I talked to myself out loud as I twisted the blunt into the ashtray. I hadn’t heard from Pernelle all night. There were no calls, no texts, or anything, and that told me everything I needed to know. Silence like that meant she was waiting, pacing around, running her mouth in her head, getting her thoughts together. I already knew once I walked through that door, she was going to have a lot to say. As Bria said, a clear mind makes better arguments, so when a bitch goes quiet, that’s worse than her snapping right away. Yelling is easy. Silence means planning.
When Bria crossed my mind, I picked up my phone to send her a text since I know I have much bigger fish to fry than hearing my baby mama’s mouth.
Me:I’m going to have to see you soon. I fucked up and will need your help.
As soon as I sent the message out, knocks started at my window.
I looked out, and there was Ms. Diya, with her jacket closed tightly in front of her.
“Hey, Crew, I just left my apartment to go down to the bodega, and I saw your front door was open. I tried to shut it for you, but the hinges are broken, so I think someone may have broken in. Wasn’t sure if you wanted me to call the cops or not.”
“Nah, let me go check this shit out first.” I hopped out of the car, put my phone in my pocket, and took my heat out with my other hand. I ran up the steps into my building and up the wooden steps, making so much noise I’m sure everyone in the building heard me coming up. Once I got to the door, it was in fact off the hinges, and I burst in looking for the most prized possession in here. Fuck the money, jewelry, and clothes. Where the fuck is my baby mama?
“P! Pernelle!” My heart was beating so fuckin fast you would think there was a gun to my head right now. Every corner I turned in my spot, I was scared to see my baby mama lying out on the floor bleeding, but she was nowhere to be found.
“Did she leave? Where the fuck is she?” I asked myself, turning in fuckin circles, placing the gun up to my own head on impulse while trying to figure this shit out. That’s when it dawned on me. I have cameras in this bitch. Not many, but just one by the front door and in the kitchen because I didn’t believe in having them everywhere. I’ve had too many security systems hacked to believe in that kind of surveillance.
I walked back into my bedroom cautiously to grab the laptop I kept under the nightstand by my bed. I saw nothing in my room had been disturbed, and then I came back into the kitchen and set the laptop on the bar, hurrying my password in as I used my phone to dial P’s number. The phone started ringing just as I entered the password for the camera system, and my focus on the call was interrupted by a view of three masked men entering my apartment on the screen.
“Fuck no! Please tell me these niggas didn’t!” I cut my own words off when I saw one of them punch P in her stomach, which made me feel pain in mine.
My temperature went from a hundred to a thousand and watching them hit her was like having a polar bear clawing out my eyeballs inch by inch. I could legit feel the fuckin burn.
“FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!”
I screamed to the top of my lungs, getting up from the stool and throwing it across the room.
I paced back and forth for a few seconds, scratching at my own face, before my phone started to ring, and it was actually acall from Pernelle’s phone. Maybe they took her and let her go. I hope that’s the fuckin case.
“P!” I’m sure I started talking before the phone connected.
“P, you good?”
A chuckle came through the phone, low and dragging, and it crawled under my skin like one from a villain in a scary movie. His laugh sounded calculated, almost accomplished in a way. Like whoever it was already knew how everything was going to end, and that he already won whatever battle he started by coming into my spot and harming Pernelle.
“Hell nah, she's not good! Fuck you thought?”
He continued laughing.
“Nigga, if Pernelle has a scratch, splinter, or even a fuckin carpet burn on her fuckin body, I’m going to behead your whole fucking family. From the little bitches and niggas in Pre-K to the bitches raising them, you understand!”
“Damn, your ass don't sound like a man who wants his daughter and his bitch to survive. P, as you call her, just told us that she is pregnant with your little girl. A bitch ass nigga with a little bitch on the way. Fitting.” I squeezed the phone so hard I heard the glass crack on the screen.
“Why couldn’t you leave my fuckin family out of this and deal with me on whatever issues you have?”
“You don’t think that’s what we want nigga. We want you to show up at the drop we are about to give you with no guns, no cops, no homies, and turn in your life for theirs. You niggas killed my big brother Salah, and you all have to die for that shit!”
He took the phone away from his mouth and said,
“Slap that hoe.”
WATT!
Pernelle’s scream was loud enough that it cut straight through me like a sharp-ass knife. My chest tightened instantly, like somebody wrapped a fist around my lungs and squeezed them. I closed my eyes because it was almost as if I could picture her face clear as day after that slap. The way her eyes probably went wide, and her trying to protect her stomach without even thinking twice about her own pain. Pernelle was there alone, protecting something that belonged to me. My baby girl. My child. The person I’m supposed to be protecting. Those thoughts hit me hard. Too hard, and my heart dropped into my gut. My little mama is in there, helpless, and surrounded by chaos and violence. She hasn’t even had a chance to breathe on her own, and life is already trying to show her how fucked up it can be. That shit broke me in a way I honestly wasn’t ready for.
“Where do you want me to come. You can do whatever you want to do to me. Just tell me where, but you have to let her go first.”
“I tell you what. I’ll send you the drop location, and we will have family posted up on every corner of every block just in case you try to bring company. Once we get you, we will let this bitch go. Look for a text coming to your phone in about an hour.”
