A/N: Well here's the update! Sorry it took so long to get up though! I mean, seriously, these teachers have got me on lock-down with work and everything... But... I knocked out the guard and managed to get back here to update for all of y'all. So, as your St. Patrick Day gift, I offer you this.
Disclaimer: For the real disclamier, check the last chapter. I'm too lazy... But I will say that I do not own the song, "How Do You Want It". That belongs to none other than the greatest artist to ever live - Tupac Amaru Shakur a.k.a. 2pac! Much love to him and may his soul rest in peace. Oh, and as a warning... If any of you readers out there, for reasons of your own, are sensitive to the "N" word, then let it be known to you that it's only used twice in this chapter and it's in the lyrics. I apologize if it's offending, but please... If I can tolerate being called it all day, I think you can deal with reading it for at least two times. But of course, if this bothers you, don't be afraid to let me know in a review or something. I'll change it.
Chapter 2: The Reunion
Despite the previous tears that had fallen, a smile had appeared in slow motion upon my face at the sight of my old friend. I knew at once that it truly was Brooke, even though Catherine had already told me, because her looks hadn't changed in these past decades.
It was close to twenty years ago since last I saw of her, and yet her image had yet to be burned from my memory. Brooke had to be in her late twenties, about to hit thirty, but she still looked younger, as if she were in her late teens to early twenties. Her Puerto Rican complexion was at its finest, her skin a dark golden brown. Her eyes, which seemed to leap out at anyone, still contained the electric blue gaze in her right and a cool, stony silver color in her left. Hair as black as the night sat in thin cornrows in criss-crosses on the top of her head, then ran straight down the back of her head, the ends held together by individual white beads. And despite being a challenging 5"5, what she lacked in height she made up for in being athletically toned and physically strong.
In my visual observation, my eyes glided quickly over her left cheek, getting snagged briefly on a guilty sight before staring at the ground with a newfound intrigue in my shoes. A white scar tore from the outer corner of her eye diagonally across to the corner of her mouth.
The sight of the scar resurrected memories of that "Hell on Earth" night, but before they could plague my thoughts, another recollection of our previously negative financial position surfaced as well.
Staring back up at her, I noticed with great satisfaction that she appeared to have more money in her pockets. I knew this was true because of all the name brand clothes she had on. It was also evident through the overbearing amounts of jewelry and other accessories that accompanied her clothes. But, being a true tomboy at heart, she didn't allow a single drop of girlyness in her style to say the least.
A simple outfit yet it spoke volumes about her; A plain white T-shirt approximately two sizes too large for her with extra baggy dark blue jeans, gold crypt writing down the out part of her pant legs reading, "Brooklyn". As Broke always said, "A good pair of jeans deserves to have even better looking boots with them." Remaining true to her statement, a new pair of Timberland boots, golden brown with white rubber soles encased her feet untied and the tongue sticking out. A New York Yankees baby blue flat hat sat on her head with the rim going between north and west of her head, leaving most of the left side of her face in the shadow of the rim. In both of her ears were genuine Men's square diamond earrings, gleaming in the lights above her. Down around her neck were several chains, two silver Cuban necklaces - one short and one medium length. Another one where the chain looked as if it could've wrapped around her neck four times with a rather large crucifix made purely out of diamonds. Yet another one that had a diamond chain and a diamond pendant of a pistol with the letters "SBG" inscribed in gold along the grip of it, standing for "Southside Brooklyn Gunners". And the last one that was very recognizable to myself, which was silver dog tags, one saying "Broken Brooklyn Waters" while the other one read "Sizzling Blacktop Sidle". Just then, I felt the light tug that my identical pair of dog tags around my neck, also reminding me of the past.
Going further down, around her wrist was matching Cuban bracelet to match her necklace, one her right hand. On her left, a watch that look like a half of a step down from a Rolex graced the opposing wrist, gleaming from the platinum band and the platinum inside the watch as well. Finally ending at the fingers, several different types of rings adorned her long fingers. But the main rings that stood out were the pinkie rings. They had an old saying back in Brooklyn that said, "You can always tell if someone is wealthy if they hold more money on their pinkies than they do on their neck." And by the looks of those pinkie rings, and not counting the sentimental value of one of her necklaces, the rings were five times the amount of money all of those necklaces combined cost. The left one was a clear diamond, clarity at its peak, while the right was a black diamond, one of the biggest rarities in the diamond industry. Her other rings surely were beautiful and flashy as well, but the pinkie rings were by far the most impressive piece of jewelry she had on.
