Previously: Deidre and Thankful run out the Villa. Seamus returns as a phone.
Aleigha
The line depletes slowly but surely. I have to be the 15th person. The golden rule is to never be in the back of a line. After a few hours, the line started to fill. When it comes to being my turn, I hand over my ticket. "Obadiah Means?" I ask. "Depends on who's askin'"
"A nigga with grip."
He glimpses at me and hands me back the ticket. "Obadiah runs the trains. Didn't he tell you that?"
"Tryin' to get there quicker."
He looks down the line and back at me, "What you looking for?"
"Book. Fate Word."
"So, you a serial killer?" he bows his head. "Who sent you this way?"
"Nigga named Stackh."
"Nigga named Stackh," he smirks. "You want the Fate Word. for what?" Am I on jeopardy? It feels like jeopardy. "Childhood."
His eyes grow, breath hitches. "You her son?"
My mother's influence shows. "I am."
"I don't know what that nigga said to you, but," he points in the northeast direction. "Street niggas love fucking with people. You have to prove yourself. You have to go to the temple." We have a temple. I sigh, "Do I have to climb?"
He chortles, I find no humor in this. "You looking for the walled city." He lowers his hand. "It's ten Gods. If I were you I'd go to the school, before you leave."
"Where is it again?"
He blinks, "Go through the Vybe, head northeast. You'll find a funny ass looking wall."
I trust nothing. I stood in a line for hours and got told I'm going the wrong way. "Prison niggas run through there all the time, the wall with split for you. Now leave, you holdin' the line up."
The Vybe is like downtown, it's a major intersection in the shape of a hexagon. The Boater told me, no one liked walking through 6-Way; each way represented a sin. In the center, a revolving prism. He said if I went up to it, it shows me where. Thank God the streets have a GPS in the form of a rock.
Walking up to the prism, a hexagonal-shaped hologram spins. "Show me Gotithehm Ten." The prism hisses and spins rapidly. A single purple light shines in the direction. I follow the straight glow leading into a narrow alley. There are wanted posters with pieces and graffiti on walls in incoherent words.
It starts to zigzag. Small stores are lined up in the same fashion. A clothing store, a liquor store, a porn shop, and a hair salon. Oh, how badly I need it.
In front of the store, Darling's Purls is a chubby woman with red lipstick and a stick of weed dousing the air. As I pass, I ask for help. "You open?"
"Didn't think niggas knew about this lane." She looks like a black woman that knows how to fix a bald patch. Red lipstick, nose pierced on the left, and big round earrings. "you know how to do dreads?"
She purses her lips as if I'm the dumbest nigga alive. "Absolutely not baby, you need to tame that shit first." She gestures towards my entanglement. "You come out the trap?"
"I'm Childhood's son, Aleigha."
"Oh shit..." she inhales her weed gawking at me stunned. "Come on in here. I got to cut that shit."
Fucking hell.
She directs me to the chair and I take a sit, my big ass can barely fit. "You a big ass nigga." She starts patting down my mane and huffs. Next, she tries to split the hair with her fingers, "ooo lord." She pokes a finger through my hair. "You need God."
"Damn, is it that bad?"
"You finna break my clippers. If I can, what style you want." I see no matter what, I'm getting no hair or a fucked up fade. How long have I been dead?
"I might as well be bald headed..."
"Head gone," she chuckles. She grabs the tools from the table beside her on a blue rack. The buzzing of the clippers makes me jolt. "you just diving straight in?"
"Triks."
She claims souls.
Seven hours later
I will never die again and let my hair be so fucking nappy, it took seven hours. She had to split and cut my hair into tiny sections. Her name is Yahoska Joyner, she told me after murdering my afro. If mama were alive, she'd kill me.
I gaze into the mirror-like Snow White, a low-cut fade-dyed pink. The top of a rosebud in a tribal style. "Thanks, how much do I owe?"
"Nothin,"
"Really?"
"It's the Ghytto, we don't make a whole lot here. I don't charge plus, you needed help." I furrow my brow. "You looking for the school? That's the only reason niggas come through here."
"School or Mountain."
Her eyes shimmer, "Oh, you going to pray? Or Repent?"
I don't have a clue how the world works when it comes to Gods. "Why set your shop so far away from the big stores?"
"Eh, it's quiet. The worst is niggas fuckin' in the alley."
I bet she watches. "You know anything about The Fate Word?"
