Free Brick (Double Dippin') by Allison Hobbs

the car. Brick half-expected her to make a run for it. He watched her warily as she sauntered down the walkway. Remembering that her overnight bag with all of her worldly possessions was stored in the trunk of his car, Brick relaxed.
    Turning his attention away from Anya, he examined Cash Money’s contact list and tapped on, “Mom.” Brick held the phone to his ear, and listened to the ringing phone on the other end. On the third ring, someone picked up and began shouting in his ear.
    “You gotta lot of fucking nerve, calling me from my son’s cell phone. Listen, you barbarian, you better stop harassing my son. Troy told me you threatened to come to my house and hurt me. Well, it’s gon’ take a lot more than some threats to scare me. I’m sick of you thugs bullying my child. Troy’s a good boy; he shouldn’t have to live in fear, looking over his shoulder all because you think he stole something from you. Troy was raised in the church, and he doesn’t steal.”
    Brick took a breath and attempted to get a word in edgewise, but the woman kept up the tirade. “And another thing, you can tell that little bitch, Anya, that I have a pot filled with bleach and boiling water for her. After I welcomed her into my home—fed her hungry ass—she’s got the audacity to bring trouble to my front door. Yeah, I got something for her when I see her. I’ma burn the skin right off her body. Think I won’t? Make sure you tell her what I said!” With those hostile words, Cash Money’s mother hung up on Brick.
    Anya was at the front door, prepared to rap on the front door. Brick honked the horn, and then jumped out of the car. He yelled Anya’s name. Rushing toward her, waving his hand, he beckoned her to get back in the car.
    Anya turned around; she looked at Brick and shrugged. He gestured for her to move away from the door. She trotted toward him in the knick of time. The door burst open and a tall, thick woman stood in the doorway. Smoke and steam wafted from the pot that she held in her hand. “Lowlife bitch!” the woman yelled.
    “Run! Get in the car!” Brick yelled in desperation.
    Anya looked over her shoulder. When she saw the smoking pot, she began sprinting toward Brick—racing like Marion Jones trying to cross the finish line.
    Anya was half in and half out of the car as Brick peeled away.
    After she caught her breath, Anya closed the door and put her seat belt on. She looked at Brick. “Now, you know where C’s mother lives. Do you believe me now?” Anya asked, and then burst out laughing.
    “Dude might be cowardly, but his mom’s got heart. She ain’t scared of nothing.” Brick chuckled and then his expression turned serious. “I’m sorry for putting you in that situation. I wasn’t expecting her to be waiting with a pot of bleach and boiling water. Who does shit like that?”
    “That’s what was in the pot—bleach and boiling water? Goddamn!”
    Brick nodded. “That’s what she said when I called her.” He held up Cash Money’s phone.
    “Oh, my God.” Anya shuddered. “Wow! That’s ghetto warfare.”
    Brick grew quiet. It was hard enough dealing with the fact that he’d failed Misty; he didn’t want to be responsible for bringing harm to this innocent young woman.
    “Can’t blame a mother for trying to protect her son, but I’m curious, can you please tell me what’s going on? Who is this Misty chick and what happened to her?”
    “I can’t get into that with you.”
    Now Anya fell silent.
    “What’s your story?” Brick asked merely to make conversation.
    “It’s long and crazy. My father is out there living on the streets and nobody cares except me. I’d been searching for him for about a month when I…uh…fell on hard times. I feel like giving up, but can’t. I won’t be down much longer. Once I’m on my feet, I want to help him. Make sure he has decent food; put a roof over his head.”
    Being homeless had always been one of Brick’s biggest fears. He was homeless