Memphis Streets 2 (Urban)

Chapter 27- Jaleesa

The streets are hot. There's so many fuckin' bullets flying between Cartel Lords and Vice Disciples that the muthafuckin' police stop answering calls and let niggas have it out. At least that's what the fuck it feels like. The few times that the police do come out, it's to interrogate everyone where the hell Snake is hiding. Seems they want his ass as bad as the Cartel Lords. For the moment that big nigga is ghost. Both him and Le'Shelle.

They pop up every now and again, let niggas know that they are still in charge and running shit, but when you blink they're gone. Hell, I wish I knew where they are hiding out at-at least then I would get this evil bitch Lucifer off my ass. Because right now she's riding me so hard I'm going to turn dyke any minute now. Since I can't snitch out Le'Shelle, I gave Lucifer the next best thing: Treasure and Mario. Shit. Those niggas were telling everybody who stood still long enough how they busted the head Queen Gs' sister in on her prom night and watched as Le'Shelle emptied a whole clip into Fat Ace's baby brother. Fuck. I was happy to do that shit. Less than an hour after I gave their names to Lucifer, those niggas were found facedown in the back of the Fat Monkey with their own cocks shoved down their throats.

That shit let me know that Lucifier's ass is a sadist, and she is certainly not the one to fuck with. Now when my ass isn't dodging bullets, I'm driving all the way to Memphis Mental Health Institute to visit my girl Brielle. That's where she's been for the past month, sitting in a chair and staring out a window. She hasn't said or done shit since that horrible night. She just sits there. Like I do every day, I park my car, take several deep breaths, and try to get the energy up to walk into this place. It's depressing. Old people creeping toward you like zombies in a Michael Jackson video. Some talk to themselves, some yell at you, and the others beg and cry for you to take them home. The place gives me the fuckin' creeps.

"Hello, Mrs. Douglas," I greet.

She's sliding her purse strap over her shoulder and gathering up her knitting stuff. She turns and tries to flash me a smile, but it dies before it gets to her eyes.

"Hello, Jaleesa."

I swallow and shift my gaze to Brielle, who, of course, is sitting before the window, staring out at everything but seeing nothing.

"No change?" Tracee's large eyes instantly fill with water.

"No."

Silence fills the space between us like it does every day. Tracee and Reggie still don't know that Drey and I were the ones who had dumped Brielle on their doorstep, but I sense that she believes that I know more than I'm telling-or maybe that's my guilty conscience trying to trick me into confessing.

"I better get going," Tracee says.

"I have a lot of errands to run, but I'll be back in a few hours."

"I'll still be here," I say.

She rewards me with another flat smile and then rushes past me and out the door.

"I don't think your stepmom likes me," I tell Brielle.

No response. Exhaling a long breath, I walk over to Brielle and try to see whether I notice a change in my friend for myself. I don't. Her eyes are as glassy and vacant as they have been for the past month.

"Brielle, please. I know that you're in there somewhere. Please, snap out of this shit." I wait, but there's no response.

"You're wasting your time."

Startled, I jump up and jerk toward the door. There, an old black woman with long silver hair leans against the door frame with a lit cigarette.