Page 32 of Pretty and Loco

I knew that he was right about the first part, but something about this felt off, so I wasn’t convinced. This felt related to her. It was something in my fucking spirit that told me she meant that she was going to see to it personally that I regretted it.

I didn’t believe in spells or magic, but in my head, I always kept circling back to the fact that I met her on Halloween night. The fact that she was dressed as a possessed doll should have been the first indication that I had no business fucking her. But the shit was too tempting not to.

I threw my legs over the side of the bed, then made my way downstairs to grab something to drink. It was another night of me staying awake till the sun came up. I winced as I rotated and stretched my arm. The pain in this muhfucka was worse than hitting your pinky toe. But luckily, the downtime for the injury isn’t that long, so I can be back on the field in no time. Getting injured right after being named the MVP had to be worse than the injury itself.

Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong

My doorbell rang three times. I blew out a big breath; I had left my phone upstairs, so I couldn’t check my camera to see who it was. But I already knew. And I didn’t feel like dealing with Leah and her shit tonight.

Instead of going toward the door, I went back upstairs to grab my phone and check the cameras. If it were her on my doorstep, I’d talk to her through the speaker and tell her to go home.

When I opened the camera app on my phone, I didn’t see anyone standing there. Just one lone balloon waving in the night air. When I rewound the camera, I saw there was a woman- who wasn’t Leah- holding a white box and placing it on my doorstep before tying the balloon to the handle.

I frowned, grabbed my gun with my good hand, and headed downstairs.

I opened the door and looked both ways. No car was on the street except the ones parked at my neighbors' houses. I picked up the box and then closed the door. It could have been a bomb, but I didn’t think Leah would kill me. Shit, because if she did, she damn sure wouldn’t be able to call me then.

Opening the box, I found a cake that said, "Get well soon." I exhaled at first. I thought it might be from one of my teammates, wondering why the hell it was delivered at night. Then, as I opened the note, I quickly realized that it was from Leah.

Hello, my love. I hate that I’m not there to take care of you. From what I hear, Labrum tears can be a real pain. I hope that this cake makes you feel better in the interim. I’ve included some care instructions to help you heal. I’ll see you soon. I miss you.

-Leah B.

Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t scared of Leah. I didn’t think she would do a nigga any real harm, but that note gave me chills. Her knowing my exact injury had me fucked up. I walked outside and put the cake and the note in the trash can, then went back inside and sat at the kitchen island.

My phone started ringing from a private caller, and I knew it was her. It stopped, but then she kept calling. I just silenced it and set it on the counter. Thinking to myself, I don’t know who the fuck I had crossed paths with. As soon as I thought that, I frowned because I realized it was true in more ways than one. I don’t know who the fuck Leah was outside of what she had told me. We didn’t even have enough time for me to meet her family.

I picked up the phone and searched for her name. I could barely get the results before she called back-to-back. When I did, the only thing that came up was her bio from her event planning business. I put the phone down for a second but picked it right back up.

It was a long shot, but I tried to Google the name of the doll that she had used when I met her on Halloween. Again, I don’t believe in magic, so nothing would piss me off more than knowing that I fucked the root lady.

I opened the search engine again and typed in the name Dahlia Doom. Nothing came back except for an old tattoo model who used the name years ago. There was no digital footprint about Leah, nothing other than what she told me.

I tried to talk myself into believing I was tripping and this was really a coincidence, as Speedy had said. But still, I knew better.

I went to my phone contacts and did what was always my last resort. I called my sister Cara. I had two siblings, a sister and a brother, and of the two, she would be the only one to help me. Shaun would ask me how much I was paying to get her killed because he “knew somebody” and had all of us caught up in a fed case, so I didn’t even bother to call him.

When I had to explain to him and Pops that Leah was crazy, the first thing he asked me was, “What you wanna do?” I wasn’t calling that nigga for nothing.

The phone rang three times before I started to hang up.

Before I could, Cara answered, clearing her throat. “Rocko, is everything okay?” I could hear the concern in her voice.

“Yeah. I just wanted to talk to you about something.” The truth is that I didn’t know what I was calling her for. I guess to get her opinion.

“Oh.” I could hear her settling down. “What’s up?”

“You busy?” I asked.

“No, I was just lying in bed reading so I could fall asleep. What’s going on?” She doubled down.

I ran the whole thing down to her. How I met Leah, the last four months of us talking, and what led me to cut her off. Then I told her what she said and everything that's been happening to me since then. She sat on the phone and let me talk the entire time. When I finished, I actually thought she had fallen asleep.

“Cara?” I called out.

“I’m here. This is just a lot to take in. I don’t even know where to start.”

“Shit, maybe I should have called Shaun then.” I gritted.