Page 47 of Color Me Broken
“The doctor told her, those were the results from the appointment you two went to,” Niyah whispered. “I told her to tell you. But… she got scared at how you’d react.” She paced in a circle with her hands on her hips. “So, she kept it a secret.”
Juelz stepped back as if the concrete shifted under him. “Niyah… stop playin’. That’s not funny, for real. Yo?—”
“I’m not playing,” she raised her voice. “She’s been sick. For a minute. The cancer was in her ovary, Juelz. The procedure she did?” She exhaled loudly. “Well, they removed the ovary that had the cancer in it, leaving her with just one.”
He looked out into the street, the flashing lights getting closer to them by the minute.
“Tash…” he breathed, voice cracking for real this time. He forced his dreads outta his face.
Niyah touched his shoulder. “Let her go tonight. You ain’t gon’ reach her right now. She hurt. She’s angry. And she’s scared as hell.”
Juelz dragged a hand down his face, body folding like he suddenly couldn’t stand up straight.
Behind them, the house burned. Neighbors whispered. And he just stood there, realizing he hadn’t only broken her heart. He also broke her spirit at the worst time of her life.
Five months after the fire…
The penthouse was supposed to be temporary, a crash spot till the house got rebuilt. But Juelz was still there. Same view. Same silence. Same ghost in every reflection. He saw Tasha in the mirrors, in the smoke, at the bottom of his glass. He couldn’t drink or grind hard enough to drown her out. She wouldn’t take his calls, his texts, or his visits. She was really done with his ass. She let go of everything attached to him, cut off all communication, and even finally changed her number that she had forever.
He told everybody the fire was a freak accident, saying some shit about the wiring. Lucky for him, a couple of the firemen on the scene knew him from back in the day and went along withhis lies, helping him cover it up. No questions asked, no deeper digging.
A month after the fire, and withouthisTasha, he swore he was good and focused, that he wasmoving onwith his life. But the truth? He was barely sleeping and barely eating. Sometimes he would even take a line or two of his own supply to cope with her absence. Liquor was also a significant factor. He had been drinking more than usual, and it was becoming unhealthy.
The penthouse would always smell like weed, Henny, and desperate sex, but at least his business was booming again. Juelz had turned his spot into an operation. Two laptops open on the table, bags on the counter, three phones ringing nonstop.
“Yo, drop two on Center Line,” he said into the phone, pacing in front of the window. “Tell them lil’ niggas not to short me this time or I’ma bust they ass.”
He hung up, grabbed another line. “Whaddup, tho? Come get what you need before ten.”
Stacks of cash were spread across the table like cards in a game he always won but never enjoyed. His eyes were bloodshot, his beard grown out. The city lights behind him looked cold as ever.
Mar sat on the couch rolling a blunt, watching him move. “You back in your bag, huh, nigga?
Juelz snorted. “In my bag? Nigga, I ain’t never got out, fool. Hell, you ‘talmbout.”
Mar laughed low. “I hear that, nigga.”
The penthouse door shook. Juelz didn’t look up. “Who the fuck that be?”
Mar grabbed the strap. A young dude slid in, couldn’t be more than nineteen. He was looking nervous, wearing a torn T-shirt halfway off his shoulders. He held his hands up, holding a folded envelope tight as if it was gold.
“I got the drop from Eastside,” he said quickly, eyes darting between them. “Said they’ll spin back again next week if you coo with it.”
Juelz nodded. “Bet. Put that shit on the table.”
The kid shook his head, tossing the envelope on the glass table. Juelz looked him up and down, his brows furrowing. “The fuck happened to you, nigga?”
The kid looked down, grabbing at his shirt. “Man, me and my ‘ole lady got into it. She tripping ‘bout me hanging out late and shit.” He pulled up his sagging jeans. “No biggie.”
Mar and Juelz burst out laughing at him. “Damn, my dude. Look like she put a whoopin’ on ya ass, boy. You need to keep them hoes in line,” said Mar, blowing smoke from his mouth.
“I told y’all ‘bout messing with them lab rats anyway, nigga. Now look at you.”
The kid nodded and headed out the door. Once he left, Juelz leaned on the counter, rubbing his temples. The phones started up again.
He stared at them for a long second before turning one off completely. Then another.
Only one stayed on. The trap line. The one he couldn’t turn off, no matter how much he wanted to. He poured a drink, sat back, and stared out the window again. The city moved, money called, life was happening all around him. But he still felt empty.
