SAINT BAPTISTE 2: the soul ties series

Chapter 8

“As far as the trust,”Jahad pause. “I’ll get to you later on it. A decision like that can’t be made right now. Most definitely can’t be made alone. It’s gotta be discussed.”

I nodded. “Understood.”

We were at Jahad’s. The conversation about Samuel’s will was difficult for us to have so we breezed through it. The kids had trusts. Although I was sure he would have loved to tell Samuel to suck his dick for a third time, when it came to the kids and their future, he couldn’t make that decision alone. Conversation didn’t last more than five minutes. I appreciated that. I could speak for the three of us when I said we were happy the shit was over.

“Now that, that’s shit over,” Jahad said before getting up from his chair. He walked over to his liquor cabinet and opened it. “Congratulations fré.”

It took a minute, but I finally got B to open up to Jah about Inferno. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to include him in on it. That shit was a given. The nigga was just in his feelings about the same shit.

”That’s huge, B. You should be proud,” Jahad continued, as he made his way back over to the seating area of his office with a bottle of Patrón En Lalique Serie and three glasses.

Blaise nodded. “’Preciate it, fré. I am. Very proud.”

Jah popped the cork, poured three shots and slid ours over to us.

In unison, we raised our glasses. “The shit is about to be a movie,” I added.

A lot of time had passed since Jahad decided to bow out of the business. If you asked Blaise, he’d say Jah turned his back on the family. A lot of time passing meant B had a lot of pent of resentment. Resentment that needed to be resolved before we left this bitch.

Blaise was like a pipe when he was under too much pressure; he could only hold back for so long before he exploded. And today, I saw it happening. Vividly. The shit was crystal clear. In every smirk, and at the end of every sentence too. But see… I studied niggas. Sitting back in silence allowed me that privilege. And because I studied this nigga in particular, I knew he wouldn’t just come out and spill. Hell naw. He couldn’t. If he did that, Jah would know he gave a fuck.

I was already hip to how the night would unfold. I had front row seats to the show this nigga was ‘bout to put on. Whole time, I’d been sitting back watching, and anticipating, hoping for the best though. I wanted to have a good ass time. Wanted to laugh. Needed to laugh. Especially with them. It had been far too long since we had a good time. Far too long since I had a good time. That didn’t make sense for me.

“You already know,” Blaise agreed with a smirk before we tossed the shots.

After sitting the glass on the table, I sat back against the chair and stroked my beard, with a grin.

“So, tell me about it,” Jahad said with his eyes locked on Blaise’s. He paused and leaned forward a bit. “Restaurant? Nightclub? Fill me in, nigga.”

He felt slighted. If I read it, Blaise read it. It was expected. I told Blaise to tell him sooner but because the chip on his shoulder was a lot bigger than the one on mine, he waited... He wanted Jahad to feel what he felt. He wanted him to feel left out in the cold. Blaise didn’t tell me that, but he didn’t have to. I was good at reading people, remember? Blaise said a lot of shit, but it was the shit he didn’t say that spoke the loudest. He was a wounded little boy, pissed at ‘daddy’ for abandoning him. Keeping ‘Club Inferno’ from Jahad was his way of rebelling.

Blaise sat back against the chair and shrugged, with his mouth turned down in dismay. “Shit, neither. A speakeasy.”

Jahad nodded with raised brows. “Damn nigga. A speakeasy? Aight, my baby. I see you. I fuck with it.”

“Shocked, huh?” Blaise asked, wearing a half smirk. “Can’t believe I’m openin’ my own spot up, can you?” He laughed. “Shit crazy, ain’t it?”

Jahad shook his head with a shrug. “I can believe it. I never doubted you.” He squinted. “I think you got your wires twisted nigga.”

Here we fuckin’ go.

I sucked in a deep breath, leaned forward for the bottle of Patrón and poured up another shot. Drinking wouldn’t help referee the situation, but I didn’t give a fuck because despite hoping for a good ass time, I had no plans to referee any fuckin’ thing. I was the appointed mediator between the two of them. Did I choose to be? Hell naw. Was thrown into that position too. But, I was gracefully bowing out.

