Chapter 5 #2
Just the blink of her eyes sent tears sliding down her cheeks.
She nodded, and he retrieved everything she would need.
Her purse, her coat, her shoes, a hat, and her phone.
He grabbed his coat next and retrieved his shoes by the door.
He paused because a pair of DJ’s boots sat next to his own.
It was the simplest trigger, but it was all it took to hollow his soul.
He sucked in a desperate breath and then ushered Lauren out the door.
Demi’s eyes never left the road, and Lauren stared out her window as they made their way to the funeral home. They were two parents, two people, navigating through the fog that existed in the lapse between the living and the un-living. Forever broken. Forever bonded.
Charlie didn’t know what to feel. Throughout her relationship with Demi, she hadn’t really connected with DJ.
She had wanted to, but the tension that existed when they were in the same room made it hard for her to break through to him.
She hated that she hadn’t been given more time to earn his affection.
She hated that she hadn’t redeemed his trust. Now, it was too late, and the memory of him made her sick to her stomach because in what reality was this normal?
She ached for Demi, and she wished she could just wrap her arms around Lo.
She wished they had space for her support, but she knew there was none and that ostracization felt like the loneliest place on earth.
To love someone and be excluded from their grieving was hurtful. Charlie was trying her hardest to be understanding.
Night had transformed to morning, and the stars yielded to the sun, yet no news had come. She reluctantly dialed Demi’s number.
“The person you have dialed has not set up this voicemail…”
He wasn’t taking any calls. Not even hers.
She opened a new text thread.
Charlie
I just want to make sure you’re okay. Please call me.
A few seconds passed before she saw activity on her screen. The bubbles dancing on her phone matched the flutters in her stomach.
Demi
I’m okay.
That was it. Two words. No added information. No update on what was happening. No instructions for her. No reveal of where he was. Just two fucking words. Charlie didn’t know if that was helpful or if it was worse than not hearing from him at all.
Charlie
I just want you to know that I’m here.
Charlie waited and waited. Demi went to type a response, but when no message came through and the bubbles stopped, tears filled her eyes.
This was catastrophic. The amount of relief she felt when her phone vibrated in her hand wasn’t normal.
It wasn’t healthy. She shouldn’t be dependent on a phone call to breathe.
Demi
I know, Bird. I’ma be home as soon as I can. Honestly, don’t know how long I’ma be.
Walking into this funeral home.
Charlie dropped a tear at what she knew was about to unfold when he saw his son.
Charlie
I love you.
Demi
And I you, baby. Real bad.
He was a walking, talking, red flag, and Charlie had run to this man like he was an amusement park ride.
She couldn’t stop chasing the thrill if she tried.
Even now, at the bottom of the hill, she wanted to beg him to take her back to the top.
Charlie chose her next words carefully. Typing, then erasing.
Then typing, only to erase again, because she needed him but couldn’t demand his presence—not right now, not after this.
Charlie
When can I wrap my arms around you, Demi?
Demi
Soon, I hope. You don’t even know what I’m facing, Bird. I’m losing it.
Charlie
When you lose it, come find me.
Demi
I’m not worthy, Bird. On God, I’m not.
“How fucking dare you?!”
Day looked up from his desk as Kiara Da’vi stormed into his office.
He stood and rounded his desk, bypassing her to close the door before he turned and put a firm grip around her neck.
“Bring your volume down,” he warned.
She pushed him off, and her eyes watered as she hissed. “You bring some bitch into my show acting like she’s running shit! Are you fucking her?”
“I have,” Day said honestly. Why lie? Niggas lied when they weren’t the boss. He was, so it was his rules. Kiara Da’vi was a participant in his life in the capacity he allowed.
“When my brother helped you and Demi start this label, you promised him you would take care of me!” Kiara shouted.
“I know how this fucking company started. I know the 50 bricks that built this bitch. It’s the same dope that sent him to jail.
He died in there for you and Demi! Don’t try to have me playing second fiddle to no bitch.
Not Demi’s nappy-headed mistress turned wifey, and for damn sure not no uppity-ass bitch like the one you let play in my face at the showcase! ”
Day regretted the day he had crossed the line with this one.
