She hugs me.
“Stay safe, bro. I love you.”
53
Dead End
Nick strolls into my office sipping bottled water, just as I finish stashing my guns and burner phones into a box to take to my hidden gun vault. It’s a hidden room behind the bookshelf. I don’t even greet him, I’m too busy clearing out my drawers and safes. He chuckles like he expected this.
“Dawg, traffic did wul mi up,” he says behind me, still calm like he didn’t just walk in on a whole arsenal. I head to the bookshelf, press the hidden panel, my finger taps the code.Click.The door slides open.
“When last yuh come in yer?” Rick questions, peering into the hidden room. He’s one of the few who know about it. I don’t answer right away. Six months, maybe more. I only use this room when it’s serious. Like now, Mario a fawud. When he digs through my office, I want the place empty.
“Been a while,” I mutter, stepping in, shelving guns. The room’s circular, mirrors and racks crammed with guns in everypossible slot. Red and blue neon washes the blue-painted walls, with low red and black furniture.
By the time we lock the door, everything clean. “A wen him a fawud?” he asks, dropping into the seat across from me.
“Inna the mawning,” I say, pouring Henny, still watching the entrance like it could swing open early.
Rick sparks up the PS5. “Yuh know him can show up sooner, right?” I nod, but I’m not worried. With everything sealed in the back, I could sleep sound. “Mi nuh have mi gun dem scattered no more,” I tell him.
He toss me a controller. “Mek we bun the game.”
I get in the zone, and minutes in, he’s leading. Jah know. Bredda yah a game head. He wins the first one. “Mi too good fi this, dawg!” I just smirk and reload the next match. Determination warms my spine. This time, I strike first. Goal before halftime.
“If determine was a person,” Rick laughs. “It woulda be you.”
He slaps two hundred US on the table. “Win and a yours.” The energy shifts. I lean forward. Lock in. We both sweating like it’s real turf. When it’s over, we’re tied, but he claps anyway.
“Good game, dawg. Yuh gimme a run fimme money.” I nod, sipping Henny. Still no sign of Zara. My mind drifts, then Rick throws me off with what he says next.
“Yuh mek the game more serious than when mi a play wid your bwoy.”
I pause, my brow up. “My boy?” I know he meant Gutta, but I ask anyway.
“Yeah… Gutta,” he shrugs but his tone?Off.
I lean forward. “Rick… wah gwaan between you and Gutta?”
He huffs and glances at the cup. “Mi just feel like… yuh always run to him now. Like me and you nah link like before.”
I take that in. He’s not wrong. Since Gina died, I gave him space. But I shoulda checked in. Shoulda balanced the scale. I can’t have lingering animosity in the gang. Dem thing deh start corruption, and a far we a come from.
“Mi know him better with the gun… but dawg mi just feel like you rate him more. Like back then a me yuh woulda call when yuh need help yuh zimi?” Rick adds. He laughs it off, but pain slips through.
“When yuh call fi get yuh wallet mi start meds everything,” he adds.
“Jah know… wul a unuh a mi dawg, and mi been a call him more, mi can admit that. Swear bruh… mi get it and mi sorry it look like that, anuh no preference thing. Mi dawg a mi dawg dem, mi just nuh waah yuh start move corrupt towards the man over my actions,” I explain.
He chuckles. “Mi hear yuh, bro.”
“Yah listen to mi?”
“Yea dawg,” he nods.
“And by right, mi s’pose to involve yuh more, but mi did a give yuh space fi grieve, ano no other reason,” I express, he grabs the controller, smile creeping back.
“Ah… make wi see if yuh really ready fi win back yuh $200.”
