Happy Pride

Fredo, age 21

“Ay, we hitting up Pride this year?”

I freeze mid-chew. It’s only me, Turk, and Peanut in the dilapidated office of Turk’s strip club Paradise. Peanut brought us some wings to eat while we took a break from putting down new flooring in the private rooms.

Turk and I share a glance, before turning to Peanut. He’s deadass, smacking on his own crispy wings from Soul Food Spot.

I swallow my food. “Why would we hit up Pride, P?”

Peanut just blinks as he licks his fingers. “Well, ain’t you one of the letters? I’m wrong? Turk? Ain’t he gay?”

Turk’s stupid ass snorts, stuffing a whole wing in his mouth. He bucks his eyes at me, but truthfully, I’m stuck.

I don’t talk about what I do and who I do it with, with anyone. Turk and Rico only know about my first boyfriend because, coincidentally, Rico ended up killing him.

Long story.

I adopted the philosophy of only speaking about my sexuality with people I’m tryna fuck. And while only Peanut can have women swooning over him while being actively misogynistic and rocking angry red acne scars on his cheeks, he’s not my type.

“Um, I’m not gay, P.”

Peanut places his box of wings on the floor next to him and dusts his fingers off with a napkin. “Don’t you like niggas? Bro, I know I’m not making this up. We done jumped too many niggas calling you out ya name. I mean, ain’t no one gon’ disrespect you, but I thought we all knew you was gay. Am I tripping?” The way he scratches his head, my friend is truly perplexed.

“Fredo just fucked a bitch by the bathrooms two nights ago, Nut,” Turk snorts.

“Okaaaay, then bi. That’s still one of the letters–look. I’m not dumb, nigga. The way you’d stare at Mr. Chris, I knew you was gay in the third grade. Now, is we turning up on Logan Street tonight or not? Tati swear I’m closed-minded, and I need to know if I’m rocking this LGBT Ally shirt I spent thirty dollars on.”

“So, let me get this straight.” I wipe the barbecue sauce off my fingers with a napkin. “You want me to, not only come out, but we all hit up Logan Street, publicly, so your unofficial girlfriend can think you’re… what? Open-minded? Can’t you just tell her one of your closest homies is bisexual?”

Peanut cuts his eyes to Turk, before dodging a chicken bone.

“Fuck you, Dub. My sexuality is ‘Autumn Night Shaw.’”

“Cuck,” Peanut chuckles, throwing the chicken bone back at him. “Damn, Freddy Mercury, when you say it like that, it sounds fucked up. I’m just tryna support you in any way I can, especially since Ricky Ricardo is deep in wherever-ville. It’s ya month. If we ain’t partying with the gays and dolls on Logan Street, the fuck we finna do?!”

“Dolls. Tati fasho been on ya ass,” Turk cackles.

“If you’ve thought I liked niggas since third grade, why the fuck we gotta celebrate the shit now? I’m leaning toward females right now anyway.”

“Whether you end up with a bitch or not, you still bisexual. And my bullshit with Tati ass aside, you could have been bipolar, and you is bilingual, so why not go up ‘cause you the other bi, too? Fuck it; no Logan Street. Let’s hit the ‘sino, Dub. I’m feeling lucky. Let’s just take a pic with me wearing the shirt, and we can hit the craps tables.”

“This nigga a fool foreal.”

I shake my head, but my smile stays on my grill. “You fasho a nut. Thanks, I guess?”

“You don’t gotta thank me for not giving a fuck that you bi, muthafucka.” Peanut scowls, getting to his feet. “Only thing I give a fuck about is if you let that thang go, and if you solid. Just don’t get no white boyfriend, and don’t get no ugly boyfriend.”

“Ain’t you half white?” I ask, rolling away before he can kick me.

“Fuck you!” Peanut bellows, just as the office door opens. G, one of the lil’ homies, comes in breathing hard.

All playfulness is gone, and not just because we’re in mixed company. Peanut will play around with us, but only us. G and his brother Slime are project babies, same as us, but Peanut draws a clear line between us and everyone else, even within Foe Dub.

“The fuck going on?” Peanut thunders.

G stops fidgeting long enough for me to notice his eyes are glassy. He clenches his fists as he raises his chin at Peanut.

“Some niggas got at Slime on his way to get me from school. He in the hospital now, but won’t tell me who.”

“He had shit on ‘em?” Turk asks as me and him stand. I gather our trash and throw it in the loose trash bag by the door.

“Nah. He free to go. His arm broke though, and he not sayin’ shit.” G’s whole face is red from trying to hold back tears. He wipes his mouth hard, before balling his lips and averting his eyes.

