For a second, I just stood there, staring at the screen like it might still ring again.
It didn’t.
But my heart didn’t slow down.
I laughed to myself, shook my head, then stormed through the house looking for Love. I found him in the basement with Amir, trying to decorate his man cave.
“Amir, can you go upstairs for me for a second?”
Him and his father both raised their right eyebrows at me.
“Everything okay?” Love asked.
“No, it’s not. Amir, go upstairs. You can come back down when we are done talkin.”
Amir nodded and went up the steps. I stood there trying to breathe until I heard the door shut.
And then I went off.
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me Gio called you?!”
Love looked up to the ceiling, letting out a deep breath and shaking his head.
“That nigga is a whole bitch!” he yelled out without answering me.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I didn’t tell you because I was handling it,” he finally responded.
“Why the fuck are you trying to handle shit without me?”
Love looked at me like I had asked a strange question.
“Why the fuck am I handling shit without you?” he said with bass in his voice. “Because I am trying to protect my girl, my fiancée, the woman I bought a house for who's carrying my baby. Why the fuck would I bring you into it?”
“Because it has to do with me! How the fuck am I supposed to be protected when I don’t know shit?”
“You don’t need to know shit, Islah! You just need to know that your man is handling it.”
I sucked my teeth. “How the fuck are you handling it, Love, when the nigga called my phone threatening me.”
“What the fuck do you want me to do, Islah? I thought beating that nigga ass was enough. That nigga is a clown, what do you want me to do? How do you want to handle it, Islah?”
I took a deep breath, feeling all types of ways on the inside. I was mad I was still dealing with the same shit. I was mad that Love didn’t talk to me and tell me that nigga was still a problem. But the rage in me got stronger when I thought about Gio. I was mad that nigga couldn’t listen—wouldn’t listen, couldn’t understand that we were done for good. Then I looked into Love’s eyes, and the way I was feeling, I didn’t know if my words would make shit worse or put an end to it all.
“Love…I want the same as you. I want that nigga dead. I don’t want to think about him, I don’t want to see him, I want the calls to stop, I want this shit to end.”
Love nodded his head. “Say less, mamas.”
He ran up the steps with me falling behind him. He grabbed his phone and called somebody.
“Aye,” he said into the phone.
“Meet me at the barbershop. That nigga called this phone, whoever got the lo on him, send it.”
He hung up and looked at me.
“Since he called my phone, I put the hood on it. They haven’t called and told me shit,” he said, walking to the front door.
