CHAPTER NINE #3
I looked back at the club one more time, at the chaos still spilling out onto the street, at the cops starting to arrive. My jaw was tight, my knuckles were bleeding, and I could still feel the adrenaline pumping through my system.
"We gon’ see them niggas real soon.” I said, “But not tonight we lay low.”
I got in my car and peeled out before the cops could block off the street, Trigg and Rah following close behind.
As I drove, I gripped the steering wheel tight enough that the shit started to hurt, all I could think about was Zach's face. The way he'd smirked at me. The way he walked into my spot like he was really that nigga.
That nigga just made the biggest mistake of his life. And he was gon’ pay for it.
* * *
Two weeks later, I was still dealing with the fallout.
The club was shut down pending investigation.
The cops had taken all the security footage, interviewed half the staff, and were making it real clear they thought I had something to do with the shooting.
Which I did, obviously, but they couldn't prove shit.
My lawyer had already handled most of it, he got me out of having to go down to the station for questioning, but I knew it was only a matter of time before they came knocking.
I was sitting in my living room, feet up on the coffee table, scrolling through my phone and looking at all the bullshit being said about the brawl on social media. Everybody had an opinion, everybody had footage from different angles, and everybody was trying to figure out who shot first and why.
"You know we losing about fifty bands a week with the club shut down, right?"
I looked up at Zurie, who was standing in my kitchen with her arms crossed, looking at me like I was the dumbest nigga alive. My older sister had been on my ass all week about the club situation, and I was getting real tired of hearing about it.
"I'm aware, Zu," I said.
"Are you?" She walked into the living room, her heels clicking against the hardwood. Zurie always looked put together—today she had on all black, her locs pulled back in a bun, gold hoops swinging.
She looked like the boss she was.
"Because from where I'm standing, you cost us a lot of money over some beef that could've been handled differently."
"How else was I supposed to handle it? Nigga walked into my spot with his niggas trying to flex. What, I'm supposed to just let that slide?"
"You're supposed to think before you move!
" She sat down across from me, her expression hard.
"I run that club for you, Sosa. That's my baby.
I book the artists, I handle the staff, I make sure everything runs smooth.
And in one night, you and Zach turned it into a war zone.
Now I got employees asking when they getting their next paycheck, I got people scared to come back, and I got cops breathing down my neck asking me questions about shit I wasn't even there for. " That last part made me pause.
"Yeah, where were you anyway? You never miss a Saturday night."
"I told you already. I had some shit to handle."
"What shit?"
"Personal shit, Sontae. Damn." She used my government name, which meant she was getting irritated.
"I got into it with some young girls at the mall over a parking space.
It escalated; I ended up at the hospital getting checked out.
Just some bumps and bruises, nothing serious.
But I wasn't about to come to work looking crazy. "
I studied her for a second. Zurie was my sister, my partner in all this, but she was also good at keeping secrets when she wanted to. Something about her story felt off, but I couldn't put my finger on what.
"A parking space," I said slowly.
"Yes, a parking space. You know how bitches get." She waved her hand dismissively. "Can we get back to the actual problem? Which is the club being shut down and us hemorrhaging money?"
"I'm working on it."
"How? What's the plan?"
"I'm handling it, Zu. Trust me."
"That's what you always say." She leaned back, rubbing her temples.
"Look, I know you and Zach got beef. I know he's been fucking with you for the longest, But this shit is bad for business.
We can't afford to have the club shut down long-term.
And we definitely can't afford for you to catch a case over this. "
"I'm not catching no case."
"You pistol-whipped one of his guys, Sosa. The fucking camera’s caught everything. You don't think they trying to use that?"
Before I could respond, there was a knock at the door. Three sharp raps that cut through our conversation.
Zurie and I looked at each other.
"You expecting somebody?" she asked.
"Nah."
I stood up, automatically reaching for my glock tucked in my waistband as I walked to the door. I looked through the peephole and saw exactly what I didn't want to see, two people in suits.
"Shit," I muttered.
"What?" Zurie was up now, her voice went low.
"Detectives."
"Fuck. You want me to—"
"Just stay cool."
I took a breath, composed myself, and opened the door just enough to lean against the frame.
"Can I help you?"
