Page 14

“Yeah, I know,” she replied softly.

The look on her face started changing after that, and instantly I felt bad because I could tell the conversation was becoming too much for her emotionally.

“Excuse me,” she mumbled suddenly.

She pushed away from the table and hurried down the hallway, and seconds later I heard her throwing up her fuckin guts in the bathroom like her body was trying to reject every bit of stress and grief sitting inside her.

That shit didn’t disgust me at all. If anything, it placed more anger inside of me for her.

My empathy for women was the reason I been handing Delilah the way I do now, because seeing a woman sick had always done something to me mentally. That's why I even been sending Amelia’s ass money every week. I'm not sure if she was getting better but I know the money could help if she uses it the right way.

I couldn’t just sit there listening to Jasmine throw up her guts in the bathroom, so I quietly packed up my plate and walked out to the stoop.

“Yo, Pernelle,” I called out as I came down the steps.

“You might want to go check on Jasmine. She in the restroom throwing up.”

Pernelle’s face instantly shifted with concern.

“Ahh, damn, I was hoping she was in there eating something. I’m about to go check on her,” she replied, running back into the house.

I walked over toward the cars where Crew and the rest of them were standing around still smoking and talking.

“My boy,” Crew called out the second he saw me approaching.

“Did my mama hook you up with some of that good ass fish?”

I laughed lightly and nodded my head.

“Yeah, shit was fire too. I’m going to put my leftovers in the air fryer later on.”

“And it will still hit the same. I told niggas my mama throw down.”

“You not lying,” I agreed before adjusting my watch and glancing down the block.

“Well, yo, I have to slide. Some shit came up I need to handle.”

“Everything straight?” Crew raised his eyebrow.

“Yeah, I have some personal shit I need to take care of.”

“Aight then. Hit me up later, bro. Safety.”

I dapped him up before stepping away from the group. I told Crew I had somewhere to be, but little did he know, I was on my way to Jasmine’s baby daddy’s spot.

I only knew where that nigga lived because I had to talk Crew out of killing him two nights ago when he and I were riding to my crib together to get ammo. The entire drive over there, he drove with one hand on the steering wheel while clutching his pistol so tight his knuckles looked pale. When we pulled up to her baby daddy's spot, I had to remind him that he had too much to lose to throw his life away over revenge.

“But that nigga should’ve watched my nephew,” he kept saying angrily. “He should’ve watched him better than that.”

And honestly?

I agreed with him.

I just didn’t want to see Crew lose years of his life and miss time with his family because of one emotional decision. So eventually we pulled off, but I made note of the street and the home address as I always did.

Back then, I didn’t know why, but it eventually came in handy as I knew it would. I wasn't going to kill the nigga tonight and I damn sure wasn't going to do anything sloppy. This shit is premeditated to say the least.

I waited around until nightfall and when I got near the house, I circled the block once before parking my car further down the street. I popped the trunk and grabbed everything I needed, including a ski mask to pull over my face.