At 17, Candyce's small worldview is maginifed when her big brother, Ace, invites her into his world as punishment. Ace may have been an overbearing big brother at home, but in the streets he was feared and respected as a young drug dealer, proving h...
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Chapter 50
It's been days since Ace found out about me and Caesar, and I haven't talked to either of them since.
I've been trying to stay out of Ace's way around the house, but that don't stop him from walking around with a permanent mug on his face. I'm tense every time I leave my room thinking today might be the day Ace goes off on me. So far though, it's been the silent treatment.
I almost wish he would just yell at me the way the way he always does. At least then I'd know it was only a matter of time before we got back to normal. This silent treatment shit is killing me.
It's so bad even Mama has picked up on the energy between us. She tried to ask us about it but Ace just mugged me from across the room. I kept my mouth closed too. The last thing I needed was him calling me a hoe in front of Mama.
Today, I'm feeling pissed off all over again. I still can't believe Munch told him. That wasn't his place, and it wasn't his business, and I plan on telling his messy ass just that.
I get in my car and drive 80 the whole way to his house. Thankfully, I don't get pulled over 'cause ain't no telling what I'll do right now.
I notice his truck in the driveway as I pull up, so I know he's home. I get out my car and slam the door.
I can hear music blasting as I walk up the porch steps. He probably won't be able to hear me but that's if I planned on knocking softly.
I start banging on the door like I'm here to arrest him.
The music goes down a few notches. Someone peeks through the blinds. I start to wonder if he'll even open the door for me, but then I hear the door unlock.
Munch pulls it open. He barely glances at me before he walks away. I follow him inside.
"What you doing here?" He asks over his shoulder.
I follow him into the living room. It looks nothing like it did the last time I was here. His entire house was spotless for Thanksgiving a month ago. Now, there's half-empty liquor bottles on the table and broken ones on the floor. The TV is black and blue with colorful lines splashed across it. The table is covered in white powder and lines. Munch just sits on the couch like he isn't fazed by any of this.
He takes a nose-dive then squeezes his nose after he comes up for air.
"You ain't answer my question," He says.
I just stare at him. I can't believe he's gotten this bad. I want to help him, but then I remember how he turned his back on me when I needed him most.
Like he said once before--he's grown. If this is how he chooses to grieve, who am I to stop him? I have enough shit to deal with thanks to him.