“How you get here?” I ask him.

“Bus.”

“Aight. He at Saint John’s? Let’s go. This shithole can run itself for a lil’ while.” Peanut breezes out with us following. He’s parked out back, and I slide into his front seat while Turk and G get into the back.

We make it to Saint John’s in twenty minutes, Peanut swerving like we’re playing the game.

We’ve been in and out the hospital enough to know where they take people who come in by ambulance, and Peanut peeks in each curtain until we find Slime.

He’s sitting on the side of the bed, his arm in a cast and sling. There’s a couple stitches on his cheek, the beginnings of a black eye, but the most surprising development is how low and curled his shoulders are. Slime has always been a young wild ass nigga. As arrogant as he is bloodthirsty and loyal. He was a part of Set’s original crew, moving weight at the tender age of ten, even if that meant menial tasks to keep him and G away from the older niggas.

The only times Slime’s ever been defeated like this was when his father was killed, and when G almost died. Considering the fact that he can leave the hospital, I don’t see why he’d feel so down on himself.

“So what the fuck happened and when we slidin’ on niggas, Dub?!” Peanut harshly whispers, not stopping until he’s right in front of Slime.

He just flinches at Peanut’s voice. He cuts his eyes to me, before he rubs a shaky hand through his loose curls. “I’on know who it was.”

“Bullshit–”

“I said I’on know, nigga!” Slime stands and pushes Peanut out the way, but he loses his footing and ends up right back on the bed. I grab Peanut and push him into Turk and G. “Take a walk with ‘em,” I grit, not turning back to Slime until their footfalls have faded enough.

Sighing, I take a seat on the foot of the bed, my eyes catching how clenched his good fist is.

“What the fuck happened, Slime?”

“Nothing.”

“Nigga, nothing ain’t break your arm. Nutty not gonna let this go. He gon’ wanna retaliate. If you tell me what happened, I can finagle some shit since you clearly embarrassed.”

Slime shifts so that he’s facing me. It’s three of them; Slime, G, and their baby sister Gianna. Their mother is Italian, with ties to the mafia in East Kenton. Their father was a Birch Baby through and through. His job at one of the factories along the East Kenton border is how their parents met. G and Slime could pass for twins they look so alike, except G is fatter, and Slime is redder. A real pretty boy, worse than even me. 

“I’m not gay.”

“Huh?” I blink a couple times, because I couldn’t have heard him right.

“I said, I’m not gay.”

“The fuck I’m supposed to do with that info?” I spit, standing up. I’m ready to rock his shit again and break his other arm.

Until his shoulders sink even more than I thought possible. “Th-they thought… but I’m not gay.”

Damn.

A few times, niggas around the city have called me some colorful shit. And each and every time, my niggas was sending niggas to the ICU over my respect. One time, after Set rode out with me, I felt obligated to come out to him, thinking Turk had already spilled the beans. He hadn’t, and Set told me that while he supported me regardless, and he didn’t mind bodying niggas about my respect, I shouldn’t feel obligated to defend myself to my day ones.

I’ve fucked with a couple other niggas since my ex, but if I’m being honest, none of these niggas are worth even thinking about claiming–same with the women I mess with. Maybe I’m still traumatized, or maybe that’s really how I feel. But since I’ve been playing the field, especially with the same bitches that would laugh behind my back and speculating on why I wasn’t fucking with ‘em before, it’s admittedly been a while since me and my niggas had to correct someone on why that colorful word shouldn’t be in anyone’s vocabulary.

Slime is a pretty boy for sure. But I guess I never thought he’d have the same problems. Last I’d heard, Slime had an on/off girlfriend.

“Aight.” I sit back down on the bed. “You’re not gay. Who the fuck was saying otherwise?”

Slime licks his lips. “Some Below Zero niggas. That caught me on the bus. I knew one of ‘em… he…”

I arch my brow without thinking. Well. This is… not what I expected.

But I read between the lines well and immediately.

“So, you know where he be at? Him and his niggas?”

Slime looks out the window, but barely, he nods.

“Fasho. Let’s go.”

I stand, and when he’s on his feet, I push him in front of me and we walk toward the front lobby.

Peanut hops up, but I shake my head. “Drop me and Slime to my whip and we’ll get up with y’all later.”

“What–”

“Ay.” I silence G’s hothead ass with one look, and he stomps off, ready to have a tantrum.

