It Ain't Easy Being Cheesy

“Wyn… it’s been two months, cuz. You really trying it. You know… you know I’m not good with this shit. I’m pulling up on yo sister if you don’t hit me back in five minutes.” I hang up before I say something I’ma regret. Not that that would make her answer any faster. 

I learned a long time ago that Wynter Snow Shaw does whatever the fuck she wants. As soon as she feels like I’m trying to control her, she runs away. That’s what most of our break-ups are about—me controlling her.

I’d suggest something very minor, like, shit, I’on know… not rubbing cocaine on her gums before she leave the crib, and she start going crazy. Throwing shit. Yelling. Trying to leave. I don’t let her of course. ‘Cause she high as giraffe ass. So she locks herself in the room, to come out when she’s sober, and breaks down in my arms, showing the side she don’t show anyone else, not even herself.

And that’s too deep for Wyn, so then she disappears until she can put all the shit she holds in and drowns out back into its lil’ boxes, and then she comes back like nothing happened.

But it ain’t ever took two months. So I’m doing the one thing the homies told me not to do—involve them in our shit. Because she may ignore me, but she’d never ignore them.

I walk back inside from Grime’s balcony. Trippy’s still whooping Grime’s ass in 2k, while PC and Sheisty are both rolling up.

”Ay—”

”We not tryna hear that shit, cuz. You and Wyn need to call it quits, so she can bring her ass to the stu. Told you to leave her ass alone,” Grime rants before the game ends, and he throws his controller away.

Trippy starts dancing in his seat, twisting his fingers up in Grimey’s face before he smacks them away.

”So you ain’t talked to her either?” I press, tryna fight this feeling growing in my chest.

Fuckin’ abandonment issues man. At least that what my therapist claims.

”Nah, not since—“

Grime cuts himself off, while Sheisty coughs.

”Well, since when nigga?”

”Ay cuz, I really ain’t gotta answer to you. Just know we ain’t seen nor talked to her forreal since like early November.”

I ball my face up and pull on my pants. “That ain’t like her at all—“

”You never could listen. Swear Chief dropped yo ass on yo head as a baby.”

I cut my eyes to Sheisty before focusing back on Grime. “I ain’t talk to her since October. You ain’t talk to her since November, which means nobody over here has. And you don’t think that’s weird?”

Something passes over his face and he looks away from me.

I bite my tongue on what I really wanna ask about; that turnaround trip he, PC, and Sheisty did in November to Northupton. Not only couldn’t I go, but niggas had Trippy lock me in the stu for seventy-two hours before they all came back, solemn as shit, like somebody died.

At the top of November, too.

”Ride with me to Fox’s crib.” PC stands, dapping up his brother before walking out.

”He ain’t talking to me, nigga,” Tripp growls,  now trying to find a movie on Grimey’s seventy-two inch tv.

I wave them off, grabbing my cane from the corner to follow PC out. Niggas swear I’m some annoying lil’ brother, but let me go missing for even a day. 

Niggas can’t live without me.

I meet PC in the elevator and he pushes the garage button.

”How your knee?”

”Straight. It just get if I’m sitting or standing or, shit, walking a lot.”

PC does his grunt I’ve taken to be a laugh before he folds his arms. “So yo shit ain’t for show?”

”Shit, even if it was, this shit player as fuck.” I show off my custom cane. Glossy black with a solid gold bust of my great-grandfather as the handle.

Even if I didn’t need it, I’d use it. 

But the way I gotta get in and out of PC’s Ferrari, I know I’ma need it.

He books it to Fox’s crib, cutting a forty-minute drive in half. The way she’d been bombarding us with memes and videos, we both knew she was off work today, and would most likely be home.

Years and years of my oldest sister away from home, and she hadn’t changed much besides cutting her hair and becoming a mother.

Fox Beverly was a homebody through and through. If she’s not reading or exercising, she’s laying down in silence.

She calls it meditating. I call it being a fuckin’ weirdo.

In the year we’ve been back good, I’ve been to the crib she shares with her wife and husband a handful of times. Maybe because it’s the comfort of they own crib, but the way they be touching and feeling on each other is just plain nasty.