After all these years of uneasiness, worrying what had become of one of my oldest and dearest friends, I let out a long sigh of relief. The smile I was flashing her only grew bigger as she stood up from leaning against the wall and walked up to me, a small smug smile gracing her own face. Looking down and shaking her head slightly, she let out a small laugh as she embraced me tightly and I her, glad that she was all right for a change.
After an unknown period of time of hugging, we pulled back as Catherine walked out of the bathroom and looked between the two of us. The both of us stared back at her as we waited for someone out of the three of us to talk.
"So... I'll leave you two alone to catch up on whatever... Talk, do whatever..." Catherine said after a quick inhale and exhale of breath, eyes shifting between Brooke and I. "I'll page you if we get anything from trace or if Bobby is done analyzing the bullet in ballistics." Catherine's eyes were trained on me before they quickly switched over to Brooke's. "It was nice meeting you Brooke." She said with a smile just before she walked off.
"Thank you again Ms. Willows!" Brooke called after Catherine, her New York accent strong. Then she turned back to me. "So... You thought you could get rid of me that easily, huh? Didn't think I'd be able to find you again?" She asked jokingly, making it more of a statement than a query.
"No! No, of course not! I never thought you wouldn't be able to find me, but I didn't think you'd bother to." I said, still enveloped in an air of surprise. "God Brooke... How have you been? What have you been doing for these past twenty years or so?" I assaulted her with continuous questions.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Down girl... Take it easy. Don't worry about those questions right now... I'll answer them in time, but first let's go catch up, eh? Let's go have lunch or something? On me. Ain't you due for a lunch break some time soon anyways?" Brooke peered down at her watch before looking back up at me.
"Well... I dunno. I have a case going right now, and we're waiting on test results back..." I thought about the evidence, unintentionally throwing out excuses.
"Aw c'mon Sara! You haven't seen your sister in twenty years, and now you won't even let her take you out to lunch? Man, years ago, we both would've been jumping on that offer even if we were in the middle of something life-altering." She remained me. "C'mon. At least let it be to a fast food joint or something. Someplace not too far away from here if you prefer."
Looking down the corridor and then back at her pleading face with the puppy dog eyes and the pouted lip look, I knew I was going to cave in. That was how she always used to coax me into doing things I didn't wanna do when we were kids, and apparently that didn't change.
"All right. There's a small diner just down the road." I watched as an exultant look washed over her face and she gave me another full smile, flashing her perfectly white teeth. "Walk with me to the desk to tell them I'll be on break and then we'll go."
As we started walking down the halls, our destination the front desk and Judy, Brooke tossed a look my way with that triumphant smirk still on her face. "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist my puppy dog face plus the pouty lip. You couldn't do it to save your life."
"Okay, so you got me there." I admitted, looking over at her.
It seemed like a relatively short walk because before I knew it, I was slightly leaning over the desk and telling Judy that I'd be back in forty-five minutes because I was on break. Walking out of the building, my eyes squinted against the sun that sat ablaze in the sky, casting dark shades of orange and reddish colors as it neared sunset. Removing my sunglasses from my pocket, I placed them over my eyes before looking down at Brooke.
"Which car are we talking? Yours or mine?" One could automatically assume that if she had that much money invested in her clothes and jewelry, surely she had a car of sorts.
"Let's take mine. I want you to meet my baby..." She said proudly as she guided me through the parking lot.
I couldn't believe my eyes when she stopped in front of the car she claimed to be hers...
A Nissan Skyline sat in the parking space, sitting pretty and clean. The whole car was a sleek black with red and orange flames shooting across the sides in a unique fashion that certainly suited Brooke to the letter. Along the hood were portraits starting from my left to right of Tupac Amaru Shakur, Aaliyah, Lisa "Left Eye" Lopez, and Chris Wallace a.k.a. Biggie Smalls, all famous deceased artists in the Hip Hop/Rap genre. All of her favorite artists. Below their portraits were their names writing in a fine cursive script, in gold, and below that was more cursive writing, much larger than the previously mentioned writing, saying, "Gone but never forgotten." Behind the portraits was a brilliant fire and the portraits were done in such a manner that it appeared as if the flames were reflecting light onto the backs of their heads.
As I walked to the driver side of the car, taking in the side of the car with awe in my eyes and facial expression. On top of the original black paint, the orange and reddish flames were painted on alone the side, spelling the acronym "THUG LIFE" in the flames rather artistically. My hand glided across the words as I remembered the extremely small tattoo upon my right hip that read the same acronym above a cross standing on a grassy knoll in front of a setting sun, its shadow apparent. Brooke should've had a similar tattoo on her left hip, unless she got it removed. However, the probability of that was slim to nothing, because it meant too much to the both of us.