I was drowning enough already. Every week I had to deal with something. Either it was an event, an emergency of some sort, or funeral arrangements. That shit fucked with me the most. Just the other day, I picked out the suit Pops would be buried in. By my lonely. Moms couldn’t because she was detached from reality. She rarely ever left his bedside. Shit was heartbreaking to witness, to say the least. I didn’t bother her with it. I was okay with her staying at his bedside. She needed that.

Blaise was handling business, Natasha on a date with her cornball ass nigga, and… there was no reason to even think about Jah. His stance was respected. So I hadn’t sat still. Couldn’t anyway. If I sat for too long my mind would get to rambling. I’d fuck around and pull up on shorty on some selfish shit just because I was hurting for peace. Since I’d been in this position, peace had been a comfortable, cushiony spot between a pair of tiger-striped thighs. I could just... chill there. Didn’t need to do shit but lay there, with my face against that bow tattoo. But, I didn’t have that anyone. So a nigga was scrambling. Steady trying to find just a little bit of what she gave me in something.

“Naaaah,” Blaise said with a wide grin, roughly running both his hands over the top of his head.

He was wylin. Jah was... thrown. Couldn’t understand why though. Coming from far-left field was what Blaise did. Me? Shit. I was chillin. Probably should have intervened since I wanted peace so bad but... fuck it. Figured the best way to get that peace would be by staying out of the fuckin’ way. I was Observing. Wondered if Blaise would keep his true feelings tucked like a bitch and just tweak out or if he would spill and tell Jah how he really felt. I was banking on the latter. It wasn’t his fault. Running from emotional truths was a Baptiste thing. Eventually he’d spill. Willingly, or unwillingly. Either it would be civil, or shit would get dangerous. Because it was Blaise... again, I was banking on the latter. He didn’t know what the hell it meant to have a civil disagreement. And I chose not to give a fuck about that either. He was a grown ass man. I had my own shit to deal with. Couldn’t help another nigga manage his emotions while I was busy juggling my own.

“Never thought I’d see the day bro kept it anything less than one hundred,” Blaise continued. Pausing, he crossed his arms over his broad chest with a smile. “Say it ain’t so. Sittin’ down did that to you, fré? Sheesh.”

Jah scratched at his cheek before leaning forward, resting his arms on his knees. With a slight cock to his head, he asked, “Did what to me, nigga?”

I smiled and moved to the edge of the chair. With a squint, I focused on the rim of the shot glass as I continued to carefully pour, slowly inching up to the very top. Right at the rim. Wondered if I could get to it before one of these niggas jumped up and made me spill my shit. I took my eyes off the glass for a second, just to glance at them. I wondered who would be the first to jump up today.

Jah. It would for sure be Jah. Yeah, Blaise was on some shit, but it wouldn’t be him because it was always Jah that jumped first. Jahad was levelheaded. Hadn’t always been. Took a minute to get him there, but since getting a better handle on his temper, getting up under the niggas skin was damn near impossible. For most. However, when it came to B? Shit. Blaise was the only muthafucka that could get him to jump fifteen years back into the mind of the nigga he used to be.

“You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about nigga,” Blaise replied, wearing a smirk, arms still crossed, trying to get bro riled up. Blaise wanted Jah to revert. The nigga loved to get him out of that ‘corporate’ shit even if it would only be for a minute.

Shit was ridiculous.

I ran my tongue over my bottom lip as I carefully picked the shot glass up. Once it was safe to, I quickly tossed it back, sat the glass down and looked over at Jah. Sighing, I shook my head. This nigga.

“Don’t doit fré,” I warned, finally inserting myself into the conversation. Dragging my hands down my face, I groaned. “Don’t fuckin’ do it.”

“Don’t do what?” B asked. “I’m just?—”

“Jah,” I stressed, briefly cutting my eyes at Blaise. Turning my attention back to Jah, I continued. “Don’t let ‘em get you goin’. You fall for this nigga shit every time.”

