12. Love
LOVE
Valentine’s Day is two days away, and Lauren been sending me stuff for almost a week.
Sometimes it’s random shit, but then it got more expensive, like the Rolex she left in my mailbox.
This last one takes the cake though, because I’m in my front room watching a video of her butt ass naked on the screen.
Good thing my mama in her room taking a nap, or her ass was gone get an eyeful of something she ain’t need to see.
I grabbed my phone from the side table to call her.
“Hey, Love. You got my gifts?” she asked with hope in her voice, but she done turned me all the way off on her ass. She took it way too far this time.
“Lauren, why you keep sending me shit?” I barked out, teeth grinding hard against each other.
She snorted. “I want you to be my Valentine, Love. I thought that was obvious by now.”
The only reason I’m tolerating any of this was because she still my supervisor, and I need my job. If it wasn’t for mama needing shit on a daily, I would’ve walked away a long time ago. In the beginning, I brushed off her antics, but back then, she wasn't this crazy either.
“I want no parts of you, Lauren. Stop sending me shit, for real.” I stopped smoking weed when I got hired as an officer. They liable to do random drug tests but shit like this got me wanting to puff like a muthafucka.
“Let’s just go on one date, then you’ll see the type of person I am.”
“I already know, baby girl. You the type of bitch that put sex tapes on muthafuckas doorsteps. What if my mama picked this up instead of me? You ain’t thinking clearly at all.
” I tapped the side of my head with my index finger.
“That shit was cute, until it wasn’t. We done, ma.
You my supervisor and that’s all you are to me. ”
I pressed the end button, laying my head against the back of the sofa. I tried closing my eyes to block out all this shit, but my head pounded against my skull. I don’t know who was worse, her or my damn mama.
I can’t believe she screamed out like that earlier when I was on the phone with Baby.
I can tell the shit scared her when she asked if everything was okay.
I ran in mama’s room to see her on the floor, holding her foot.
I tried to be patient with her ass, but a nigga almost snapped when she claimed she stubbed her toe.
It’s true, I called Baby to check-in, but that’s not the only reason I hit her up.
I just wanted an excuse to get her on the phone, and to hear her voice.
I wanted to see if it’s more to this attraction, but making something happen with her will put us both in a fucked-up situation.
I’ll be hit with a violation, and she can possibly go back to jail.
No matter how much chemistry we have, she had more to lose than I did and I can’t take that chance. Not with her freedom on the line.
Taking the tape out of the old ass DVD player I dug up out my mama stuff, I tossed it in the trashcan on the way to my room.
My thoughts drifted to my brother. He ain’t been right since he walked out my house, and I was tempted to call him. We don’t get along, but he’s my twin, and I don’t want nothing bad happening to him.
I heard my phone vibrating, but I didn’t bother to go back in the living room to get it, knowing it’s probably Lauren ass calling me back. Once it stopped and started again, I went to grab it.
I hit the button on the side, but when I realized it was D-low’s number, I swiped to answer. “Sup, Man. What’s going on?”
“Are you Mr. Hamilton?” I hung my head in shame. I just knew this nigga got himself in more trouble, and this was his third fucking strike.
“Who’s speaking?” I sat on the edge of the couch, then ran my hand over my mouth.
“My name is officer Rogers with the Grover Hill police department. I’m just calling to inform you that your parolee Dravon Marshall, is being arrested for distributing marijuana to an undercover police officer. Would you like to meet us down at the station?”
I sighed. I had no faith in D-low’s stupid ass. I knew he was gone end up back in prison. He’s just like Valentine, too hotheaded for his own good.
“Yeah, I’ll be there,” I declared, looking down the hallway towards mama room.
I know it’ll be too much to wake her up to ride with me, but I don’t trust her ass here by herself. She seems alright right now, nevertheless, her behavior unpredictable, she can lose her mind at anytime.
“See you soon,” he stated, ending the call.
Muthafucking D-low. He just don’t know when to quit. Nigga tell jokes all day but can’t stay his ass outta trouble. I ended up leaving my mama at the crib. I would’ve been embarrassed as hell if she made a scene at the station.
After walking in the precinct, I could hear D-low's voice to the left of me and rolled my eyes. This fool had the nerve to say it was a conspiracy, that the police was plotting against him.
“Sir, you were caught on our dash-cam.”
An officer I assumed is the one who called me, spoke to D-low with a bored expression. You can tell he wanted to be anywhere else but here, messing with this nigga.
“Y’all muthafuckas faked that shit,” he spat.
His arms were cuffed behind his back, but it ain’t stop him from struggling to get loose. Spit flew from his mouth as he talked. “Y’all just wanna take down another brother from the hood. Ain’t that right, Mr. Hamilton?”
He made my presence known. Almost everybody turned in my direction to see what I was gonna say.
I walked up to him. “Dravon, why you in here doing this? You always gotta cause a problem wherever you go.”
“Aw, man! Fuck you! You supposed to be on my side and you selling out for the badge,” he spat at me, damn near foaming at the mouth.
“Dravon, lower your voice,” I warned him. The officer passed him off to me, and I started walking him to his cell, but the moment we got away from prying eyes, I slammed his ass up against the wall.
“D-low, I will beat the fuck outta you! What the fuck was you thinking pulling a stunt like that?” I hissed, twisted his hands upward, and that made his wrist dig deeper into the cuffs.
“Alright, alright. You gone break my damn wrist, man! The shit hurts,” he cried out, but I ignored him.
“You speak to me like that again, and you ain’t gotta worry about prison, my nigga. I'mma kill you myself.” I pressed my thumb further into his palm. I yanked him back, and he staggered on his feet, before finding his balance again. “Bring your ass on.”
He peered at me over his shoulder. “What kind of fucking parole officer is you, nigga? Ruffing people up and shit.”
“Keep moving,” I muttered out.
I ain’t worried about him telling on me.
It’ll be hard for a muthafucka to believe anything that came outta his mouth.
I never claimed to be a regular ass parole officer, either.
I’m not a sellout and never will be one.
However, I know when to shut the fuck up, and when to speak my mind freely.
He can talk shit all he wants to, but it’s his ass going back to jail to do a bid of five to ten, not me.