The Viper and his Majesty by Tiana Laveen
CHAPTER TWO
Music to my Ears
“What is all of that thumpin’?” Destiny asked her through the speaker phone.
“The motherfuckers across the street. They play that shit all night. It’s usually reggaetón, rap, or some Latin music. Between that and the dogs barking sometimes, it’s crazy… Damn! Where did I put that box of Troy’s socks?” Majesty tossed her phone onto the new couch still covered in shipping plastic, hunkered down onto the white tile floor of the new house she’d moved into, and tore away at yet another box, hopeful her nine-year-old son’s socks were inside.
“Just my costume jewelry. Shit. This isn’t it, either.” She pushed the box against the couch, her frustration reaching a higher level than she imagined possible. This is what I get for not labeling everything. The last few days had been hectic, and she was running on fumes. She’d enrolled Troy in school, which took hours. She still needed to get his room set up, too. There was simply too much on her agenda. Work, school online at night, and then unpack and try to turn that house into a home. But she’d gotten them out of Allapattah, and that was all that mattered.
“Majesty, the music is so loud I can recognize the song!”
“You can? What are they playing?” she asked absently, not really caring about the answer as she pulled open another box.
“It’s ‘Mentirosa’ by Mellow Man Ace. It’s old. They must be some older Latinos or somethin’. How can you stand it?”
“I can’t stand it, but every time I make plans to go over there and pay whoever lives there a visit and ask them to turn it down, I get sidetracked. There’s just too much to do… I’ll take care of it. Eventually.” She’d taken a half day off at work just to get caught up on getting her house in order.
“This weekend me and Trisha can come by to help you. Just like we said. It doesn’t all have to be done at once,” her friend urged, no doubt picking up on her anxiety.
“You know I can’t let this house stay like this, Destiny. It’ll drive me crazy… boxes up to the rafters.”
“Why doesn’t Anthony’s lazy ass come by and help?” Majesty sucked her teeth and got to her feet. That box was yet another dead end, full of magazines and old books from her youth. She dusted off her knees, removing bits of grime and debris that clung to her jeggings.
“Anthony is not tryna fool with me. Since I told him I don’t want to be with him like that, he pretty much has left me alone. I was lucky he and his brothers helped me move, considering he was pissed off about it.” She marched into the kitchen, grabbed a freshly unboxed and washed glass from the dishrack, and filled it to the rim. She took long, deep gulps, needing to cure her thirst in the worst way.
“You still never told me why you don’t want him?”
“Didn’t you just call him lazy? That’s why!” Destiny burst out laughing. “Besides, Anthony isn’t really my type, like I told you. He’s cool and all, but he doesn’t have a lot of ambition. He acts like life just happens. Plus, he was cool with Kevin, and that makes me uncomfortable.” Her friend was quiet on the phone for a bit. Kevin was Troy’s father. Before the woman delved deeper into a conversation she didn’t wish to have, she broke the silence, exit strategy style. “Destiny, let me call you back. I have to pick up Troy from school in a little bit, but before I go, I wanted to make sure at least the rest of his underwear and pajamas are in his drawers for tonight.”
“Okay, call me back tonight, okay? I still need to tell you what happened to my other cellphone.”
“All right. I will.” She disconnected the call and shook her head. Destiny was notorious for losing her phones, or having them stolen. She stood at the sink and finished the glass of water, then made her way back into the living room, her feet in only socks patting against the floor. She crossed her arms, feeling the vibration of the music from across the way. How can someone have their music that loud? I mean, shit, I like loud music, too, but that has to be painful! I wonder why no one has called the police on these people?! I thought I had gotten Troy and me away from this kind of shit. It was one of the few houses that had a lot of land around it on the street – a corner lot. She’d often see nice big trucks in the driveway, shiny black and gold motorcycles, and Hispanic men and women coming and going like a damn parade. She could see dogs at times, too, beyond a white fence. Whatever family lived there played music from the afternoon onward like they were getting paid for it. They were loud and obnoxious with it. She approached her front window and looked out. A Cuban flag waved in the slight breeze above the back patio, as well as another one that was yellow and black.
Running her fingers against the clear teardrop-shaped pendant of her necklace, she sighed and took a deep breath, then continued to sort out more of the boxes piled in the living room. She screamed when a sudden boom rent the air. This was followed by ‘Oye Mi Canto,’ by N.O.R.E. Ft. Daddy Yankee, Nina Sky, Gemstar, and Big Mato.
“Oh my God! It’s so loud it’s rattling my house now!” Having had enough, she marched to her front door, slid on her white and silver Nike sneakers by the entrance, and made a mad dash down her front walkway, her big hoop earrings slapping her cheeks as she practically flew like a bird towards the street. She looked both ways, then raced across the road until she was finally at the nice house surrounded by palm trees, the place responsible for making her ears practically bleed. She stood at the entrance; certain the people inside wouldn’t be able to hear her as she pounded on the door. Then, she noticed a camera with a red light flashing. It moved, as if someone had used it to zoom in on her. Suddenly, the music stopped, and she heard heavy footsteps approaching. The door swung open, and it felt like the air was sucked out of her lungs, her surroundings, the street, and the entire city.