Their old partner and friend, Duke, had been a part of the initial investment of the record company.
It was a three-way split, but when Day and Demi went legit, Duke refused to pull out of the streets.
Day and Demi dabbled here and there to make sure their soldiers stayed strong, but they stopped throwing rocks at the penitentiary and focused on building reputable wealth.
Duke didn’t follow suit, and he got caught up.
Day and Demi had promised to look out for his little sister, Kiara, and they had over the years.
Day had even put the girl on his arm, blowing her up overnight and setting her up for a hell of a career.
Every single she had dropped had taken the culture by storm, and every time they were linked together, her streams soared.
The popularity made her ego soar, too, however.
She was becoming a diva, and she was becoming possessive.
Anytime she saw him out with someone other than her, she felt like her opportunity to shine was being taken away.
“We aren’t in a relationship, Da’vi, remember who you talking to,” Day reminded.
“The dick, the trips, and the cash say differently, but whatever you say, Day. Just check your hoes when it comes to me. My brother helped start this label. I deserve to be Queen B around here. When you know how it’s built, you know how to burn it to the ground, too,” she threatened.
“Need I remind you who you’re talking to?” Day asked. The calm before the storm. He was known for it. He had taught plenty of lessons over the years when niggas had mistaken his calm demeanor for weakness.
She piped down, huffing and puffing, but she knew she had no wins in a fight with a man that wasn’t hers to claim. She rolled her eyes. “Who is she anyway?”
“Nobody that concerns you,” Day answered.
“You’re focused on the wrong things. I need you in the studio more, making music; leave these clubs alone, hop less flights, and let’s get focused.
You do more shaking ass on IG with the baby mama gang than you do anything else.
” He was referring to her frequent trips to Miami to hang out with the rappers’ baby mamas.
“We got a lot of paper invested in your project, and that shit moving at a snail’s pace. ”
“I got you, Day,” Kiara said, toning down the attitude.
“Then have me then,” he shot back. “It’s a hard time around here for everybody. Shit is about to get dark. Don’t need no extra static.”
“I heard about Demi’s son. I’m really sorry to hear about that,” Kiara stated sincerely. “He was a cute kid.”
Day went back to his seat and rifled through the papers on his desk.
“Yeah, it’s unfortunate,” he said casually without looking up at her. She waited for him to say more, and when he didn’t, she scoffed.
“You know the cameras will be out for the funeral…”
Day lifted his head and deadpanned on her. His stare was so cold that she stopped speaking mid-sentence. He knew where this was going. Kiara Da’vi lived for the cameras. Professional, cell phone, and otherwise, it didn’t matter. She documented every aspect of her life for the social media stage.
“Tell me you not about to try to use my nephew’s funeral as a press opp,” Day stated. He shook his head. He didn’t even wait for a response. “See yourself out, Da’vi. I got somewhere to be. I got a funeral to plan.”
Day stood inside Williams Funeral Home. He had been in this position many times.
Only this time, it wasn’t some fallen rapper or an old friend from the block that he was there to pay respect to.
This time, he was there to make arrangements for his nephew, and it made him want to vomit.
He had been there the day DJ was born. He remembered it like it was yesterday.
They had popped champagne right in the waiting room to celebrate.
It had been a joyous occasion. It was the day that Demi had forced him to make a pact to take their business legit.
He hadn’t wanted to be a father who brought dirt into his home from the streets.
He didn’t want his wife to worry about him not coming home one day.
They transitioned into a full-blown corporation and pulled out of the drug game the day after DJ’s birth.
The boy had basically saved their lives because shortly after that, their old partner, Duke, had gotten sent upstate for drug trafficking.
They would have been right beside him if they hadn’t made the decision to fly straight.
They still had a firm hold on their old territory and collected taxes from the local hustlers for allowing them to occupy those blocks, but on paper, they were clean.
They went from block huggers to CEOs. Day was positive that he wouldn’t be alive today if DJ hadn’t been born.
A baby being in the picture had forced them to accept their responsibilities as grown men.
DJ was a gift, and they had failed him. It never should have ended like this.
Day had been around death his entire life, and never did it shake him to this extent. DJ’s body was hard to stomach.