Page 119 of Own It

“Putting hands on my girl? I ain’t put hands on no-fucking-body.” He sized me up, clutching his glass tightly enough to break it.

“Yan, cut the bullshit. I seen marks on her, and she don’t do shit but lay up under yo’ ass.”

“You jealous?” He laughed, gulping down more of his liquor.

Scratching my beard, I replied, “Even you don’t believe that shit.”

We had a quick staring contest before he said, “Look, she lying. I haven’t touched that girl.”

“I just said I saw the bruises. She ain’t tell me nothing,” I said, half lying.

True enough, LaMia didn’t have to say a word for me to know Ayan had put those big ass bruises and lumps on her fucking face, but I didn’t wanna reveal that she’d been tattling on this nigga and to me of all people. Ayan had a visceral reaction to any-fucking-thing involving me, and to find out his woman was running to me to be a savior would surely set him off. Shit, it’d set a confident nigga off, let alone one who was insecure as fuck like him.

“Well you must need glasses, nigga, ’cause I don’t put my hands on women.” He slammed the glass onto the stone balcony so hard I was shocked the shit hadn’t shattered.

Closing the gap between us, I stared deeply and knowingly into the muthafucka’s eyes before I said, “This yo’ first and final warning to keep yo’ fucking hands to yoself, nigga. I don’t fuck with you, but I’ll be damned if I got a brother walking ’round this bitch with a hand problem. You wanna be a bitch ass nigga like Nate Godfrey and put ya hands on women and children, you better make sure I don’t get wind of the shit, or it’s gon’ be me and you, nigga.”

Ayan’s chest rose and fell as he held onto my unwavering eye contact, matching the shit.

“You fucking my bitch?” His lids lowered in distrust.

“Not a fan of fucking after my siblings. I’ll leave that one to you.”

Before I even got the last word out good, he hit me in the mouth, opening the door for me to break my foot off in his ass. Decking him in the nose, I uppercut his ass and proceeded to knock his ass all around that balcony. His hits were sloppy, due to his inebriation, but he still landed some of them muthafuckas due to his profession.

“Aye!” My father’s loud ass voice boomed as he came to jump in front of and shield Ayan. “Stop this shit!”

“He fucking LaMia!” Ayan hollered through a bloody ass face as the party migrated from being inside to out here on the fucking balcony.

Locking eyes with Daylin, I shook my head subtly to let her know that was bullshit as I spit out blood, and she just stared at a nigga. I couldn’t read her expression.

Whipping around to yell down in Ayan’s face, my father said, “I don’t give a fuck! I raised y’all better than to be fighting over these bitches!” Turning his venomous eyes on me, he continued. “And you fucking your brother’s woman is wrong, Rah! She is the mother of his children! The shit he did to you doesn’t fucking matter, because she was just some bitch you were fucking!”

LaMia was more than that, but in my father’s eyes, there were wives/mothers of children or hos, no in between. A girlfriend didn’t mean shit to Nate. I wasn’t gon’ correct his ass, though, because I didn’t give a fuck what he thought LaMia was. She didn’t mean shit to me now. Daylin did. I wasn’t about to get into it about what another female used to mean to a nigga. I wouldn’t do the shit even if my woman weren’t present.

Ultimately, Ayan and I didn’t have beef because he took LaMia. In my eyes, a person couldn’t be taken; they only went where they already wanted to go. If I saw a woman I wanted, I would take her ass, too, but never from my own brother—hence Daylin being mine now. Still, my brother and my issues dated way back before LaMia was even around. Everybody knew that shit, including my pops.

“He don’t care with his hating ass!” Ayan barked, thinking that would bait me, but he knew better than I did that I wasn’t the envious twin.

“Let it go! She left you!” Nate hopped in my face, pissing me off.

“Aye, you better shut the fuck up talking to me, nigga,” I told my pops coolly but sternly.

Laughing, Nate bridged the small space between us and inquired, “Or what?”

“Keep running ya fucking mouth, and I’m gon’ show you.”

Again, I was interred into another staring contest. After a few moments of filled silence, he chuckled but backed the fuck down, seeing I was deadass.

“Like I said . . .” Nate made sure to retreat some, putting space between us. “Y’all are brothers and shouldn’t be fighting over no woman. Y’all don’ just lost a sibling. You’d think you niggas would try to mend fucking fences.”

“Move!” Ayan roared down in LaMia’s face when she tried to put a towel to his busted nose. “You probably been fucking that nigga the whole time, stupid bitch!”

She startled as he slipped around her, shooting daggers my way beforehand.

“Come on.” Daylin’s soft hand slipped into mine at the same time her perfume assaulted my nostrils pleasantly.

I listened, letting her lead me from the suite and down to ours. Once inside, I sat down on the couch and pulled her into my lap within the dimly lit room.