Damn, I said I wasn’t playing referee, didn’t I?

Fuck it. A nigga just needed a got damn break. There was too much going on. I was literally scrambling. Everything was falling apart.

Blaise sucked his teeth and waved me off. “Fuck out of here, nigga. I’m just sayin.” He threw his hands up. “How many times he gon’ tell me he’s proud? Shit sounding like surprise to me.”

Jah nodded, sat back and said, “Mercy.”

Blaise paused in the middle of picking the bottle up to pour another shot.

I stopped running my hand over the top of my head.

We just paused. Couldn’t do shit else.

Mercy was venom. I was sure I could speak for the three of us when I said hearing it, especially used in this context, was a fucking trigger. I was surprised that nigga had used it.

Jah looked back and forth between the two of us. “Respectfully. Samuel’s promise of mercy isn’t my promise of mercy.”

For as long as I could remember, I wasn’t allowed to feel. If I was sad, I was a bitch. Too happy? A bitch. Excited? For what? Only bitches got excited. The only emotion we were allowed to feel was anger and even that had to be contained. However, there was one major flaw in Samuel’s parenting; we were human. We had feelings. And it just so happened, regardless of how much he tried to train us not to feel, we felt. And because we felt, and weren’t allowed to express, that anger he wanted us to contain? It couldn’t be. For a while, that was aight. He’d rather us on animal shit, than bitch shit. Until the nigga decided it was time to legitimize the business and clean the money up. But he couldn’t effectively clean the money up without cleaning us up first, right? So, he came up with mercy. Freedom to express. Freedom to feel. Without judgment. Mercy gave us the floor to speak. Mercy was Samuel’s way of showing compassion and an ounce of give a fuck.

Mercy sounded lovely right? Yeah, fuckin’ beautiful.

Samuel used mercy as a weapon.

Mercy was bullshit.

Could’ve been lovely. Would’ve worked if it was given by a nigga with decency. A nigga who could handle hearing an opinion that wasn’t his own. A nigga who truly gave a fuck about what he was doing to his children. But nah, it was created by a muthafucka that was trying to do a quick rush job on healing years of emotional wounds, just because he wanted to rub shoulders with white muthafuckas that would never view him as an equal, regardless of how clean him and his black ass kids were.

“How often did I push you, B? Hm? Tell me,” Jah continued since Blaise hadn’t spoken up. “I was the nigga advocating for this! Me. I believed in you years ago. I stressed the importance of establishing your own business. It was Samuel holding you back, nigga. Not me. He wanted to keep you grounded. He didn’t believe in you. Me? I’ve always believed in you. Always believed in the both of you. So, for you to sit there and paint me out to be anything other than what the fuck I’ve always been, is a bitch move, my nigga. That shit you got on you ain’t bout me, G.”

Blaise sat there, stoically stroking his beard with the corner of his top lip curled up into a snarl. He was stuck. Probably like me... stuck in the memory of what the fuck mercy did to us. Still... really couldn’t believe this nigga used it.

Mercy was supposed to be given by the standard of its textbook definition. Compassion or forgiveness toward someone. What we didn’t realize was that the nigga that introduced us to it had mercy for no one. Not even his seeds. But because we came from his ball sack, he had to pretend right? Follow me. Samuel was like that. A master manipulator.

Twice a month, we were given mercy; freedom to speak without repercussion. I was twelve when it was first introduced to the family. Jah, nineteen, Blaise three years younger. Naturally, since I was the youngest, it had the most psychological damage on me. Mercy wasn’t subjected to our household only—it was a Baptiste thing, but I was sure that Samuel was the only father who’d used it as a weapon. Out of his brothers, he was the coldest. Most ruthless. The one with the most rules that came with grave consequences. Which was what solidified us as the head of the family at the start. He was the chief. He was the boss. No one wanted to go against Samuel. He was a threat. To everyone. Which was why he got away with practically abusing us our whole lives.

