Dirty Little Angel

Chaos was also pregnant. She’d been nauseous for the week and went to the clinic one morning to get a test. The doctor informed her that she was six weeks pregnant. Chaos smiled at the news, but when she walked outside, a feeling of guilt hit her. She thought about Sweet and how her life and pregnancy were cut short so quickly. It happened months ago, but it was still fresh in Chaos’s mind. She knew that she was going to have the baby and thought about giving her baby—if it was a girl—the nickname “Sweet” to honor her friend.

Chaos sighed and thought about how she was going to tell YB that he was going to be a father. She didn’t know if he was going to be ecstatic like she was or just nonchalant about it.

Chaos got into the truck and raced home to see YB.

When she walked into her well-furnished apartment—which had a luxurious décor with the high-end sound system, sixty-inch plasma TV, rich leather furniture, and the round glass dining table set. YB was on the couch, talking on the phone and smoking weed.

She placed her bag on the table and walked over to him. He was heavily engrossed in his phone conversation and didn’t pay any attention to Chaos.

Chaos sighed and said, “I’ll be in the kitchen tryin’ to get dinner ready.”

YB kept on talking and Chaos caught a slight attitude. She thought about the news she had to tell him and it brought a smile to her face.

Chaos walked into the kitchen and kicked off her shoes. She began to put together a few things for dinner when YB said, “We need to talk after you finish cooking.”

Chaos looked at him and didn’t like the expression on his face.

“I got some news to tell you,” Chaos said in a more upbeat tone.

“A’ight, but I gotta make a run real quick; go handle sumthin,” YB replied.

Chaos sighed, wishing he would stay with her for the night but before she could get a word out, YB was through the front door and already out in the hallway.

She rushed to the door and shouted, “YB, how long are you gonna be?”

YB waited by the elevator. “Like, an hour.”

Chaos didn’t want him to leave, but she knew YB was going to do what he wanted anyway and figured it wasn’t worth arguing over. However, Chaos knew that hustling was in YB’s blood and felt that she couldn’t counsel him to change his lifestyle. YB needed to do something while she was in school and she figured he would do what he knew best. She also understood that the Bronx was different for YB. He had to learn new faces, get familiar with certain customs, and earn his respect on the streets again.

****

Hours passed and Chaos cooked dinner, ate, and waited for YB to come home. It was nearing midnight and she began to worry. She called his cell phone numerous times but always got his voicemail. She even thought about going out and looking for her man, but the Bronx was a big borough and she didn’t know where to start. She remained home and continued to worry. She began to wonder if coming to the Bronx was the right move for them even though it was the only place she knew besides Philly.

Chaos walked over to the window and stared out into the streets. It was a peaceful but chilly night. The block was quiet and there were no blaring sirens in the distance. It made her nerves a little calmer to hear the street’s stillness for once.

She looked at the time once again and sighed. She continued to sit by the window in long white sleeper T-shirt that sagged down to her knees and sipped a hot cup of tea. She rubbed her belly, thinking about the baby and how much her past troubled her. She thought about Crown and the shootout. She thought about the tricks she fucked and felt fortunate that she didn’t have an STD. She thought about the other girls in the house and wondered how their lives turned out without Crown around to terrorize them. Then she thought about Harlem and knew he was still out there, probably waiting for her and YB to show up again.

Chaos felt somewhat safe in the Bronx. It was big enough to get lost in, and no one knew about them and their dreadful past. In everyone’s eyes, YB and Chaos were just a couple who moved in together and were working hard. YB’s involvement in the game did worry Chaos some. She knew if YB started to make a name for himself, like he did in Philly, then word could get out about him—and not just in the city, but across state lines. If the streets were listening and if others knew about them, there would be a chance that Harlem and others would hear. Chaos didn’t want Harlem coming after her and her man.

Chaos continued to sit and wait for YB to come home. She moved from sitting near the window to sitting on the snug couch. It was twelve-thirty in the morning and Chaos let out a worr

ied sigh. She was waiting to tell YB the good news and he was out in the streets doing God only knew what.

When she was about to give up and go to bed, she heard the front door open. Chaos perked up, waiting for YB to appear from the foyer. She wasn’t really mad, but she was worried about him. He was definitely changing.

YB walked into the apartment and noticed Chaos was still up. He shot her an annoyed look and asked, “Why you still up?”

“You had me so worried, baby. What’s wrong?” Chaos asked with concern.

She walked up to YB, wrapped her arms around him, and pressed her head into his chest. YB held her back and said, “I remember you sayin’ that you had somethin’ important to tell me.”

“Yeah, I do, but you need to talk to me first. What is goin’ on wit’ you?” Chaos pulled away from YB and looked him in the eye.

“Yo, on some real shit, Chaos, I need to get the fuck outta here and head back down to Philly to go handle some business. You need to stay up here and continue doin’ you. You got enough money to hold you down for a while and I’ll be back up to come check you. You know I got love for you but this shit here, it ain’t me,” YB stated.

Chaos was shocked. “What? You don’t love me?”

“You know I do. And I’m gonna continue to be wit’ you. But I’m a hustler, baby. I just established a relationship wit’ this connect and I need to make it happen for myself. I can’t go to no school for no degree and I ain’t no nine-to-five nigga. This shit here is what I do best, and I can’t let it go.”