Page 53 of Own It

He and Zaire were connected in a way I would never understand, so losing Zaire would demolish me but probably kill Josias.

“Aye.” I reached into my pocket, grabbing the latex gloves I’d kept at the ranch house. “Grab the trash can,” I told Josias as I squatted before Zaire and lifted him up.

Josias did as I’d said just before I shoved my gloved fingers down Zaire’s throat, making his eyes shoot open before he vomited profusely into the trash can as I held his locs.

“Fuck.” Josias’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Man, fuck!”

“You aight?” I asked Zaire who was coughing now.

“Yeah,” he croaked out eventually.

“You told Pop?” I asked Josias, standing up enough to take a seat on the bed beside Zaire.

“Yeah. He told me not to call the ambulance and to hit you.” He shrugged.

“I’m s-sorry,” Zaire struggled to say, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You good. Wasn’t doing shit no way.” I trashed the glove, lip turned up in disgust at the sight of the multicolor and semi-coagulated vomit.

“Still. I know you tired of standing in for Nate,” Josias added, shaking his head. “I wish I knew what to do.”

Before I could respond, Ayan knocked twice before entering and shutting the door behind himself.

“Fucking crackhead.” He grumbled, shaking his head as Josias grabbed a water bottle for his twin. Everyone ignored his comment, but I noticed Zaire look over at his big brother dejectedly. “Aye, how you know Daylin? I saw y’all conversing.” He directed the query to me. Again, I ignored him, confused as to why he wanted to chop it up about a woman when his brother was just on his way out. “Where you meet her or how you know her?”

“I don’t,” I finally replied, recognizing that he wasn’t gon’ let the shit go despite being in a whole ass relationship.

“Hmm.” He shoved his hands down into his pockets. “Bitch keep turning me down, but I ain’t worried.” He laughed while I watched Josias assist Zaire in sipping the water. “She gon’ cave next time. I’m gon’ make sure of it.”

Again, silence hung in the air because no one gave a fuck about the bullshit he was speaking on. And if he thought he was gon’ have Daylin doing anything, he was mistaken like a muthafucka. I was about action, though, so I didn’t feel the need to say the shit. If he made a move on her, especially in my presence, I would show his ass that I didn’t appreciate it; no need to voice it.

When no one said anything, me in particular, Ayan mumbled some shit talking that I also paid no mind.

“Aye, I need to speak with you in private, my nigga.” I looked at Zaire who nodded.

Josias set the water bottle down, watched his brother for a beat, and then exited. I waited for Ayan to do the same, but when I looked over and up at him standing off to the side, he wore a menacing smirk like he was purposefully not giving me the fucking room.

“What, nigga?” Ayan spat when we made eye contact.

“I’m only gon’ say this shit once, Ayan; get the fuck out the room.” I latched my eyes onto his, and we just eyed one another for a moment. I was ready to take this shit wherever he wanted to fucking go.

“Y’all, please.” Zaire sighed.

Ayan looked at Zaire before turning to leave out the room, neglecting to close the door.

I got up to shut the shit, then sat back down beside Zaire who was laid out on the bed still.

“You gotta get some help, Z,” I stressed. “You can’t keep this dangerous ass shit up. You lucky this was a family event, but how many times has this shit happened and you had to go to the hospital or was passed out in a hotel for days with random hos?” I chuckled mirthlessly as I looked over at him. When I saw he was about to make an excuse for the shit, I added, “You gotta own yo’ shit, Zaire. That’s what the fuck men do.”

“A lot.” He sniffled, finally answering. “I’ve done that shit a lot.”

Rubbing his back, I said, “I know you fucked up, and I know you struggling, bruh. Losing Ma, being around Nate, and not having healed from how we were raised is a lot. But I need you to pull it together. I can’t task you with anything until you do.”

I hated to do this shit, but it was necessary. Zaire was the sensitive one and couldn’t put on a fake brave face like the rest of us could. None of us had found the remedy to our trauma with our childhood and losing our mother randomly, but we pushed past the shit. Zaire, on the other hand, had been fucked up since. He wasn’t a pretender.

“Nah, man. How I’m gon’ make money?” Zaire’s glazed eyes peered up into mine, making me feel like shit.

“I got you. Don’t worry about money, and you should still have some saved up from what I pay you. If you don’t, though, don’t stress about shit. I always got ya fucking back.”