“What the fuck?” I muttered to myself as I stared closer, trying to make sure that my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me.
Unfortunately, they weren’t. Jeremy was walking with a group of the 111 Boyz.
Without thinking, I slammed on the brakes and pulled my car over to the curb.
I jumped out and stormed toward him. “Jeremy! Get in the car,” I barked.
He turned to me and was shocked at first, then his expression turned defiant, as if not being embarrassed in front of his guys was more important than obeying me.
I stepped closer as my anger rose. “I told you to stop hanging with these niggas. Get your dumbass in the car.” I grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him toward my ride.
The force of it surprised him, making his eyes bulge. “Dad, chill,” Jeremy yelled, pulling away from my grip.
I could see the fire in his eyes. He was itching to push back, and it made my blood boil.
“You wanna hit me, nigga?” I dared him, stepping closer.
He had the nerve to stand his ground. For a minute, I thought he might actually throw a punch.
His friends watched with wide eyes, some snickering.
Jeremy squared his shoulders defiantly. “You can’t just tell me what to do.”
“Watch me. Get in the car, Jeremy.Now. Don’t make me embarrass you further in front of your homies.”
Though these 111 Boyz were shooters and thoughtless criminals, they stood back, not interrupting.
Sucking his teeth, Jeremy stormed toward my car. His tantrum further proved that he wasn’t mentally ready to hang with real killers.
Once Jeremy begrudgingly climbed into the car, I hopped in the driver’s seat and sped off.
“The fuck is wrong with you, boy? I told you to stop hanging with them niggas.”
Jeremy sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed and pouting, refusing to say a word.
“It’s time for you to live with me,” I decided. “Clearly, you’re not listening to your mother or me, so maybe a change of scenery will help you get your head on straight.”
That was when Jeremy finally found his voice. “I don’t want to live with you.”
I scoffed as I pulled into a gas station. “You don’t have a fucking choice. That’s what you’ve misunderstood. You don’t make decisions for yourself because you’re a fucking kid. You’re just pretending to be grown. You don’t know shit.”
Before he could reply, I got out of the car and slammed the door. As I paid for the gas, I ran a frustrated hand over my face. Everyone around me was slipping through my fingers. First, Aviana was defying me; now, my own son was out here disrespecting me, acting like my word meant nothing. I was losing control, and that shit was unacceptable. I’d built my whole life around authority and respect, around people knowing not to test me. Now, it seemed like nobody respected my gangsta anymore.
As I finished pumping the gas, I tried to clear my mind of the tension so that I could talk to Jeremy calmly when I got back in the car. I knew that I would have to get him under control the same way I had gotten Aviana—through manipulation.
As I slid into the driver’s seat, I noticed Jeremy bent over, searching for something under the seat.
“What are you looking for?”
“I dropped my phone,” he muttered defiantly as he rummaged around.
Suddenly, he sat up, looking completely confused and taken aback. “What are you doing with Tee Tee Mia’s phone?”
Confused, I glanced over to see him holding Mia’s phone, the unmistakable purple wallet case catching my eye. My blood ran cold, but I forced myself to keep my composure. “That’s not Mia’s phone,” I said nonchalantly.
I tried to grab it, but he snatched it back as he shook his head. “I know it is. It has the purple case she always had on her phone.” He opened the wallet and pulled out her ID, then he held it up for me to see. “See? This is Tee Tee Mia’s ID.”
I started to panic as I stared at the ID. I had securely taped the phone under the seat, but it had obviously fallen at some point. My chest rose and fell rapidly as I scrambled to think of a way to deflect this. “Jeremy, just give me the phone.”
