I got behind the wheel and adjusted Quest’s seat because his legs were a full foot longer than mine. Started the engine. Looked back at the motel room where Quest was standing in the doorway with his phone to his ear and a dead man at his feet.
I pulled out of the parking lot and headed north toward home. Serenity was asleep before we hit the highway. Herbreathing was rough and shallow and her wrists were raw and her body was full of poison that somebody else put there. But she was alive and she was free and she was carrying a baby that she was going to fight for with everything she had left.
31
Quest
It had been four days since Berryville. Serenity was staying at the estate with Mehar and the two of them had fallen into a rhythm that I didn’t interrupt because it was working. Mehar cooked for her, sat with her, drove her to the doctor’s appointment where they confirmed the baby was still viable despite the cocaine exposure. The doctor said it was early enough that the damage might be minimal but they’d need to monitor closely. Serenity cried when she heard the heartbeat. Mehar held her hand.
I’d already hit Mekhi and told him Mega was done. Kept it brief. Told him the nigga responsible for Zephyr’s shooting was handled and that I’d be getting at my mother next. He got real quiet on the phone for a minute before he said “good” and asked if we could link up.
We picked a cigar bar in Georgetown. Neutral territory. I got there first because I always get there first. Ordered a Banks Reserve neat and posted up in the back corner where I could see the door. Old habits.
Mekhi walked in at 8:15 looking like his old self. Clean shave, fresh fit, none of that bloodshot zombie energy from the last time I saw him. He’d gotten himself together. Whether that wasgenuine or a performance, I wasn’t sure yet. But he looked good. I’ll give him that.
He sat down, ordered a Banks Reserve and a cigar, and we just sat there for a minute. Smoking. Drinking. Not talking. That silence between us used to be comfortable. Now it was just two niggas trying to figure out which version of the other one showed up tonight.
“I appreciate what you did,” he said. “With Mega. I know you didn’t do it just for Zeph but it matters to me that it’s done. My brother can start healing now.”
“Zephyr deserved better than what he got. That was always the plan.”
“I know.” He rolled the cigar between his fingers. “Look, Quest. I ain’t come here to go back and forth about old shit. I came because I think we been beefin’ with each other when the real problems were coming from somewhere else the whole time. Mega was the issue. Your moms was the issue. Not us. We let outside niggas tear apart twenty years and I’m tired of it.”
“What you saying?”
“Truce. For real this time. I’m not asking to be back in business together. I know that’s dead. But we don’t gotta be enemies either. We got too much history for that.”
I looked at him. Everything he was saying sounded right. His tone, his body language, the way he was looking me in the eye. But my gut wasn’t buying what my ears were hearing. Something felt off. I couldn’t point to what exactly but twenty years of knowing a man gives you instincts that don’t need evidence to activate.
“Aight,” I said. “Truce.”
“Truce.” He raised his glass and I raised mine and we drank and that was that. Two niggas agreeing not to shoot each other without agreeing to trust each other again. There’s a difference.
“One more thing,” Mekhi said. “Bryce. I’m leaving him alone. He’s Mehar’s brother, he got a baby on the way, and whatever he did with Mega, I’m letting it go. You got my word on that.”
“Appreciate it.”
“But I need you to do the same with Janelle. She’s my blood, Quest. And she ain’t well. Quindon’s loss hit her hard and she been going downhill ever since. I’m gonna get her into a real program. Not just some therapist she can manipulate but an actual facility. But she can’t do that if she’s worried about you or Mehar coming for her.”
Quindon’s loss hit her hard. Man, if he only knew. I had Janelle’s journal sitting at the crib. Pages I hadn’t fully gone through yet but I already knew enough to know that what Janelle was carrying was way deeper than grief.
“That’s on Mehar. Janelle kidnapped her and chained her to a ceiling. I can’t make that call for her. If Mehar’s good with it, I’m good with it.”
“Fair enough. I respect that.”
We finished up and walked out to the parking lot and shook hands. Firm grip, eye contact, the whole thing. But the whole thing felt rehearsed. Like two niggas at a job interview pretending to be excited about a position neither one of them actually wants.
I sat in the Maybach after he pulled off and thought about it. This nigga went from “fuck that nigga, it’s war now” to calling truces in less than two weeks. People don’t switch up that fast unless something new is on the table. A new connect, a new partner, a new play. Something had changed Mekhi’s math and I didn’t know what it was yet. But I’d find out. I always do.
Filed it away. I’d keep my eye out for him.
Then I pulled out my phone and found the number I was looking for. Officer Darnell Price. CO at the facility holding Vivica. We’d been connected through a mutual associate for awhile now and Darnell was the type of man who could get you anything you needed inside a prison as long as the price was right. Expensive but reliable. And he kept his mouth shut, which is the most valuable quality a connect can have.
He picked up on the third ring.
“Quest. Been a minute.”
“I need some info on Vivica. Her daily schedule, visitor logs for the last three months, and the date of her trial.”
