Chapter 2: Ameko Parker
"Ameko, you leave that grease on the eye of my stove, I’m locking you out this house," a voice called out from the back bedroom.
Ameko Parker smiled to himself, turning down the fire beneath the black skillet. "It’s off, Ma. Relax. I’m putting the lid on it right now."
"You better be. I just scrubbed that kitchen down yesterday."
Beverly Parker stepped into the small kitchen, tying a floral silk scarf around her head. She looked tired—the kind of deep, bone-weary tired that came from twenty years of pulling double shifts as a nurse's aide at the county hospital—but her eyes were sharp as ever. She stopped, folding her arms across her chest as she evaluated her son.
At twenty years old, Ameko had grown entirely too big for their cramped two-bedroom apartment. He had his daddy’s height and his broad shoulders, but thank God, he had her temperament.
"You eating before you go to campus?" she asked, her voice softening.
"Just grabbed a piece of toast, Ma. I gotta catch the 8:15 bus if I'm gonna make it to financial aid before my first lecture." Ameko rinsed his plate in the sink, wiping his hands on a dish towel.
Beverly reached into her apron pocket, pulling out a crumpled ten-dollar bill and shoving it toward his chest. "Get you some real food. A sandwich or something. Don't be buying them cheap chips out the vending machine."
"Ma, keep your money," Ameko said softly, gently pushing her hand back. "I got my refund check from the bookstore last week. I'm good."
"Take the money, Ameko. Don't argue with me."
He looked at her stubborn jaw, knowing there was no winning this battle. If Beverly Parker wanted to provide for her son, she was going to do it, even if it meant working herself to death. She had spent his entire life shielding him from the absolute worst of Ashbourn. While the kids down the hall were running the courtyard at two in the morning, Beverly had Ameko at the kitchen table doing extra reading comprehension packets. When the neighborhood cliques started forming in middle school, she signed him up for youth programs three neighborhoods over.
She had dragged him, by pure force of will, out of the undertow of the streets. Now, he was a sophomore at Ashbourn Community College, maintaining a 3.4 GPA, and trying to build a life that made her sacrifices mean something.
Ameko took the ten. "Appreciate you, Ma."
"Mm-hmm. Lock the bottom lock when you leave. And don't be lingering outside by them gates."
"I won't."
The morning air outside was already heavy with humidity, a thick blanket of heat promising an eighty-degree afternoon. Ameko walked with his backpack slung over one shoulder, his head up, his eyes sweeping the block.
Growing up in Da Wood meant you learned how to read the block before you learned how to read a book. You knew which porches to avoid, which cars meant trouble, and which faces were safe. Ameko wasn't part of the street life, but he knew how to move through it without making himself a target. He gave a respectful nod to the older folks sitting out on their stoops, kept his pace steady past the corner store where the local hustlers were already gathering, and kept his mind entirely on his schoolwork.
By noon, he was sitting in the back row of his Microeconomics lecture, his fingers flying across his notebook.
It was a different world on campus. Clean, quiet, structured. But even here, he felt the invisible line between himself and the kids who grew up in the suburbs. They talked about weekend trips and new cars; Ameko was busy calculating how many hours he could pick up at his part-time warehouse job without letting his grades slip.
But he didn't mind the grind. He actually liked it. It kept him focused.
By the time his last class let out at four in the afternoon, Ameko's head was spinning with supply-and-demand curves. He took the bus back toward Ashbourn, watching the scenery shift from the manicured lawns near the college back to the cracked asphalt, boarded-up liquor stores, and familiar brown bricks of the projects.
He had an interview for a local scholarship fund next Tuesday. Looking down at his reflection in the bus window, he reminded himself that his line was blurred and the top of his hair was getting unruly. His clothes were clean—his ma made sure he always had the best, from his fresh graphic tee down to the crisp Balenciaga running shoes on his feet—but a messy haircut would ruin the whole look.
"Need a clean cut," he muttered to himself, pulling out his phone.
