I dumped it all without hesitation. Prison sweats, paperbacks that’d passed through too many hands, creased-up photos that didn’t mean shit anymore. Each thud in the trash was a clean cut, another chain I didn’t need dragging behind me.
Then I saw the letters.
Two of them, folded soft from being handled too many times. They were from my nephews, Hunter and Josiah. I held them for a second. Thought about tossing those too. But my hand paused.
I opened Hunter’s first.
Hey Uncle Cannon,it said.Momma says you’re coming home soon. I can’t wait! I been practicing my free throws like you showed me and I can make ten in a row now! Josiah says he can beat me but he can’t. I miss you. Love, Hunter.
I didn’t realize how tight my chest had gotten until I exhaled. Folded it carefully. Slid it into my pocket.
Josiah’s was next.
Uncle Cannon, I hope your ok. Momma says your coming home and i wanna see u but im also kinda scared. You been gone so long and i don’t remember u much but hunter says ur cool and i believe him.
That one landed different. Hit a nerve I didn’t know was still raw. I folded it just as neat and tucked it beside the other.
When I looked up, Reese was already walking toward me, smile wide, eyes bright, arms stretched ready to hug me. She hit me full force, wrapping me up like she was trying to squeeze five years of absence out of her bones.
I hugged her back, stiff at first. Didn’t know what to do with softness anymore.
“You smell like freedom,” she said with a laugh, pulling back.
“Not until I take a shower on the outside,” I tried to smile back at her.
She swatted my chest, still grinning. “You look good. Def got swole while you were away.”
As if there were much else to do.
We stood there for a second, silence settling in around us like dust. Too much to say. Too much we didn’t have words for. Eventually, she nodded toward the car. I made my way to the driver’s side.
I slid behind the wheel like I owned it, even though I hadn’t touched a gas pedal in damn near five years.
Reese opened the passenger door and hesitated. “You don’t have your license on you.”
I looked at her, one hand already gripping the wheel. “I don’t give a fuck. I’m not lettin’ no woman drive me around.”
She didn’t argue. Just climbed in and shut the door.
I pulled us onto the road, smooth and steady, like I’d never been gone. The prison shrank in the rearview, turning into a gray smudge on the horizon. A stain I had no plans of bringing with me.
We rode in silence for a minute. Then she said it.
“Have you thought about Riot and Creed’s offer?”
I didn’t answer. Just cut my eyes at her real slow, the kind of look that let her know to drop that shit.
I didn’t want King money. That shit was blood money and it couldn’t pay for what was taken from me.
Chapter 2
Queen
If I had a dollar for every nigga who walked into my life and tried to control me, I wouldn’t need to run a strip club. I’d own the damn block. The liquor store, the weed dispensary, the fake-ass church on the corner that’s always milking their members for a building fund for a non-existent building.
Instead, I was upstairs in my office at Sylk Road, annoyed, tense, and tolerating the likes of Smoke in my presence. The bass from the club thumped beneath us like a war drum.
Sylk was alive tonight. Bottles popping. Heels clacking. Girls sliding down poles like they popped out of the pussy doing tricks. The lights on the main floor strobed slow and sultry, bathing everything in deep reds and wet violets. Velvet booths held old and new money. They were tossing bills like confetti.
