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“Hey, who am I to judge?”

“I’m going to shower and go to bed. This has been a lot today, and I need to try and get some sleep.”

“Okay, have a good night.”

“Please…if anyone calls you. You haven’t seen me.”

“No one knows where I live, and you don’t have to worry about me saying anything.”

By morning, I had a headache from hell and a stomach ache that felt worse. After I showered and got dressed, Lloyd was standing at his coffeemaker pouring himself some coffee.

“You’ve decided something?”

“I’m going to talk to him tonight.”

“I’m not going to tell you not to. You're going to do what you want anyway. What I am going to say is that you need to stop treating Shameek like the man you thought he was yesterday.”

“I get it.”

“I don’t think you do. You keep saying he loves you like that makes you safe. That doesn’t erase what he did to Nikki or his brother.:

“He won’t hurt me,” I said.

“I hope you're right. Keep your security close. And if anything feels wrong, leave. You don’t owe him a final speech.”

“I need one, though. I need to hear what he has to say.”

“Okay.” he threw his hands up.

“I’m going to Royal Flush first. I need to print everything and make copies.”

“Send copies to me as well.”

“If something happens–”

“Don’t,” Lloyd said, putting his hand up.

“Lloyd.”

“Kyenna, I said don’t. You’re going to come back.”

My day started at Royal Flush. I had only stopped by here because I needed to pick up some paperwork. What was supposed to be only a few minutes turned into two hours of me sorting things out because one of the managers had a family emergency. Then I had to wait for a manager to come in so I could leave. Once I was told everyone was on schedule, I grabbed what I came for and walked out without saying anything to anyone. After months of chasing the truth and having no answers, I had everything I needed.

Me: Meet me at the house at nine. We need to talk

Shameek’s response came instantly.

Meek: I’ve been worried about you

Me: I’m good

After a shower and a shot, I was ready to look him in the face and say what needed to be said. I wasn’t trying to get drunk. Just enough to get the edge of it and steady my nerves. At nine sharp, Shameek was walking up to the door.

“Fuck is wrong wit’ you?” He asked as soon as I opened the door.

I didn’t say anything. I closed the door and walked off.

“A nigga been calling and textin’ you,” he said, following behind me.