That psychological damage was real. Trauma was crazy. Mercy was more damaging to my mental than anything else. Nothing fucked with me more than that and I caught my first body at age twelve. Beat a nigga to death with my bare hands. Had to. It was a part of Pops’ vigorous training. Before you were given a blick, you had to prove you could survive without it. I’d take that over mercy any fucking day.

“Listen,” Jahad continued. Wouldn’t shut the fuck up because although the tension in the room had been created by Blaise, he shifted it to something different. Something dark, cold, and menacing. Took us down a lane down memory road neither of us wanted to go down. Low key, he probably wouldn’t shut the fuck up because he was struggling too. “I?—”

“Y’all remember the price tag on the last one?” Blaise cut in, shifting his eyes back and forth between Jahad and I.

Of course we remembered.

“Heavy,” Jahad added before leaning forward to grab the bottle. Instead of pouring a shot, he popped the cork and drank from the neck.

I didn’t know what type of time these niggas were on today. They were taking it to dark places. Places we hadn’t been in years.

Blaise looked over at him. “You turned your back on us.”

I was grateful for the change of subject. However, I was gone already. Stuck in that dark place. Felt like they were too. The conversation had shifted a little from mercy but the direction it took could still very much reroute and take it right back there. We had Jah to thank for that. Nigga could’ve gotten B to speak up in a completely different way. Especially after we all agreed to leave that shit buried years ago. I didn’t just bury the word. Shit, I buried me. Mercy was created at a pivotal point in my life. I was a young nigga. Impressionable. Full of emotion. Full of rage. Confusion.. Last time we had a Mercy meeting, I got to going. Samuel didn’t like that shit. Hell naw he didn’t.

“Never. I turned my back on him,” Jah stated. “I?—

“You can’t see it that way because... you can’t see it,” I interrupted. “Nigga... you were always there. And then,” I shrugged. “You weren’t. I get it though.” Sighing, I nodded. “I fuckin’ get it. You don’t owe us a muthafuckin’ thing. Big bro gotta do what’s best for him, don’t you? Took care of us long enough, haven’t you?”

Jahad’s brows furrowed, confused.

Rightfully so. The detour took me in a different direction than earlier for sure. It was mercy. Had he left that shit out of it, I would have backed him a little. But... I couldn’t because it took me somewhere else. Being taken to that place... it put a lot of shit into perspective. I understood Blaise. I got it, completely.

“Nah, nigga. I peep,” Jah stated, tugging on his beard. “You know what gets me though? I had to mention Mer?—”

“You didn’t. You really fuckin’ didn’t,” I paused and leaned over to grab the bottle from in front of him. “Takin’ it there was a choice. If you left the shit buried like we agreed to, I would’ve sat here and let y’all rock. You know me,” I laughed. “I mean, nigga. You really know me.” I pointed at him. “I’m starting to think you brought it up on purpose.”

Jahad sat back against his chair and said nothing.

That was all I needed. He did it on purpose.

“Listen—”

“You really turned bitch on us,” Blaise interjected with a laugh before jumping up.

Hmph. Look at that shit. Surprised the fuck out of me. I thought it would be Jah. But then again... Jah did make a bitch move.

“You niggas turned bitch on me,” Jahad said through gritted teeth, before slapping his hand against his chest. He stood. “I wouldn’t have taken it there if every fuckin’ time I talked to you niggas, you pretended. You were raised better. Like men. You got something on your heart—we come together, we discuss it, and we end it there. We resolve it. but instead, you choose to keep a chip on your shoulder. And then you accuse me of being like him?” Again, he slapped his chest. “You accuse me? of turning my back on you?” With a squint, he looked between both Blaise and me. “I remember that price tag vividly. Do you niggas remember it the way that I do?”

That price tag Blaise mentioned? The price tag was me. My life.

That was the price tag on me speaking up. We were in a mercy meeting, and I spoke up about the way Samuel handled this one nigga that used to come around the house back in the day. Ern. Apparently, he stole something. Apparently. There were no facts. Just word of mouth from the bitch he was fucking. Not Ern’s bitch, but the bitch Pops was fucking. Yeah, exactly. Shit was like that. He took her word because Ern didn’t have the best track record. He did odd jobs and shit like that for us. Didn’t make a lot of money so when the bitch said she saw him taking shit, Samuel believed her and murdered that man. It wasn’t the murder that bothered me. It was the way it happened.

