"They wish me a "Happy Birthday"

But they want me dead

They want what i have, they want me as a hostage

And i just want my gin

I'm drinking my booze

While I'm listening to Goldlink, my thoughts are based on

Linking the hoods that i've been through

With the ones where i came from

They can't stand black ladies getting gigs and making money from them

They just think that girls like me were born to serve like

(Who?)"

Tassia Reis – "Dollar Euro (Feat. Monna Brutal)

It was Marisol's day and Disa decided to be positive for her and not stew in a funk over Erik being a manipulative bastard. She stayed angry at him and herself for caving into the sex he put on her to make her forget the rage that seethed under her skin. Erik Stevens wielded sex as a weapon. What he carried between his legs was a battering ram to crush dissent and disagreement. Never in her life had she been dickmatized by any man, but one touch from him, a narrowing of his eyes and a twist of his thick lips and she was on her back, legs up and open with him sucking and slurping all over her clit and folds.

He stared up at her from the apex of her thighs with those searing eyes behind his eyes. Ogum energy was always strongest when he was in Sao Paulo among that side of his extended family. The tip of Erik's tongue swirled circular shapes all across her swollen folds and she became a waterfall making offerings like she was the orixá Oxum's initiate in the matters of love flowing out of her pussy. She baptized his lips. It angered Disa to be that base when it came to falling for her man's tricks. But she reclined her ass on that bed and let him work his magic on her bitter mood. Only weak bitches did that, and Disa did not think of herself as that easily controlled by a man's dick. She cursed him even as she shouted praises to the heavens for his oral skills.

The anger in her throat extended to her chest and flowed down into her belly. All the tension she held there was obliterated by his lips and tongue in a matter of minutes. Soon after, he wielded that dick all inside her body. His erection was a torpedo aimed at destroying all rational thought.

Bastard.

Erik came on her stomach and held her throat while he jerked off his release. That dominating hand controlled everything. It prevented her from talking, from moving, from denying him the presence of her body under him. That's what he wanted. Her to be under him in all ways. That was all Disa's fault for allowing him that sway over her. She was deeply in love with him and rarely pushed back on anything he did because he had always taken her plans into consideration. Erik's CIA work mangled all of that. He started telling her what they would do instead of co-directing their future together.

She had to face some facts.

Erik liked being a killer. He liked the rush of covert operations and all the intrigue and danger that went with it. Some people liked to sky dive, climb impossible mountains or any other risky adrenaline rush, but Erik Stevens… Killmonger… that nigga liked being a global menace. Disa wanted husband things from him and he wanted to terrorize other countries. How did that sweet-faced, brilliant M.I.T. grad student turn into something she abhorred? There wasn't anything liberatory about his work. He used the master's tools to be a terrorist. Plain and simple.

Inside their home, inside their bed, he was the same brilliant mind with deep conversations and open affection. Away from her eyesight, outside in the world, he was a completely different human being. He wasn't an honorable man anymore. Not with the work he chose to do. Becoming a contract mercenary was not on her bingo card for their life away from his naval career.

Marisol invited a few family members and friends to a family-run bar and grill with big flatscreens all around. They enjoyed a buffet meal and when the first Globo TV promotional spot premiered with Marisol shimmying those hips and shaking her ta ta's with nothing but pink glitter over her nipples with a silver g-string tickling her butt, they all lost it with the thrill of her achievement. Cell phones were held up to record reactions and Marisol beamed, her rich dark skin glowing with perfect make-up and shiny hair. A local news team interviewed her and she was so proud to represent Black women of her complexion being the face of carnival for once as opposed to the typical mixed and/or lighter-skinned, white features, carnival queen. Her beauty radiated confidence, and she hinted at becoming an actress and also revealed she booked a commercial print ad for some skin care products that were coming out soon.

The TV spot ran a few more times before the younger crowd moved on to more boisterous places to party without the older folks. They headed over to a local dance club and bar that catered to an eclectic mixed crowd. Disa drank shots with Marisol and Erik, remaining cordial with him around everyone else. He kept trying to hug up on her like things were cool between them, but she was determined to ignore his ploy to woo her. It was difficult to do with the way he was dressed. All slick and sexy with a dark button-down shirt opened to reveal some chest. His locs were glossy, and those damn gold slugs were doing dirty work with his dimples and thick lips. He kept watching her, reaching out his hands to fondle her ass or her arm. She stayed out of his grasp without letting on to others that she was highly pissed. The fight or fuck response with their interactions worked overtime on her nerves. She hated the feeling. That sense of weakness over some stupid ass dick. Ridiculous. Grown, sensible women didn't act that way.

