"And women like you are why so many people who murder innocent women are walking around free. So, it looks like we both were put on this earth to fuck it up, I guess."
I was so gagged, I actually stuttered.
"I, I, I don't."
He held his hands up like he meant no harm.
"Listen, shorty, I give you my deepest condolences about your family. For real. But just know, I don't hurt females like that nor do I force anyone to fuck with me that doesn't want to."
"Oh, so you think females at these clubs actually want to do lewd acts for you, and it's not because of the convenience of getting paid for it?"
He licked his bottom lip and took a step toward me.
"I wouldn't call it paying, I call it tipping. Any female that I've had once, I can have again and again and again, free of charge because I am the payment.”
The way he said that made my chest tighten. I hoped he didn't see on my face that I halfway believed him. Truth is, no matter how fine Crew was, and Lord knows he is fine, he was still a gangster, and I am a lawyer. What could a man like him possibly do for me besides give me a job on his next felony case?
"Look, I've had a long day, and I'm going to get to my car now." I turned away, but before I could take two steps, his hand closed around my wrist.
"Wait a minute," he said, eyes narrowing.
"You didn’t tell me what happened in there today. Is my boy free?"
"Of course he is. Wasn't I on the case?"
He smiled like my cockiness turned him on.
"Yeah, you are a part of the reason, but not the whole reason entirely.”
“Excuse me, what does that mean?”
“It means you got a little help getting that verdict, but hey, you're welcome, beautiful.”
He winked his eye, and I crossed my arms.
“And what does that mean, Crew? Are you saying that you are the reason that someone is now dead? Are you really implying that to me?”
“I’m not implying anything.”
“Well, it seems like you are, and if that’s the case, then I will have to.”
“You won’t have to do anything because you are not about to take away that victory in court to be moral about shit. You already won the case, and you are probably getting a bag because of it. I know you're not taking this conversation any further for justice for a nigga you didn’t even know. So, a simple thank you will suffice.”
Crew smiled at me, and then I rolled my eyes and turned away because, for some dumb ass reason, a smile was trying to tug at my lips too. Why, I don’t know. I, in fact, don’t find shitfunny about him confessing to a murder to me. He was right, though, and I won’t say shit. That would open up a whole other can of worms that I just don’t have time for. I have too much shit going on in my life.
I walked away and I could feel him watching me, his presence trailing me like heat on the back of my neck. Crew had one of those auras that followed you long after you stopped looking at him.
When I left the courthouse, I thought about grabbing a drink, but I knew where that would lead. One drink would turn into two, and then I'd end up replaying everything that went wrong in my life as I did during my slight alcohol addiction in college. So instead, I tried to think of something that could lift my spirit without alcohol, and I knew that was my niece. Her and I could have a movie night to brighten both of our days and pig out until she falls asleep tonight.
I went straight by the grocery store near the courthouse to grab the snacks and other things we needed for a movie night. I got two bags of popcorn, a two-liter of orange soda, which was her favorite, and a family-sized bag of Sour Patch Watermelon candy that was my favorite guilty pleasure when I wanted a sugar rush. I added a Starbucks mocha coffee to my order at the register and then headed out of the store to make my niece's night.
Because she is only three, her understanding of her mama's death was little to none. She still smiled like nothing in the world had changed except when Ryan would cross her mind at night or when she got hurt. But, I have been trying to show up for her every chance I got, even with court draining me day after day I still tried to be there.
When I parked in front of their house, it still looked the same from the outside. Tam brick, narrow stoop covered in snow, a potted plant by the door that Ryan always swore she'd keep alive but never did. Across the street, two little girls were playing hopscotch, and their laughter echoed between the brownstones. It made me smile because it reminded me of how Ryan and I used to play together on hot summer days double dutching with a few of our neighbors. Back then, nothing in the world worried, bothered, or upset us. We were carefree girls who just needed some candy from the bodega and a box of juice to make us happy.
I stepped out of the car and spotted Nathan coming down the sidewalk, arms full of boxes. He looked worn out, hoodie half-zipped, beard growing more uneven by the day. I got out of the car and met him at the stoop as he jogged up the stairs.
"Hey, what are the boxes for? Are you getting rid of Ryan’s stuff?"
