Page 207 of Own It

“You have to understand, your father is a scary person!” he shouted. “Even in high school, he was intimidating, forcing me to give him answers on tests and to type his papers. I was relieved when he went on to become a famous boxer because I didn’t have to deal with his ass. It wasn’t until he located me, panicking about having killed your mother. He claimed they’d gotten into an argument, saying she’d charged at him with a knife, so he had to hit her with a hammer. H-he told me she was mentally ill.” His hands were still up but shaking as sweat started to form on his upper lip. “When she was brought in for examination, I could tell from the blow she’d been hit from behind, and therefore his story was a lie, but what was I supposed to do?”

“Have some muthafuckin’ dignity! Some balls, you bitch ass nigga!” I roared. “You let another warm-blooded muthafucka convince you to lie, and for what? ’Cause you can’t take a punch?”

“He would’ve killed me, and you know it. He did pay me, but it was pennies in comparison to what I did for him. I just wanted to be sure me and my wife were out of harm’s way.”

“Who did the autopsy we paid for?” I shot off a question I ain’t want the answer to.

He hesitated but eventually Chris replied, “Nobody. She never got one. We just falsified the results.”

“Fuck.” I dropped my head, unable to explain the pain searing through my fucking chest. Had I been the nigga I was now, Nate nor Chris would’ve been able to falsify shit. Nevertheless, I was simply a boxer on the come up with minimal connections at that time.

Only an evil muthafucka like Nate Godfrey would have a medical examiner in his back pocket like he was a fucking serial killer. I had plenty of people on payroll, but having a Christopher Wade never even crossed my fucking mind.

“Look, I’m sorr⁠—”

“What about Zaire?” I cut off his weak ass apology.

“Yeah . . .” He nibbled on his lip in thought. “He came to me saying his son had died from an overdose. This time, though, it was true, so I didn’t think anything of it when I procured his body for examination. Are you saying that’s a lie?”

“Fuck you think, nigga? Why else would he want a specific ME to examine Zaire’s body if nothing was amiss?”

“Oh shit. Well, I’m sorry, son. I didn’t⁠—”

The bullet I sent into his head abruptly interrupted that bullshit he was about to spew. He didn’t give a fuck about what he did, lying for Nate knowing what the fuck he’d done to our mother. I had never hated anyone like I did my own father.

Leaving the den, I made my way up the stairs and followed the sound of Chris’s wife humming. I found her in her bedroom, tidying it up.

“Oh, . . . where is Chris⁠—”

Just like her husband before her, I sent a bullet into her head, then another to be sure she was dead. I felt just as bad as Chris did when he helped my pops get away with murder, which wasn’t even a little bit. Bitch ass nigga.

TWENTY-EIGHT

daylin

“You like this dress?” I showed Rakim my phone screen once he came to a stop at the red light.

“I like anything you put on.” He took off once the streetlight changed.

“Thank you, babe.” I simpered, adding it to my cart even though I truly couldn’t trust his opinion since the man truly did like everything I wore, did, cooked, and said.

“Shouldn’t you be buying them pregnant people clothes? Months down the line, you ain’t gon’ be able to wear that sexy shit.” He bobbed his head toward my device.

“Nope. I won’t be buying maternity clothes. Gonna get regular stuff and finagle it so I can wear it after I give birth too.”

“Aight.” He laughed. “I gotta pull up on the doctor,” he said, referencing my father, “and without you.”

“You have to promise me that you won’t fight him, Rah.” I giggled when he frowned, caught off guard by my statement.

“I ain’t gon’ fight him. Might put him in a quick lil headlock, though, nothing wild.”

“You better not!” I cackled through my surprise, swatting him as he turned onto a residential street.

“Nah. Ya pops is a regular old nigga. I really ain’t got no reason to lay his ass out. I’m gon’ be on my best behavior. Whatever I want him to comprehend, I can do the shit with words only, just like the next nigga.”

“I know.” I smiled as he pulled over into a park. “I love that.” I leaned over to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“What else you love?”