Chapter 7 #2
“Mmhmm,” I grumbled, closing the refrigerator with my hip once I had the cheese, butter, and lunch meat.
Zeke was a couple of feet away from me.
When I turned, our eyes met and I quickly looked away.
He ran his hand over his locs and sat at the kitchen island, steady trying to create small talk I wasn’t interested in.
Zeke and I weren’t cool. Why he wanted to talk to me all of a sudden now was baffling for real.
Probably was that guilt eating his shady ass up.
I sighed.
Zeke wasn’t shady.
I was just… mad.
“You likin it here, sis?” He asked.
I glanced from the lunch meat at him. “Uh huh.”
He snorted and laughed a little before shaking his head. I looked away and went back to making the sandwich.
“You gon be mad at me until I croak out this bitch, ain’t you?”
I snorted. “Hm. Probably until I croak,” I corrected.
He laughed again and like before, went over his locs again putting me in the mind of Meech.
Ugh. They were so close that they had some of the same mannerisms. That was another reason I didn’t like to be around Ezekiel fucking Christ. He reminded me way too much of my dearly de-fucking-parted brother. I hated it so much.
“What can I do to—“
“Nothing. Leave me alone. Let me be,” I interrupted, slathering butter on one side of the bread. Sour dough. Fancy muthafuckas.
I wasn’t hating.
This household was just something that would take some getting used to, that’s all. I thought it was funny. In a good way. How I’d only been here for a couple of weeks and I’d been introduced to so much. It was really an entirely different world.
Zeke didn’t say anything. I could feel him staring at me though.
So much… so intense… that I couldn’t look up at him and ironically, a knot formed in my throat.
One that I swallowed down with a sigh. Tilting my head to the side, I slapped a few pieces of turkey onto that fancy bread and dug into the pack of cheese for a couple of slices.
First Lady liked her sandwiches a certain way. With a lethal ass cheese pull.
“No disrespect sis,” Zeke started. “But you know… I loss my nigga too… right?”
I glanced up and over at him but said nothing.
The sadness in his eyes was deafening. What was it with these tough ass Christ men and showing their emotions?
I just knew they didn’t give a fuck about anything.
That was before I got a chance to know them though, sadly.
They kept showing me time and time again that they weren’t just brutal, money getting, cold hearted niggas.
Should’ve known. People who’re raised in churches don’t just… turn to devils overnight.
Anyway.
Zeke was sad.
And I felt bad.
I hadn’t considered his feelings. Hadn’t considered the fact that he’d taken a loss too. Leaving had to be hard for him. Hearing those gunshots, knowing his boy was on the receiving end of them… it had to be tough.
Before I knew it, a tear fell. I sucked my teeth and rolled my eyes, quickly swiping it away.
“I didn’t leave my nigga on purpose, Rei,” Zeke mumbled, repeating what he’d already told me.
“I know,” I mumbled back, standing at the cabinets.
Bending down, I dug around for that panini press.
While I was down there, a few more tears fell.
Tears I let fall freely because my hands were occupied.
When I stood to put it on the counter, I wiped my wet face and looked over at Zeke.
He was watching me, twiddling with one of his locs, frown plastered on his face.
“I fucked up,” he said through tight lips. “I shouldn’t have—“
“What happened, happened because it was supposed to happen,” I interrupted, painfully.
It was time for Meech to go. No amount of wishing hoping, planning, or second guessing would have changed the outcome of what happened.
If there was a flaw in the plan, it was a flaw in the plan for a reason.
Meech was supposed to die like that. He was supposed to leave me.
That was the way the story was written. I hated it.
I hated it so much. And while I could admit that to Zeke, it didn’t completely cancel out the fact that I blamed him a little bit.
I was like that. A clear thinker, but stubborn and stuck in my ways too.
Zeke didn’t say anything.
He went from twiddling his loc to just sitting there with his head down, eyes on the marble countertop.
I swallowed and looked away, turning to plug the panini press up.
While I stood there, waiting for it to heat up, my heart rate picked up.
I looked up at the ceiling, sucked in a breath and looked back over at Zeke.
He was in the same position. Something told me to walk over.
Something told me to give him a hug. But I didn’t.
I stood there. I wasn’t… what do you call it?
Affectionate. I wasn’t good with giving hugs, showing compassion in a physical way, or anything like that.
But the urge to turn and walk over was overwhelming.
So much so that before I knew it, my feet were carrying me over in his direction.
