Page 22 of Lyric Squared

Like lightening, the words from the computer screen flashed before my eyes. I’d been drowning, too, and until this very moment, I couldn’t catch my breath. Being told when to shower, piss, shit, eat, hoop, and socialize was not ideal for a nigga who’d lived a limitless life. Though I’d adapted, the entire ordeal felt like an outer body experience. It was my first and my last time in that motherfucker.

I picked up the fresh grays from my closet floor and dumped them down the trash shoot in the hallways next to my bedroom.Upon my return, I entered the bathroom where I stared back at my reflection with a half-smile.

“Boy, you look rough,” I admitted, pulling at the bulkiness of my hair.

For six months, it had been growing like wildfire. I refused to let the niggas in the barbershop cut it. That task was one that only I could accomplish. I was too specific and too particular about how I wanted my shit, and I hadn’t found a barber that could achieve the same results as me. That’s why I’d been cutting my own hair since I was nine. The first and last time a barber fucked my line over was my eight birthday. For a year straight, I practiced and perfected my technique. By November 28th of the following year, I was nice with it.

I pulled out the deep drawer and removed the cape, clippers, brushes, scissors, alcohol, and the rest of the things I’d need to get myself together because whoever the nigga in the mirror in front of me was, I didn’t recognize. He was buried beneath six months of knotty, black hair – facial included.

“Alexa, play something I’d like to hear,” I called out to one of the white gadgets I had all around my home that made my life a lot easier.

When Meek Mill’sI Got the Juiceblasted through the speakers, my smile widened as my head began nodding to the beat. All wasn’t lost upon. At least Alexa still recognized me. For now, I’d settle for that.

As I listened to the lyrics, matching them word for word in my head, I prepared my utensils. And though I promised to leave every and anything that went on within the six months, I was locked away in the past, there was something – or someone rather – that I simply couldn’t.

As I grew, so did my feelings for you,she’d written.

I gazed at my reflection in the mirror as I began to reveal the man behind the wool one stroke of my clippers at a time. Lost inthe thought, I didn’t realize just how long I’d been standing and chopping away until I was patting my face and neck with alcohol that stung, drawing me from the daze I was in.

My bare feet tapped the marbled floors of my bathroom, sending a chill down my spine. When I reached the glass shower, I turned the digital dial to six and a half. It was the perfect temperature. Not too hot or too cold.

Without hesitation, I stripped down a second time and stepped behind the glass barrier that kept water from exiting and cold air from entering. The warm water hit my dark skin, forming a stream that slid down my body upon contact. For the first time in six months, I closed my eyes while allowing the steam to rise up my nose and clear my airways.

I’d come to the realization long ago that I’d taken long, hot showers for granted all my life. Not anymore. I was more than thankful for the peace of mind they brought me and the safety net having one in my home afforded me with. There wasn’t a nigga in the whole joint that had tried me after I put the first one on his eyes in under five seconds.

I had barely slept on my bunk a full week before the bullshit started. But as quickly as it had risen, it settled. Niggas did not want the work that I had to offer them –inside or out.

As the beads of water tap danced on my skin, I considered the rest of my day’s events. Before I did anything else, I needed some decent, uninterrupted sleep in the comfort of my own bed. It was new along with the bedding on top of it, but I was certain I’d sleep like a newborn once my head hit the pillow.

My shower ended twenty minutes later and after four rounds of scrubbing. It was imperative that I removed all traces of the past six months, even from my skin. With a towel around my waist, I strolled into my bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed.

Home. There was nothing else like it and I missed it so much that I was contemplating not leaving. Spending the day clearingthe fuzziness surrounding my release sounded so much better than anything else I could think of wanting to do in Channing –almost.

So instead of trying to convince myself otherwise, I slid the pair of briefs I’d tossed on the bed before cutting my hair and showering up my ass. Five seconds later, my bedroom light was out and I was underneath the covers. Sleep came easy much like everything else when comfort wasn’t an issue.

Darkness devouredevery inch of my home. With the back of my hand, I rubbed my right eye and then my left to clear them of the debris that hindered my vision. My view of The Hills would never get old. I stared out of the floor-to-ceiling windows that every home deep within the community had been built with so that everyone could indulge in the beauty of the scenery.

“Haaaaaaaaaaaaa,” I yawned, eyes and mouth watering simultaneously.

My stomach sounded immediately after. I hadn’t eaten shit all day and knew that it was time to. But first, I needed to take a piss and brush the exhaustion from my breath. Before I could do either, I checked the time on the cell that Kale had given me earlier. It was after nine.

“Shit, I was tired.”

There were two missed calls on the line, one from Luca and one from Laike. I remembered both of their numbers by heart. I’d bet my bottom dollar that when I didn’t answer for one, the other called and betted they’d get me to pick up. That could only mean that the niggas were together. It hadn’t been a full hoursince they’d hit my line. Before I called either of them, I needed to make a more urgent call first.

“What’s up?” Kale answered, projecting his voice over the music in the car.

“Shit. You good?”

“Yeah, bro. You don’t have to worry about me. I promise. I’m staying out of trouble.”

He already knew exactly what I was calling about.

“Where you at?”

“Edgewood.”

He was in familiar territory. That’s where we were raised with our aunt and uncle. That’s where I met the Eisenbergs. We lived across the street from one another our whole lives. They were family. With a shake of my head, I recalled not being surprised to see Liam Eisenberg waiting for me outside the jailhouse after I’d been bonded out the morning after everything went down. It was him who’d shared their family lawyer with me and made sure that I didn’t pay a dime out of pocket. Luca and Laike were no more of his sons than I was. We just didn’t share the same blood.