Most dudes in the neighborhood went to the local barbershop on 5th, but it was always crowded, loud, and usually full of the exact street drama Ameko tried to avoid. He remembered his cousin mentioning a spot called Miracles & Melanin over on Elm. It was mostly a women's salon, but they did walk-ins and appointments for quick men's fades if you caught them at the right time.
He called the shop, and a woman with a sharp, busy voice answered, locking him in for a 6:00 p.m. slot under the name Ameko Parker.
At exactly five fifty-five, Ameko pushed open the glass door to the salon.
The bell above the frame jingled softly, and the overwhelming scent of hair products, burning flat irons, and sweet perfume hit him instantly. The shop was winding down from the afternoon rush, with only a few women left under the heavy dryers in the back.
Ameko adjusted the strap of his backpack, his Balenciagas squeaking slightly on the clean linoleum as he walked in. He looked around for a second before his eyes settled on a girl cleaning up her station in the corner.
She was wiping down the counter with a damp towel, putting away clips, her movements quick and efficient. She looked tired, but there was a distinct, guarded stillness to her that caught his attention. She didn't look up immediately, probably assuming he was just someone walking in to drop off a flyer or ask for directions.
Ameko walked straight toward her station, his footsteps quiet. He stopped a few feet away, letting out a polite, easy smile to let her know he wasn't there to cause any trouble.
Teyana paused, a comb still in her hand, her eyes locking onto him with a natural defense mechanism that everyone in this neighborhood carried.
"You Teyana?" he asked, his voice smooth and low.
"Yeah," Tey said, her guard up out of pure habit. "Can I help you?"
Ameko nodded, his smile widening just a fraction as he indicated the empty styling chair. "I'm Ameko. Ameko Parker. I got the six o'clock."
Chapter 3: Tyrese "TJ" Smith
"TJ, you just gon' get up and leave like that?"
TJ didn't look back as he pulled his boxers up and reached for his jeans on the floor. The bedroom was dark, the blinds drawn tight against the midafternoon sun, but the heat still managed to find its way through the window glass.
Kayla was sitting up in the bed, the sheet pulled up to her chest, her lips pouted in that way she always did when she realized his mind was already out the door.
"Got business, Kayla. Told you that before I came over," TJ said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.
He zipped his jeans and reached for his shirt. TJ didn't do flashy. You wouldn't catch him dead in those loud, bright pieces covered in massive brand names or giant logos that screamed for attention from a block away. But everything he put on his body was high end designer. He wore a heavy, midnight-black knit tee that fit his chest perfectly, tailored dark denim, and a pair of pristine, uncreased designer runners. No big flashy chains hanging outside his shirt, either—just a solid, heavy gold band on his finger. To a random person, he just looked incredibly clean. But to anyone from the neighborhood who actually knew what they were looking at, the quality of the fabric and the cut of the clothes told you everything you needed to know about his pockets. He kept himself looking immaculate.
He stepped into his shoes, smoothing down his shirt.
"You always got business," she muttered, crossing her arms. Then, she softened her tone, shifting her weight on the mattress. "Well, before you go, can I get some money for my hair appointment tomorrow? You said you was gon' help me out."
TJ paused, looking down at her. He didn't blink, didn't complain. This was the tax of the game. He reached into his front pocket, pulled out a thick, rubberbanded knot of hundreds, and peeled off a few bills without even counting the rest. He tossed them onto the mattress.
"Make sure you keep yourself looking right," he said, grabbing his car keys off the dresser.
"Thanks, baby," she smiled, the attitude vanishing instantly.
TJ just nodded, already halfway out the door. He had two other girls in different buildings across Ashbourn who looked at him the exact same way, expecting the same regular maintenance. He didn't mind paying it—it kept the peace, and it kept his business private. But right now, his head was entirely on the block.
By four-thirty, TJ was posted up in the passenger seat of his Charger, parked in the shade behind the convenience store on 12th. The duffel bag from this morning’s duplex raid was already emptied, the cash split and processed, but the street never stopped moving.
