Kiss the Ring Read Online Free PDF Page A
Author: Meesha Mink
hadnât had the heart to put him out . . . yet. Inthe depths of his eyes she had seen surprise at her sudden appearance but also a fear that the shelter he had come to cherish would be gone. Although his stink was high enough to rise to the heavens above and she had no idea if he would murder her in her sleep, Naeemaâs gut had guided her to let him stay. Unlike the bullshit decisions sheâd made in her teens, Naeema had learned to trust her instincts in her twenties. Now they rarely led her wrong.
In truth, knowing he was downstairs was a comfort to her. It was a disjointed version of her former life living with her grandfather for all those years. Sarge had become a constant as she struggled to readjust to the recent changes in her life.
âThat shit ainât good for you, Naeema.â
She shrugged one shoulder as she released a thick stream of smoke. Her nerves were still shot to hell from the bank robbery earlier that morning. That had been a big risk, but if it meant getting closer to the people she thought were responsible for her sonâs death, then it was well worth it. âYou hungry, Sarge?â she asked, opening the fridge.
âThe South Orange police department is currently investigating a bank robbery at the Township Bank this morning.â
âMy belly full,â he answered gruffly.
Naeema barely heard him. Her body stiffened and her head cocked at the sound of the local news on the television.
âFour masked gunmen entered the bank just a few minutes after its opening and demanded the bank employees empty its registers.â
âJust wanted to lay eyes on you,â he said.
Naeema nodded as she swung the door to the fridgeclosed and walked back into the living room. Her eyes were locked on the screen as she picked up the remote.
âThe unidentified men fled the bank with an undisclosed amount of cash. The robbers were pursued in a late-model white Lincoln Continental without plates but lost the police once the chase entered neighboring Newark, New Jersey . . .â
She raised the remote as her heart seemed to lurch forward in her chest.
Click.
âI helped to rob a motherfucking bank,â she mouthed, biting her full bottom lip as her eyes filled with the trouble she felt.
She took a few moments and then a few more trying to get her shit together before she turned. Sarge was standing in the doorway, the tips of the old and scuffed Timberland boots he always wore were firmly pressed to the metal saddle separating the two rooms. He never came beyond the kitchen, never crossed that metal line, like he thought he was a fly that would get zapped if he even dared to fuck with it.
He squinted his eyes as he shifted them from the television to her face.
Naeema forced herself to relax her face as she walked over to him. Before she could open her mouth he grunted and turned to walk away. She heard the door leading down to the basement slam.
WHAM!
She moved no farther.
The sudden silence was loud as a no-good motherfucker. The quiet had never been a friend of hers. âFuck this shit,â she said, taking another deep puff from the cool ceramic tip,then made her way to her front door, set the pipe on the floor, and stepped out onto the porch.
Futilely fanning herself to beat back the summer heat, Naeema closed her eyes and absorbed the sounds of the city. They were always present. Always vibrant. Large trucks grinding and rattling down the streets. Car horns. Music blaring through opened car windows. Raised voices. Children laughing. Police or fire sirens wailing in the distance. All kinds of noise.
She needed that shit bad as hell.
The sudden screech of tires seemed to override everything. Naeema stiffened in surprise.
THUMP.
The sound of a woman slamming her hand down against the hood of a rusted red vehicle echoed in the street. Naeemaâs body filled with relief. At least the car hadnât run her over.
âGet your
In truth, knowing he was downstairs was a comfort to her. It was a disjointed version of her former life living with her grandfather for all those years. Sarge had become a constant as she struggled to readjust to the recent changes in her life.
âThat shit ainât good for you, Naeema.â
She shrugged one shoulder as she released a thick stream of smoke. Her nerves were still shot to hell from the bank robbery earlier that morning. That had been a big risk, but if it meant getting closer to the people she thought were responsible for her sonâs death, then it was well worth it. âYou hungry, Sarge?â she asked, opening the fridge.
âThe South Orange police department is currently investigating a bank robbery at the Township Bank this morning.â
âMy belly full,â he answered gruffly.
Naeema barely heard him. Her body stiffened and her head cocked at the sound of the local news on the television.
âFour masked gunmen entered the bank just a few minutes after its opening and demanded the bank employees empty its registers.â
âJust wanted to lay eyes on you,â he said.
Naeema nodded as she swung the door to the fridgeclosed and walked back into the living room. Her eyes were locked on the screen as she picked up the remote.
âThe unidentified men fled the bank with an undisclosed amount of cash. The robbers were pursued in a late-model white Lincoln Continental without plates but lost the police once the chase entered neighboring Newark, New Jersey . . .â
She raised the remote as her heart seemed to lurch forward in her chest.
Click.
âI helped to rob a motherfucking bank,â she mouthed, biting her full bottom lip as her eyes filled with the trouble she felt.
She took a few moments and then a few more trying to get her shit together before she turned. Sarge was standing in the doorway, the tips of the old and scuffed Timberland boots he always wore were firmly pressed to the metal saddle separating the two rooms. He never came beyond the kitchen, never crossed that metal line, like he thought he was a fly that would get zapped if he even dared to fuck with it.
He squinted his eyes as he shifted them from the television to her face.
Naeema forced herself to relax her face as she walked over to him. Before she could open her mouth he grunted and turned to walk away. She heard the door leading down to the basement slam.
WHAM!
She moved no farther.
The sudden silence was loud as a no-good motherfucker. The quiet had never been a friend of hers. âFuck this shit,â she said, taking another deep puff from the cool ceramic tip,then made her way to her front door, set the pipe on the floor, and stepped out onto the porch.
Futilely fanning herself to beat back the summer heat, Naeema closed her eyes and absorbed the sounds of the city. They were always present. Always vibrant. Large trucks grinding and rattling down the streets. Car horns. Music blaring through opened car windows. Raised voices. Children laughing. Police or fire sirens wailing in the distance. All kinds of noise.
She needed that shit bad as hell.
The sudden screech of tires seemed to override everything. Naeema stiffened in surprise.
THUMP.
The sound of a woman slamming her hand down against the hood of a rusted red vehicle echoed in the street. Naeemaâs body filled with relief. At least the car hadnât run her over.
âGet your