Chapter 5
FIVE
Iso
A month or so later
I left Liora in my bed this morning, her ass knocked out to the world.
Usually, she got up and left early, sometimes earlier than me, but this morning was different, especially since I’d threatened her ass last night.
I didn’t know what was going on in that thick ass head of hers, but she had gone from telling me she was on her way to maybe another time.
Fuck another time. I wanted her here with me, even if she had her own mental shit to work through that she wasn’t ready to talk about.
I talked through all of my shit with this woman, from openness to death and fear of life. She’d better get with the program. Because whatever this was with us was cemented without a title. She was the one who said we were friends.
I sat in the car watching my son play with the other kid in my mother’s yard.
He was suited and booted in his Sunday best, nine times out of ten having just come from church.
It wasn’t Sunday, but Mama was good for dressing a nigga in khakis and a polo to go to bible study on a Friday.
He looked so happy and so loved, unaware of the operant abandonment from his father and death of his mother.
My eyes then landed on my mother. She sat on the porch reading.
It was her favorite pastime and essentially what helped her through her day.
When I was a kid, we used to live right down the street from the local library.
She would take me at least once a week and we'd get about five books. Two of them were for her and the other three for me. Every night she read me to sleep, even if I slept in the bed with her. Then I’d peek in the middle of the night and she’d be sitting up reading her book.
Before everything happened, she had me put together a bookshelf in the living room.
She liked to collect books now instead of borrowing them from the library.
The heavy hum from my phone interrupted my flashback and had me glaring at the middle console screen to see who was calling. I didn’t know why because it could be only one person calling. Liora.
“Yeah, Killa,” I answered, eyes resting on my son.
“Why didn’t you wake me before you left?”
“’Cause you were tired as fuck. You're straight, get some rest.”
“You tryna’ tell me what to do, Iso?”
A grin tugged at my lips. “Nah, not at all, but if what you wanna do doesn’t align with what I’m thinking, then maybe.”
She cackled into the phone. “Boy, bye. I’m about to leave.”
“Bet. Don’t try to give me no excuse tonight either.”
“I wasn’t giving you an excuse last night.”
“Shidd, that’s cool too, Killa. How about don’t try to give me whatever spiel you attempted last night. I got some quick shit to handle, but I should be back soon. You could stay there in bed if you want.”
“I bet you’d like that. But no, I need to get back to the city for a little while.”
I nodded as though she could see me. “Aight. No bullshit.”
“No bullshit,” she repeated before hanging up. Her repeating what I said threw me off at first, but then I realized it was her defiant way of agreeing without agreeing.
When she and I hung up, I gave my son and mother one more look before I pulled off.
At Liora’s insistence, I allowed the mess with Bo and his brother to die down and play out before I made any more moves.
Per her, I needed to see which direction the investigation flowed.
It didn’t matter to me seeing as how I was dead anyways according to Briar South PD.
My next move was to finally have a sit down with the man I believed started this, but that was close to impossible seeing as how he was behind bars and I was dead.
It wasn’t as simple as getting on a list and going to see him.
I physically couldn’t or I’d have a lot of fucking explaining to do.
The thing was, I also knew a man like Rich Jordan wasn’t sitting in a cell without a means to talk to the outside world.
Regardless of what was going on now, he was still who he was, backstabbed by his son and all.
I just had to find out who would still be in contact with him enough to have that number.
After a fifteen-minute drive, I pulled up in front of the oldest strip joint in Briar.
It belonged to the oldest pimp this city had seen.
Shit, he was probably around when Briar was established, that’s how old this nigga was in my eyes.
But the way I saw it, nobody did anything illegal in this city without him knowing.
He was connected in ways young niggas dreamed and nobody really knew how.
When Wiley said his name, it got me thinking.
Pete had been around for many tide changes and always seemed to come out on top.
He also didn’t trust wannabees; so he would have never partnered with or bowed down to Junior, not even with a pistol to his head.
