Chapter 14 #2
Suddenly, the apartment didn’t feel nearly as comfortable as it had a few minutes ago. But I wasn’t about to let my enemy know that.
“Nigga, please,” I scoffed.
The words had barely left my mouth when a single gunshot cracked through the apartment. The window exploded, rattling the walls and spraying glass across the living room.
I screamed and immediately dropped behind the couch, my pulse pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. For a second, all I heard was ringing, and all I felt was rough fabric pressed against my face.
“I’ma kill that nigga!” Booda roared, rushing past me toward the front door. “Stay down.”
“The fuck I am!” I snapped, jumping up and hurrying behind him.
Adrenaline flooded my body as I unlocked the door and shoved it open.
The parking lot came into view in scattered flashes beneath the streetlights.
Booda stepped out, weapon raised and ready.
A dark-colored car tore out of the lot so fast its tires screeched against the pavement as it disappeared onto the street.
Before I could make out the model, it was gone. All I’d seen was taillights.
“You catch that plate?” Booda asked, his eyes sweeping the street.
“No.”
I stepped outside, and the rough concrete scraping against my bare feet made me realize I didn’t have on shoes.
Glancing back into the apartment, I eyed the shattered glass glittering on the floor beneath the broken window. Then the bullet that had ripped straight through the middle cushion of my brand-new couch, and another wave of anger hit me.
“Fuck! I hate that nigga.” I spat. “We just bought that sectional.”
My hands had started shaking now that the first shock was wearing off, so I pressed them against my thighs to stop them.
Booda continued scanning the lot, shoulders raised, weight forward, every muscle pulled tight. The man who’d been laughing on my couch thirty minutes ago was gone.
When he finally looked back at me, his eyes moved over my face carefully, checking for damage. “You good?” he asked.
I heard him, but my mind was somewhere else. Every new memory kept changing the way I looked at past conversations and interactions.
That was when I remembered… “The bouncers.”
Booda dragged a hand across his mouth as he looked back toward the parking lot, thinking fast now. “Come on,” he said suddenly.
“Where we going?”
“We can’t keep standing outside talking about this shit.”
He walked back into the apartment, and I followed behind him, stepping carefully around the shattered glass covering the floor.
Booda stood by the broken window, looking out into the parking lot while shattered glass crunched beneath his shoes.
I stayed near the couch, staring at the hole ripped through the middle cushion. Just an hour ago, I’d been curled up right there laughing with him. Now, stuffing poked out through the fabric while glass glittered across the floor around it.
The apartment no longer felt warm. It felt violated, and so did I.
In a matter of minutes, Rich had destroyed the sense of comfort I’d finally started building inside Apartment 214, and I wanted to murder him for it.
Booda’s eyes snapped toward me. “What was you saying about some bouncers, and where did you see them?”
“At the club. They worked the door, and they knew exactly who I was the second they saw me.”
Booda looked at me immediately. “Why you ain’t tell me this shit sooner?”
“Because I ain’t think nothing of it at the time,” I snapped. “I barely remember half the shit happening around me.”
He looked back across the lot. “What they look like?”
“One was dark-skinned with dreads. Tall. The other one was lighter with tattoos on his neck.” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to pull the memory closer. “The dark-skinned one did most of the talking while the other one just watched me.”
“What they say?”
“One of them said him and his people owed us their lives. Said if we hadn’t helped his family keep the club afloat after his older brother got killed, the place would’ve shut down years ago.”
Booda went quiet for a second. “You really don’t remember how deep our ties run out here. Niggas don’t forget who showed up for them, Koko.” His attention returned to me.
“They really seemed happy to see me,” I admitted. “They actually cared that I was still alive.”
“That’s because people out here loved us. We took care of a lot of people,” Booda said before glancing over his shoulder. “Call maintenance and have them come board the window. Tell them we’ll pay extra.”
I nodded before bending down to grab my phone off the floor. “You think they’ll come this late?” I asked.
“Yeah. Niggas gon’ make that money.”
I folded my arms tightly across my chest while he made the call. Once that was out of the way, I tiptoed to the bedroom to grab my shoes.
“What you doing?” Booda asked as I walked back through the living room and headed toward the kitchen.
“About to clean this shit up.”
