“What the fuck happened now, Leek?” I sighed, craning my phone between my shoulder and ear so I could swing the bag of trash into the trash can.
“I was at the wrong place, wrong time. I ain’t even do shit this time, Ro,” Zyleek pleaded. “For real.”
“What they get you for?” I reiterated with another sigh. I locked the trash can just in case the raccoons came around tonight.
“Robbery, but?—,”
“Fuck, Leek,” I gritted.
“Nah, listen, Zyro…I don’t have much long on this phone, and these pigs are some hoes. It wasn’t even me. I was onthe way to the reunion when I got pulled over, and these hoes talmbout I fit the description. You know I ain’t been in trouble lately, bruh. They fuckin’ wit’ me, and I need you to come down here ‘fore I nut up on these muhfuckas.”
I could hear it in Zyleek’s voice. He was close to taking shit to hell.
“I’m on my way. It’s the fuckin’ weekend, Leek. You ain’t gon be able to see a judge until Monday, mane. I’ma need you to stay calm till then. Shit.”
“Fuck that. Pull some strings and get me out of here, Ro, or I promise I’ma nut the fuck up on the next CO that comes over here fuckin’ wit’ me,” he warned.
The phone went dead.
After making sure my front, back, and garage doors were locked, I jumped in my truck and dialed my lawyer, Conrad Duncan. That nigga could get a murder off. I needed to see what I could do to keep Zyleek sane until Monday, ‘cause I knew they weren’t letting him out until then.
Conrad answered the phone groggily. I told him the issue, and he was getting dressed in no time. I pressed on the gas, the diesel engine roaring as I ate up the road. Zyleek was a hothead, always had been. He didn’t think before swinging, and these cops in Love Grove would love to bury him under the jail for one wrong move or put a hot one in him and get off free on some self-defense shit.
The county jail smelled like bleach and coffee. A tired, out-of-shape, slouchy ass CO sat behind the bulletproof glass. His eyes flicked up at me before dragging back down to his paperwork.
“What can I help you with?” he asked, flatly.
“Yeah,” I said, clinching my jaw. “Zyleek Coleman. What’s his bond?”
Without looking up or typing on his outdated computer, he said, “No judge till Monday.”
I clenched my teeth. “I didn’t ask you that.”
He looked up, his mouth twitching into a little smirk. The kind of smirk muhfuckas do when they think they have power.
“Like I said, he will see the judge on Monday. Until then, he’s in holding.”
Before the shit turned ugly, Conrad walked in, sharp as a fuckin tack, and it was going on two in the morning.
“Gentlemen,” Conrad greeted smoothly with a nod of his head. His eyes darted from my angry expression to the CO. He flashed his ID at the glass. “I’m counsel for Zyleek Coleman. I’ll be needing access to my client and a copy of his intake paperwork.”
The CO’s smirk disappeared. He shifted in his seat, muttering something under his breath before picking up the phone. Conrad leaned toward me. “Fuck happened before I arrived?” he asked.
“Shiiii, none I can’t handle.”
Conrad nodded as if understanding. “We’ll get Zyleek through the weekend, but please keep your temper under control. I don’t need you sitting next to him.”
“Yeah, aight,” I muttered, stepping back with my hands in my pockets. I let Conrad do his job.
Approximately five minutes later, a deputy I was familiar with came around the corner, whistling. When his eyes locked on me, the whistling ceased. Deputy Porter motioned with his hands for me and Conrad to follow him.
“I got this, Charles. Follow me.”
He brought us through a set of heavy doors and used his badge to buzz them open. Deputy Porter tapped his set of keys against his leg as we walked, another one trying to show a littlepower.My focus was already set on the row of cells at the end of the corridor. Zyleek’s ass was pacing.
His fists were balled, and his jaw was clenched. He was moving like he was two seconds away from tearing down the walls.
“Leek,” I called out sharply.