I’m not tryna see my sister get felt up all the time.

”You think she’d be cool with us just popping up?” I ask as we bounce out.

PC’s ass just shrugs as we make our way up the path. ”She’ll be aight.”

I shake my head as he rings the doorbell and bends down to push his face into the ring.

The locks disengage and Fox appears in the doorway, showing all of her teeth.

”Come in! Come in!” She ushers us in, closing the door and taking our hands to pull us to the island.

Autumn’s there, drinking what looks like a mimosa at the counter.

”What a surprise! Wanna mimosa?” She asks, picking up the bottle of champagne.

PC cuts his eyes to me as he hugs Fox, so I shake my head.

”Nah. We just needed, well… I needed to know if y’all talked to Wyn. We haven’t heard from her since November and—“

”November?! Cheese, it’s January.” Fox keeps her arm around my waist and leans in.

Unfortunately, she’s touchy with anyone she cares about.

Autumn blinks slowly, downing the rest of her drink before slowly refilling her glass. “You guys haven’t heard from her since November? Huh.”

”Didn’t you just talk to her last week, bae?”

Autumn scrunches her nose like she mad, and takes a gulp of straight champagne. “I did.”

”Well where she at?”

She blinks again and sets her glass down to fold her arms. “If she wanted you to know, you’d know.”

I move out of Fox’s embrace and fold my own arms. “The fuck that supposed to mean, cuz?”

And to think, I thought me and my sister-in-law was making progress. I almost forgot how annoying she could be.

”I mean just what I meant, Cheese. You’ve been on and off with Wyn for years, she’s been with Get Money for years and none of y’all noticed she’s a junkie?!” Her voice gets higher and higher until she’s screeching junkie into the air. 

PC scoots his chair back, but stills when Fox places a hand on his shoulder.

She’s not counting on me slapping my hands onto the counter, not by the way both she and Autumn jump.

”Don’t ever in yo life assume or insinuate I don’t give a fuck about my girl!” I thunder. “Yo ass just started comin’ back around, my nigga. You and all yo Foe Dub niggas gave Wyn y’all ass to kiss every chance y’all could, and still, she begging Grime to hook you up so you ain’t have to worry about staying somewhere when you was down in Geyser City. You pressing me about noticing some shit, but Wyn been off that shit way before I entered the picture. Where was yo antennas at then? Huh? I’on hear you, cuz.”

I cup my ear and turn my head, not giving a fuck about her wobbly bottom lip.

Our shit isn’t nowhere near perfect, but I try. We all try. I beg her to let me in. The way she’d be self-medicating, I know it’s some shit heavy on her heart.

She pays me dust. Will deflect, bringing up some imaginary betrothal or bullshit First Nations rules I couldn’t give a fuck less about.

Maybe I shouldn’t have let her make it as much as I did. I felt like if I pushed too hard, I’d lose her. I thought maybe if I monitored her, kept her inside as much as possible, since she really only does the hard stuff if we have events or shows, I can wear her down more.

So much for that.

”Cheese, just like Auty doesn’t know about you guys’ relationship, you can’t assume to know theirs. They’ve always been complicated,” Fox intones.

”But the difference between me and her is, I don’t judge her based off that.” I cut my eyes to Autumn. “You of all people should know how stubborn Wyn is. We’d be so hot and cold because I wanted her to get help, and she wouldn’t let me in. This ain’t even me, foreal. I keep any and all of my shit inhouse, so us even being here, me even asking you about my woman… just know it’s real feelings there.”

”Wynter Snow is family,” PC adds, making Fox’s head whip around.

Autumn wipes a stray tear, nodding her head. “I’m sorry… I was out of line. To be honest, you’re right… I didn’t know her issues were this bad. But she’s getting the help that she needs, and that’s all I feel comfortable saying right now.”

I blow out my breath and push off the counter. “Bet. Next time you talk to her, tell her that she gotta be tired from running all day. She’ll get it. C’mon, Pic.”

PC stands, going to hug Autumn while I walk out, ignoring Fox.