She drank a cocktail and shook her hips to some music with Marisol by her side as she turned down aggressive suitors who recognized her TV commercial. Cell phone in her grip, the national carnival queen scrolled her TL with glowing brown eyes, excited with possibilities. That shine slowly faded after a few hours. The online chatter about her premiere turned vicious. Racist. The anti-Blackness spewed so much hatred online that Marisol stopped looking at her phone. Her friends tried to cheer her up.

Erik had his cell out, and his lips twisted up in a menacing way. Marisol's eyes watered and she wiped away tears quickly, hiding them from Erik. Disa glanced down at her phone to check the feed. People called Marisol a monkey and told her she should dance in a zoo or go back to Africa. Dark Black monkeys couldn't be carnival queens.

"I'm going to the restroom," Marisol said.

"Want me to come with you?" Disa asked, hopping down from her perch next to the bar.

"No, enjoy the music. I'll be right back."

Marisol scurried off with a hand wiping her eyes carefully, trying not to ruin her make-up. Disa clutched at her chest and turned off the notifications on her own phone. What started off as a happy day with positive messages in the beginning, morphed into pure evil intentions to break Marisol's heart on social media.

Erik tossed back a drink, and his eyes were already down to mere slits with his anger. It flowed off of his skin and Disa watched his jaw clench.

"I'm going to check on her," Disa said.

Marisol's friend Savannah followed her, and they walked toward the back of the club. Inside the restroom, Marisol stood in front of the mirror, trying to stop her tears from ruining her mascara.

"Oh, honey, it's okay," Disa said, hugging her from behind.

"I thought I was pretty enough," Marisol said, touching her skin. "I'm a great dancer. I come from one of the best samba schools in the city. But to these people, I'm a dark, ugly monkey. I'm not even a human being."

"Shh. We all know none of that is true. They're jealous that a beautiful Black woman has the title. Other little Black girls will see you and know they are beautiful too," Disa said.

"Haters," Savannah said, stroking Marisol's arm.

They left the club and hopped around to others. In most places, Marisol received cheers, and patrons asked to take pictures with her. Erik watched over her when the men grew a little too aggressive in wanting to be hugged up next to her. His protective instincts softened Disa's anger toward him. She could set aside their personal issues to concentrate on lifting Marisol's spirits. However, once they left for the states in a few days, Disa was going to rip his head off and hand it to him.

Afonso and his girlfriend met them at another crowded club that blasted music to attract customers. The vibe there was rough for Disa's liking, the music not as inviting. It seemed to perk Marisol up, and they hung out to dance. Marisol partied with suitors, and Erik chatted with Afonso and his lady. They were reconciled recently, and Erik spent most of his club time drinking and talking and being a chaperone. He checked in with Disa often and she allowed him to kiss her with some tongue action. He palmed her ass, and she swerved her hips to get away from his full heat and his need to push her against the bar and trap her. Once he started rubbing on her, he wouldn't stop, and Disa kept her wits about her with him trying to be slick. An old Prince song came on over the speakers, a classic jam called "Automatic". Most of the white people there bounced around and the Black patrons listened and watched the hectic scene. Erik lip-synched the lyrics to her, doing his best to break down her resolve. She stood strong and looked away from his mouth and the constant play of dimples aimed at her. Damn him.

TV screens around the club flashed ads for different themed nights and Marisol's Globo TV ad came on. Instead of being ecstatic about it playing, Marisol turned away from looking at it. Disa walked with her toward the bar to get fresh drinks and someone they passed by made chimpanzee noises. Disa stopped to look behind her. Party people surrounded them with the flashing lights. Jam-packed frantic dancing and laughter overwhelmed their ears and eyes. More monkey noises assaulted their ears in several directions. Marisol fled from her side, pushing through the crowd.

"Marisol!" Disa yelled, trying to catch up to her.

A wall of dancing patrons blocked her from getting through and Disa sought refuge on the sidelines. The Portuguese words around her became laced with surly undertones. Disa didn't know if she imagined that or if there were more racist comments aimed at her at that moment.

