Chapter 8 Ocean
OCEAN
I let out a slow breath as I drove through the city, Trace’s call still running through my car speakers. He’d clicked over to take another call, leaving nothing but silence and too much time for me to think.
I shouldn’t have cared, but Skye being bothered by Melina’s calls didn’t sit right with me. No matter how much she tried to play it down, I knew it pulled her back to a place she didn’t want to revisit. But unlike Mecca’s bitch ass, I actually gave a damn about how she felt.
“You there?” Trace asked when the line clicked back.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“My bad, man. That was one of the guys I got working on Skye’s security system. He just finished setting everything up.”
“Yeah, about that,” I said. “I need you to keep quiet about the shit being done. In other words, don’t mention it to Shade or Nyx.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I—”
“Yeah, nigga, I heard you. But I’m trying to figure out why I’m hearing what I’m hearing. I thought the goal was to finish it quickly, so she could get back to her crib.”
“It was, but—”
“Oh, damn.” Trace laughed. “You’re not ready for her ass to go home yet, huh?”
I cleared my throat, trying to think of an explanation that would keep Trace from talking shit.
There wasn’t one.
“Just do what I asked and shut the hell up.”
“Nah.” He snorted. “You couldn’t pay me enough to be quiet right now.”
“You sure about that? Name your price.”
“Nigga, fuck you and your wallet,” he fired back. “You’ve talked so crazy to Shade about him being whipped over Nyx. Now, look at your ass.”
“First off, don’t ever put me and the word whipped in the same sentence. Second, I just want to make sure she’s good before going back home. She deserves to take her time. She’s been through a lot.”
“Yeah, okay. That shit didn’t even sound believable. Look, man, you know you don’t have to keep the real from me. I’ve already gone down this road once with your brother. When his ass got hit with Cupid’s arrow, he struggled to explain it too.”
I frowned. “Whatever. Just do what I asked.”
“Yeah, I hear you.”
“I’m not playing.”
“I said, I got you. Chill.”
“Alright, cool,” I said. “Thanks, man. I owe you.”
“You damn right you do.”
“Whatever, nigga. Bye.”
I ended the call as I pulled into the driveway of a home I’d visited too many times to count.
I stepped out, grabbed the plastic sleeve holding Ol’ School’s newspaper, and headed up the sidewalk toward the porch.
Across the street, the dogs started barking like always.
I ignored their ass.
Barking was the only thing they knew how to do, and they did it at anything that moved.
But no one in the neighborhood expected anything different since their owners barely took care of them or the property.
Between the peeling paint, overgrown grass, and boarded-up windows, it was hard to believe that anyone even lived there.
I shifted my attention back to the house in front of me, adjusting my grip on the paper.
I knocked on the door. “Ol’ School, open up. It’s me, Ocean.”
Within seconds, the front door swung open, and one of my favorite people stood on the other side, staring at me like I was crazy.
I cracked a smile, knowing I’d played a part in the deep lines carved into his rich mahogany skin and the gray that threaded through his beard. Age had given Ol’ School plenty to complain about, and somehow, I still managed to be the thing that worked his nerves the most.
“I know who it is. You don’t have to announce yourself like I’m senile,” he spat.
“Well, you are up there in age.” I laughed. “I’m just trying to make sure you don’t come at me with a cane or some shit. I like my face.”
“Mmhmm, I bet. How else you going to get the ladies?”
I shrugged. “Well, I have been told I’m charming. So, if you beat me to a pulp and fuck up my good looks, I guess I got a little something to fall back on.”
“I don’t know who told you that lie.” He stepped away from the door and headed toward the rocking chair that was in his living room. I followed him inside. “Ain’t shit about you charming. You’re an asshole in expensive clothes.”
“Damn, Ol’ School, it’s like that?”
He lifted his shoulders. “Just trying to keep you humble.”
“Well, I’m offended. It’s cool though. Just know, when your time comes, I’m trading out that fancy casket I had picked out for you to a wooden box. I’m not even going to have that shit painted up nice for you. Just straight wood.”