Back then, we met at factories. The family. Samuel still had a lot of fucking cleaning up to do. So… we hadn’t quite made it to where we could secure a big ass house with enough space to house a team of damn near fifty to sixty niggas. So… we met at an old chip factory. Mind you… a nigga what? Fifteen. I walk in, see a man I’ve known since Pampers, strung up, bound to the fuckin’ ceiling. Naked. Bloodied, with a couple gashes on his head and across his face. Samuel walk out from the back, gripping a machete, grinning, with his brothers, casual as fuck, as if Ern wasn’t strung up. As if there wasn’t a naked man hanging from the pipes on the ceiling. He did his thing. Talked his talk. Mentioned stealing and the gravity behind it. Without warning, he split the nigga open. From his chest to the bottom of his stomach. Left him hanging there until he was empty. Traumatized me. Couldn’t wait to speak about the shit at the meeting. I did, Samuel said he understood where I was coming from.

Couple weeks later, I find myself in a predicament similar. He sent me and B on a run… something came up missing. He questioned us. I’m defending myself, B defending himself. We at it. Samuel chastising me. Fifteen-year-old me. Accusing me. Calling me all types of shit. Said I had love for the nigga Ern because we were one in the same. Slimy. Disloyal. He told Blaise to handle me. Blaise hesitated. Didn’t move until Samuel put his gun to Blaise’s head. The minute Blaise upped, Jah did. Not on him; on Samuel. And that was when it ended. His little game. It ended with a laugh. Ended with Simon bringing the sack of missing money into the room. Blaise came close to ending that nigga. You know what Samuel said? That it was a test of loyalty. The only one to pass was Jahad.

It wasn’t a test.

It was manipulation. It was a way to keep us quiet. To make us follow him, like minions without question. A way to mind fuck us. And it worked because I stopped talking. It was easier for me to sit quiet. I learned that it was easier to just shut the fuck up and listen. So, I adapted to that. Instead of expressing myself, I kept it all inside. Keeping quiet had its drawbacks for sure. I stopped speaking up, so decisions were made for me. Lost control of my own life. But eventually, I found a way to gain it in one area they couldn’t touch. Sex.

Jahad pinched the bridge of his nose. “One thing I’ve never done is turn my back on you niggas,” he scoffed with his top lip curled up. “Samuel got sick and y’all forgot. I never faulted y’all for that though. I get it. But what I’ll never respect is blasphemy on my name From either of you.”

The only person I did speak freely with was Jah. What he did, putting that gun to Samuel’s head shifted things for me. I saw him in a different light. When we came up out that hole, it was him I sought out. No one else. Not even mom’s. He became a father to me.

Blaise and I sat silent for a good thirty seconds, while Jahad continued to slowly pace, gawking down at us. Shit. There had been plenty times before where Jahad had to put his ‘father’ hat on and ‘get us together’ but today was different. Today he opened old wounds to get us to see what we had forgotten about. That wasn’t our faults per se. Sometimes people forget. I was guilty of that.

I didn’t let his question marinate that day. When he asked me who I saw. When he mentioned Samuel being sick and me forgetting who he was... I did. I forgot all about the shit he did. Forgot about what cemented the bond between my brothers and me. I knew it was solid. Just... forgot about the shit that put it in position. The things that made it what it was. We weren’t just tight because we were brothers. Didn’t just have respect, love, and loyalty because we came up and struggled together. We created this bond. We had to bond. Because if we didn’t, Samuel would have driven us fucking insane. We had to bond together because we were all we had.

I sat the bottle down, stood and circled the coffee table. With my hand extended, I approached Jahad. “Forgive me, fré,” I apologized.