Standing in the doorway was a tall, broad-shouldered man with piercing light hazel eyes, and tattoos on practically every inch of his neck, chest and arms, including a crucifix in the middle of his forehead. He glared at her, and she instantly filled with trepidation and concern, but fought the urge to flee. He stood barefoot, clad in only a pair of baggy white shorts, his dick print more than apparent, despite the loose fit of the apparel around his hips. Long, muscular legs, covered in black hair and more tattoos, caught her eye, and on his chest was something she’d seen a time or two: symbols for the notorious street gang, the Latin Kings.
There was no way you could be born and raised in Miami and not recognize them. Black, menacing ink of snarling kings, vicious lions, attacking snakes, screaming skulls, and jeweled crowns covered his brawny frame. Shit… This motherfucker is a gang banger. What in the hell is he doing livin’ here?! She fought to find the right words, a way to approach such a bastard without something bad popping off, but then loud barking broke her out of her trance.
“Sarge! NO. Quiet.” The man kept his eye on her, but turned his head ever so slightly in the direction of the dog. The barking stopped immediately. His deep, booming voice made the music that had been playing sound like a whisper.
“Hello.” She worked up her nerve, holding her head high in spite of a racing pulse. “I live across the street.” She pointed to her house. He casually glanced over, then brought his gaze back to her. “My name is Majesty. I just moved in.” The big man said nothing. As she stood there, she expected people to be roaming about inside his home. After all, it sounded like he had daily parties—but there was no one there. At least, not in the visible part of the living area. As if sensing her trying to get a better look, he crossed his ankles, then his arms, and leaned against the frame of the door, blocking her view. “I wanted to—”
“…talk to me about the music.”
“Yeah. It’s too loud. I work… school. I have a kid. I moved out here for some peace. I like music, too, but—”
“I’ll turn it down.” He moved back from the door, then slammed it in her face. Within seconds, DMX’s, ‘We Right Here’ was blaring. Same volume. Same thumping. A swell of anger erupted inside her like a volcano that had been trying to explode for decades. She knocked on the door, so fast and hard, her knuckles stung. The door swung back open and music poured out of the house like an invisible avalanche, while a haze of smoke drifted behind him. She smelled cherry incense and saw a dog run past in the background.
“It’s still loud!” She shouted over the music. Sure, even if he didn’t hear her, the motherfucker could read lips. He rubbed his hands together, bit into his lower lip and grinned. Just then, about six motorcycles pulled up—a bunch of motherfuckers dripping in gold chains and black and yellow attire, with women sitting on the back. The bunch of tatted-up misfits started to snap their fingers, dancing, cackling and cursing as they held what looked like bags chock full of wine and beer bottles. As they approached the door, they acted as if they didn’t see her. In fact, one of the big guys, bald with a big gut, slightly bumped into her as he made his way inside the house, pushing the screen door into her shoulder.
“Hey. You hit her…” The monster who answered the door whispered so low, she almost missed it. He took a hold of the big guy’s arm and pulled him back. The man paused, staring at the both of them. She’d never seen such a thing. With a few words, this big man showed reverence. The respect, tinged with apprehension, was palpable.
“Oh, I’m sorry, baby.” The fat man chuckled. “I ain’t even notice you, mami. You Dominican? You look like you might be Dominican.”
“No. I’m Black, as if that matters, and the music is too fuckin’ loud!” Both guys burst out laughing while the rest of the gang marched inside, business as usual.
“Dominicans can be Black.” The big guy shrugged. “You look it is all I’m sayin’.”
“Well, I’m not Dominican. I didn’t come over here for an Ancestry.com discussion.”
The angrier she became, the more they cackled. The big guy walked off, leaving the Monster at the door with her. He shook his head, as if there were some inside joke she wasn’t aware of. Just then, 50 Cent’s ‘I Get Money’ began to play. She loved that song, down to her damn bones, but refused to acknowledge it.
“Look, I’m sure you’re used to people bein’ afraid of you, sir, and you know that I know your affiliations. It’s all over your body, and I can read just fine. But you can’t move into a place like this and expect to be a thug. My son has homework, and so do I, and some of us got to get up in the morning. We have jobs. Turn it down!” She turned and walked off, her heart pounding so hard in her chest, it hurt. Suddenly, as she was heading back onto the sidewalk to cross the street, the music stopped.
“Hey, hold up! Majesty, the Black Queen of England and music volume police!” he hooted.
She huffed and spun back to face him.
“What?”
“Welcome to the neighborhood. You’re sexy as hell, you know that? And brave, too.” He winked at her, and her blood ran cold.
“I don’t give a damn what you think of me. I couldn’t care less if you think I’m titillating and courageous. You have no respect. You are the last person on this street, in this city, in the country, and on this entire damn planet who I would take any stock in wantin’ to impress.”
“Ewwwww! So mean, Mami Chula!” He burst out laughing, showing all his glistening, white teeth, then reached low and rubbed the top of his dog’s head. It was then that she realized it was a blue Pit Bull. Gorgeous dog. It was also then that she saw the butt of the gun jammed into the back of his shorts. Perspiration broke out on her face. Oh shit… see… my mouth always gets me in trouble…
“My name is Viper,” he stated calmly, smiling even. “Look, Majesty, nice name by the way… I’ve got a party goin’ on tonight, so the music will be loud, and there isn’t shit you can do about it.” He shrugged. “But, sometimes, if I’m in the mood, I can be a nice guy, so I’ll make you a deal. The ordinance out here says loud music has to be turned down at ten. I will turn it off at eleven. Sweet dreams.”
And then, he slammed the door once again…