pouring some egg whites into a frying pan, Karim turned the fire down to medium and looked at his younger brother.

“I done already told your stubborn ass—if you wanna go back to Brooklyn, then that’s on you,” he replied.

“That means make your own plane reservations for your trip. I don’t want no part of it.”

Rasheed rubbed his hands through his neat locks. “Sounds like you have an attitude because I wanna move back to New York.” He looked around the spacious four-bedroom house that Karim called home. “Don’t get me wrong, this is a nice layout, but I gotta get outta here, man. Ain’t nothin’ down here for me,” Rasheed exclaimed.

Karim turned his eggs over and checked on his turkey bacon that was frying in another pan. He poured some Tropicana orange juice in a glass and sipped it. After a few seconds passed, Karim looked at Rasheed.

“So what am I supposed to do about that? You’ve been livin’ down here for the last two years and some change, and even made a good name for yourself here in Atlanta. You had the opportunity to reinvent yourself, to become a better man and make an honest livin’. Now you wanna throw all this shit away to move back to Brooklyn? You’re crazy!”

Karim placed the glass of orange juice on the granite countertop and waved his hand at Rasheed.

“All I can say is that if you move back to New York and you get into some more shit, don’t call me!” Karim added, taking a bite of some toast.

Rasheed smirked. “So it’s like that? Don’t call you, huh?”

Karim turned his back to Rasheed and continued to prepare his breakfast. “You know, Rah, you was never a nigga who listened to any reason. You always had to be the one to do the exact opposite of what anyone told you to do. But you’d think that after all you went through in New York, you would wanna stay here in Atlanta.”

Getting even more aggravated with Rasheed’s request, Karim turned around with the cooking spatula in his hand.

“Now, I’m not Nana, I’m not Nayshawn or Shaka and I damn sure ain’t Kemp, who cosigns a lot of your bullshit. The first time I suggested that you move to Atlanta, you wanted to bring your thievin’ girlfriend, Tamir, down here with you. I said no to that. Then you dumped her for Sierra Howell, the correction officer you met when you were locked up on Rikers for your last parole violation. Now when you’re released from jail, you have nothin’ but drama with Tamir and Sierra goin’ at each other’s throats.

“So I give you another invitation to come down here, to put all of that drama behind you when Tyke, Sierra’s ex-man, comes home from jail. This opens another can of worms because you and Tyke never got along with each other growin’ up. You and Tyke started beefin’ over Sierra and he ends up killin’ Tamir to get back at you! Then to keep him from killin’ you and Sierra, you put a hit out on him!”

Karim continued as Rasheed just stood there, with a bored look on his face as he listened to his own drama. “So after all that, you end up gettin’ shot by some homo-thug dude named Scooter who you were locked up with on Rikers. By this time, you had no other choice but to move down here.

“Last but not least, you moved to Atlanta and you discovered that you and Sierra might have a child together. It’s just too much. Can’t say that I really blame Sierra for not wantin’ to be with you, Rah,” he added.

Karim went back to preparing his breakfast.

Rasheed began to pace back and forth. “I see how you feel about me, ’Rim. All of these years I’m thinkin’ that you got my back, and now you’re actin’ like I’m a fuckup.”

Karim made his plate and placed it on the island. He pulled up the leather stool and sat down to enjoy his meal. Before answering his brother, he blessed his food and stuffed some egg whites into his mouth. Rasheed stared at Karim in amazement.

“Are you just gonna ignore me now?” Rasheed asked with a pleading look in his eyes.

“Yep. I’m ignorin’ you. Do what you wanna do. You wanna go back to Brooklyn? Go outside and push that fuckin’ Range Rover that I copped for you up 95 North. I’m done with this conversation.”

Rasheed held his hands up in the air. “You’re sayin’ that I have to drive up to New York now? I wanted to be in New York in time for Messiah’s birthday! This is my chance to make it right with Sierra and if I don’t get there in time—,” Rasheed protested.

Karim cut him off with a chuckle. He shook his head and picked his plate up from the counter. He walked toward his bedroom.

“C’mon, man! Now you wanna see Messiah and make things right with Sierra all of a sudden? Who do you think you’re foolin’?”

With that, Karim walked in his bedroom and slammed the door in Rasheed’s face.

Rasheed stood in front of the closed bedroom door. He couldn’t believe that Karim had dismissed him like that. They were like Frick and Frack since he moved to Atlanta and Karim made it his business to involve Rasheed in most of his dealings. But Rasheed was tired of doing what Karim wanted him to do. It was as if he didn’t have a mind of his own.

Rasheed trekked back upstairs to his bedroom and stood in the doorway. From there, he looked at all his bags. For a brief second, he realized that he would be going back to a place where he had left heartache and misery behind. That wasn’t the problem. Rasheed just had a nagging desire to go back and finish what he’d started.

There were so many mistakes that he made then and the new man in him wanted to rectify them. One of those unfortunate decisions was denying himself the pleasures of watching his son grow up. Regrettably, Rasheed did not have a civil relationship with his son’s mother, and he wanted to change that.

