11. Roman Blake
My life had a lot going on as always and truthfully I wasn’t in the mood for shit.
I’d been movin’ quiet the last couple days. Not ‘cause I ain’t have shit to do, but because my head was too full.
Mo birthday had slid up on me.
I’d been so focused on her death date comin’ up, lowkey dreading the anniversary of that night, that I ain’t even peep her birthday was couple weeks after all of that. When I finally looked at the calendar and saw the date, that shit hit me in my chest like somebody dropped a brick on it.
I ain’t call Melissa, or popped up on her ass.
I just… shut down.
Came to the club, handled business, went home, laid in the dark, and that shit continued on repeat.
I knew she peeped the difference ‘cause she texted one night.
You good? And I stared at it for damn near an hour before I typed back,
Yeah. Just busy. I lied, because I ain’t have the words for the truth yet.
I was in my office at 4 Play, blinds half-closed, cameras up on the screen but I wasn’t really seein’ shit.
My mind was in Italy.
Thinking about Mo laughin’ in that little yellow dress on the sand.
Then her sayin’, “I’m pregnant.”
My fingers tightened around the glass in my hand.
I heard a knock, but I ain’t answer.
Door opened anyway.
“Yo,” Royce said, steppin’ in like it was his spot. “Why your dumb ass sittin’ in the dark?”
Truce came in behind him, Trend trailin’ after, door closin’ soft.
“Damn, it is dark in here,” Truce said. “You havin’ a funeral or a meetin’?”
“I ain’t call nobody,” I barked while sittin’ back.
“Yeah, we know,” Trend said, droppin’ down on the couch. “That’s why we here.”
Royce looked at the untouched bottle on the table, then at me. “You good?”
I huffed out a breath. “Stop askin’ me that.”
He tilted his head. “I’ma keep askin’ till you answer it for real.”
Truce sat on the other side of the couch, leanin’ forward with his elbows on his knees. “We know what today is, bro.”
I went quiet, jaw clenchin’.
It’s Mo birthday.
“Figured you was up here in your head,” Trend added. “So… we came to kidnap you.”
I frowned. “What?”
“We hittin’ the hood for a lil’ bit,” Royce said. “Old spot. Get some food, listen to some music, talk shit. You been in this office too much.”
“I’m workin’,” I said.
“You starin’ at black screens,” Truce corrected. “That’s not workin’.”
They weren’t wrong.
But I still ain’t wanna move.
“C’mon, man,” Royce said, standin’ up. “If you don’t wanna talk, cool, but you not gon’ sit up here and drown on Mo birthday by yourself. Nana will beat our ass.”
That made me let out a small, humorless laugh.
I rubbed my face, let out a breath. “Aight. Let me grab my shit.”
The spot they took me to was one of them old neighborhood joints we used to hit way back, hole-in-the-wall type, but the food slapped.
The hood had changed some, more condos, more people that ain’t belong, but that corner still felt like back then.
We got a table in the back, near the speakers. Old school R&B and some slow trap mixed in. Fried fish, wings, fries, mac, grease and seasoning everywhere. Niggas with money don’t play the hood heavy, but sometimes you need that noise to remind you where you came from.
I sat there, lettin’ the music hum in my veins, watchin’ people move.
For a minute, I felt almost… normal.
“Man, I swear this fish always hit,” Truce said, mouth full. “Rich niggas food don’t never taste like this.”
“That’s ‘cause you payin’ for presentation, not flavor,” Trend said, dippin’ his wing.
Royce sipped his drink, side-eyein’ me. “You aight?”
I shrugged. “I’m here.”
“That not what I asked,” he said.
“Let that man breathe,” Truce told him. “He showed up. That’s somethin’.”
I appreciated that. I ain’t feel like dissectin’ myself.
Trend leaned back. “Fee been on my ass heavy,” he said randomly. “She scared as hell about these twins.”
“You scared?” I asked.
He chuckled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Hell yeah. Two at once? Shit. I be actin’ like the work grind don’t faze me, but if I’m bein’ real, I don’t know how I’ma juggle it.”
“Jugglin’ don’t matter if she feel like she carryin’ that shit by herself,” I said. “You can’t be a ghost in your own house.”
He nodded slow, lettin’ that sit.
Royce blew out a breath. “April keep askin’ me what’s wrong. I keep sayin’ ‘nothin,’ but she not stupid.”
“Y’all niggas all scared of good women at the same time,” Truce said, shakin’ his head. “Y’all annoying.”
We all laughed a little at that, but there was truth in it, because the fear was loud.
Especially when you had shit to lose.
We’d been there maybe thirty, forty minutes when the door opened and a familiar laugh slid over the music and hit my spine.
I ain’t even have to look to know it was Melissa’s fine ass.
I turned my head anyway.
She walked in lookin’ good as fuck in some jeans and a crop top, hair done, lip gloss shinin’. Right next to her was… some square-ass lookin’ nigga.
Button-up shirt, chain too small, shoes too clean for that block. The type you could tell ain’t belong soon as he stepped in. He had his hand at the small of her back like he thought he had that right.
My jaw locked so hard my teeth hurt.
Royce followed my gaze and sighed. “Damn.”