She blinks rapidly, "So, you a serial killer. Or, going after one."
"White slave master."
"Name, it's quiet a lot wanted down here in the Vybe. If you need a few dollars. You can pick up a job. Mind going after somebody for me?"
I came for my hair, not another damn detour. "Depends, you said you didn't make money. What can you give me?"
Yahoska parts from her chair and goes to the backroom. She comes back with a slightly ripped paper. WANTED: Dareion Bass. Reward:???
"What's the reward?" if she says anything stupid. I'm shooting. "Your eyes are pink. I know a couple of Triks. I'll give you a charm."
"Knock off amulet?"
She shakes her head, "I'm an appraisal. My family comes from Gold Diggers."
Amen. "Never met a Gold Digger before." Besides my mother.
"You find that nigga, I'll give you a charm for ya work, deal?"
It could be helpful picking up a few big knick-knacks. "Ok, tell me about this guy.
"Dareion Bass is a menace to society. "she folds her arms. "Eight years ago, he shot up my brother's rap studio over some stupid shit. The gang ransacked his house up north. Supposedly, he's the soul of a black man from Wisconsin. Some say he might be addicted to V."
"V?" sounds tasty. "You already feindin' for more."
"So, you want revenge. Plain and simple."
"And a head."
"What?"
"I said he was addicted to V. The Ghytto is also home to the black market for vampires. V is vampire blood, we found out that drunk Vamps can last longer if you drink a certain amount of human blood."
I always throw up. I threw up at the boat. "I can't handle it."
"so, you dying." That's what I told Deidre. Mama told us, if we drunk vampire blood, it would be cannibalism. She warned us about addiction, fucked up eyes, and the aggressive need to eat. I'm not sure I have a stomach.
"I'm Drunk too," she adds. "I'm going on seven months with no worries. Find Dareion for me. After that, peep by Vini's crib."
"Thank God, where is he?"
"Held up near, Anglesey Llangrallo. It's about 5 miles away in the area."
Back in the Vybe, I see there is a weapon shop ahead of me. I could use a few guns, knives, something fancy. I pace over and my jaw drops. That fucking clown makeup, "Welcome to the Lead Cache—"
It's the same nigga from the stand in the avenue. "Snackh!"
"Oh shit...," he sulks. "You that nigga—"
"That sent me down a goddamn maze, nigga!"
"Look, I'm sorry about that. A friend of mines left the stand and he asked me to watch while he—"
"I DON'T CARE!" I lunge over the counter and grab his shirt, tugging him out of the booth. "A spooky told me to go to Gotithehm Ten!"
"Huh?" Snackh peers at me, eyes bewildered and bloodshot. "You wanted to go up there? Shit, I thought you were looking for the library..."
We have an intense stare-off. I mention a scared book and this nigga directed me to the library? His whole body leaves the booth. I throw him to the ground, ball up my fist. Striking the nose, lips, and eyes.
"Nigga—" he spits blood onto the ground. "Shit—help!"
"Leave my store." Says Snackh with a busted lip, black eye, and bloody nose, also my shoe print on the left of his face.
"You sell guns, right?" I knock on the counter. "You got something to take down a Drunk?"
"Vampire?" he sucks his teeth. "I'll give you what you want if you leave..."
"Imma come back."
"Fuck." Snackh rolls his eyes. "Ok, a gun to takedown a Drunk? The Amulet 9, semi-automatic 14 gauge, with a scope. The Yellow Musk, pump shotgun, 12 gauge with silencer. Those are my best two."
"I'm talking about taking down a cannibalistic monster. You sellin' baby toys."
"Well, negro, do you have money?"
"Yes." I answer matter-a-factly. "Well, if you don't you can rent or down payment."
"I'm not down paying shit. What's that big pink gun?" I gesture to the large machine gun strapped down. He looks above him, "Oh, you mean my project?" he slaps the hanging belt of bullets. "I'm working on making my own guns. That's the Pink Civilian. Chain gun, still in the works tho. I'll make a deal with you."
"I'm not doing anymore chores. I already gotta hunt some nigga down."
"Who?"
"Dareion Bass."
"Oh, you hunting for Yahoska? Darion lives in New York. Outside the Ghytto. Nigga loves to play in and out."
"New York?" I came from Maine. In the underground I have no idea what could happen, I could just steal a charm from Yahoska. And steal a gun.