Apology or not, I’m still pissed. 

Yet another woman gone out of my life, without a trace.

Me and Wyn may not be madly in love. In fact, my therapist swears we’re a trauma bond built off survivor's remorse from the car accident we were both in a few years back. But I meant what I said; there’s real feelings there. 

The love I have for her runs deep. And I know she feels for me, too.

About as much as she lets herself feel.

Always sensitive to others, PC drives us to Carla’s Snoballs off Willow Road in East Kenton.

I chuckle, bouncing out when he parks. “I’m thirty, not ten, nigga. We could have went to Paradise if you tryna cheer me up.”

PC just smirks as we go inside. There’s no line, and Carla is at the counter, so of course she hollers and rounds the counter to come hug and kiss on us.

Carla’s Snoballs has been neutral territory since she first opened decades ago. She never gave a fuck about the First Nations beefing with the Italians. “Desserts don't care about bullshit like that,” she’d say, serving whoever came into her shop.

So it’s been mutually more or less agreed upon to keep her and the block her shop is on out of the melee.

She fixes our treats—a tiger’s blood snoball for me and a nasty ass grape snoball with condensed milk for PC—and sits with us at a table, telling us all about her granddaughter’s adventures at college, and stories about a younger Get Money Crew, back before I was old enough to run after Grime and them.

”When are you gonna get married and be Chief, Cochise? I know ol’ Apache is ready to retire,” she smiles, steepling her weathered fingers together.

I scrape the botom of the styrofoam cup for the last of my snoball before I hood my eyes. “That depends on if you're ready to break ya man’s heart and be mine.”

Carla blushes, standing from her seat as the front door jingles. “You couldn’t handle me in my hey day, so I know you can’t handle me now. Oh, Rio and Rocky!”

My eyes dart to PC, clocking his stillness, before I turn around. Sure enough, it’s who I think it is.

Dario Ricci and Rocco Mancini just walked in.

We’re up, standing to our full height, deadly smirks on our faces. Before we found out who shot me and this Foe Dub nigga Set last year, we assumed it was the Italians, and the G$ ran through them and damn near killed them off.

The Capo dei Capi—Dario Ricci’s grandfather—had to come in and facilitate a treaty himself, breaking bread with my pops.

Yet another reason the Council don’t fuck with him. 

Dario grinds his jaw before he smiles. “Cochise Beverly! Glad to see you’re still breathing while you can.”

“On crip—“

PC steps in front of me just as I reach behind my back. “In Carla’s, cuz?”

”Thank you, Piccolo, for being the only mature man in here!”

I wince at Carla’s tone, just a little, and stop reaching behind me to follow PC out. But when I’m close enough, I still lean toward Dario and Rocco. “Enjoy breathing while you can, bitch.”

They bristle, but we’re already out and getting in the car.

”You can’t be moving like that if you’re gonna be Chief,” PC rasps as we make our way back to my estate.

”So I’m just supposed to allow disrespect?”

”Most of them moved back East where ol’ Vito Ricci can guarantee their safety. Dario’s mad, but he ain’t nothing to be making an example out of. The Council exists for a reason, and we all have our roles, Cochise. There’s a reason Grime gets so much leeway. Let him and G$ handle yo lightweight.”

I sigh, looking out into the late afternoon. He’s right, but we both also know I’m not gonna listen to him.

All my life people have been disrespecting me. Counting me out. Disregarding me.

It’s just not in me anymore to let shit slide. Not shit I can control, like ending a bitch nigga’s life.

”The most dangerous nigga is a nigga that don’t have shit to lose. And Dario don’t have shit to lose, but everything to gain wiping out the First Nation Prince. Be on yo Bs and Cs, cuz.”

”On crip, fuck cuz. He step to me, I’m finishing what Grime started. Do what them old fucks on the Council never could; have complete control over the East.”

”Careful what you wish for,” he mumbles, but I doubt I was supposed to hear it, so I don’t answer.

I meant what I said, anyway.

Fuck Dario. Fuck the Riccis.

All of East Kenton will be mine when I’m Chief. Mark my words.