She couldn't get to Marisol.

"Erik!" she shouted.

She pulled out her cell and texted him. Catching sight of his tall frame in the distance, she frantically waved at him. No one got in his way when he lunged into the thick crowd, wide shoulders smacking others as he came to her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her in close.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Some people harassed Marisol by making monkey noises. She ran that way and I can't get to her with all these people. We should get out of here. It's not a good place for us to be."

"I'll get her," he said.

He kissed her forehead.

"Go on back over to Afonso. I'll meet you guys out front with Marisol."

She nodded and started crying.

"They were cruel. She's so hurt," Disa said.

"Ain't nothing changed nowhere," he grumbled.

He wiped her tears away and gently pushed her toward Afonso and the others. Disa watched his big body ram through people. His anger was clear, and no one challenged him even as he steamrolled past some big dudes.

###

Erik glanced down at his TL and scrolled through the negative comments about Marisol. He chewed on his inner lip when there were connections made about her being related to Negra Lia. That was one thing he worried about once she went national with the ad. People digging up her past for click-bait articles and realizing she was related to a controversial political figure.

He snagged a drink from a server and reported social media abusers targeting Marisol with racist comments. The club must've gone over its maximum capacity because police fedarals entered the front of the club to shut down any more people gaining entrance. There had been a fight earlier and the unruly patrons glossed over it as the price of celebrating the carnival season. People got drunk and pissy sometimes. His cell vibrated with an urgent text from Disa. He looked up from his phone and searched for her visually in the back. Her arm wiggled above the crush of bodies and he went to her. Once he made her leave his side, he plunged back through the dense crowd and found a group of people pushing around Marisol and a couple of white men making snide comments about her looks. His play cousin didn't back down. Her finger wagged in their faces and her words were sharp spikes digging into their souls. She read them for filth until one man called her out of her name and his white female companion laughed like a hyena. Marisol punched his face and his girlfriend grabbed Marisol's short curls. That didn't last long once the female harasser found herself on the ground with a busted lip right next to her verbally abusive boyfriend.

The mood in the observers shifted to wanting blood, and Erik forced his way through them and blocked Marisol from doing any more damage to anyone else. Her hands were already in an offensive stance, ready to take on the entire audience. He guided her through a back exit and they leaned up against a wall to collect their thoughts.

"I told Disa to collect everyone and meet us out front," he said.

Looking Marisol over, Erik knew she was distraught at the encounter. The sounds of loud music and raucous patrons thumped from inside the building. She calmed down and faced him.

"Name-calling shouldn't hurt me anymore. I'm used to it, JaJa. But I don't know why this bothers me so much now."

She wiped her eyes. Erik hugged her and she wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Words hurt, cuz. You can't always be above that shit. Ain't no shame in showing that it affects you."

He kissed her forehead and clasped her hand in his.

"Let's get out of here. Go home and have our own party," he said.

The exit door flew open, and the chaotic music blared out. Two police officers strolled out. The back door slammed shut behind them.

"Vocês são as pessoas que comçaram a luta?"

"We didn't start a fight," Erik said, moving Marisol out of the narrow alley.

"Ah, American. We were told someone attacked two people inside. Uma mulher Negra."

"Somebody else," Erik said, turning away.

An officer grabbed his arm to stop him.

"We were not done talking to you," the cop said in menacing English.

"I'm done talking to you," Erik challenged.

Marisol strolled away, and the other cop blocked her escape.

"Desrespeitoso," the cop with Erik said.

"Not disrespectful. Just letting you know we're leaving and taking our business elsewhere. Have a good night… officer."

Erik shook the grip off of his arm and the cop couldn't take a hint. He shoved Erik against the wall and his partner snatched Marisol's arm and dragged her back next to him. A lascivious look came across the cops as they took in Marisol's revealing dress.

"Let us go. Those people called me names and I want to leave. I was protecting myself," Marisol said.

She folded her arms over her breasts.

"That's not the story we were told."

Erik's cell vibrated in his back pocket. It was probably Disa looking for them. He gave Marisol a look to keep quiet. His mind raced to look for an angle to diffuse the situation.

"Listen, she's the new carnival queen for Globo TV. Some fans were a little too aggressive while taking some pictures. There was a little tussle to get away, but we're all good now."

"Carnival queen for TV, her?" the first cop sneered.

