On the Come Up(49)

Scrap’s reclined in Aunt Pooh’s passenger seat. He pulls it forward so I can hop in the back. “‘You can’t stop me on the come up. Ayyyyyyy!’” he says. “Can’t get that shit out my head, Li’l Law. It’s too fire.”

“Thanks. Hey, Aunty.”

“S’up,” she mumbles, looking straight ahead.

The day Blackout posted “On the Come Up,” I told her all about it. I didn’t hear back from her until yesterday when she texted to tell me she was picking me up for the Ring tonight.

I guess she’s all in her feelings because I didn’t delete the song like she told me. Does it matter though if it means we’re on our way? I mean, damn. That’s the goal, right?

Scrap looks back at me. “Okay, okay, I see you with your daddy’s chain.”

I look down at the crown pendant hanging from the gold necklace. I’ve worn it every day since I got it. Slipping it on is a habit, like brushing my teeth. “Guess I like having a part of him with me.”

“Ooooh-wee!” Scrap says into his fist. “I remember when Law first got that thing. Had the whole neighborhood talking. We knew he made it then.”

Aunt Pooh glares at me in the rearview mirror. “Didn’t I tell you not to wear that shit?”

What’s she worried about, somebody robbing me? That’s why I usually tuck it under my shirt around the neighborhood. But at the Ring? “Nobody’s gonna snatch it, Aunt Pooh. You know how security is.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t know why I bother with your hardheaded ass sometimes.”

We pull up at the gym. Some of the most ridiculous-looking cars are being shown off in the parking lot. There’s a lowrider that’s painted to look like a box of Froot Loops, and a truck on some of the biggest rims I’ve ever seen in my life. We pass a car that looks purple at first, but when the streetlights hit it, it’s neon green.

Aunt Pooh finds an empty spot and the three of us get out. Music plays all around. Folks love to show off their sound systems just as much as their rides. Maybe more. One car has my voice blasting out of it.

You can’t stop me on the come up.

“Ayyyyyyy!” a guy inside the car shouts, and points at me. “Do it for the Garden, Bri!”

More people notice me and shout all kinds of love and props.

Scrap nudges me. “See? You got the whole neighborhood talking.”

Aunt Pooh silently sticks a Blow Pop in her mouth.

The line to get into the boxing gym is stretched out to the sidewalk, but as always we head straight for the doors. It’s usually all good, but some guy goes, “Y’all better take y’all asses to the back!”

The three of us turn around.

“Who you think you talking to?” Aunt Pooh asks.

“Your bitch ass,” the guy says. He’s got a mouth full of silver teeth and wears a gray baseball jersey. All the dudes around him wear gray somewhere. Crowns.

“You better rethink that shit, partna,” Scrap warns.

“What it is then, nig—” The Crown’s eyes go straight to my dad’s chain. “Aww, shit.” His lips curl up. “Look what we got here.”

His friends notice it too. Their eyes light up, and I’m suddenly a steak thrown into a den of hungry lions.

“You that punk-ass Lawless’s daughter, ain’t you?” the instigator says.

Aunt Pooh advances, but Scrap grabs her shirt. “What you say ’bout my brother?”

In-law. But let Aunt Pooh tell it, that’s just fine print.

“Aunty.” My voice trembles. “Let’s go inside, okay?”

“Yeah, Aunty, go inside,” the Crown mocks. He looks at me again. “You the one that’s got that song, too, ain’t you?”

I suddenly can’t speak.

“What if she is?” Aunt Pooh asks.

The Crown rubs his chin. “She said some real street shit on there. There’s a line that tripped us up a bit. Something about not needing gray to be a queen. The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“It meant whatever the hell she want it to,” says Aunt Pooh. “She don’t claim nothing, so what’s the problem?”

“It made us feel some kinda way,” the Crown says. “She better watch herself. Wouldn’t want her to end up like her pops.”

“The fuck you say?” Aunt Pooh starts toward him.

He starts toward her.

There are shouts of, “Oh, shit!” and screams. Phones point in our direction.

Aunt Pooh reaches for the back of her waist.

The Crown reaches for his.

I’m frozen.

“Hey! Cut it out!” Frank the bouncer yells.

He and Reggie rush over. Reggie pushes Aunt Pooh back and Frank pushes the Crown.

“Nah, man, nah,” Frank says. “This shit ain’t going down here. Y’all gotta go.”

“These fools started it with us!” Aunt Pooh says. “We was just trying to get in so my niece could battle.”

“I don’t care,” says Reggie. “We don’t tolerate that street shit, Pooh. You know it. Y’all gotta go.”

Whoa, hold up. All? “I’m battling tonight though.”

“Not anymore,” says Frank. “You know the rules, Bri. If you or your crew”—he motions to Scrap and my aunt—“bring any of that gang nonsense over here, you gotta go. Plain and simple.”