I stood up from over him, satisfied that he had given the information up that easily. Though I had a name now, the location of the nigga made my job a little harder since this nigga was locked up. Prison is the only place where I can know where a nigga is and have to jump through loops to get to him. I’ll figure it out, though I always do.
“Stand your fat ass up.” I directed Joey, who was holding the wall, to try to stand up.
“When you leave my sight, I don’t want you to say shit to anybody about me coming to you, and if I find out you're still soliciting for a stand-in hit man, I’m going to leak you and your bitch in there.” I leaned in closer to him.
“But, of course, I may fuck her first. I’m sure she will give me the pussy whether you're dead or alive. It won't be hard for me, trust.”
He nodded his head nervously.
“Now keep in contact with that nigga Marcus, make him think you're on the job so that he won’t try and find someone else, and then you get to live. Well, your whole family will.”
“Okay, okay, man. I got you, I understand.” He pleaded, still in my grip.
“Now get the fuck down the block, and I’ll see you again sometime.”
“Whe, when?” He stuttered.
“Whenever the fuck I feel like it. Now walk!”
Joey shuffled down the alleyway faster than he’d probably moved in years, and I walked in the opposite direction and hit the first right down an adjacent alley to get back to my car. As soon as I crossed the busy intersection and sat in my car, I called Crew. I’m sure this nigga was going to be thrown off to hear this shit.
Prosecutor Marcus Leeland was still after him after all these years. Shows a petty nigga never knows how to let beef go. I get it, though. I have some of those same traits, too.
When it's up, it's fuckin stuck.
Chapter 5
Jasmine
“Hey Jassy, do you want breakfast? I made some buttermilk biscuits and bacon.” My mama stuck her head into my room, leaning against the doorframe.
I was sitting on the side of my bed, and it was pitch-black in here, even though it was ten in the damn morning. The blackout curtain on my only window made it feel like midnight at all hours of the day. That’s why me and my son could sleep until two in the afternoon if we wanted to.
Back in high school, I used to oversleep because of these same curtains hanging in my room. My mama had to work when it was time for us to go to school, and once my sisters turned eighteen and moved out, it was just me and Crew left in the house. She left it up to him to wake me, because for some reason getting up was never a problem for his hyper ass.
He always claimed he tried to wake me up in the mornings, but I’m sure that was just him cracking the door, mumbling, “Wake up, nappy head,” then leaving the second he saw I wasn’t moving.
Though Crew would leave me, he told me not to come to school alone. So instead of being late, I’d miss the whole damnday because of these curtains, and I carried that same mentality throughout life. Better never than late.
“No, I’m not hungry, ma. I need you to watch Rj once he wakes up. I have to go to an interview this morning.”
“Oh, that’s good.” My mama flashed a proud smile.
“Where is your interview?”
“A clothing store a few blocks away from here.”
“Well, I pray that you get the job. I think getting a job and getting out of this house will do you wonders.” I rolled my eyes at my mother’s response because I knew she couldn’t see me. Her hope of getting me out of this rut was annoying at times because I’m not as positive as she pretends to be. I often heard her crying night after night into her pillow after she got word that Gio had been murdered. Now she wanted to turn around and expect me to be so happy when I actually saw my boyfriend get murdered right in front of me. Though we didn’t have years of history, he was the first guy to actually take me seriously in a while. Take me on dates, call me in the morning, and treat me like a possession, instead of like a carnival prize that you win and throw in the corner once you get home.
I’ve lived in New York all twenty-four years of my life, and I’d never saw anyone murdered before, and I just couldn’t get that visual out of my mind. I’ve seen men get beaten up at bus stops and even watched blood dripping from my homegirl Kiara’s side when our classmate Lina stabbed her in her side over Kesean Johnson. That day at school, when she was rushed off to the hospital, clinging to life was one of the most dramatic scenes I’ve seen before now. However, it doesn’t live up to the moment Trey died.
My sister-in-love, Pernelle, had tried taking me to a spa to cheer me up. We’d gone to the movies, out to dinner, and even tosee a Broadway play neither of us was interested in, but she was working overtime to see me smile. What happened to Trey was a secret to the world, except for Crew, his closest friends, and, of course, Pernelle.
Pernelle, like me, had been through a traumatic situation, and she said even after having her baby and having Crew there to protect her every day, she still couldn’t get over the nightmares. She told me the only way to get past this hard time truly was to keep busy, and I was trying, but there honestly wasn’t enough to do in the day, so I chose to sleep it off. And to be honest, I’m tired of doing that.
I got dressed and leaned over the bed, pressing a kiss to my baby’s forehead. He was still wrapped up in the sheets, with his fist tucked under his cheek, and a snore so quiet, you could hear a pin drop before him. He looked so comfortable that, for a second, I thought about crawling back in there with him and forgetting everything else, but I knew I needed to go. Getting back in this bed was not the answer anymore. I have to try this one last thing before giving completely up on feeling normal again.
I walked into the kitchen where my mama was already up, standing at the stove in her housecoat, flipping eggs like she was a line cook at IHOP. Living with her, I never had to get in the kitchen and make myself or Rj anything. My siblings said she had me spoiled, but what the hell did they expect? I’m the baby. I’m supposed to be spoiled.
