“Yeah,” I said. “We did.”
The room erupted. Mekhi damn near spit out his drink. Zephyr was doubled over laughing. Prime shook his head but he was smiling because he’d heard the story from Justice already.
“Bro, you put Serenity—your baby sister—in the trunk?” Mekhi was wheezing.
“She said she didn’t want to sit next to us. So technically she chose the trunk.”
“She did NOT choose the trunk,” Justice corrected. “You picked her up and put her in there while she was screaming.”
“She was fighting. The trunk was the safest option for everybody involved.”
“Safest?” Zephyr was wiping tears. “Nigga, that’s kidnapping.”
“It’s not kidnapping if you’re saving somebody’s life. It’s an aggressive wellness check.”
“An aggressive wellness check.” Mekhi repeated it slowly, shaking his head. “That’s what you’re going with? That’s your defense?”
“That’s my defense and I’m sticking with it.”
“Did she at least have a blanket in there?” Zephyr asked.
“I keep my trunk clean. There was a blanket from when I was moving stuff from the penthouse.”
“Oh, so she had a blanket. Five-star kidnapping. Luxury abduction.” Mekhi was on the floor at this point. “Banks Reserve presents: The Premium Trunk Experience.”
“I would’ve put the heated seats on for her if the trunk had them,” I said, and even I was laughing now because the image of me carrying a screaming Serenity down Rita’s front steps while Justice popped the trunk was objectively insane.
“How is she though?” Mekhi asked, coming down from the laughter. “For real?”
“She’s in the program. Thirty days. She hates all of us but she’s there.”
“She’ll thank you later,” Zephyr said.
“Probably not. But she’ll be alive, and that’s enough.”
Prime raised his glass. “To Serenity.”
“To Serenity,” we all repeated.
I was lining up my last shot—the eight ball, corner pocket, game point—when my phone rang. I glanced at the screen expecting Mehar or maybe Rita with another demand about her birthday dinner.
It was Camille.
I almost let it go to voicemail because talking to Camille was on my list of things I’d rather not do, right between getting a root canal and watching paint dry. But something told me to pick up.
“What, Camille?”
“Quest, oh my God.” Her voice was shaking. Crying. Hysterical in that way she got when she wanted maximumsympathy. “The cops are here. We were robbed. Someone broke into the penthouse—they tied me and Lyric up and took everything. My jewelry, the electronics, cash—Quest, they had guns. I’m scared. The police are here but I need you to come. Please.”
I looked at the pool table. Looked at my brothers and my boys. Looked at the eight ball sitting two inches from the pocket.
“I’m on my way.”
I hung up and grabbed my jacket.
“What happened?” Prime asked.
“Somebody robbed the penthouse. Camille and Lyric got tied up.”