The problem was, I couldn’t go in there without tipping my hand. Too many people frequented Old Mary’s for me to just walk in.
I picked my phone up from the console and found her contact immediately. All I had to do was go into the recent calls. I clicked it and put the phone on speaker, holding it close to my lips.
“I said no bullshit. What’s wrong now, handsome?” she asked, answering the phone immediately.
“I need your help.”
“Okay, where are you?”
“Deep Watertown. Old Mary’s.”
“I’ll be there in a few.”
Once we hung up, I put the car in park and rested my piece in my lap. I couldn’t be out here naked. Because even behind illegal tints, I had to be on my guard.
I sat there for all of fifteen minutes before Liora pulled up. She parked right next to me, then got out of her car and hopped into the passenger side of my truck.
“Thank God I showered before I left your place, huh?” she asked, looking from the pink and white building to me.
“Yeah, my bad.”
“Not bad. What’s wrong?” She grew serious looking from me to the building.
“Pete is an old tim—”
“He’s into skin trade. Has been for years. I know his rap sheet and I know his deal. What do you need from him?”
“His deal?” I asked, confused.
“You think that old country pimp is still in business by his own resonance? No, baby, the agency uses him just like he uses the women he brings into this country. He’s just not a big enough fish and that’s the only reason he hasn’t been fried.”
What she said was news to me, but also believable. I just thought the old nigga got lucky, not that he was a rat. “How do you know all of this?”
“Because part of my job is to know things and being from the Midwest puts him in my purview like many others.”
I nodded, now seeing the structure in front of me in a whole new light.
Old Pete only knew what he knew because he was a rat.
It wasn’t years of being smarter, it was years of giving someone else up so he’d never be on a list. It wasn’t what she said, but what she didn’t say and everything between the lines.
“Now what do you need from him?”
“A number on the burner phone for Rich Jordan Sr.”
“And you’re sure he has it?” She pulled her gun from her back and checked it before putting it back.
“He is the only person who would.”
She nodded. “Okay. Do me a favor.”
“What?”
“When I get out of your car, pull off. I’ll get it and meet you.” She looked out of the window.
“And why would I do that?” I looked at her like she was crazy.
“Because you’re dead, remember? And they’ve been watching us since I pulled up.” She threw her head in the direction of the door. “Just pull off, I’ll be good.”
“Nah, we can go. I’ll find another wa—”
“This is the only way. I mean, unless you’re about to go in there blasting. I got it, now let me have it. I’ll meet you back at your place.”
I didn’t like this one bit and one hundred percent hated that I’d called and brought her into it.
I knew she could handle herself, but I didn’t like the idea of her walking in there alone.
The fucked-up thing was I knew she would do it, regardless of me trying to back out.
When the fuck had I become so tender about her?
“Aight… but I don’t like this.” I was fucking pissed, but she was right.
She reached for the door, but I stopped her, pulling her into me like a whole ass bitch and kissing her.
“Be fucking safe,” I said when I finally let her go.
She could be fearless all she fucking wanted. I was to an extent… that extent had just become her.
I watched her get out of the car, then did as she asked, pulling out of the parking lot.
I knew she could handle herself, but hated leaving her there, hated that I wasn’t walking in that motherfucker with her.
It bothered me to the fucking fullest. I pulled off but didn’t leave the area.
Instead pulling into an alley across the street from the strip club with enough of a vantage to see her car, the entrance, and anybody leaving or coming.
I watched the door like a hawk, studying any and everybody who left the club. Several times my hand went to the door to get out, but I had to catch myself. I was looking for anything out of place, anything I deemed enough for me to get out of this car and storm the building.
When Liora finally came out, she put her gun in her back and got into the car. As fast as she went in was as fast as she pulled off. I pulled off right after, the sound of my phone ringing filling the car.
“Yeah.” I knew it was her.
“I told you I had it.”
I watched her zip through traffic with her adrenaline junkie ass. “I never said you didn’t.”
“You sure about that?”