Shoulders squared, eyes locked, standing tall. When our palms met, the handshake was firm. Just the way he taught me. everything I learned about what it was to be a man, I learned from him. No one else.

He nodded. “All is well, my nigga,” he said, pulling me in for a brotherly embrace. “I didn’t want to take it there, but it was necessary.”

I understood. Had he not taken it there, we wouldn’t have had the conversation. Not to the extent that we had it. Not because there was animosity but because we didn’t know how to properly deal with our emotions. He had to pull it out of us and the only way to really get to the bottom of shit was to take it to darkness.

“Konprann.”

It took him a minute but eventually, Blaise stood to give Jah the same grace. I stepped aside and let them have their moment. Because ‘moments’ like these didn’t come often, I let it linger a minute. Made sure what was needed, was taken from it before I decided to lighten the mood with a joke.

Before I could though, the sudden sound of laughter caught my ear. With raised brows, I shifted my eyes away from them to the doorway that lead out into the hallway. She was here. Anticipation grew in the pit of my stomach as the sound of her laugh grew closer.

“How was the fall, fré?” Jahad asked from behind.

“Look at this nigga. Here we are, having a moment and he’s what they say... ‘smitten’ over a laugh? A fuckin’ laugh,” Blaise added.

“Fuck y’all,” I said with a laugh just as there were a couple knocks on the door.

Sienna stuck her head in and said, “Knock. Knock.”

Jahad did something. Must’ve motioned for her to come inside. I didn’t know. I was captivated by a pair of brown eyes that found mine the minute she walked into the room.

Sienna spoke. I chucked my chin. Jahad asked if I needed water. Blaise said something. Another joke. I ignored them. Eventually, they faded to the back. Couldn’t hear them niggas at all. My eyes never left Naoki. They couldn’t. The minute I heard her laugh, she stole every bit of my attention. All of it. As soon as I heard that laugh, I couldn’t hear anything else. I didn’t give a fuck about we had going on. Mercy was back where it belonged—in the pits of fuckin’ hell. Nothing mattered. She was the focus. It was like that. She was like that. She had me gone. I was more out of my body now than I was in that fuckin’ room in Pandora’s.

I couldn’t help but to run my tongue over my bottom lip as my mind was flooded with memories of the last time I ran it along her bottom lips. With a low grunt, I slowly took in the rest of her. She was dressed casually in a pair of black leggings and a tight V-neck shirt that showed just enough titty meat to make my dick swell. The fuck was I talkin’ about? Dick bricked the minute I heard her laugh. On God it was like that. I didn’t need to see her... didn’t need to smell her... didn’t need to touch her... or any of that shit to be aroused by her. All she had to do was ignite one of my senses and I was immediately enthralled. It was just her.

“Hey,” Naoki spoke.

I lightly smiled, nodded and approached her. “Oki. How’ve you been, amou?”

I lowered my eyes to her slender neck and watched as it moved up and down with a swallow. She missed me just as much as I had missed her. I honestly didn’t need to see her swallow to know it. Just put my eyes there because I wanted to see it happen.

“I’ve been,” she responded through a labored breath before pausing. “I’ve been good. You?”

She hadn’t been good. That sadness living in her eyes told me the truth. I wondered if she could see the misery living in mine?

“Miserable,” I honestly answered with my eyes locked on her browns, standing before her.

I wore my heart on my sleeve. I was aight with wearing something other than cufflinks for a change. It suit me well. I didn’t give a fuck anymore. Running and hiding hadn’t done shit but cause ruin. I was done with that. If she wanted to know how I felt, I would tell her the truth. I missed her. Missed her so muthafuckin’ much that instead of trying to fill an unfillable void with useless bitches with mediocre pussy, I laid awake in bed every fucking night, stuck in a daydream. Dreamt with my eyes opened, replaying our last moments together in my mind. Was it weak? Did that make me a pussy? Fuck it. I played the role of a nigga who didn’t give a fuck for far too long. That shit was exhausting. Surrendering... taking the path of least resistance... I enjoyed it more. There wasn’t any turbulence here. Just coasting.

Let a nigga coast.