"Dance for me… macaca."

Marisol heard the word monkey and took to beating ass. Her hands blurred with speed and her legs swung in an arc, knocking the cop in front of her down. She jumped on him and choked him. Erik held the other cop back and let his play cousin put in work. When the officer reached for his gun holster and whipped out his piece, she kicked away his weapon with her heel. It clattered under a dumpster that hid them from the street view in the distance.

Wiping his lip, the injured cop lunged for his gun and Marisol did a round kick that knocked him into the dumpster hard. The man's head cracked against the metal and his body fell with a hard thud onto the pavement. Lifeless.

"Shit," Erik huffed.

Marisol stood near the dead cop, her chest heaving and her eyes wild. The second cop reached for his radio and Erik knocked it from his hand with a swift kick. Before the cop could pull out his weapon, Marisol grabbed the gun under the dumpster and pointed it at his chest.

"Get his gun!" Marisol shouted.

Erik picked up a ripped piece of a discarded plastic bag and stuck his hand inside it. He lifted the cop's gun out of his holster and threw it inside the dumpster.

"Get down on your knees!" she yelled.

The cop showed no fear in his eyes, just a surly stare and tight lips painted his expression. They all whipped their heads around when the exit door swung open, pouring loud music out again.

"What is going…"

Disa's voice froze when she caught sight of Marisol holding the gun.

"Get out of here," Erik said, nodding toward the bright lights of the street that seemed to get farther away from them the longer he stood there. He pretended not to know her.

Disa took in the scene and slowly backed away. The tightness in Erik's chest subsided.

"You will both go to jail for this," the cop said with a low snarl in his throat.

"Wipe your prints off the gun," Erik told Marisol.

She wiped it with the bottom of her dress and handed it to him. He shoved it into his waistband.

"Go," he demanded.

Marisol moved around him, and the exit door opened again. This time Afonso stepped out. The cop made his move with the distraction. He pulled a sharp blade from a covert calf holster and threw it at Erik. He missed.

"Fucker," Erik spat. He ran up and kicked the man in the face.

"Erik!"

Marisol's blood-curdling cry made Erik's soul turn cold. He turned and found Marisol on her knees, pressing her hands into a torrent of blood gushing from Disa's stomach with the cop's knife stuck in her. Afonso knelt down and held her hand while he called for an ambulance with his phone. Her faded yellow dress bled crimson. Erik ran to her side.

"Keep applying pressure!" he yelled.

The cop stumbled over to them and Erik lost it, picking the man up by his throat and snapping his neck. The limp body fell to his feet.

"Disa!" Erik cried out.

Dropping to his knees, he held her hand.

"You two have to go!" Afonso yelled.

"No!" Marisol said.

Afonso took off his shirt and pressed the thick material around the knife in Disa's wound and shoved Marisol away.

"There are bodies over there and you two come from a family these cops want to see ruined. An ambulance is coming. Go back to Marisol's and I'll stay here. I'll say some men must've tried to rob her and the cops intervened and were killed. Get out of here!"

"I can't leave her!" Erik said.

"Baby, just go, I don't want you two to get in trouble," Disa whispered.

The luxurious, rich brown color drained from her face. Erik leaned over and kissed her. They heard the wail of an ambulance.

"Please, Erik, this will ruin you…" Disa whimpered.

Disa's teary eyes weakened him.

"I don't want to leave you—"

"They'll crucify you and your family again," she shrieked through her pain.

Afonso urged them away. Erik unfastened the holster from the cop's leg and instructed Afonso to smear the prints on the knife handle. They would pretend the fake criminals used the blade on her. After he kissed Disa on her temple, he grabbed Marisol's hand and dragged her weeping and slapping his hand away from the alley.

Afonso was right. So was Disa. He could not be caught there with Marisol. No police officers or a Sao Paulo court would find them innocent of anything. They would get the book thrown at them, be accused of seeking revenge for their aunt and his mother. The wild carnival parties and the surge of clubgoers shrouded their escape. They were just two nameless, faceless partiers in a packed crowd flooding the streets. He kept his head down low and his eyes on escape. Deep inside, his heart broke.

His woman was bleeding and broken in a filthy alley. She witnessed him killing a man with his bare hands.

"Disa," he whispered, fighting back tears so he could see well enough to find safety for Marisol.