He broke into laughter, and so did I.
Ol’ School was the stubborn grandfather I never knew I was missing.
He came into my life some years back, right around the time I bought the building for my club.
Turns out he’d been living there, and my purchase left him with nowhere to go.
That didn’t sit right with me. So, after I finally got him to stop talking shit and accusing me of ripping the roof from over his head, I offered to put him up in a nice apartment by the water.
He shut that shit down quick and told me he wasn’t living in no bougie ass high rise by the water.
He frustrated the hell out of me for days.
For two damn weeks, I tried to convince him, and for two weeks he told me to go fuck myself.
Instead, he made himself comfortable under a tree that was just around the corner.
So, every day, during construction, I would see him.
Some days it was raining, and other days, it was cold as shit. But he didn’t budge.
Finally, I asked around about him. Turns out he was a veteran, and he’d been raised in the same neighborhood that was near my club. According to a few people, he used to own a home a few blocks away, but he’d lost it due to foreclosure.
“So, how you feeling? Get your walk in?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
He was dressed in his usual. An old sweatshirt, relaxed pants, and those worn white shoes he refused to let me replace.
“I did.” He nodded. “Just got back, actually.”
He rocked back and forth as I took a seat on the couch next to him.
“Good. And you stayed on this side of the street, right?”
He stopped rocking and cleared his throat, pointing the remote toward the TV.
“Ol’ School, what I tell you about walking on the other side of the street? Them damn dogs—”
“I know what you said.” He waved me off. “But those dogs only act like that because they’re hungry and aren’t being taken care of properly.”
“I’m well aware of that. But that’s not your problem. You can’t save every damn thing.”
“Why not? You damn sure didn’t have a problem trying to save me.”
I fell back against the couch. “That’s not the same.”
“What’s not the same about it? When I was on the street and hungry, you brought me food.”
“That’s because your stubborn ass refused to let me put you in a nice place with a kitchen so you could cook your own shit.”
“I didn’t need no fancy kitchen in no fancy neighborhood. I needed to stay where they knew me.”
And he definitely did.
It wasn’t until I agreed to buy this house that he agreed to get off the street.
Thankfully, he made it a home and has been living here ever since.
“Whatever. I’m just trying to look out for you. Those damn dogs aren’t just hungry, they’re vicious because the people that own them made them that way. You need to steer clear. No amount of food is going to get them to be sweet little dogs.”
“They’re sweet when they’re eating, and when they see me, they know I’m coming with food.”
I slid my hand down my face.
“How about this? I’ll toss a bag of fresh food on the porch twice a week to make sure their owners feed them. Will you leave them alone then?”
“If that’s what you want to do, fine by me.”
“Good. It’s settled. I’ll make sure they get fed. You, my friend, stay out of it and keep your ass on this side of the street.”
“Noted.”
“I’m not playing, Ol’ School.”
He lifted his hand. “You have my word.”
“Good.” I stood up. “I’ve got to get to the club. Call me if you need anything.”
“I won’t.”
I smirked. “You’re working on getting tossed into that six-foot-deep hole without the box.”
“Ha! You’re all talk. You may be an asshole, but you care about all the right shit, which is more than I can say for most people.” Smiling, he leaned further back in his chair. “Now, get out of here before I get up and kick you out. My court show is on.”
Shaking my head, I gave him a quick hug, then walked out of the house.
As I headed to my car, I thought about all of the shit Ol’ School had been through over the years. He wasn’t just an old Army vet that ended up on the street because he suffered from PTSD and drank away his life savings. He was tricked, mistreated, and abandoned.
My cell phone rang, pulling me out of my thoughts.
It was Melina.
I answered as I reached my car. “What’s up?”
“I’m going to end things.”
“End things? What are you talking about?”
“I’m going to tell my husband I want a divorce...and I’m telling him about us.”
My eyes widened.
What the fuck?