His phone vibrated against his thigh. He pulled it out, seeing Tey’s name on the screen.
"Yeah, Tey."
"Hey," her voice came through. The background noise of the salon was loud, but her tone shifted the second she spoke to him. It dropped into that softer, quieter register she only used when it was just the two of them. "You straight?"
"I'm good,” TJ said, his eyes scanning the corner out of habit, though his focus was entirely on his sister. "Just sitting in the car right now."
"Did you eat anything today? And don't lie to me, TJ. I know you been running since this morning."
A small, genuine smile broke through TJ's usual stone face. "Yeah, I ate, Tey. Caught some food over at Kayla's crib a lil while ago. What about you? You get off your feet at all?"
"I took a nap before coming," she admitted, letting out a soft, tired sigh that she would never let the kids or the clients hear. "Did you get any sleep after we got back to the block?"
"An hour. Maybe an hour and a half," TJ lied smoothly, cutting the number in half so she wouldn't worry. In reality, he hadn't closed his eyes once. "I'm good, though. Don't worry about me. How's your head?"
"Heavy," she said honestly. "But it's always heavy. I'm just ready to get these kids fed and put to bed."
"I hear you. I’m about to go do a cruise around the secondary blocks, make sure everything good.” TJ shifted his weight in the seat, his voice turning protective. "You need me to pick up anything for dinner on my way back? Don't be trying to stand over a hot stove all evening if you're already giving out."
"No, I got it. I pulled some chicken out this morning before we left," Tey said, and TJ could hear the appreciation in her voice, the quiet comfort of knowing she wasn't doing this entirely by herself. "Just make sure you check the drop on 5th before five. Mike said the numbers were trailing a little bit, and I don’t trust him.”
"Already on it," TJ said. "I love you, Tey. Take a breath."
"Love you too. Head on a swivel.”
He hung up, holding the phone in his hand for a second before tossing it into the cup holder. He loved his sister for how tight she held down the fort, but it killed him that she had to think like a general before she even turned twenty. He knew the truth, though.
He knew she was running herself into the dirt because she felt guilty. She carried the weight of what happened four years ago like it was a physical chain around her neck, always feeling like she had to overcompensate, always trying to be the perfect protector, the perfect provider, the perfect everything to make up for the blood they couldn't wash out of their memories.
But TJ didn't blame her. Not even a little bit.
As far as he was concerned, Teyana had done exactly what she needed to do in that living room to protect her family. She’d saved them. And now, it was his turn to return the favor. He was the oldest. It was his job to shoulder the worst of the streets so she didn't have to bear it all. No matter what it took, no matter how dirty the money got or how heavy the blocks became, he was going to make sure his sister was straight.
TJ shifted the car into drive and slowly cruised down the block, his arm resting on the open window.
As he neared the recreation center lot, his eyes narrowed. A group of teenagers were posted up by the chain-link fence, loud-talking and rapping over a beat playing from a phone. Right in the middle of them was Travis, his backpack slumped on the asphalt, his arms gesturing wild as he laughed with two older dudes TJ knew from the one of his blocks—dudes who didn't do nothing but look for trouble.
TJ pulled the Charger right up to the curb, the engine idling low. He didn't get out. He just rolled down the passenger window and leaned over.
“Aye, Trav.”
The laughter at the fence died instantly. Travis froze, his jaw dropping a fraction before his face hardened into that stubborn teenager mask. The other dudes stepped back a foot, recognizing the car, recognizing TJ.
"Man, what?" Travis muttered, walking slowly over to the passenger side.
"Get your ass in the car," TJ said, his voice flat and steady.
"We just hanging out, TJ. School just let out a little while ago—"
"I didn't ask what you was doing," TJ cut him off, his eyes locking hard onto his little brother's. "I said get in the car. Now."
Travis looked back at his friends, embarrassed, but nobody was about to speak up against TJ. Sicking his tongue out in frustration, Travis snatched his backpack off the ground, yanked the passenger door open, and slammed his self into the seat.
