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Justice
JUSTICE
“Man, I was just thinkin’ there’s some nigga out there toothless because of you,” Quest laughed, bringing up Tron.
“He can buy some more. He was about to take something from my daughter that could never be bought back,” I replied, shaking my head.
We were in his office meeting about finances and the business. There were a hundred other things on my mind. I missed Dream and wanted to have her back home with me. But she wasn’t safe around Storie, who was still in the hospital. I still needed to move on Keenan.
And lastly, I couldn’t stop thinking about Kira. I fucked up her business because of Storie. And I wasn’t the type of nigga to not attempt to correct my mistakes. I knew that Kira probably wanted nothing to do with me, but I had to try.
I had to make up for what Storie did. For what I did. The evidence pointed to Kira, but I was played. And her family didn’t deserve what I did.
Quest slid a folder toward me, but I barely looked at it. I had been thinking about those restaurants all morning. Every time I pictured Kira telling me she hadn’t killed Midnite, I remembered how sure I had been that she was lying.
“You planning on opening that, or you waiting for it to read itself?” Quest asked.
“My bad. I got something I need to handle.”
“You been needing to handle something every day this week.”
“Tell me about it.” I leaned back and rubbed my chin. “I’m going to see Kira.”
Quest’s eyebrows lifted. “For what?”
“Storie admitted to killing Midnite. Kira ain’t do it.”
He stared at me before sitting back.
“Damn. After all that shit with the restaurants?”
“Exactly.” I threw my hands up.
“What you gon’ say to her?”
“I don’t know yet. But I can’t sit here knowing I did that shit to the wrong person.”
He looked at the folder between us before closing it.
“Go handle that. We can finish this later.”
I got up before I could decide it was a bad idea. I had moved fast as hell when I wanted to punish her. Now that I owed her an apology, I couldn’t suddenly need a week to figure out what to say.
On the drive over, I tried to work out what I could offer. Paying for the cleanup wouldn’t come close. I had cost her customers, employees and whatever contracts she lost after those videos went around.
Five new restaurants would give her something to build on. I could cover the expenses for the first two years while she got established again. It would cost me, but I had spent money putting her out of business without proof.
I pulled into her driveway and parked beside her red Maxima. There were no guarantees she would even open the door, but I got out and rang the bell.
When she answered, her face changed immediately.
“You got a lot of fucking nerve,” she hissed.
“I know. Can we talk?” I asked.
“About what? You ain’t ruin enough of my life? What do you want, Justice?” she asked, her mouth twisted in disgust.
