Taboo 2:. Yoshe

      Sierra shrugged. “Eh, it’s okay. I’ve been there for a while now so I’m used to it.”

      “You have a son, right?” asked Watkins.

      “Yeah, I do. He’s two years old now,” replied Sierra.

      “That’s sweet. How is he?” Harris asked.

      “Oh, he’s doin’ good, girl. Gettin’ big and gettin’ into everything,” Sierra said with a laugh. “You know the terrible twos.” She paused for a second. “Well, let me go to this search. I’ll talk to y’all later. Have a safe tour, everybody.”

      They all waved at Howell and watched her walk off. “That’s a damn shame,” said Harris.

      “Inmate-lovin’ heifer,” said Watkins, shaking her head. “So disgustin’.”

      Chapter 1

      Rasheed

      It was 8:32 in the morning in Atlanta, Georgia and Rasheed Gordon couldn’t sleep. He turned over and stared at the caramel-skinned beauty lying next to him. The woman was snoring, exhausted from the good loving that he had just given her for the last two hours. Rasheed put the sheet over her curvy frame and sighed as he sat on the edge of his bed, trying to figure out why he still felt unfulfilled.

      When he thought about it, he really didn’t have anything to complain about at this point in his life. What man wouldn’t want what he had? Rasheed only had access to a different woman every night, money in his bank account, and a nice roof over his head. What could be missing from his life? For one thing, he had a beautiful baby boy, that lived in Brooklyn.

      After pondering the thought for a few moments, Rasheed finally came to the conclusion that he didn’t want to live in Atlanta anymore. After living there with his older brother, Karim, for almost two years, it was time to go back home. The bottom line was that Southern living wasn’t for Rasheed Gordon, a native New Yorker. He thought that Atlanta was a great city, and looked even better on the videos that flashed across his television. The novelty of living in a new city had worn off.

      Karim Gordon had made a substantial amount of money in real estate and promoting in the city of Atlanta, but Rasheed knew that it was no place for a man like him. Down there, he was an unknown, merely a shadowy figure that lurked behind his big brother. He yearned to be back in the five boroughs, in his Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood, where he was a shining star and loved by many.

      At the beckoning of Karim, Rasheed thought that his life would be much better in Atlanta than it was in Brooklyn. And it was. It was just too slow for him. Rasheed found himself missing the fast-paced action of New York City and the eclectic mix of people who lived there.

      The Gordons were a well-known family in their Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood. Miss Carrie, the matriarch of the clan, raised all seven of her children along with Karim and Rasheed right on Halsey Street. They were close knit, and even through tough times, death, or incarceration, they were supportive of each other.

      Karim and Rasheed came to live with Miss Carrie when they were only seven and five years old, respectively. Their mother, Lavon, was murdered by their abusive father, Jihad, who eventually killed himself too. It was an adjustment for the brothers, who had lived the early years of their lives under the strict rules of their Muslim father.

      For Karim, the living arrangement worked out fine, but Rasheed proved to be the hardheaded child. The shock of losing his parents to such tragedy obviously had a long-term effect on him. He chose to follow in the footsteps of his much older uncles and become one with the streets, as if he had something to prove. Unfortunately, it took him numerous scrapes with the law and brushes with death to see that the streets didn’t have love for anyone.

      After his oldest uncle, Peppy, was killed by Dominican drug dealers, the surviving Gordon brothers—Nayshawn, Shaka, and Kemper—did a 360-degree turnaround. They took their hustling proceeds and obtained all sorts of businesses: a tire and autobody shop, a construction company, and younger sister Carrie opened a beauty parlor.

      Ironically, Miss Carrie was a registered nurse for many years and was more than happy that her unruly children had finally come to their senses. Even though his uncles got their lives on track, Rasheed still chose to sell drugs and live a reckless lifestyle when he had access to jobs and money. He had to admit that the jail bids that he had done were because of some bad choices he’d made in the past. But it was the streets that he craved that caused him to have no regard for the law.

      Rasheed walked over to the huge stand-up mirror that was tucked in the corner of his oversized bedroom. He looked in the mirror, wrapped his long locks in a ponytail, and flexed his prominent biceps, posing from every angle. Rasheed smiled and patted his chest.

      A nigga looks pretty damn good to be thirty-three years old, Rasheed thought.

      Looking at his reflection also made him think about his mother, Lavon. She was a gorgeous woman, with long, wavy hair, and her skin was the color of bronze, inherited from her own mother, Miss Carrie Gordon. Even though Rasheed had heard it numerous times, it wasn’t until adulthood that he realized that he actually was a male replica of his mother. He moved closer to the mirror to inspect himself. Rasheed shook his head in amazement.

      “Damn, I do look like Mommy,” he said to himself. “God bless her soul.”

      Rasheed looked around the room and sighed. He had recently expressed to Karim how he felt about moving back home. Rasheed knew that any mention of him wanting to leave Atlanta would not sit right with his serious-minded brother. Preparing himself for an argument, Rasheed felt his heart beating rapidly through his chest as he called out to Karim from his bedroom.

      “Yo, Karim!” Rasheed shouted. “Can you make my plane reservations for me?” Realizing that he was kind of loud, he turned around to look at the sleeping female in his bed. She didn’t flinch. Rasheed shook his head.

      This broad looks real comfortable in my bed and I can’t even sleep right now, Rasheed thought. Rasheed shook his head. He was going to be kicking her out real soon.

      A laugh could be heard coming from the kitchen. “Hell no! You’re a grown man with your own money. You can make your own reservations. That’s the problem now. You’re always waitin’ for somebody to do somethin’ for you.”

      Rasheed walked out of his bedroom. He slowly walked down the stairs that led to the kitchen area.

      “C’mon, Karim. Are you serious? Can you make that call for me? You know that I’m not good with things like that and the money isn’t an issue. It’s just that I was all set to go to New York this week!” Rasheed said with a sour look on his face. He was also anticipating being home in time for the second birthday of his son, Messiah. It looked like that wasn’t going to happen.

      Karim stood in the kitchen wearing a Ralph Lauren robe and slippers while fixing his breakfast. He was just as handsome as Rasheed, just shorter and stockier like their deceased father, Jihad. Although they were brothers, their differences were obvious. Karim was the calmer of the two, and while he didn’t take mess from anyone, he was the logical thinker. Rasheed was the brother who was quick to fight or pick up a weapon to settle his disagreements with violence.

      Karim believed that he had too much invested and had worked too hard to throw away his life for that kind of temperament. This was one of the reasons why he wanted Rasheed by his side. His brother was the wild child of the Gordon family and Karim thought that moving Rasheed to Atlanta was a good idea, especially after he was shot in New York almost three years ago.

      Annoyed with the constant talk of Brooklyn and Rasheed’s refusal to conform to their laid-back lifestyle, Karim was secretly glad to see him go at that point.

      After pouring some egg whites into a frying pan, Karim turned the fire down to medium and looked at his younger brother.

      “I done already told your stubborn ass—if you wanna go back to Brooklyn, then that’s on you,” he replied.

      “That means