“Positive. I didn’t come in there, did I?”
She giggled. “But you wanted to come in. Where are you?”
“Few cars behind you.” I glanced at the time on the dash, seeing it was well into the morning.
She laughed. “You tryna keep up with me, handsome?”
“Nope, you drive like you’re sponsored by NASCAR.”
“I should be.”
She and I talked for a while longer before agreeing to meet at my house a little later. She had to check in with her people and I was tired as hell seeing as I had been out of the house before five this morning.
I didn’t go home but ended up back at that church.
I didn’t know why I came here or why I even felt compelled to, but here I was again.
I parked the truck and pulled my hood over my head before getting out.
Once I was out of the truck, I climbed the stairs two by two, hitting the lock button on my key fob before I reached the top.
Once there, I entered the awaiting doors, my eyes immediately landing on the stoned figure at the front then the priest standing a few feet away.
“I thought I’d see you again.” Familiarity brewed in his eyes.
“You did?”
He nodded, the bible in his hand as he approached me. “It didn’t dawn on me until after your departure.”
“What?”
“Your gripe.”
“My gripe?” I repeated, taken aback.
“You resent the Lord for saving you that night, as you deem death to have been more peaceful.”
His words hit me like a ton of bricks. My jaw tightened as I took him in. He was living the very righteousness I truly resented. Empowered by a figure who barely fucking showed up.
“That is why you’ve taken on this grim persona and began playing the very God you dislike.”
I laughed, looking around, my laughter easily carrying in the otherwise empty, peaceful building.
The beginning of his statement may have been true, but the end was wrong.
“No, I don’t take on some grim persona to play God at all.
Everything I have done since I was kept here is on them, Shit, maybe Him. ”
I looked up at the ceiling, then back at the priest.
“God is forgiving, even when you are not. Even when you move with vengeance in your heart and turn your back on Him.”
“Well thank Him for that.” I turned to leave, feeling like I had overstayed my welcome.
“Why do you keep coming back here?” he called after me.
“I don’t know,” I responded, only loud enough for myself to hear.
It was the truth though. I had no idea why I kept coming here. I was no atheist. I believed even though I knew He only showed up for those in selfish need.
After I left the church I went home. Liora texted me the number she got from Pete and I couldn’t get to a burner fast enough.
Once I had the spare burner activated, I flipped it over and dialed the number Liora sent me. I couldn’t pinpoint the feeling traveling through me, but I wasn’t used to it. One thing was very clear though, anger ricocheted through me, because regardless of what I felt, one thing remained.
I put the phone to my ear and listened to it ring two times before he answered. His deep raspy tone was just as I remembered from childhood.
“Hello.” He’d aged some, but still sounded the same.
I had envisioned this moment a million times, but didn’t know what the fuck I’d say. What was I supposed to say to the infamous Rich Jordan Sr.?
“Who is this?” he asked when I didn’t respond.
“Your son.”
“Junior,” he immediately assumed.
“Try again.”
“Iso?” he responded, like all the blood had rushed to his chest. He was out of breath with one word.
I didn’t respond.
“They said you were dead, I never believed it. Now I’m here and I’ll never get t—”
“Who the fuck’s fault is that? You abandoned me for a nigga who put time on you.”
“He is still your brother, Iso. I fucked up, not him. Everything that has happened to us is my doing, not Juniors’.”
I laughed. “You such a piss poor ass father that you’re sitting your ass in a six by eight telling me something is your fault. You’re looking at life behind bars and that nigga tried to take mine. You may be able to look over that, but I ain’t going, old school.”
His heavy breathing filled the line.
“Before you die in there, just remember I didn’t start any of this.
” I hung up the phone and took it apart just as fast as I put it together.
I had possibly tipped my hand, but then again, maybe not.
Even though I had beef with the entity everybody worshiped, I refused to believe He’d let all this take place and not do something.
Then again, when I was dying behind a church, what had He done besides allowing a priest to put a crucifix in my hand.