On my way to meet the last person, I responded to a text message from Shiloh. I glanced down for all of two seconds and by the time I lifted my gaze the light I was going through had turned red. Of course, I didn’t think it was a big deal until I heard that whoop sound and saw blue flashing lights in the rearview mirror. My heart fell into my ass. For the briefest moment, I thought about taking them on a high-speed chase. That would have been a dummy move for sure.
“Fuck!” I roared as I pulled over on the side of the road. My last fucking person. I got pulled over on my way to go serve my last customer of the day. The moment the blonde-haired officer stepped out of his car, I knew that more than likely, he’d ask to search my vehicle.
I had to have the worst luck ever. If he decided to search my car, he’d find out that I had a brick of cocaine underneath the seat. All I could think about was Ace.
CHAPTER 11
APRICOT
I walkedin the living room and found the food I’d taken my father twenty minutes before still on the tray beside his chair untouched. He had a glass of bourbon in his hand, and he hadn’t shaved, combed his hair, or attempted to move around the house in days. He would shower, change his clothes, then sit in front of the TV all day. It was my second day there, and I hadn’t seen him eat more than a few handfuls of cashews and a bagel.
“Why aren’t you eating, dad?” I asked him in a low non confrontational tone. “And you don’t need to be drinking with the medication that you’re on.”
“What’s the worst that could happen?” he asked dryly.
Standing in front of him with my hands on my hips, I watched him take a few sips of the alcohol. “I’ve never seen you quit, give up, or sit around having pity parties a day in my life until now. What’s up with you? Where is the Devin Jennings that I know?”
My father glared at me. “You mean the one that you don’t want to have shit to do with? He died when he got shot and left for dead.”
I shook my head at my father. “I’ve never in life seen you play the victim, so I don’t get why you’re starting now. You should beashamed. No one left you for dead. They left you because of the things you’re out here doing. It’s a shame you got shot, but that doesn’t mean we have to deal with you if you’re doing things we don’t like. That doesn’t have anything to do with taking care of yourself and getting better.”
“Why are you here, Apricot? I thought you were done with me.”
Even I was surprised at how well I was keeping my composure. I was going to let my father play the victim for as long as he wanted to. After all, it wasn’t like I wanted him to die.
“Because when grandma told me you’d had a stroke, it traumatized me. I forgot about all of the irrelevant stuff, and all I could think about was getting to you. Now you want to pick arguments.”
“I don’t want to pick anything. I’m stating facts. It is what it is, however, Apricot.”
“You’re right. It is what it is. You’ve had alcohol that you aren’t supposed to be drinking, so now can you please eat? You’re going to be skin and bones. The father that I know, wouldn’t miss any meals at a time like this.”
“That nigga doesn’t exist,” he frowned as he spoke.
“Do you have to use the bathroom?” his grouchiness wasn’t going to deter me. At least while he was laid up recovering from a stroke, maybe his enemies would think he was soft and wasn’t a threat. If he still had them.
“No, I don’t.”
Grabbing the tray of food, I walked over to him. “Cool. Now, since you don’t want to eat on your own, I’m going to feed you. Open up.”
My father shot me daggers with his eyes. “Give me the fuckin’ plate,” he growled making me simper.
Not even him having a stroke motivated my mother to care enough to stop by the house. When she said she was done withhim, she meant it from the bottom of her soul. Just because I was able to forgive him and be there for him didn’t mean that I expected her to. What he’d done to her was way worse than what he’d done to me. I actually kind of enjoyed getting on his nerves, but I wanted him to get better too. A win was a win. Sitting down on the couch, I grabbed the remote and flipped through channels looking for something to watch.
“You gonna sit there and watch me eat?”
“Nope. I’m gonna sit here and watch TV,” I responded without taking my eyes off the screen.
My father grunted, but he picked his fork up and began eating his food which was probably cold, but he acted as if he didn’t mind. We sat in silence for about ten minutes before I finally decided to speak my peace. “Murders and having my home broken into aside, you were a great father. And you’re a great grandfather. Kiwi adores the ground that you walk on.”
When my father didn’t respond, I turned to look at him. Despite the fact that he turned his head away, so I couldn’t see his face, I caught the glassy look in his eyes. I’d never seen Devin Jennings cry. Not even after all the funerals he attended. I was sure he did cry at times; I’d just never witnessed it. I directed my attention back toward the TV. When my father’s cell phone rang, I leaned forward and grabbed it off the coffee table for him.
After saying hello, my father listened to whoever was on the other end of the phone for a few seconds before he spoke. “When? And you’re just now calling me?” he raised his voice slightly. He listened for a bit then spoke again. “Come get me. Now.”
I angled my head in his direction with a curios dip of my brows. My father walked slow, but he could walk. His left side was weak, but if he took his time, there were a lot of things that he could still do. He hadn’t left the house because he didn’t have the desire to. He’d even arranged it for the physical therapist tocome to him. After he ended the call, my father extended the plate toward me. Most of the food was gone, so I didn’t protest taking it.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to handle something.”
