“Q, for real?” Pri asks. “That’s not on us. You sold us bad shit.”
Q reaches into his coat pocket. My cousins shift a little, and he pulls out something that he puts into his mouth—a toothpick. “None of my business how those kids choose to use my products. Everything was fine by the time it got to you.”
“That’s not how it works, Q,” Chantal says as calm as ice. “If word gets around that some girl died from shit she got from us, no more business. That’s the end of our deal.”
I sit up. The floor squeaks again, but I don’t care. Some girl died from shit she got from us echoes in my ears loud and clear, as if it’s the voice of God. Some girl died from shit she got from us. . . . Those words pour down on me like sharp, heavy raindrops. No. Stones. They beat against my head, so I stand to my feet. Some girl died from shit she got from us, I repeat to myself.
The words are so heavy that they make everything sink inside me.
My cousins. My cousins sold drugs. My cousins sold the drugs that killed the white girl. Madison. The girl whose death Detective Stevens is investigating.
I realize the detective is wrong. Dray was not the one who sold the drugs. I can’t just let Dray go to jail for something he didn’t do. My cousins. My cousins are the ones who are responsible. But do I tell that to the detective? No! No way. My cousins will go to jail. And my mother is already in something like jail.
My head spins. There are questions and questions that whirl around my mind like a tornado, and they slowly make their way up to my throat to form one deep, angry wail. I hold on to the banister. I don’t know if I’m going to just fall over, or throw up on everybody downstairs. The floor squeaks again, but they are still talking. I brace myself because I have to hear more. I have to hear the hows and whys and what-ifs.
“Chantal, honey. You’re the smart one.” Uncle Q steps closer to her. “You’re acting like you don’t know how to count money. Your mother didn’t teach you anything?”
“Leave our mother outta this, Q,” she says. “She never pushed for you.”
“Your mother did all she could to keep y’all off the streets, but y’all still wanna play with the big boys. ’Specially you, Pri. You just looking for trouble, ain’t you? I need twenty by the end of the month. Don’t fuck with my money, Three Bees.” He steps over to Pri and taps two fingers on her temple.
Pri pushes his hand away.
He laughs. “Fiery little bitch, ain’t you? Just like your daddy.”
Chantal quickly pulls Pri back before she can do anything. She then grabs Donna’s arm and they all step away from Q and his bodyguards.
The men leave. But my cousins don’t move until they’re sure that Q’s car has turned the corner and driven several blocks out of the neighborhood. And I’m as still as a rock, even as my cousins sit on the couch. They’re quiet for much too long. Finally, they begin to speak again.
“How much you think Ma got?” Donna speaks for the first time since the men left.
“Yo, you shittin’ me right now, D?” Pri hisses.
“What if—” Donna starts to say.
“Nope,” Chantal cuts her off. “Don’t even try it. I already know what you’re gonna say.”
“What am I gonna say?”
“Don’t you even think about bringing Dray into this,” Chantal says.
I sneak partway down the stairs and peek under the banister.
“All this time, did I ever say anything to him? Not once did he even guess what was going on,” Donna says.
Pri starts clapping really slowly, then really fast. She gets up and claps in Donna’s face. “Bra-the-fuck-vo! You didn’t sell out your sisters to your man. You deserve a fucking cookie!”
Donna pushes her hands away. Pri shoves Donna’s head.
“Would y’all stop! And be quiet!” Chantal points to the ceiling and I know it’s because of me.
I ease back up the stairs again. But before I can even rush back into the bedroom, Pri has already leaped up to find me near the banister. Chantal and Donna are right behind her.
“How long you been there, Fab?” Pri asks.
I stand up. I don’t take my eyes away from Pri and I don’t answer her question.
“Handle that, Chant. That’s your girl,” she says.
“No,” Chantal says. “We’re handling this together.”
“Yes,” I say. “Please do. I have a lot of questions.”
“Aw, shit,” Pri says. “Here’s my answer so we can all get back to bed: none of your business!”
“You sell drugs?” I yell. It wasn’t supposed to be that loud, but it just bursts out as if I’m a bottle of Pepsi that my cousins shook really hard and then opened the top, and I yell out again, “You sell drugs?”
“Shut up, Fabiola!” Pri yells in my face. “Shut the fuck up! Chantal, handle that.”
“Don’t tell me to shut up!” I yell back. This time, I’m in Pri’s face. “I live here, too. This is my house, too. You tell me if you are selling drugs. You tell me everything!”