My tongue dragged across my teeth as my eyes moved from one side of the street to the other. Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed, but they sounded far enough away not to matter.
That should’ve calmed me down. Instead, it made my nerves worse. The block’s silence didn’t feel natural.
“It’s coming too fast.”
I saw one flash, then another, and another.
“Try to slow it down. Focus on one thing at a time,” Booda coached as he gently rubbed my back.
“A man walked toward the car carrying a duffel,” I said, straining to keep the memory from slipping away again.
“Describe him.”
I swallowed hard and squeezed my eyes tighter. “He had on black clothes. Hoodie. Jeans. Gloves.” I paused, forcing myself deeper into the memory. “The hood was up at first.”
Booda’s hand slowed against my back. “Tattoos?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “I think I saw something on his neck when he got closer. Writing maybe. I couldn’t really make it out.”
“What else?”
My breathing slowed as the memory sharpened around me again. I could hear my heartbeat thump in my ears as I watched him move toward my car.
“The hood fell back when he stepped under the streetlight,” I whispered.
“Dark skin. Beard. Scar across his cheek.”
The image hit me so hard that my eyes flew open for a second before I squeezed them shut again.
“I know him,” I whispered.
“From where?”
Another memory crashed into me before I could answer.
Headlights. Tires screeching. A car flying toward me.
“No…” I breathed.
“Koko.”
“That’s him,” I said, my voice shaking now. “That’s the nigga that tried to run me over.”
The memory of that night of the accident returned.
He stepped under the streetlight, and that was when I noticed the chain hanging around his neck. Diamonds flashed when he moved, and an emblem swung against his chest.
Rich.
My stomach dropped.
“Oh my God,” I whispered.
“What?” Booda asked immediately.
I opened my eyes and looked at Booda.
“His chain,” I said. “It said, Rich.”