I grabbed the broom from beside the refrigerator and walked back into the living room.
Booda stayed near the window watching outside while I swept shattered glass into a pile near the door. Neither one of us spoke much after that. The television still played softly in the background, but now every little sound in the apartment made me tense.
About fifteen minutes later, a knock sounded at the door, and I opened the door for the two maintenance men. They stepped inside carrying plywood and tools.
“Damn,” one of them said when his eyes landed on the broken window and the hole in my brand-new sofa.
“Yeah,” I replied dryly. “How much would y’all charge to fix it without reporting the damages to the office?”
The two men exchanged a quick look.
“You talking cash?”
“I’m talking tonight.”
The older one scratched his beard. “Give us two hundred a piece, and we got you. We can board it up now and come replace the glass first thing in the morning.”
“And the office?”
“Won’t hear it from us.”
I grabbed my purse immediately. “Bet.”
By the time the maintenance men finally finished boarding up the window, the living room was filled with sawdust. The older man wiped his hands on his jeans before nodding toward the plywood covering the shattered glass.
“We’ll be back early in the morning with the measurements.”
“Okay. We probably won’t be here, so let yourself in, but you better not steal shit,” I warned, staring them both in the eyes one by one.
“Trust me. We won’t,” the older man replied while the other nodded his head in agreement.
“Cool. Fix me up, and I might have a tip for you,” I said as they stepped out.
“We got you.”
I locked the door behind the maintenance men, then stood there for a second staring at the plywood covering my window.
“You ready?” Booda asked from somewhere behind me.
I looked down at my gray leggings, oversized T-shirt, and pink slides.
“Hell nah,” I answered before turning back toward the bedroom.
When I came back out, I’d changed into a fitted black suit with a blazer cinched at the waist, no bra, and matching black heels. My hair was slicked back into a bun, and I threw on some dainty gold jewelry. Then, I gathered an overnight bag before slinging it over my shoulder.
Booda looked up the second I stepped into the living room, and a slow grin spread across his face. “Damn,” he whispered, and the hunger I saw in his eyes made me want to strip out that suit and jump his bones.
Had we not been in a situation, I would’ve done just that.
Instead, I glanced down at myself before adjusting the sleeve of my blazer. Oddly enough, the outfit made me feel calmer, more in control. I knew exactly how I wanted people to see me tonight.
“You look good as fuck,” Booda said, his eyes moving over me.
“That’s the point.” I flashed him a sexy grin, and the next thing I knew, he’d wrapped me in his arms.
“What made you choose that outfit?” Booda asked while placing soft kisses along my neck.
“Mmm, that feels good, but we gotta go.” Before I let his advances distract me, I slipped out of his arms and grabbed my purse off the counter.
“And to answer your question, when I saw this hanging in the closet, something clicked. I’ll get my hands dirty when I need to, but something in me keeps saying I was never a soldier. ”
Booda stayed quiet while I continued.
“I realized I’m a boss, not a soldier. If I want people to respect me like one, I gotta look the part. Otherwise, niggas will think I’m weak.” I looked down at myself again before grabbing my overnight bag. “I might not remember everything about my past, but I’m still that bitch.”
The corner of his mouth lifted slowly after that.
“Now that sounds like the old you.” Booda grinned proudly.
Booda’s eyes moved over me briefly before he nodded toward the bag. “Glad you packed that ‘cause we wasn’t coming back here tonight.”
“Oh, I know.” I checked my purse for my gun, then headed for the door with Booda beside me.
After locking the apartment up, I checked the knob twice before finally turning away.
Booda stepped in front of me, eyes roaming the area. “Stay behind me,” he said as we crossed the parking lot.
“Trust me, I wasn’t planning on wandering off.”
My car beeped when I unlocked it, and I slid into the driver’s seat while Booda settled in beside me. A few seconds later, streetlights streaked past the windows as I pulled out of the complex.
My hands tightened around the steering wheel while my mind replayed the sound of that gunshot over and over again. “What exactly are we going to the club for?” I finally asked.
“Information,” Booda replied. “Niggas respect us. They’ll tell us what we need to know about Rich.”
Twenty minutes later, we arrived at the club. Music thumped so hard outside the building that it vibrated through the parking lot as I climbed out of the car.