The Blackbirds Read Free

could win the confidence of two communities and eventually become mayor.
    Indigo saw him as he went up the escalator. He was holding some woman’s hand.
    He wore slim jeans and a jacket, but Indigo didn’t need to see his dark eyes to know it was him. It was the way Indigo reacted, or tried to hide her reaction, that caused Ericka to look.
    Then Destiny jerked, turned, and looked.
    And the last person the three of them wanted to look followed the course of the river.
    Kwanzaa turned, saw her ex-fiancé leaving the food court and going up the escalator with another woman.
    Marcus Brixton looked happy. He looked like nothing had ever gone wrong in his world.
    The sudden breakup wound was still fresh, was an open wound, one that Kwanzaa had cried and drank alcohol over. She’d almost dropped out of university because she’d feared not being able to focus would ruin her GPA, and therefore her life. Kwanzaa lost her Jesus and dashed for the escalator, her trio of girlfriends flying behind her as she ran downher ex-fiancé, the man who was the reason she had cut her hair, wore a weave, and now had to slap herself upside the head when her head itched because she could no longer scratch her scalp.
    Destiny ran behind her and snapped, “Let that trifling
blood claat
go on with his life. Go on with yours.”
    Ericka snapped back, “No, let her confront him.”
    Kwanzaa said, “Six years of my life. Six years and this is what I get as a reward?”
    Destiny said, “Not in public. People will Facebook, tweet, or use Periscope and stream whatever you’re doing live online and the world will see you at your worst, Kwanzaa.”
    Kwanzaa snapped, “Destiny, counsel me when your chakras are aligned.”
    Destiny slowed down, let them run ahead, always afraid of being recorded.
    Kwanzaa ran in her heels and caught up with Brixton as he passed a row of kiosks, then slapped him in the back of the head. He jumped, surprised to see Kwanzaa. As they stood a few feet from the entrance to the Hair Architect, as the outrage drew a small crowd, Kwanzaa slapped the man again, cursed him in Spanish, told him what she thought of him for betraying her for a Chilean bitch and bringing a damned STD to her bed, and then not having the decency to take her to the doctor. The girl with Marcus was in shock, had no idea who Kwanzaa was. Marcus wanted Kwanzaa to lower her voice, to step somewhere they could talk in private. Before she could strike Marcus again, he had grabbed her hands, but let her go the way a man did when he knew he had much to lose both professionally and politically, and tried to moonwalk away.
    Kwanzaa followed him, and Indigo and Ericka followed Kwanzaa.
    â€œMaldito desgraciado, pedazo de mierda. Desecho de la vida. Me engañaste me enfermaste ojalá te pudras en el infierno y te mueras con la puta esa con la que engañaste.”
    Brixton tried to get a word in, but Kwanzaa’s fury was rapid and too damn powerful.
    â€œSe merecen el uno al otro coño y madre. Deberia llamar a mi papa y decirle lo que me hiciste. Para que te de una pasada de coñasos por asqueroso.”
    Kwanzaa Browne slapped attorney Marcus Brixton again. The military brat who had never grown up in the hood imitated a
Housewife of Wherever
as she slapped one of the top lawyers in Southern California, then blasted him in Spanish, dared him to hit her back so she could call her dad and bonus dad and have them come and kick his half-black, half-Mexican ass so hard half of him would return to Botswana and the other half to the other side of Tijuana.
    Some women applauded as others dragged their kids away as fast as they could.
    The young woman with Brixton hurled a threat at Kwanzaa in Spanglish.
    Indigo snapped,
“Sho fe ba mi ja
.
”
    It was a Yorùbá phrase that basically meant, “
Boo Boo Kitty, you have messed with the wrong one
.
” Indigo told the girl she’d better stop,