Passing along to the back of the car, I stepped back a few footsteps to look down at the back. Immediately, my eyes were drawn to the special exhaust pipes designed for nitrogen. Somehow, the concept never surprised me that Brooke would be the person to have a full tank of nitrogen in her car or motor bike. Nitrogen was considered an "insurances" around the parts we grew up in. Yeah right... An insurance to escape the police and an insurance to get in a car accident is the idiot driving doesn't know how to properly drive a car going at speeds faster than light. Of course, when it was either Brooke or myself behind the wheel, it was a guarantee of the first kind of insurance.
The design in the back was the same as the rest of the car. Black with the orange and red flames from the sides of the car, ending along the back, encasing the three words, "Broken Brooklyn Waters" which was in a baby blue inscription this time. Also figured that she'd be conventional when anything had to be in her name that she'd make the color baby blue. It was her favorite color after all.
Winding back up the other side, noticing that it was the same as the driver's side with the acronym and the flames. After getting the full overview of the car, I returned to Brooke's side, identically crossing my arms over my chest like she was. Simultaneously, we looked at each other, my eyes gleaming deviously and hers smugly.
Tossing the keys up in the air, I caught them with a wide smile. "Let's see if you still got it, Sizzle B."
Brooke and I switched paths, her going to the passenger's side and myself to the driver's side. Opening up the door and placing myself inside the plush seat, I was quick to readjust the seat as my knees were up to my chest from how close the seat was to the steering wheel. What did I expect? She was exactly close to my height... As she'd put it, she was "vertically challenged".
The interior of the car was just as impressive as the exterior. Though I cringed at the thought of leather, I even had to admit that the seat went above and beyond comfortable. They were the kind of seats you could just sink into and let your problems sink away with you, at least for that moment.
The CD player's chrome caught my eye quickly as I relaxed in the seat, after starting the car with the keys. Leaning forward slightly, I went to hit play as it read, "CD READY" across the digital screen. But Brooke had grabbed my wrist before my fingers could even reach the button.
"Haven't even started the introductions and you're already looking to touch my baby's buttons? How rude Sara!" Brooke said, mockingly appalled. "Common courtesy is everything, my dear, dear Sara... So, Sara... This be my pride and joy, Shorty."
I couldn't control the eye roll at her silliness before another smile came across my face. That seemed so original coming from Brooke, but I let it slide.
"Anything else I need to know about Shorty?" I asked, decided just to play along.
"Okay... The Tour of Shorty..." Brooke began. There was a pause as I awaited a ridiculous explanation of the car, but when there was none, I looked back at her. "Well, here she is! She ain't that big!" Brooke laughed. "All you gotta know... Don't ever hit this button..." She indicated a small red button to the right of the steering wheel. "Let's just say that puts a flame under her butt when things get hot from the PoPo on the blacktop."
"Nitrogen boost." I repeated, but in a much simpler explanation.
"Would you expect anything else?" She looked at me with an arched eyebrow.
"Never." I smirked at her.
After an almost moment of silence, only disturbed by Brooke's laughing, I reached for the stereo again. Just before I hit Play, was when Brooke decided to give me the warning, but it was almost too late.
"Cover your ea..." She never got to finish the sentence though.
How do you want it?
How do you feel?
C'min up as a nigga in the cash game
I'm living in the fast lane
I'm for real...
How do you want it?
How do you feel?
C'min up as a nigga in the cash game
I'm living in the fast lane
I'm for real...
The damage was already done and soon I thought I had lost my hearing. Without a doubt, I should've expected something like this to happen. Brooke was always someone to have things loud. Loud music, loud stereo systems, loud voice... Everything about her was just forthrightly loud and well announced. And this song was just loud enough to fit into her profile. "How Do You Want It" by 2pac, a classic song by him, might I add.
Between the bass and just how loud the actual stereo was, the car didn't need hydraulics to be installed. The car was literally bouncing by itself. It took a little time but then my ears got acclimated to the volume. Why didn't I just turn the volume down, some might ask. Well, this was just the kind of release I apparently needed from my thoughts
TBC
A/N2: Well, there you go. I hope to get updates up more frequently, but I'm not promising anything. Sorry... And I'm just tryna get this story up and running, so bear with me for a couple more chapters. Then everything gets unpredictable!
HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY! AND DON'T GET TOO WASTED OUT THERE!