Page 15 of Color Me Broken
“Damn,” Juelz muttered, mostly to himself. The mall was crowded, and it was only Tuesday. People bumping into people,stepping on other people’s shoes. Juelz was ready to go, but he knew Ant wasn’t.
“Whoa,” Ant breathed, pointing at a wall of neon-green Nikes. “Those boys fye!”
Juelz steered him toward them. “A’ight. You see somethin’ else you like?”
Ant’s eyes darted from one pair to the next, overwhelmed by the options. He finally pointed to a pair of black-and-red Jordans, the ones he’d seen on his friend's phone at school.
“You sure? Shit, Jordan ‘gon put out some more in two weeks. Just watch,” Juelz said. “You wanna try ‘em on?”
Ant nodded, his eyes wide.
Juelz flagged down a kid who worked there, who looked like he was about to piss himself when Juelz approached. “Yo, my man. We need these in size five.”
While the kid scurried to the back, Juelz knelt down again. “Listen. Pick out two pairs. A’ight? One for now, one for later. And getchu some socks, too. None of them li’l mixed matched shit you be wearin’ either.”
“For real?” Ant asked, his voice barely a whisper.
“Yeah, go ‘head, man,” Juelz confirmed. “You hold it down for your aunt, you take care of your grades. This what you get. This how we move.”
The kid came back with the box, and Ant sat down on the bench, his hands trembling slightly as he untied his old, busted sneakers. He slipped his foot into the new Jordan, and it fit perfectly. He stood up, walking a few steps, a new bounce in his step. He looked down at his feet like he’d just been given superpowers.
Juelz watched him, a strange feeling bubbling up in his chest. It wasn’t the rush of a good drop or the satisfaction of closing a deal. It was quieter. Softer. Seeing the pure, uncut joy on the kid’s face was worth more than any stack of cash on his table. Hecouldn’t wait for the day where he would be shopping with his own son.
“They straight?” Juelz asked, bending down and pressing his thumb to the top of the shoe.
Ant nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir. They fit.”
“Good,” Juelz said, standing up. “A’ight, let’s go to the front and pick up the rest of your shoes.”
An hour later, they walked out of the mall with three boxes of shoes, two packs of socks, and a new fitted cap that Ant was wearing with the brim straight. Juelz carried the bags as they made their way back to the car.
Ant was clutching his shoeboxes as if they were made of gold. He looked over at Juelz, his eyes shining.
“Thanks, Unc.”
Juelz just nodded, pulling away from the curb. “Don’t thank me. Just be good for your mama, man. And stay in those books. You do that, we can do this again.”
The following morning,the sun slipped through the half-open blinds, painting streaks of soft light across the rumpled sheets. Tasha was curled into Juelz’s side, her thigh draped over his.
Juelz laid still, staring at the ceiling, his arm underneath his head, his other hand resting on Tasha’s hip. He should’ve been at ease, but something in his gut felt off. His phone vibrated on the nightstand, buzzing so hard it nearly slid off. He grabbed it quick, careful not to wake Tasha. The screen lit up:Lil Rico
“Damn,” he whispered, answering on the next ring. “Yo, nigga, whaddup?”
Rico’s voice came in frantic, low, like he was ducking behind something. “Aye, aye… big bruh…I’m out here on the block.Them nig—niggas, got us. They robbed us for all the fucking work.”
Juelz sat up, heart punching his ribs, he threw his dreads out of his face. “What the fuck you mean, they robbed y’all?”
“I mean, them niggas rolled up on us and took the shit. We was in the spot grabbing some food, and they broke in the car. Snatched that shit right up outta there.”
Tasha stirred, eyes still shut but reaching for his warmth. “What’s wrong, Jue? Why you yellin’ this fuckin’ early?Damn!”
He didn’t answer. He was already up, grabbing his jeans off the floor and jamming a Glock into the waistband. His jaw locked as he paced the room. “Fuck! Why the fuck y’all still have the shit in the car?”
“What you want us to do, big bruh?” Lil’ Rico asked from the other end of the phone.
“Blow that nigga beside you head off,” Juelz ordered loudly. “And when you done? Do yoself, nigga.”
Juelz slammed the phone down as he put on his shoes. Tasha sat up now, clutching the sheet to her chest. “Juelz, what’s happening?”
