Chapter 4 Bet.
“Bitch, you sure you wanna do this?”
My friend, Justine, sat across from me, legs crossed in her Nike tech set, a cup of Starbucks in one hand and a thousand opinions in the other.
She looked too damn cute to be talking shit, but that’s just how she was.
Me, her, Unique, Sheena, and Asia had all been friends since we were in high school.
Justine was nosy, loyal, and always trying to talk me out of bad decisions.
I rolled my eyes as I slid my cardigan sleeve up. “We came all the way down here, didn’t we?”
“It’s just weird,” she said. “You wanna get King’s name re-tatted right before Halloween? Like… why now?”
The shop smelled like antiseptic and weed.
A fog machine in the corner puffed out fake smoke for the holiday theme, and somebody had hung a skeleton from the ceiling fan with a fitted cap on its head.
There were black and orange flyers taped to the walls for a “Freaky Friday Flash Sale.” I wasn’t here for none of that. I just wanted my piece touched up.
I looked down at the faded ink on my wrist. “It’s startin’ to disappear,” I murmured.
She sucked her teeth. “Girl, the man is dead. It’s been three years. He already disappeared.”
I didn’t respond. The tattoo artist walked up and motioned for me to come back, so I followed him to the chair. I laid my wrist on the table, heart thudding way harder than it should’ve.
“You want it exactly the same?” he asked, already pulling his gloves on.
“Yeah. Don’t change the font or nothing. Just darken it.”
“Bet.”
I stared at the shop lights above me while he started setting up.
The buzzing sound of the gun made my skin crawl from the memory.
King had sat right next to me, getting my name tatted on his wrist while I got his after only being together for six months.
He had his hand on my thigh the whole time, whispering nasty shit in my ear while the needle burned.
He told me, “You mine now. Forever.” And now here I was touching it up like I wasn’t in a whole relationship.
Justine came to the back with her drink, chewing on the straw like she had something else to say. I already knew it was coming. “You ever think about just lettin’ it fade?” she asked.
I turned my head toward her. “Let what fade?”
“The tattoo. The memory. The pain.”
I blinked. “How the fuck I’m supposed to forget the only man who ever really loved me?”
She leaned on the wall, lips tight. “I mean… it ain’t like Rome treats you bad.”
I laughed once. “Shit ain’t all peaches and cream either.” Justine quieted down after that. The needle hit a little too deep, and I flinched.
“You okay?” the artist asked.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” I said, even though it wasn’t.
My stomach had been twisted since I woke up. I’d checked the mirror again that morning, but it was clean. The candle was gone like it never existed. Rome claimed he didn’t see anything but I knew what I saw. And now, lying under this buzzing light, I felt goosebumps cover my entire body.
The artist’s hand paused mid-line. He stared down at the machine like it had glitched. “Yo… that’s weird.”
“What?” I asked.
“The needle just locked up. Ain’t never done that before.”
Justine’s eyes widened. “Uhhh…”
I swallowed. “Maybe it’s a sign.”
“From who?” she asked, looking around the shop but I didn’t answer. I already knew.
Twenty minutes later, it was all done, and we left the tattoo shop. I held my wrist tight under the wrap to feel the pressure and to stay grounded.
It was cloudy outside, cool but not cold.
The sky had that gray-orange tint that always came right before Halloween.
Little kids in puffy coats were walkin’ with plastic pumpkins.
Dollar-store cobwebs clung to gates, and somebody on the block had a fake crime scene in their front yard with yellow tape and fake blood.
Back in the car, Justine turned the radio down.
“Aight, spill it. You been weird for days.”
“I’m good.”
“You a damn lie. You barely hittin’ the group chat, you look tired, and your energy is all the way off. I know it’s that week, but come on, sis, you gotta shake it off.” I didn’t speak. She reached over and softly grabbed my hand. “You been dreamin’ about him again?”
I stared out the window. “Not just dreamin’.”
“What you mean?”
“I think…” My voice cracked a little. “I think he’s still around.” Justine went dead silent. I turned to her. “I’m serious, Just. I heard him. I saw the bathroom mirror fogged up with his handwritin’. I found his Essentials hoodie in the house. I smell him.”
She let out a long exhale. “Okay… maybe you just need to take a break. Go to a spa. Talk to somebody.”
“I’m talkin’ to you.”
“You know what I mean.”
I looked down at my wrist. “I ain’t crazy.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
I looked over at her. “But you think I’m makin’ it up, huh?”
“I think trauma don’t die just ’cause people do,” she said. “And I think you still love that man so deeply, you left the door open for him.”
Not wanting to talk about it anymore, I just drove off. I dropped her off at her spot and drove home with my chest tight. The sky was darker now. Porch lights flickered. Skeletons swayed from railings. The block looked like Halloween had already arrived and brought spirits with it.
When I pulled up to the house, Rome’s car was gone.
I walked inside and locked the door behind me; everything was too damn quiet.
I flipped on the kitchen light. That’s when I saw the candle that vanished this morning sitting on the table, flickering.
The hairs on my arm stood up as I walked closer and saw words scribbled on the napkin under the candle.
Don’t trust this nigga.
The message was written in sharp, jagged letters, just like King’s handwriting. Just like the message on the mirror. I didn’t touch it. I didn’t blow out the candle. I just stood there staring like my brain couldn’t catch up fast enough to what my eyes already knew.