The ride back to my whip is quiet. Turk and Peanut won’t ask me shit in front of G, and by the end of this, I’ll have a story cooked up. Not saying they’ll give a fuck about what Slime got going on, but the nigga is Foe Dub, and it looks bad on all of us if one of us gets caught slipping. Really, the younger niggas, niggas we put on after us, are the reason muthafuckas don’t try us in general. G’s all subdued and shit in the back seat now, but only because it’s us. That nigga put a teacher in the hospital when he was in fifth grade. The district just let him back in regular school last year.

Slime drags his feet, but he hops into my Volvo and we skirt off toward the Birch from Turk’s granddad’s crib.

“So look, we finna get KO–”

“Maaaaan. Hell naw.”

I reach over and slap the back of his head. “Shut the fuck up. You need to get yo fuckin’ head in the game anyway because you beating that nigga ass, broken arm and all. And if you don’t win I’m fuckin’ you up myself. And I won’t take it easy on you ‘cause you not all the way a hunnid.”

I pull into the roundabout of Tower One and take out my phone to shoot a text. After my cousin texts me back, I put my whip in park and face Slime.

“It’s just me and you, and what you say stays between us. But I need to know exactly what the fuck me and my cousin walking into.”

He’s so embarrassed he couldn’t even meet my gaze. Shifty as fuck, holding his sling like it will fall at any moment.

Finally, when he sees I’m not playing, the words fall out in a rush.

Some nigga he met at the movies, while he was out with his ex girlfriend. They started something a few months back. His first boyfriend. Shit went sour a week ago, when the boy’s uncle caught them. He seen him and his friends, the friends were teasing the boy, so they jumped Slime.

Bullshit.

But I see how bad it’s fucking with him. Slime is the type of nigga that will trip you for cutting him in line, like it’s a subconscious reaction. He’s naturally petty and vindictive.

Right now, his feelings are just hurt. And more than any nigga thinking they got the one up on one of Foe Dub, I wouldn’t want no one to sit with knowing someone you had feelings for–new, dangerous, exhilarating feelings, could fuck you over so bad with no warning.

“Yeah, you bashing the nigga head in. You not gon’ feel better, but a nigga treat you like shit, make his ass feel it, especially if he do some shit you can’t come back from.”

“That’s what you did? With…” He doesn’t say my ex’s name as his eyes finally drift up to mine. I’m surprised he even knows about it, though looking back, I probably wasn’t as careful as I thought I was.

Or maybe he just thinks I’m speaking from experience.

I grin. “Once upon a time. A nigga who claimed to love me conspired to snuff out the other half of me. An oxymoron if I’d ever known one, because you can’t love me and wanna kill my brother. I’m sure Rick feels guilty for killing him, and at the time, it hurt. But time heals all wounds. Yo shit prolly hurt like a muthafucka, but in time, it’ll hurt less. And who knows, you’ll meet another nigga, or female, and you prolly won’t even remember this nigga’s name.”

The corner of Slime’s mouth twitches as he wipes the moisture from his eyes. “I’on know how you’re so cool about this shit. G don’t even know what I be up to, foreal.”

“I just told you what my ex did. Our shit literally didn’t come up until my brother put a bullet in his eyes. I may not talk about what I got going on, but I’m not hiding it. But I also know that my real ones don’t care about shit like that. Who I’m fucking is of no consequence to them, but before I realized that, I was deep in the closet too.” I shrug, turning off my vibrating phone. “I’on really know too much about your moms, but I doubt G will give a fuck, and I know the rest of Foe Dub won’t. Your business ain’t my business to tell, but KO will ride out, no questions asked, which is why I called him. And he gets real activated when a mf start calling niggas faggots, which I’m sure they said. So again, get yo head in the game. And when you ready, whether you wanna have this grand coming out kickback or just pull niggas to the side, or shit, buss slob with a nigga in the back of the club like I did, live in yo truth. And know yo brothers gon’ ride witchu regardless.”

“I’m sure you different than me, Tune,” he tries to laugh off, but I grip his shoulder, making his eyes stretch.

“Not as different as you think. But that’s for you to realize, not for me to spell out.”

A Corolla barely hanging on brakes next to me. Set’s hanging out the passenger side window, his new braces gleaming in the late afternoon sun.

“Niggas said we stomping out some Below Bitches, and my mouth on ten. The fuck we doing, Dub?!” This nigga holds up his piece and fires one into the air, but only a few niggas prolly new to the set scramble.

I lean forward the same time Ty-Ty does. He shrugs, but I see the excitement building in him, too.

“Slime gon’ lead me to ‘em, so y’all keep up. No killing.”

