I sat it back down and was taking pictures of it to send to my nigga when a call from Amir came through.
“You good, son?” I asked as soon as I answered his call.
“So you can answer his calls, but you can’t answer mine?”
I sat back in my chair and closed my eyes.
“Bitch, I don’t owe you shit. What the fuck are you talkin’ bout?”
“You putting bullshit in our son head! What is wrong with you! Why is he telling me to do what you asked because he want to live with you and your bitch!”
Jada kept going on and on about the same shit. Amir was in the back trying to calm her down, but she wouldn’t stop talking crazy to him or me.
“Jada,” I said calmly. “Stop talkin’ to our son like that.” She kept going. “Jada, stop the yellin’ girl, I’m tryna talk to you.”
She kept ignoring me.
“JADA!” I yelled into the phone, making everybody in my store look toward my office. “SHUT THE FUCK UP NOW!”
That shit got her attention.
“Now I’ma talk, and you gonna stay quiet. I’m not putting shit in Amir’s head. That nigga came to me as a young man andtold me what HE wanted, and as HIS father, I owe him to do what I can, and I will. I could have thrown your beggin’ ass some bread, and we could have given Amir what he wanted. But what you are looking at is them monthly payments you get coming to an end, that’s your issue.”
“Love—”
“I said to shut the fuck up,” I said, cutting her off. “You know I got people in high places. I’ma show you I still have those connections, and now I’ma move like I should have, but I tried to give your ass a chance… Amir, pack up everything you want, and you know I got the rest. Fuck practice tonight, I’ll holla at your coach. Get your shit together, and I will be there later.”
“Okay, Dad!” I could hear the excitement in his voice.
“Now back to you—the fuckin’ problem,” I said low. “You stop my son from walking out to me, or you talk crazy to him again, I promise you I’m on your ass.”
“You threatening me, Love?” she asked.
I laughed, loud and long, in her ear with a smile on my face. “Girl, you know I don’t threaten, I mean every fuckin’ word I say. You take it the way you want to.”
She hung up, and I sent the judge I’ve been locked in with for years and my lawyer a lil’ text, letting them know what was going on.
I pressed send and saw I got another picture of Gio. When I clicked into the message thread, my heart skipped a beat.
The nigga was outside of Islah’s hospital.
I jumped outta my seat, grabbed my keys and my weed, and stormed out of my office and to my car.
“Nigga, what’s going on?” Keith ran out asking.
“The nigga is outside the hospital.”
Keith’s eyes got big as he ran over to my car, opening the passenger door and hopping in.
I didn’t have time to question him. We pulled off, and I did the dash to the hospital, pulled my Glock out of the armrest as I drove, getting it ready, and Keith stopped me.
“Nigga! You can’t use no gun at the hospital. I don’t care who you are, you know they gonna charge you.”
I looked at him and silently agreed, placing my Glock back.
“You right, my hands works bout the same anyway.”
It would usually take me ten to twenty minutes to get to her hospital. I got there in five, and when I pulled up, the bitch was still standing out there with grocery store flowers in his hand.