I stood behind him and wrapped my arms around him.
The scent of his cologne combined with potent weed smoke evaded my nostrils.
I leaned my head on his back, on his shoulder and told him it was okay.
Zeke didn’t move. He didn’t push me away.
He didn’t say anything. He just let me hold him.
And a couple of seconds into the hug, I felt tears fall on my arm.
That broke me down. Ezekiel Christ? Dropping tears?
In front of me. I held him tighter and dropped a few of my own.
The hug lasted a couple of minutes before I felt like it was okay to let go.
When I did, Zeke said, “I’m going to spend the rest of my life showing you how much I fucked with dawg. Anything you need, whenever… no matter the time or place… I’m there. Always. Forever. Until the fuckin’ casket drop.”
I didn’t say anything. I was back over at the panini press.
“You hear me?” He stressed, his voice climbing a couple of octaves. He sounded mad but he was just passionate.
“You don’t have to—“
“I have to. Got to. Just tell me you hear me, sis,” Zeke interrupted.
“I hear you, Zeke.”
* * *
Hours later, Zeke was gone and it was just First Lady and I.
We got in from our walk not too long ago and she was back on the couch watching The Bernie Mac show.
I was bored. That was the only downside of this job.
The boredom. I spent a lot of time on social media, aimlessly scrolling, looking for entertainment.
I was in the middle of laughing at one of Devontae’s dancing in the club skits when my phone rang.
I was startled by the sight of Exodus’s name.
Things had been… I guess you could say… weird since I cried on his chest the other day.
He hadn’t been around much and any time he called to check in on First Lady or something, I stammered over my words and shit like a fool.
I liked him. Like… liked him, liked him and it annoyed me so got damn bad.
I didn’t want to be one of those. You know…
one of the ones who loveeeed Exodus Christ.
“Hello?” I said, answering the phone, putting it to my ear.
“How did it go?”
“How did what go? The walk? It was good. We almost made it to the corner.
“
He laughed. “Nah, not the walk. That’s good to hear tho’. Means she’s building endurance. I’m talking about the apartment shit.”
I giggled. “Oh. It went good. I put in an application. They say give them forty-eight hours or whatever.”
“Bet. What’s the name of it?”
“Springview Hills. About fifteen minutes away from the house.”
“So… what’s the plan? Pay rent there every month for no reason? While you sleep at the crib? You like wasting money, huh?”
He was being casual.
This wasn’t a work call. This was a… personal call?
I kicked my feet up on the couch and looked off at the TV, not particularly paying it any attention. “Yep. That’s the plan. And… no… I don’t like wasting money. I don’t waste money.”
“That’s what you’re going to be doing with that tho’. Wasting it. I’m sure you can think of better places to spend over a g a month. You need a new purse. Get one.”
I sucked my teeth. “I just got two new purses. Thank you very much.”
“Nah you need to replace that fake ass Prada,” he joked. “I understand though, baby girl. Still… you got the funds now. Drop that bag on a new one. Please.”
“Ain’t nothing wrong with my fuckin’ purse,” I playfully snapped. “You want me to have another one, buy it.”
“Say less,” he quickly replied before saying a couple of words to someone in the background. Princess.
For some reason I got in my feelings and snapped. “Bye, Exodus.”
“Damn, why you getting off?”
“Ain’t you busy?”
“With my dogs, yeah,” he told me. “Princess!” He shouted again.
I felt silly.
How was I being insecure and he had a girlfriend?
What was I doing liking him in general and he had a girlfriend?
It was no longer about possibly hearing him talking to someone else in the background—it was about that.
I needed to chill. I’d never been a side bitch, and I wasn’t about to start just because I liked Exodus Christ. A little too much, might I add.
I didn’t even trip on Vellz when we were together about other women.
I might’ve side-eyed a couple of things, but jealousy never pegged me.
However, with Exodus, thinking about him with his girlfriend… I got a little jealous.
Wondered if she saw that soft side of him.
Wondered if he prayed with her.
Probably so.
They probably prayed together every night.
How he’d been with me wasn’t tailored for me and me only. Couldn’t be. Not with a girlfriend.
I sighed.
“I’m about to go to sleep,” I lied.
He paused.
“At nine o’clock?” He questioned.
“Yes, at nine o’clock. Don’t you got something better to be doing?”
“Hell naw,” he said. “Bored as hell. That’s why I’m on the phone with yo mean ass.”