TJ didn't pull off immediately. He looked past Travis, his gaze landing dead on the two older street dudes by the fence. He didn't say a word, just stared at them until they both looked down at the gravel and started walking the other way.
He put the Charger in drive and pulled away from the curb.
"You out here acting like you ain't got a home to go to," TJ said, his voice quiet but heavy as he navigated the blocks. "I see you out here with them niggas again, Travis, and it’s gonna be a different conversation between me and you."
“We wasn't doing nothing," Travis mumbled, staring out the side window. "You and Tey treat me like a damn prisoner."
TJ let out a short, harsh breath. "We treat you like somebody we trying to keep alive. You think the streets are a game because you see me and Tey handling business. We out her so y’all don’t have to. You want to be a man? Act like one. Go home, do your work, and help Teyana with the little boys."
Travis didn't reply, but the fight had left his shoulders, his posture slouched deep into the leather seat.
TJ parked behind Building C, reaching over to tap Travis on the shoulder. "Go upstairs. Tey'll be home in an hour. Don't give her no attitude today, you hear me?"
"Yeah, alright," Travis muttered, pulling his backpack over his shoulder and hopping out the car.
TJ watched him walk up the concrete steps until he disappeared inside the building. He let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. The pressure was constant, pulling him from every direction—the money, the blocks, the women, the kids. But as he looked up at the third-floor window of their apartment, he gripped the steering wheel tight.
He was the big brother. And as long as he had breath in his lungs, nobody was touching his family.
Chapter 4: Tey
"I'm Ameko. Ameko Parker. I got the six o'clock."
Tey stared at him for a second, her brain quickly rewinding through the week. Ameko. Written down in Keisha’s chicken-scratch handwriting, she had completely misread it as a girl's name. But looking at the man standing in front of her chair—built broad, clean, with those crisp Balenciagas on his feet—there wasn't nothing feminine about him.
"Oh," Tey said, letting out a dry, rare laugh as she shook her head. "Keisha wrote your name down wrong. I thought you was a girl."
Ameko laughed, the sound warm and low, instantly cutting through the leftover tension in her shoulders. "Yeah, I get that a lot. Blame my mama."
"Well, come on back," she said, gesturing to the black leather chair.
By now, the salon had emptied out. The other stylists had packed up their shears, the dryers were dead silent, and the smell of burning flat irons had finally settled. It was just the two of them on the floor.
Ameko settled into the chair, and Tey stood behind him, running her fingers through his hair to do a quick analysis. His locs were healthy, thick, but his roots needed some serious love, and his line was definitely starting to blur.
"Look," Tey said, looking at his reflection in the mirror. "I can do a full wash and a retwist for you right now if you got the time. Get you completely cleaned up."
Ameko looked up at her through the mirror and nodded. "Yeah, let's do it. Do the whole thing."
Tey led him back to the shampoo bowls. The moment her hands hit the warm water and she started working the shampoo into his scalp, the quietness of the shop took over. Usually, Tey didn't talk much to clients, but there was something different about Ameko. He wasn't trying to pull numbers, and he wasn't acting tough.
"So, Ameko," Tey started, scrubbing gently. "How come I ain't never seen you around here before? Da Wood ain't that big."
"Honestly? My mom is real strict," he said, keeping his eyes closed against the water. "I can't move left or right without her watching my every step. She kept me inside or in programs away from the neighborhood my whole life. If I'm out, it's usually for school."
"School?" Tey asked, rinsing the soap away. "What you doing? High school?"
"Community college. I'm in my second year." He opened his eyes as she wrapped a clean towel around his head, sitting him back up. "Trying to get my degree in business. It's a grind, but I'm trying to make sure my mama don't have to work them long ass hospital shifts forever."
