24. Zaraa
T he air in my apartment was thick with smoke, the faint scent of stale weed clinging to the walls. I sat on the couch, my legs tucked under me, the half-empty bottle of water in my hand doing nothing to wash away the bitter taste of the Percocet I’d popped thirty minutes ago. My head was swimming, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the pills or the mess I’d gotten myself into with Lamari. Probably both.
I leaned back, staring at the ceiling, my mind spinning. How did I end up here? Dream used to look at me like I was her ride-or-die, the one who had her back no matter what. Now, I was plotting to lure her into the worst kind of betrayal.
But what choice did I have?
I couldn’t shake the sound of Lamari’s voice from my head. The conversation I overheard between him and one of his boys had been playing on a loop, each word sinking deeper into my chest.
“She ain’t even gotta know the real reason,” he’d said, laughing darkly. “I lost my job, my nigga. That’s why I need this ransom money. That Damier nigga got billions. Four million ain’t shit to him to get his bitch back.”
Four million dollars.
That’s what this was about. His greed, his desperation, his way of solving a problem he didn’t even let me in on until now. And I was stuck, chained to this plan because I’d let myself get pulled too far under his influence.
I grabbed my phone off the coffee table, scrolling aimlessly, trying to distract myself from the pit in my stomach. But just as I started to feel like I could breathe, Lamari’s name lit up my screen.
“What,” I answered, trying to sound calm.
“Don’t what me. You still good for tomorrow?” His voice was sharp, no room for excuses.
I hesitated. “Yeah, but?—”
“No buts, Zaraa,” he cut me off. “We’ve gone over this. Tell her you wanna make things right. Say you cut me off. Tell her you’re picking her up and taking her to dinner so y’all can talk it out.”
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me, my grip tightened on the phone.
“What if she says no?”
“She won’t. Her brother just died, so she is vulnerable. I watched that nigga Damier catch a flight out of Van Ness airport, so she isn’t guarded. I know she fought you, but I know her. She is gullible and doesn’t have a friend. Put on your best voice and get her out of the house. Cry if you have to.”
“Okay, and then what?” I rolled my eyes.
“Once you’re on the road, tell her you gotta stop in North Hollywood to grab some weed,” he continued, his tone cold. “That’s when you bring her to my brother’s spot. Soon as she’s out of the car in front of the house, I’ll take over.”
I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. “Lamari, I don’t know?—”
“Don’t start with me,” he snapped. “You’ve already dragged your feet enough. You’re in this now, Z. There’s no backing out.”
I stayed silent, my head pounding.
“You do this, and you’re set,” he added, his tone softening but still laced with manipulation. “A million dollars, Zaraa. That’s all yours. Don’t fuck this up.”
Before I could respond, he hung up.
I sat there, the silence in the room pressing down on me. My hands trembled as I set the phone down, my mind racing.
This will be the last time , I told myself, trying to convince the growing pit of guilt in my stomach. One last time being grimy, and I’ll be out. No more Lamari, no more bullshit. Just me, rebuilding my life.
But no matter how hard I tried to believe it, Dream’s face kept flashing in my mind—the way she used to trust me, the way she smiled when she thought we were good.
I grabbed another Percocet from the bottle on the table and swallowed it dry, hoping to numb the ache in my chest. Tomorrow, I’d do what I needed to do. After that, I’d disappear.
At least, that’s what I told myself.
The weight of what I was about to do crushed me, but I knew there was no turning back now. Whatever came next, I’d have to face it. And for better or worse, I was determined to see this through—no matter how much it destroyed me.