Truce whistled low. “Well, shit.”
Trend shook his head. “This about to be some shit.”
They spotted us at the same time.
Charlee wasn’t there, Fee wasn’t there, just Melissa and ol’ boy. Her eyes went a little wide when she saw me. He just looked curious.
She hesitated, then started walkin’ toward our table anyway.
“Fuck it,” I said under my breath.
“Play it cool, bro,” Royce said. “It’s a public spot.”
“I am cool,” I lied.
They reached the table.
“Hey,” Melissa said, givin’ the group a small smile. “Y’all really brought him outside.”
I ignored that.
My eyes dropped to dude.
He stuck his hand out. “What’s up, man. I’m Sean.”
I didn’t shake it.
I just looked at it, then back at his face. “Why you touchin’ her like that?”
He blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Your hand,” I said, noddin’ at where it was still sittin’ close to her lower back. “Move it.”
Melissa frowned. “Roman, don’t start,” she said while rollin’ her eyes.
“I asked you somethin’,” I cut in, eyes never leavin’ him.
He looked at her, confused. “Mel?”
She sucked her teeth. “Can you not?” she snapped at me. “You not about to be on that right now.”
“On what?” I asked, voice low. “Watchin’ some nigga put his hands on what’s mine?”
Her eyes flashed. “I am not your—”
Sean held his hands up. “Look, I don’t want no trouble, bro. We just came to get food.”
“You can go get food somewhere else,” I said calmly. “This not for you.”
“Roman, chill out,” Melissa hissed. “You actin’ crazy.”
I stood up slow, chair scrappin’ back.
Royce mumbled, “Aw, shit,” under his breath.
Truce and Trend both shifted, ready if shit went left.
I stepped closer to Sean, close enough for him to smell the warning.
“Nah,” I said. “I’m actin’ like a man who not gon’ sit here and watch some corny nigga play in my face. You know who I am?”
He straightened like he was tryna buck. “I don’t care who you are. She said y’all not together.”
I laughed, but there wasn’t nothin’ funny in it. “That’s what she said?” I glanced at Melissa. “That’s what you told him?”
She crossed her arms, chin high. “We not in a relationship, Roman. I can eat with whoever I want.”
That shit cut me deep, but I ain’t let it show.
I looked back at him. “You heard her. We not in a relationship. That don’t mean you safe.”
His eyes hardened. “Man, what the fuck is your problem?”
“You,” I said. “You my problem.”
“Roman,” Royce warned.
“Don’t,” I told him without lookin’ back.
Sean shook his head. “I’ma be real, you wild disrespectful. Mel, you want me to go? ‘Cause I ain’t feel like dealin’ with—”
“You stayin’ right here,” I said, steppin’ even closer. “Matter fact, say somethin’ else.”
His face twisted. “Nigga, I don’t even know you…”
That was it.
My fist moved before my brain caught up.
One clean hook to the jaw.
He went down hard, hit the floor with a loud thud.
“Roman!” Melissa screamed.
Niggas at nearby tables jumped up, eyes wide, some backin’ off, some leanin’ in like it was a show.
Sean groaned, tryin’ to push himself up.
I grabbed his shirt, yanked him halfway off the ground, and cracked him again.
“You think this a fuckin’ game?” I snarled, knuckles already throbbin’. “You don’t put your hands on shit tied to me. Ever.”
“Roman, chill the fuck out!” Royce snapped, gettin’ up, hand on my shoulder.
Truce was standin’ now too, ready to pull me off if he had to.
Melissa grabbed my arm, nails diggin’ into my skin. “Stop! You trippin’! You gon’ kill him!”
The nigga’s jaw was already swellin’, lip busted, eyes glassy.
I had enough sense left to know if I kept goin’, this was about to turn into somethin’ bigger than a lesson, so I dropped him, causing him, to hit the floor again, wheezin’.
I shook Royce’s hand off and stepped back, chest heavin’.
The whole spot was starin’ now.
“Man, fuck you,” Sean mumbled, holdin’ his face. “You crazy.”
“Yup,” I said, not denyin’ shit.
I turned to Melissa. “We goin’.”
She stared at me like I’d lost my entire mind. “I’m not goin’ nowhere with you.”
I locked eyes with her. “You come with me, or I finish what I started. Your choice.”
Her face went pale.
“Roman,” Royce said under his breath. “Bro.”
I knew I was dead wrong sayin’ it out loud.
Didn’t matter.
Melissa looked from me to Sean, then back. Her jaw tightened.
“Get up,” she told him. “Go home. I’ll check on you later.”
He glared at me, then struggled to his feet, stumblin’ toward the door.
Once he was gone, she turned back to me, eyes full of fire.
“You a fuckin’ psycho,” she snapped. “You know that?”
“Probably,” I said. “Let’s go.”
The ride to my house was quiet… too damn quiet.
She sat stiff in the passenger seat, arms folded, lookin’ out the window. I could feel the anger radiatin’ off her, hot and sharp.
“I ain’t ask you to do that,” she said finally. “You embarrassed me.”
“He embarrassed you bringin’ his ass in there like he belong with you,” I shot back.
“I invited him,” she said. “You don’t own my time, Roman.”