Tey paused for a split second, a sudden, heavy wave of respect hitting her chest. She looked at him in the mirror as she brought him back to her chair and started parting his hair for the retwist. He was a good kid. A really good kid. He was navigating the same rough blocks she was, but he’d kept his hands clean, protected by a mother who loved him enough to shield him. Tey knew that kind of protective instinct all too well.
As her fingers twisted his hair and the clippers buzzed to clean up his lining, they just kept talking. For the first time in a long time, Tey found herself actually smiling. Ameko was handsome with a calm, steady energy that made her feel like she could actually breathe for a second.
By the time she took the cape off his shoulders, Ameko looked immaculate. His line was sharp, his locs were tight and neat, and the look suited him perfectly.
He stood up, checking his reflection, a wide grin spreading across his face. He handed her the cash, his fingers brushing against hers for just a second.
"Appreciate you, Teyana. For real," he said, adjusting his backpack strap. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, looking down at her. "Listen, if you don't mind, can I call you sometime?"
Tey's heart did a strange, unfamiliar little flutter against her ribs. She kept her face cool, but she didn't hesitate. "Yeah. Give me your phone."
They exchanged numbers right there, the digits locked into her screen, before he walked out into the falling twilight, the salon bell jingling behind him. Tey watched him go, a small smirk playing on her lips. She definitely wanted parts of whatever that was.
The second she unlocked the door to her apartment, the temporary peace vanished.
The kitchen sink was full of bowls, the TV was blaring, and the teenagers were nowhere to be found. Travis and Tatiana were completely self absorbed, locked in their rooms, probably on their phones, not giving a single damn about helping out.
"I'm home!" Tey called out, dropping her bag.
No answer from the back rooms. Typical.
Tey rolled up her sleeves and got straight to work. She washed her hands, stood over the stove, and fried up the chicken she’d prepped that morning, throwing some mac and cheese together.
"Trenton! Treyvon! Come eat!"
Eight year old Trenton came flying into the kitchen first, sliding across the linoleum in his socks. He grabbed his plate and immediately started eating, shoving a piece of chicken into his mouth like he hadn't eaten in days.
Five year old Treyvon scrambled into the chair next to him, his little legs dangling. Tey sat down right beside him, making sure he was actually eating his food instead of playing with it.
"Eat your mac, Trey," she murmured gently, wiping a smudge of grease off his chin.
Once the littles were fed, Tey pounded on the bedroom doors. "Dinner's on the stove! Y'all better get it before it gets cold, because I'm fully done for the night! I ain't cleaning up after y'all twice!"
She didn't wait around for the teenagers to come out. She marched the two little boys back to the bathroom, forced Trenton to actually use soap, and got them both into their pajamas. She checked Trenton’s crumpled folder, making sure his spelling and math sheet was filled out, and tucked them both under the covers of their shared bed.
By ten, the apartment was finally quiet again.
Tey walked into her own bedroom, body tired, completely spent. She dropped heavily onto the edge of her mattress, the silence of the room washing over her. She had been on her feet since that morning, running licks, cutting hair, managing a household, and acting like a mother. She was exhausted. She needed to go out to sleep.
She pulled out her phone and pulled up TJ’s thread.
We good? Do I need to come back out tonight?
A minute passed before his reply popped up.
Nah, I got it. Block is quiet. Go ahead and get you some rest, Tey.
Tey let out a long breath, sliding her legs under the covers and letting her head hit the pillow. She went to lock her screen, but a new notification caught her eye. An new number.
She clicked it.
It was really nice meeting you today, Teyana. Your energy is different. I can't wait to see you again and look forward to getting to know you.
Tey stared at the glowing text in the dark room. She didn't fully understand what a good, college kid's real interest in a girl like her could mean—she was a girl with too much baggage, too many responsibilities, and a foot firmly planted in the mud of the streets.
But as she looked at the text, a slow, genuine smile spread across her face. He was handsome, he was sweet, and for the first time in four years, Teyana felt a little spark of something just for herself.
Opting to reply in the morning, she closed her eyes, and finally let herself fall asleep.
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