The last time that he was in New York was exactly a year and a half ago when Messiah was only six months old. Rasheed had made it his business to contact Sierra to let her know that he was going to be in town for a few weeks, and that he wanted to spend time with his son. She seemed doubtful about seeing Rasheed and equally hesitant about allowing him to see Messiah. After some convincing, they eventually met at a neutral location, at the suggestion of Sierra.

Rasheed remembered that day like it had just happened. He pulled up in his truck and Sierra pulled up in a brand new BMW X5. She had told Rasheed to meet her by the Jefferson High School football field in East New York and she would bring the baby there. Even though it seemed a little inconvenient for the both of them, Rasheed was happy that he would finally be able to lay his eyes on his baby boy once again.

When Sierra got out of her truck, Rasheed felt his heart flutter. Sierra looked beautiful in her sheared mink jacket and tight-fitting jeans. Her long hair was stuffed into a cashmere beret and her lips glistened in the winter sunlight.

“Hello, Mr. Gordon,” she said, approaching him with a bored look on her face. “You’re lookin’ good.”

“What’s up, Sierra?” Rasheed replied with an attitude. He could have kicked himself for being nasty with her, but the sight of her always seemed to make him angry.

“Why do you have me meetin’ you on this side of town? I’m not good enough for you to drop my son off at the house?” he asked, irritated.

Sierra sighed. “Why do we always have to go through this crap, Rasheed? You know that I’m still employed with the Department of Correction and I don’t want to go anywhere near Halsey Street. You never know who may see us together.”

Rasheed threw his hands in the air. “You know what? I don’t have time for this. Just let me see Messiah. I’m not even goin’ through this shit with you again. I keep tellin’ you that I don’t give a fuck about you being a CO, all right? If I cared, I would have been on the phone with the inspector general’s office gettin’ your ass into major fuckin’ trouble. It’s not like I don’t have the evidence to do it.”

Sierra bit her bottom lip. Rasheed knew that when she did that, she was pissed off. A smile of satisfaction came over his face. He had hit her where it hurt. He had won that round.

“You know, Rasheed, I’m really tryin’ to make this thing we have…” Sierra said, trying to hold back tears, pointing back and forth between the both of them. “I’m really tryin’ to make it work for the sake of Messiah. I just don’t understand why you are so angry with me. Is it because I moved on?”

Rasheed walked to Sierra’s truck, not trying to acknowledge anything that she was talking about. He didn’t feel like conversing with Sierra about their relationship. It was Messiah’s time now and every moment that was spent with him was precious.

Sierra lagged closely behind and climbed into the driver’s seat of her truck. Rasheed opened the back door and slid into the backseat, next to Messiah’s car seat. When he closed the door, he immediately removed the baby from the seat. Messiah was half asleep and sucking on a pacifier. His body jerked when his father pulled him out of the seat. Rasheed inspected Messiah carefully, with love in his eyes.

Rasheed looked at Sierra while holding his son in his arms. He softened up a bit. “I’m gonna answer your questions once and for all, okay? Just let me get some time in with my baby boy.”

Sierra rolled her eyes up in her head. “Yeah, okay,” she sarcastically replied.

Rasheed looked at Sierra, and, for a split second, he thought about choking the hell out of her. But while holding the baby in his arms, nothing else mattered at that moment.

With Messiah dozing in and out of sleep, Rasheed sighed. His paternal instincts kicked in and he yearned to experience more of those special moments with Messiah. This meant that he would have to clear the air with Sierra so that they wouldn’t have any more misunderstandings.

“I’m gonna say this and I’m not gonna repeat myself. You know the reason I have an attitude is because, yes, I feel that you should be with me. We went through a lot to be with each other, and at the end of the day all I can say is, what was it all for? So the only way that you gonna get any type of reprieve from me is if we be together and make this right. We have a child and I just want me, you, and Messiah to be a family, Si. Is there somethin’ wrong with that?” Rasheed paused. “So don’t come at me with the ‘am I mad because you moved on’ shit! No, I’m mad because I can’t move on! Now does that answer your questions?”

Sierra didn’t respond. Instead, she sighed loudly and turned around in the driver’s seat. She pulled out her cell phone and began talking to one of her girlfriends. Rasheed stared at her for a few moments, and then looked down at his beautiful baby boy.

The smell of Baby Magic made Rasheed forget that he was upset with Sierra. Messiah had opened his eyes and stared at his father. Rasheed made a funny face and the baby began to giggle, spitting the pacifier out of his mouth. Messiah looked a lot like his mother, inheriting her dimples and slanted eyes. But everything else was him all the way, from the pointy nose to the lips and reddish-brown complexion. Messiah was a sight to behold. Rasheed knew at that moment that even at six months his son was going to definitely break some hearts.

As Sierra yapped on the phone about nothing special, Rasheed sat in the backseat of her truck, growing angrier by the second.

“Yo!” he shouted out. Sierra took the phone away from her ear and gave Rasheed the look of death. “Can I just have a peaceful moment with my son without hearin’ all that chitchat?”

“Who are you talkin’ to?” she asked Rasheed. Sierra went back to her phone call. “Girl, look, I’m bein’ rudely interrupted. I will talk to you later,” she explained to the person on the phone. Sierra hung up the phone and put it in her bag. She then turned around to the backseat to face him.