The man pulled out a badge. He was a white dude, maybe early fifties, with gray hair and a permanent scowl etched into his face. "I’m Detective Morrison. This is Detective Williams. We're investigating the shooting at Club Bleu. Are you Sontae Maddox?"
"Depends on who asking."
"We are," Morrison said flatly. "We have some questions for you. Can we come in?"
"You got a warrant?"
"We're not here to search your property, Mr. Maddox. We just want to talk."
I looked past them at the unmarked car parked in my driveway, then back at their faces. The woman, Detective Williams was looking at me with this expression I couldn't quite read. Like she was trying to figure something out.
"My lawyer told me not to talk to y'all without him present," I said.
"We're not accusing you of anything," Williams said, her voice softer than her partner's. She was black, probably early thirties, her hair pulled back in a low bun. "We're just trying to get information about what happened. Multiple shots were fired, people were injured.
“We're trying to find out who was responsible."
"And you think I know?"
"It's your club," Morrison cut in. "You were there. So yeah, we think you might know something."
I was about to tell them to get the fuck off my property when Williams stepped closer, tilting her head slightly, and something in her face changed.
"Sosa?" she said, and there was recognition in her voice now. "Sosa from Dunbar high school?" I looked at her closer, really looked at her, and, her face finally registered for me.
"Nia?" I said, surprised.
A smile broke across her face, genuine and warm. "Oh my God, it is you. I thought that was you in the file photo, but I wasn't sure. Your hair is so long. You look different.”
"Yea somethin’ like that." I was still processing.
"Damn, Nia Williams. I ain't seen you since…."
"Since my family moved when we I was like sixteen," she finished. "I know. It's been forever." Morrison looked between us, clearly annoyed.
"You two know each other?"
"We went to the same high school; we had a couple of AP honor classes togethere" Nia said. "But as smart as his ass was, he was always getting into trouble, and I was always trying to stay out of it." She smiled at me. "Looks like some things never change."
"And now you a Detective," I said, shaking my head. "That's wild."
"Is it? I always said I was going to do something with my life."
"Yeah, who would’ve thought it would be this.” I said.
"Small world," Morrison muttered. "Can we get on with this?"
"Can we come in?" Nia asked, her tone friendlier now. "Just for a few minutes. I promise we're not trying to jam you up."
I hesitated, then stepped aside. "Yeah, alright. But like I said, I ain't answering nothing without my lawyer."
"That’s cool," she said.
They came in, and I led them to the living room where Zurie was standing now, arms crossed, looking like she was ready for whatever.
"This is my sister, Zurie," I said. "She runs the club. Zurie, this is Detective Morrison and Detective Williams."
"Detectives," Zurie said coolly, not moving to shake hands or anything. She wasn't the friendly type.
Morrison pulled out a notepad while Nia looked around the room, taking everything in. Her eyes lingered on my furniture, the artwork on the walls, and how my shit was decorated.
"Nice place," she said.
"Thanks."
"So," Morrison started, clicking his pen, "the night of the shooting. You were at the club, correct Mr. Maddox?"
"You already know I was. It's my club."
"And did you see who started the altercation that led to the shooting?"
"Like I said, I'm not answering questions without my lawyer."
"Ms. Maddox," Morrison turned to Zurie, "you manage the club, correct? Were you there that night?"
"No," Zurie said shortly. "I had a personal matter to handle."
"What kind of personal matter?"
"The personal kind." Her tone made it clear she wasn't elaborating.
Morrison's jaw tightened. "Mr. Maddox, multiple witnesses say you were involved in a physical altercation with Zach McDonald and his associates. Is that true?"
At the mention of Zach's name, I felt my expression harden. "No comment."
"People were hurt. One of Coleman's associates is still in the hospital with a fractured skull and severe facial lacerations. You want to tell us anything about that?"
"No comment."
"Mr. Maddox—"
"Look," Nia cut in, giving her partner a look. "We're not trying to make this difficult. We just want to know if you have any information about who fired the shots. Were you carrying a weapon that night?" I almost laughed.
"Y'all really think I'ma answer that?"
"So that's a yes," Morrison said.
"That's a no comment." I crossed my arms. "And unless y'all got something else, I think we done here."
Morrison looked like he wanted to argue, but Nia touched his arm. "Give us a minute?" she said to him. "Let me talk to him alone. Old friends, you know."
He looked annoyed but nodded. "Five minutes. I'll be outside."