Chapter 21
GOON
Shit was amazing watching her in her element.
I’ve watched Zoya in a courtroom before. Shit, she was defending me both times. I’ve witnessed how she moved, her wit, and the way she knew her shit without needing anyone.
In that moment, as she spoke her shit for closing arguments.
She wasn’t Menace Caselli’s little sister, or Kora Case’s sister.
She was Zoya. A woman that knew who she was but struggled with the other shit.
None of that mattered as she clasped her hands together, walked slowly back and forth in front of the jury, she was certain of one thing.
Kofi Maze wasn’t guilty.
She knew her client’s life was on the line, and it was up to her to convince the people in front of her to allow him to walk out of the courtroom. Each time she was unsure, she would look over, and Capri would discreetly nod her head.
They both fed off each other’s energies.
I remember when me and Capella got locked up together, it was Zoya that kept assuring Capri that she could do it.
Now, a district attorney, she was sitting watching her best friend take on a nationwide case alone. Blair would have been there if Sim didn’t tell her she needed to stay back.
Meer got Capri out of there before the verdict could be read. He had her already in a truck heading across town back to her office. It didn’t matter that me and Boobie were beefing, I knew how big this case was.
I heard her leaving out this morning and I was right behind her.
She stopped for a coffee every morning, so while she had stopped for a coffee, I continued to the courthouse.
I’d be damned if anybody thought they were touching my wife because of a verdict.
My one and only priority was to make sure she made it out of that damn courthouse.
Menace called me this morning and told me he would have a truck for both her and Kora. Told me that he wanted us to bring her to the private airport because he had a jet waiting for her.
She was going to Aspen where both Menace and Stevie were waiting for her. I hated to see her leave, but anything to protect her.
There would be protests and riots around the city, and he didn’t want her near it. There weren’t many places she could hide. This case was a high-profile case, and everyone had eyes on it.
We neared the airport, and Quasim and Meer turned off, leaving me and Kincaid to continue riding along. The gates opened, allowing us entry and Menace’s jet was waiting with the Caselli crest on the side of it.
In the hangar, there was a second one that I assumed was Don’s jet. Duke spun the tank around and put it in park.
He hopped out and opened the door for her. She stepped out with her purse and briefcase. I got off my bike and walked over toward her. Her eyes were red like she had been crying.
Recommendation: Listen to Don’t Leave Me by Blackstreet
“The fuck happened to he—”
“Victory… the feeling of victory,” Capone said, as he took the keys from Duke. “Something small to a giant right, Zoy?”
She nodded her head yes.
I looked down at her, as she avoided eye contact with me. “See you soon, ight?”
“Yeah.”
I lifted her chin. “So, fucking proud of you… ain’t nobody fucking with Ms. Lawyer,” I teased, and she gave me a small smile.
A lot had to be going through her head, and I understood. “Thank you.”
“Call me when you land.”
“Should I? Dick without complications.”
“You calling to argue?”
“No.”
“Then what complications?”
She smiled slightly. “Okay.”
“Get some rest. Think about what you want. I know what I want but can’t keep doing the back and forth, Zoya.”
“Where am I going?”
“Aspen. Your brother is there and waiting.”
She stomped her feet, annoyed. “I haven’t visited my family’s house there in years.”
“Take this slight break and think about what you want. If you’re not ready for what I want, then we walk away and remain friends… never hard feelings.”
“And if I don’t want to be friends?”
“Nah… think on that shit, Zoya. Know what you really want. I told you that I don’t give second chances and here I am giving you that.”
I kissed her cheek and walked backwards toward my bike. “Be careful, please.” she called behind me.
“I plan to.”
Duke stood outside the jet and waited for her to board before he got on behind her. We rode toward the exit and waited, watching the jet slowly head toward take off. It turned around the roundabout and increased speed as it took off. I watched it fly down the runway until it was up in the sky.
I kissed my fingers and held it to the sky, watching the jet continue higher and higher. That was my baby.
“Get the fuck out of lovey dove land… Corleon sent that signal. Huntington House museum.” Khaos said out the window.
I nodded, letting him know I heard him, as Capone pulled out the gates and I followed behind them.
In and out was always the rule.
If one of us got jammed up, then the other was to continue without the other. As much as Khaos hated the rules, he played by them. It was better for one of us to get caught than both.