I backed up a step, my stomach tightening like I was about to throw up. I grabbed my phone, hands shaking, and took a picture of the napkin. I didn’t even know why. Maybe to prove it was real or to show Justine later. I don’t know. But something told me that shit might not still be there tomorrow.
I finally forced myself to move. I slid the candle off the napkin, folded the message up like it was sacred, and tucked it deep in my purse behind an old receipt and a roll of peppermints.
I couldn’t think straight. So I did what I always did when I needed to make sense of shit.
I smoked a blunt and started cleaning. I wiped down the kitchen counters that weren't dirty, stacking up cups, and re-sorting mail.
I was halfway through wiping down the kitchen table when I heard the door open.
Rome walked in looking fine as always. He had on Black cargo sweats, a black hoodie, Timbs, and his gold Cuban link dancing across his chest. Glock on his hip. Fresh line up. That same calm, heavy energy he always carried.
He looked up from his phone and did that half-nod thing. “You cleanin’ like your mama comin’ over.”
“You know how I get,” I said, moving toward the sink.
He walked over and kissed my cheek, then opened the fridge. “You eat today?”
“Not since this mornin’.”
He pulled out a carton of orange juice and drank straight from it. “You gotta stop skippin’ meals.”
“I’m not hungry.”
He leaned against the counter, watching me. His eyes dropped to the new wrap on my wrist. “What’s that?”
“Tattoo touch-up.”
His face shifted. “You touched up this nigga’s name?”
“Yeah.” He didn’t say anything. Rome just nodded slowly like he was filing that away for later. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
Rome shrugged. “Nothin’, Sky. You grown.”
But I knew that tone. That low, detached calm. It was the same tone he used the night he choked that nigga out in the alley for trying to talk slick to me. The same tone he used when he found out his little cousin had flipped to the other side and made him disappear.
I walked over to the island and leaned on it. “Where was you at?”
He tilted his head. “Since when you checkin’ in on me?”
“I’m not. I just asked a question.”
He stared at me. “Handled some shit on the Westside. Made a couple deposits. Met up with Fleek.”
“You said that yesterday.”
“So?”
“So either you handlin’ the same business twice, or you lyin’.” His jaw clenched, but he didn’t answer. I folded my arms. “You act like I’m not supposed to notice when shit feels off. You been movin’ different, Rome.”
“Nah, that’s just you bein’ paranoid.”
“Or maybe I’m finally payin’ attention.”
The silence between us got thick as hell. Rome stepped forward, close enough that I had to look up to keep eye contact. “You tryna say somethin’?”
I didn’t answer. Because deep down, I wasn’t ready to accuse him. Not yet. Not until I figured out what King was trying to tell me. Rome stepped in closer. That heavy silence between us shifted when he reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a thick knot of money.
“Here,” he said, pressing it into my hand.
I looked down at the stack of blue faces. “What’s this for?” I asked, even though I already knew.
“For whatever you want.” His arms slid around my waist, and he leaned in, lips brushing my jaw. “I know this week gets hard for you.” His voice dropped. “I’m sorry for makin’ shit worse, shorty.”
I sighed, eyes fluttering closed as his mouth moved down my neck. He kissed that soft spot under my ear, tongue slick, breath warm. My body reacted before my heart could argue. “You always do this,” I whispered.
“Do what?”
“Try to distract me with sex and dollars.”
He chuckled against my skin. “You love both.” His lips met mine before I could say anything else. Tongue. Breath. Pressure. He pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes. “You know I love you, right?”
Swallowing hard, I nodded. “I… I know.”
He scooped me up and carried me upstairs.
By the time I hit the bed, I was already breathing heavily.
He knelt between my legs without saying a word and slid my jeans off like they offended him.
He didn’t even take my shirt off. He just peeled my thong off and parted my thighs, placing his palms on the insides.
Then he kissed my pussy like he really missed me.
He dragged his tongue up my slit real slow, barely touching my clit.
Just a tease. Just enough to make my back arch.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
He locked eyes with me. “You know what’s up.”
I nodded, gripping the sheets. Then he went in on my pussy with that full pressure and slow circles that had my legs trembling by the third pass.
I moaned out loud, head falling back. He sucked on my clit like he was tryna pull a confession out of me.
His beard scratched my thighs. His fingers dug into my hips like he didn’t want me goin’ nowhere.
“Shiiit, Rome…”
“That’s it,” he muttered between licks. “Don’t fight it.
” I gripped his head, legs tightening. He pulled back just enough to spit directly on my clit, then tongue-flicked it so fast I damn near choked on my own breath.
“You tryna run?” he asked, grabbing my thigh when I jerked.
“You already know I don’t like that shit. ”
“I… I can’t…”
“You can.” He pressed his tongue flat against me and held it there, shaking his head side to side. “Cum for me and stop playin’.” I cried out, loud and breathless, legs shaking, stomach tightening like a knot was unraveling inside me. “Don’t hold back,” he whispered. “Let me hear that shit.”
And I did. The orgasm hit hard. Full-body. Eyes-rolling. Back-lifting. Moans spilling outta my mouth like secrets. When it was over, he kissed my thigh and stood up, walking off towards the bathroom.
“I’m finna shower and go meet Scootz at the lounge for a meetin’,” he said, voice regular again. “You gon’ be straight?”
I nodded, still trying to catch my breath.
I lay there staring at the ceiling, legs still open, pulse still jumping.
And even with the money beside me, the nut in my chest, and the sheets damp under my back…
I still couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew something I didn’t.
And somewhere in this house, King was watching.