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“….by stabbing.” “By…fuckin’…stabbing.”
It takes me a while to say anything. I think back to my previous conversations with Syren. Nothing seemed too off. She did a great job at playing coy enough. Maybe I was just too mesmerized by her seductive nature. But then, she started playing these weird games with me and Damien. Popping up on us at our places of work, trying to tempt us each individually. What was she trying to do? What’s her true agenda with us? Who is this girl?
“Are you sure, Dime?” “You want proof?” “Proof?”
Dime has her phone in her hand, flicking across the screen quickly. She comes over to stand with me, handing her phone over. I can barely believe what I see. It looks like a low rent porno. Some dude’s hitting a shorty from the front…with blonde… braids? And… she…looks just like Syren?
“He sent me that one night, trying to be funny. He was really just pressed that I was fucking his homie. Anyway, that’s her. Same face. There’s the braids. Same whoreish ways. This bitch killed Javon. I’m sure of it. It had to be her. I just don’t think she did it alone. There’s no way she was able to pin Jay down long enough to get the up on him. She definitely wasn’t going to just stand there stabbing him either. He was a big nigga.”
It does make sense. Fuck. It makes a lot of sense. Especially when I think back to her texting her ex-boyfriend. Or the nigga she claimed was an ex. He seemed a little too obsessed. Like the breakup was hella fresh. Or like he felt some sense of entitlement to her access. Most times, niggas like that know something. A whole lot of something. It’s all starting to line up in my head.
“Son of a fuckin’ bitch,” I mutter, eyes wide. I’m completely mortified. It is her.
Dime comes forward with her hands on her hips. “How do you know her, Morgan?”
I don’t answer the question, choosing instead to shoot to the front door. Enraged. “…I gotta go,” I declare angrily.
“Nope, hell no. I’m going with you.”
“No, stay here with my brother in-law. I need to go talk to Ms. Syren alone. Meet me at the lounge in an hour.”
“Just be careful with that hoe, Morgan. Call me if you need me. I owe her a bullet.”
“I got you.”
I swing the door open, dashing to the car. Now, I’m not one hundred percent clear on if Syren killed Dime’s baby daddy. But I do know this chick has some questions to answer. As a matter of fact, fuck the questions. I just need to make some things clear. To think, I’ve had this hoe in my house. With my husband. Sharing my body with her. The whole time, she’s a killer?
Supposedly. I have to handle this shit now. Hell, I need to text Damien. Just in case she’s in his vicinity again. For all I know, she could’ve been waiting for him to leave the house so she could follow him. Fuck.
I wait until I'm in the car to message him. Typing faster than my fingers can even handle.
Me: Bae, I’ll explain in full later, but Syren is no good. We have to cut her off. ASAP. Oh, and your brother is smashing my friend Dime. He’s crashing at her house. You didn’t hear that from me, but you heard it from me.
I don’t know if it’s the service by Dime or my phone’s just tripping, but it’s moving too slow for my patience to endure. But my next goal is to text Syren herself. Because I need this bitch’s address for this one. Game over.
Chapter Nine
WHEN IT ALL GOES DOWN
Syren
I’ve been in pure Heaven since coming home. Morgan fucked me so good, it’s hard to think straight. I had to take off work because I literally have no energy left for anything. All I can manage is walking around my house in my boy shorts and beater, sipping mint tea. With a sore ass. It’s still better than being stuck at some wine shop, checking out snooty white people all day. Nope. Don’t feel like it. I feel more like watching Love Jones with a big bowl of popcorn, pretzels, and chocolate mixed together.
I start towards the kitchen, on the hunt for everything needed for my snack. On the way there, my phone starts to vibrate in my hand rapidly. Morgan. I stop right in my tracks, leaning against the door frame to read what she sent.
Morgan: Hey. I want to see you. Can I have your address?
Even better than Love Jones. That sends heat rushing up my neck as I smile from ear to ear. I feel crazy in a good way. Like I just won the lottery and a million-dollar parlay on the same day.
Me: Of course. 4442 N Plankinton Ave
Morgan: Bet. Be there in five minutes.
Me: Okay. You can park on the street.
Morgan: Planned on it.
I put the snacks on hold, focusing instead on freshening up. Curiosity is at its peak. There could be a multitude of reasons she could want to pull up. But my mind can only center around one. After the night we shared, of course she’d want to spin the block. I know I taste good. And I fuck even better. She wants me to herself, I bet. Guess my plan to take one from the other could be in effect after all. I only need one. And honestly, Morgan seems to be more of my interest. She just fits me. That’s not to say Damien isn’t amazing. He is.