Mommy was always in the back of my head, and we needed one of us on the outside.
My uncle lived a life where he could be here today, Jamaica tomorrow, or fucking prison the next.
The nigga never lived a consistent life, and we learned to deal with that.
Whenever we needed him, and he wasn’t locked up, best believe the nigga was going to come.
In his older years, he had been chilling lately.
Like now, we were both sitting in Fern nursing a cup of water. Well, I was nursing a cup of water, this nigga had hundred proof rum and was knocking it back like the shit didn’t burn his throat.
I continued to nurse my water while listening to Shante tell some nigga that this week was her last week, and she was moving away. Every week this chick was claiming to move away, knowing she would still be here the next week.
After she did that bullshit with Capella and then tried to mix Cappadonna in that shit, she lost family privileges. Bitch worked and then got the fuck on, so I wasn’t surprised if she was really moving.
She knew Quasim wouldn’t hesitate to snap her neck and introduce her to the real him. I lifted my head and saw Papa swagger into the bar. He nodded at Shante and then held his hand out, smirking.
“Wah gwaan!” Papa dapped my uncle up.
“Oh shi, rude boi, wah gwaan, Bredrin,” Chef chuckled, as they embraced and Papa rounded the bar.
“G, the fuck up with you?”
“’Chillin, OG… you good?”
He popped open the cork of a bottle and smirked. “I’m always good. Day is new, wife is fine, kids is straight, and grand babies are even better.”
Papa had always been on go, never in one place for long. He had adapted this neutral face where you never knew if he was good or not. Every time he came around, it was always the same look.
With Mina being misdiagnosed, and now better, his sons with wives and families of their own, we were all witnessing a brand-new Papa Inferno.
“Love to see that shit for you, OG.”
“How Sharon’s mean ass?”
Me and Chef laughed. “She ain’t mean, she just don’t fool with you always fucking with her.” I called his ass out.
Papa knew my mother before I even knew who he was. Since he and Chef ran together back then, Chef always made sure his sisters were straight. If you knew Chef, you knew his sisters were his heart, and he’d fuck some shit up behind them both.
“You know, I would have been your daddy if she stopped playin.”
Chef lunged at him playfully. “I box yuh mouf.”
Papa laughed and tossed back his drink. “I’m fucking with you.”
It was funny because Papa was both Quasim and Quameer. I witnessed him being stoic and serious like Quasim was mostly, then he had that playful side where he was always busting out jokes and fucking with people like Meer.
“She was in luh with fuck boi.” Chef kissed his teeth and finished his drink, while Papa grabbed the bottle to refill his cup.
They were talking about my pops. The man who was responsible for so much of my mother’s pain, and the strain between her and my grandparents. After him, she never dated again. She only focused on herself, and I never saw a man around.
All a son wanted was for their mother to be happy and I often wondered if she was. I knew a lot of the shit I did that ended with me being locked up contributed to her sadness. It was a regret I would always have. I wondered if she was actually happy, or just content with the life she had.
I met my father once when I was six.
I could walk right by him and never know it was my father. Pussy nigga left a woman to raise his kids and never looked back. There wasn’t shit he could say to me. Mommy deserved the world, and her boys would make sure she got that shit.
“Good afternoon. Breaking news, police are investigating a break-in at the Huntington House Museum. A historic emerald necklace and a modern art painting were taken overnight. Rodge Gears is live with the latest.”
I was looking down at the cup in my hand while listening to the news talk about me and Khaos.
“Good afternoon. Museum staff say the thieves got in through the roof just after three this morning. They went straight to the jewelry case, taking an emerald necklace known as The Huntington Green, and a painting titled Blue Days no 4. Security cameras glitched soon as they entered the museum. Once they were gone, the cameras went back to regular. So far, the police have no suspects, and they think this is linked to the string of other gallery heists over the past year. If you saw anything near the Huntington Museum overnight, call the police or the museum’s tip line. Live at Huntington House. Back to you.”
“Wraithe boys in and out like ghosts.”
“No face, no case.” I smirked.
Papa smirked. “My boy.”
Last night after we dropped the painting and necklace at the port, I went home to walk Bando. It was like five in the morning, but he didn’t mind. I knew he was missing his mama too.