He knows she’s not good. Because I never call him. Not like this. Not unless something bad happen.
“A t-that mi did a get to,” I stammer, voice cracking.
He says nothing. Just… breathes. Heavy. Sharp.
Never again. Never again mi put Zara inna situation like this. “Mi invite her fi come wid mi to the party and a-and… ” My voice trails off.
I can’t say it. I can’t bring myself to say the words. That Lennox, Lennox has her. “Suzanne,” he growls again. “Zara good?”
I swallow. “She deh pan the rooftop—” I stop.
In the background, I hear a man, his uncle maybe, saying something. Then slam. A door. Nickoi walking off. “You a go round corner wid me, and mi nuh rate dem style deh. Mek mi know wah gwan.”
I close my eyes. “Lennox have her,” I whisper. Silence.
No breathing now. Just a dead, heavy pause. Then a breath. Then a chuckle. But not the funny kind. “Yow… wah yuh just say?” he asks.
He’s nervous. Unsteady. I’ve never heard Nickoi nervous. Ever. “I call Junior, he’s coming,” I say quickly, trying to fix it. Trying to fix something that can’t be fixed.
He hangs up. Just like that… And it burns.
NICKOI
I stare at the screen for a second after the call drops. Then I hang up and just… sit. Still. Empty. Lennox has her? Of all people. Lennox. Not Adonis. Not Carlos. Not one of the petty street fools I used to bust heads over. This is the Golf gang.
And him? He’s not reckless, he’s strategic. Sadistic. Cold. And he has her. My woman. My weakness.
I can’t breathe right. My chest is tight like someone dropped weights on it. And the worst part? I’m not even scared of him. Not Lennox. I’m scared because I’m not there. I’m too far away. I’m all the way in America, sitting in a condo with cool AC and marble floors… And she’s out there. On a rooftop in Jamaica. Cornered. And I can’t reach her.
I knock my fist on the table. Not too hard. Not soft either. Jah know. I should’ve brought her with me. I should’ve insisted. I knew something was off. I felt it in my bones before I left. I just didn’t know it would happen this fast. This suddenly. This far from me.
Gutta’s name flashes across my phone. I swipe to answer, press it to my ear, and say nothing. “Bro,” his voice cuts through, steady, focused. “Mi nah even a ask if yuh good. Mi know yuh head hot right now. But mi a do every thing mi can do fi mek sure say yuh woman safe.”
He’s driving. I can hear the wind tearing through the receiver. Rick’s voice comes next, deep, anchored. “Nuh stress too hard, badman. We deh pan it. We a protect Zara Gov and yuh youth, seen?”
I nod. Even though they can’t see me. Then I finally speak. “Respect.”
“Yeah, mi G,” Rick replies.
Before the call ends, I ask what my heart has been screaming since the second I hung up on Suzanne. “Zara neva tell yuh she did aguh a the party?”
“None at all, fam,” Gutta answers, quick and clipped. “Yuh know say if mi did know, mi woulda deh deh. When mi check her earlier she did deh home wid har granny. Next thing mi know is this.”
I hiss through my teeth. Sharp. Tight. She didn’t listen. “Mi feel it enuh. Mi swear mi feel say suh’m aguh off. But just mek mi know wah gwaan still,” I say, voice low. I end the call.
The door creaks open. Uncle walks in, eyes scanning me like he already knows.
“What’s your mind telling you to do?” he asks. I rub my palm down my face, jaw clenched. My mind’s hotter than fresh tar on midday asphalt. I can’t think straight.
“Mi wah go a Jamaica,” I say without looking.
He gets closer, nodding. He’s not shocked. “And you want to kill him too.” It’s not a question. “I don’t wrong yuh, Nickoi. But go tomorrow. When the dust settles. Remember… Mario is still out there. A whole government detective watching your moves. And Mario? Smart. Smarter than most.” I close my eyes.
Breathe in. Breathe out. “Real meds,” I finally say.
But deep down, I know. If anything happens to Zara? Mi a bun dung the whole bl’claat Jamaica.
***
