Page 72 of Just Like Summer

“What does the CCTV footage show?”

The officer delivered the final blow to the detectives ego. For now, at least.

“He wasn’t anywhere near the house, the assumed trap house, or his home. Tiny fucked us,” the officer stated, making the detective growl in annoyance. “We didn’t even read him his rights.”

“Fuck!” the detective boomed. Before turning to look at Cairo, who’s smile almost made him combust. “Get his ass out of here.”

Cairo chuckled while the officer removed the chains from his wrists and ankles. “You hear that? That’s the sound of my freedom. See you around, nigga.”

“I’ll be seeing you again. One way or another, I’ll have your thugging ass behind bars for the rest of your life,” the detective spoke as Cairo strolled out past him.

“But tonight, you won’t. Hope you make it home for dinner,” Cairo replied. Exiting the precinct, he found Nate at the far end of the parking lot, the phone pressed to his ear. From what Cairo could see, Nate was in a heated exchange. Trying not to put any more attention on him, he quickened his stride and got into the car.

Nate followed suit and pulled off. “Stay on the phone, D.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Cairo posed, concern edging his voice. “Did they raid my fuckin’ house?”

“Nah, Dania took Mila to her aunt’s,” Nate attempted to speak easy and calm but he knew better. He knew the minute he alerted Cairo of Dania’s concerns, all hell was breaking loose.

“I don’t have time for the slow talking, nigga!” Cairo bellowed, snatching the phone from Nate. “Drive this muhfucka! Dania, what the fuck is going on.”

“Cai, I don’t know she asked me to take her over here to talk to her aunt because she assumed you were arrested because of her. Hype and Chuckee are blocking the door, I can’t get in. I hear shit breaking.”

“Gahdamn it, Nate, I side drive this muhfucka. Where’s my fuckin’ gun?” Cairo felt himself spiraling. If anything were to happen to Kamilla, the little bit of sanity he was holding on to would snap and everyone would feel his wrath.

Nate floored it, speeding without any regard for anyone else from downtown Los Oceania to 35th and Mecca. Double parked and guns drawn, there were no Crimson Kings present to help Martez, Hype, or Chuckee. Dania was on the steps arguing with them and they were bitch-made enough to argue back with her.

Nate fired off the first warning shot. “You a bitch arguing with mine? Next bullet is gon’ be your fucking chest, nigga.”

Cairo didn’t have time to for the talking. He took the steps and grabbed Chuckee by the collar. Hype moved the moment he saw the car barrel down the street. His loyalty to the gang and wanting to save his own life becoming a conflict internally. Cairo tossed the men aside like ragdolls the same way he did when they held her a gunpoint. Every step closer to Kamilla’s shouts and Martez’s grunts, the flood of his heart deafened him and the regret of not handling Martez sooner vexed him. Neither of them would be the same.

twenty-eight

The moment Dania pulled up to the house, Kamilla was out and stomping toward the steps with her bag flung over her shoulder. Past Hype and Chuckee and inside finding the state of Aunt J’s house.

“I wouldn’t go in there. That nigga is fucking,” Chuckee taunted blowing the smoke to Kamilla’s back because he knew he couldn’t touch her.

When Kamilla entered the once put together house she was welcomed by a weed tainted living room, take out containers and dirty dishes scattered about. Music blasting and clearly no sign of Aunt J. This only made her phone call even more erroneous. The nerve of her to demand anything when the very nigga she was protecting had her house looking and smelling like this.

“Nasty ass muhfucka,” Kamilla grumbled, moving down the hall to the room she occupied. Upon opening the door, a waft of dirty pussy and unwashed balls hit her nose. That along with the sight of Martez’s naked body sprawled over the bed.

“Yeah bitch, bounce up and down on this dick,” Martez grunted over the music. When he caught Kamilla standing there, he grinned at her. His face still tattered from his encounter. QaMeesha and Martez in a bed she once laid in was doing a number to her sense of smell. “Grab my chains.”

Kamilla squinted finding her father’s rings on every one of Martez’s nasty fingers and his gold chains around his neck. All she could see was red. Forget the disrespect they’ve both been serving and gotten away with. This was an unprecedented violation. If Martez fished out her father’s jewelry for her locked chest, that meant everything else of KP’s was potentially gone or disturbed. A heat like no other flooded her body. Anger in the worse way; a temper that she’d done a great job of keeping locked way behind the bars of her innocence. Bag dropped on the floor, she charged them. KP taught his daughter three things – how to fight, how to shoot, and how to get out of a situation high speed – but only when absolutely necessary. He’d say “You’re too pretty to be doing all that fighting but if a muhfucka tries you, off with their fuckin’ head. Save all that crying for later. If a nigga ever tries you, one shot to the chest. Make that nigga drown while he thinks about his violation.”

It wasn’t until right now that Kamilla was willing to perform without issue, all three lessons her father imparted on her. Flying across the bed, she tackled QaMeesha to the ground, stomping her out before rounding her bed to jump on Martez’s back. Like a woman possessed, she clawed at his eyes wanting to rip them out his head.

“Take my daddy’s shit off, bitch!” Kamilla gnashed.

“Aghh!” Martez shouted, as he tossed her onto the tainted bed.

She hopped up as QaMeesha ran out the room, having flashbacks of what happened to her the last time she put her hands on Kamilla.

“Take the shit off!” Kamilla demanded, throwing anything at him she could get her hands on.

Martez dodged the last vase that was on the dresser Kamilla tossed. “Fuck you think this is? Huh, little cousin? Don’t you know I’ll fuck you up and pass that tight pussy over to my homies. We’ve been waiting to get our hands on you. Teach you a fuckin’ lesson about turning your back on your blood. Like your bitch ass momma. Fuckin’ with that Azul nigga knowin’ what he did to my pops.”

Martez was corning her. In a swift move, he reached out and yanked her up by her shirt. Like she was a ragdoll, he tossed her to the ground and pinned her there. Kamilla, now in fight or flight, kneed him in the balls and crawled to her bag. Even in Martez’s pain, he was fueled with the evil need to shatter her world. He grabbed her by the leg, taking the kicks to the face, neck and chest.