Another Man's Treasure (Joey Bada$$ Story)

Part Undici

So I realized that I was right. I told Edwin that I was in good hands, and I knew it was true when I got the call from Joey last night. He told me that he didn’t want to release all of the details over the phone, but had wired some money to me and wanted me to get on the first bus back to Brooklyn. I did as he asked.

My plan was to visit Abigail while in DC, but she wasn’t as important as my baby. She’d understand, anyway. I’m sure if my phone bill wasn’t overdue, she would have called me by now. She would forgive me for leaving.

On the bus, I couldn’t help but notice how boring it was compared to my first bus ride between DC to Brooklyn. The company of Pro Era seemed to make everything either better or worse. Better in the sense that I managed to smile around them; they lightened things. They were my coping mechanism, no matter how little time I’d spent around them. I could put them all in a pill and label it ‘Feel Good’. Especially Joey. But on the other hand, what Joey told me about them changed things. Now I knew that they were involved in something dangerous. They’re the reason I didn’t have my daughter now, because they were affiliated with some criminals who had the potential to ruin my life and theirs.

At the very same time, they’re the reason I had my daughter back now.

I reached Brooklyn. I was hungry and tired and suddenly had a bad feeling in my stomach, as if I’d gotten my hopes up for something completely opposite from what I expected. The bad vibes made my head hurt, so I stopped in a nearby bodega to pick up some Aspirin but then remembered that I was poor.

Last night Joey told me his address over the phone, but I’d forgotten it by now. I didn’t need the address - I knew exactly where Joey lived. Scenery was what got me there. The buildings, the shade of brown the houses were and what kind of restaurants were on the end of each block and what kind of plants each person had on their doorsteps - that’s what led me to the house. Once I was on the block of the apartment, I remembered: building 623, apartment B14. I rang the bell.

There was no answer. I gave it enough time before ringing again, again, a fourth time, until I was pretty convinced that I was in the wrong place.

But a block away, making his way back to the building, was Joey. I could recognize him from a mile away in his regular gear: a bucket hat, baggy basketball shirts and some kind of hooded sweater or jersey. His image completely contrasted with the stroller he pushed past the street light and closer to me. Sitting in it, smiling and seemingly oblivious to everything, was Latara.

I ran to him. It was perfect for a slow-motion scene in a movie: Joey’s satisfied smile, the way Latara screamed when she recognized her mommy, how I picked her up from the stroller and kissed her and spun her around in the air. She was mine again. Her heart was beating and she was in my arms, she was still the fat and bubbly Tara that I always wanted her to be.

“Thank you.” I said to Joey.

“I feel like a superhero,” He laughed. “You’re welcome. We just came from the park. I didn’t know what to do with her while you were gone, so I figured that’s what babies do, right? They go to parks.”

I chuckled. “I guess, yeah. Did you feed her breakfast?”

“Of course I did. I’m not crazy. If I care enough to buy her a stroller, I think I care enough to feed her.” Joey began walking, so I strolled beside him.

“Thank you for buying it, by the way. You didn’t have to. That was nice.”

Joey just shrugged. I tried to wait until asking the question that was on my mind, probably the question that he expected me to ask, but I realized that being polite really didn’t matter in situations like these.