Set waves me off, sitting back in his seat. “Yo ass always raining on my mu’fuckin’ parade, brodie. I’m finna take this Hennessy to the head, and you better hope I feel like listening to ya ass.”

I flip this dumbass off, before I pull my gear to Drive and peel off. Ty-Ty is right behind me as I make my way to Below Zero territory.

“They be in the alley off Hinton, in the business district.”

“Why the fuck they be there?” I ask, weaving through traffic. Ty-Ty keeps up easily, honking his horn so that I do some crazy shit like drive on the sidewalk.

Slime gazes out the window. “They be tryna rob people getting out of work.”

“Not you got caught up with a stickup kid. Crazy work.”

“Fuck you. I ain’t know at first.”

“And you supposed to dead that shit soon as you find out,” I chuckle, pushing him. “Stickup kids are lawless. Muthafucka can rob a hardworking citizen at gunpoint in they face, it ain’t no morals. And they prolly robbing bitches at that. Yeah, you don’t beat his ass, I know something.”

“Why you care so much?”

“Well, besides the fact that I have known yo knucklehead ass since you was shitting in diapers, and you double on the set, you fasho out here lost and floundering. A lot of shit I had to learn and figure out on my own or with Haze, who’s a girl. It’s some OGs in the hood, but they DL and predatory. Bitches get to kiss on other bitches and eat pussies and explore they sexuality all they want; niggas should be able to do the same, and have people to talk about it with that won’t judge. I, myself, don’t fuck with no gangmembers. I ain’t got time for niggas to be DL, they babymamas hitting me up and shit, or putting my business on blast. Last nigga I fucked with was an accountant from out west. He knew some good sushi spots, and it wasn’t no sirens when I’d sleep over.”

“Then why you stop fucking with ‘em?”

I grin, glancing at him before pulling into a parking space a few businesses from the alley. “I’m a lot to deal with, and run a strict program. And nobody is above the muthafuckin’ program. You ready?”

I look in the rearview mirror to see Set and Ty-Ty crossing the street. But I don’t bounce out until Slime nods his head.

“Thought yo ass would be busy all day,” I chuckle, dapping up my bro.

“I pick this nigga up, cuzzo, and Wyn throwing money at his ass like a stripper ho,” Ty-Ty bellows, slapping Set’s chest playfully.

“This unknown number was blowing my line down, and we bet money on who it was. I still think her ass went through my phone last night, but I ain’t finna be dealing with no attitudes ‘cause I’m that nigga.” 

“Mind you, this yo ‘best friend.’ Yeah, aight.”

“She is,” Set winks. “You can’t be jealous and you and Reem joined at the hip. She my dawg foreal.”

“Like Bobby and Whitney,” I mutter, pushing him away. “You straight, brodie? You know how you get.”

Set rolls his eyes, looking from me to Slime. Instantly, I see the change in him. Before, us fucking around, he’s almost Casey. Unserious as fuck, actually present. Now, he’s back Set. Face completely blank. Jaw tight. Aware of everything we not.

“If I gotta jump in, I’m snapping ya neck,” he grits. “Otherwise, it’s y’all play.”

Slime swallows, but other than that, I can tell he’s trying to build his confidence back up.

“How many of ‘em be here?”

“Three,” he answers me.

“Fasho. You just be on go.” We start walking toward the alley. I look back, and Set is pulling out his silencer and adjusting his glock. 

When we enter the alley, sure enough, it’s three young niggas chilling in the cut, shooting the breeze. Rush hour hasn’t started yet, but judging by the ski masks halfway on, they really be here tryna rob niggas.

Lame.

We was running up into traps, not robbing hardworking folks. But I digress.

I walk up to the first one I see and knock him dead in his jaw. The others scatter, but Ty-Ty puts one on the wall, while Set holds the other frozen with his piece.

“You niggas couldn’t have thought shit was sweet.” I pull the nigga I hit up by his collar and hem him up too.

“Now, my young nigga gon’ get his one on one, and we gon’ go from there, aight? Slime, which one you know brodie?”

“Him. That’s Dre.”

My smile widens. I’m glad I got the first lick in. “Oh shit,” I laugh, throwing him into the middle of the alley.

“Ty-Ty, record this shit on yo phone. Get his ass, Slime.”

Slime’s already taking off his sling and throwing it to me before pulling up his pants. The nigga Dre is scary, fear clouding his eyes since he’s on his own.

He should be scared. Slime is hurt, but more over, he’s a dirty ass fighter. Immediately he’s on him, knocking him with his new cast, sending haymakers until he’s on the ground, before kicking him in the stomach as hard as he can.