“What the hell is your problem, Rasheed? I would think that you would be happy that you’re holdin’ your son in your arms. But you over here all up in my business and actin’ like you want my undivided attention!”

Rasheed kissed Messiah, carefully placing him back in the car seat. He then put the pacifier in the baby’s mouth, watching as Messiah happily kicked his thick legs. Suddenly, Rasheed reached over the front seat and grabbed Sierra by the neck. As she struggled to breathe, she attempted to remove his strong grasp, but to no avail.

“Get the fuck off me!” Sierra uttered. He began to shake Sierra so hard while choking her that he didn’t realize that he was banging her head against the car window.

“Who do you think you are?” Rasheed calmly stated. He pulled Sierra’s face close to his. “I’m tired of you disrespectin’ me, Correction Officer Howell. I’m tired of you actin’ like I had no part in makin’ Messiah, and I’m tired of you talkin’ down to me!”

“Get off,” she whispered. Sierra’s face was turning red and Rasheed finally loosened his grip. He had blacked out. She instantly began coughing and rubbing her neck. Tears ran down her dimpled cheeks. “You fuckin’ bastard,” she muttered.

While his parents were struggling with each other, Messiah was crying hysterically. As he attempted to calm the baby down, Rasheed instantly regretted putting his hands on Sierra. Being from the streets, he didn’t know any other way to settle his disputes.

Messiah quieted down when Rasheed put a bottle in his mouth. “I think it’s time for me to get out of here,” Rasheed exclaimed, opening the back car door to get out of Sierra’s truck.

The winter cold hit him in the face like a brick. He kissed his crying son, whose bottle fell out of his mouth, on the cheek. He felt like crying himself. Rasheed already knew that when he put his hands on Sierra, Messiah was going to be nothing but an afterthought in his confused mind.

At this point, Sierra was hysterical. “I hate you, Rasheed Gordon! I regret the day I ever laid eyes on your ass!”

“Is that right?” Rasheed chirped with a smug look on his face. “Well, I’ll never regret fuckin’ with you!”

Suddenly, Sierra flew across the front seat and tried to punch Rasheed in the face. He would have thought that after getting choked she would have calmed down. But she didn’t. He was convinced that Sierra loved that type of drama.

As she attempted to hit him again, he grabbed her small fists and pulled her to him. At that moment, Rasheed began kissing her. Straight out of a scene from the movies, Sierra allowed herself to succumb to passion, and reciprocated. Messiah instantly stopped crying and began smiling, as if he felt the love radiating from his parents.

Rasheed got out of the truck and got into the passenger seat next to Sierra, where they continued their kiss. They were all over each other, massaging each other’s body parts. The interlude was so hot that the windows of Sierra’s X5 began to steam up. After a few moments, Sierra finally pulled away from Rasheed.

“I can’t do this, Rah,” Sierra said, wiping the saliva from her lips.

Rasheed put his hand in Sierra’s crotch area. He could almost feel the heat coming through her tight-fitting Citizens of Humanity jeans. He turned her face to his and began kissing her again.

“Si, I apologize for puttin’ my hands on you. But I’m not gonna lie, I still love you. It’s killin’ me knowin’ that you and Lamont are happy, that you two are raisin’ my boy together and I can’t have that with you. I really want us to be with each other.”

Sierra sighed. The tears began to flow again. “But, Rasheed, you know that I can’t be with you anymore. Our lives are goin’ in two different directions.”

“But you want to be with me, don’t you?” Sierra looked away and wouldn’t answer him. He knew what that meant.

Opening the door, Rasheed got out of the truck and stood there staring at Sierra for a few seconds before he spoke.

“I love you and Messiah, but I can’t stand by and watch Lamont take my family away from me. So I’m gonna step back and just leave y’all alone for good.”

“What are you talkin’ about, Rasheed? Don’t you wanna see Messiah anymore?”

“I love my little man, but if me and you can’t be together, there’s no need for me to come around. I can’t continue to meet all these different places just so I can see my son. It doesn’t make any sense. This shit hurts too much.”

Sierra started the engine. Rasheed could tell that she was irritated. He didn’t care about her feelings; he was just being honest with himself. What was wrong with him wanting to have a relationship with the mother of his child?

“Close the door and lose my fuckin’ number!” Sierra yelled at him. “I can’t go through this shit with you anymore! Good-bye, Rasheed. Have a safe trip back to Atlanta!”

Rasheed closed the door and Sierra pulled off. It seemed as if everyone he loved left him. As he watched her truck disappear in the distance, he walked back to his own vehicle and cried like a baby.

Not wanting to get all teary eyed thinking about that day, Rasheed knelt down on the carpeted floor and rounded up all the things that he would need for his move. As he looked around at the many bags he packed, he was beginning to think that driving to New York wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Rasheed got up and walked to the side of the bed that the woman was lying on. He shook her softly and she awakened almost immediately, dazed from sleep.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said with a smile on his face. The woman smiled back and reached for him. Suddenly, Rasheed turned serious. “Get up, put your clothes on, and get the hell out.”