I walk over to Set, knocking the other nigga out before grabbing his gun from him. Set kicks him for good measure, then starts beating up the third nigga as I pull the safety off his piece.

Slime’s on his third kick before I push him out the way as gentle as I can, aim for Dre’s knee, and fire twice, making sure the bone is shattered. His scream is piercing, but it reduces to wet blubbers when I lean down and fist his collar.

“You a bitch ass nigga if I ever seen one. Hopefully by the time yo knee heals, you’ll get some act right. Regardless, I see you around my young nigga again, and it’s lights out.” Pushing him to the ground, I refrain from spitting on him, like I wanted to. 

“Damn, Tunechi,” Set chuckles, grunting when I push his piece into his stomach and walk off. My phone vibrates, likely the video Ty-Ty recorded. I know he stopped before I shot the nigga, but we need proof niggas got they get back. I nod to my cousin and bro, knowing they prolly finna burn off the adrenaline fucking with whatever sisters or friend duo they know. Set should have been at Paradise this morning with me and Turk, but since Haze and Wyn are beefed out for the umpteenth time, he’s been lightweight avoiding Turk, so he doesn’t get in the middle of it.

“You hungry?” I ask, peeling out the parking spot and throwing Slime’s sling at him.

“My mama cooked.”

“Aight.”

“You… you want a plate?”

I glance at Slime at a red light and smile. “Nah. I’m prolly finna link up with Nutty. How you feeling?”

“Honestly, better. Fuck him. And uh, thanks for uh, having my back. Soon as my arm heal I’m bodying his whole lil’ crew.”

“I bet,” I chuckle, throwing up a chunky ass B. He sounds more like the Slime I know. “But foreal, shade off. Ain’t you supposed to be starting college after the summer? This a blessing in disguise. I know so many niggas who was at the finish line and fucked up. Stay yo ass in the crib, heal up right, and chill out until the homies can move you on campus.”

“I’m fasho not staying in the crib, but I’ll think about everything else you said.”

“Stubborn ass.” We laugh it off, and the car ride is lighter until I pull into my usual park behind the towers.

We both bounce out, and once again, Slime can’t meet my gaze.

I don’t really know how to feel about it, other than it’s unexpected. 

“Thanks again, Tune.”

“Fredo. When it’s just us, you can call me Fredo.”

We dap each other up, and when I pull away, he meets my gaze, something I haven’t seen before swirling in his eyes.

“Gio. I mean, when it’s just us… Gio.”

“Fasho, Gio. Stay dangerous.” I turn without another word and head toward Tower Two.

I can definitely see why that nigga Dre was up in arms about Slime. I don’t condone it, but I understand.

Not I, said the cat! One thing the homies have shown me is you never shit where you eat. I gotta shut whatever down, lock it up, and throw away the key. Besides, I learned from my ex to keep any niggas deep in the closet far away from my black ass.

By the time I make it to Peanut’s grandmother’s crib, Slime is far away from my mind. Peanut answers the door in his new ally shirt, scowl present.

“Let’s take this fuckin’ pic so I can show Tati her future husband has some sense, then we can slide to the ‘sino.”

I grin at my friend, pushing him into the crib and closing the door behind us. “C’mon.”

He pulls out his phone and aims the front camera on us, before plastering the fakest smile on his face. I let him take one pic like that, before I smoosh my cheek on his, getting a genuine laugh out of him. He takes that pic, then I kiss his cheek, getting a full on cackle. He takes that pic, before pushing me away from him and wiping his cheek dramatic as fuck.

“You muthafucka! You lucky I know you brush ya teeth or we’d be boxing right now!”

“I’m the one who had my lips on nasty ass whiteheads!” I laugh, wiping my lips.

“Bitch, I told you I made a dermatology appointment! Gimme a year; my shit gon’ be smooth as them tires off Autumn’s car!” He peels out of his shirt,revealing a white tee, then grabs his hoodie off the couch. “I’m driving, and just ‘cause it’s your month, I’ll sponsor your first hunnid. Happy Pride, nigga.”

We lock up his granny’s crib after he folds up his ally shirt and puts it back in the room he keeps over here.

“Look,” Peanut cackles, throwing his phone to me before getting in his car.

It’s a text thread with Rico. Peanut sent him the picture of our cheeks together, and he replied.

Rico: Lmao! Im finna slap this homophobic nigga in yall honor.

Rico: Tell Fred happy pride and text me back

I send the pics to my phone and hand it back to Peanut as he turns his engine over. Beating up niggas, taking selfies, and free money sounds like a good Pride to me.