55. Four
Four
“Trey was in the room,” I said to Nine. He sat at his desk, his attention on the screens in front of him, but at my words he looked up at me. His fingers stopped moving, and his brows creased in the middle.
“Say that shit again,” he said, slowly blinking.
“Trey was in the room,” I repeated. “When Cori was attacked. He was there.”
He started to say something but stopped. He ran his hand over his mouth, then sat back in his seat. “How you know?”
I pulled the video up on my phone and handed it to him. Nine pressed play. Anger, sadness, and more anger flashed across his face. “He’s a dead man,” he said, handing me the phone back.
Immediately, I started to shake my head. “I know-“
“He was there when your woman was assaulted, Four!” Nine stood so fast that his chair flew back, hitting the wall behind him.
“He was fucking there!” He hit his desk.
“That nigga doesn’t have a loyal bone in his body, and you saying no?
That shit with Six a few years back and now this?
You think that nigga gives a fuck about you?
Us? Because I know he doesn’t. Not with the way he moves, ain’t no way. ”
“You don’t understand.”
“Why the fuck you trying to justify a behavior from that nigga?” he asked, grilling me. “Why the fuck do I feel like I’m angrier than you about what he’s done?”
“You ain’t,” I denied, and it was the truth. I was pissed, beyond it. The hatred I felt for Trey went beyond just anger. I had a hole in my fucking heart that couldn’t be fixed, and I knew it would never be. “Trust me, you ain't.”
“Then prove it!” he demanded. “Make some fuckin’ moves!
You think I can't find him?” An evil smile spread across his face.
“The FBI ain’t got shit on a nigga like me.
And my wife?” he laughed. “That woman is craving the taste of blood right now. She’s pacing every time she thinks I’m not looking.
Every fuckin’ DeCorte wants blood, do you realize that?
They want it. All they need is a name. Just one and it’s on. ”
“This ain’t their fight.”
“You really think that?” he laughed again.
“Tell that to the woman I married. To the mother of my children. To the cousin of your woman. Go out there and tell her this ain’t her fight and see how she reacts.
And if she lets you live after you say it, come back and tell me how the conversation goes. ”
“He’s my brother, Nine!” I yelled, standing up. “He’s my fuckin’ brother. The nigga I was in the trenches with. The one I vowed to protect even before Cori. He’s the reason I got some of these damn scars that’ll never heal.”
“And he’s also the nigga that stood by and watched your woman be assaulted by your fucking daddy. He’s the same nigga that knew for years and never said anything. How can you trust him?”
“For the same reasons you can trust me and Eight,” I told him.
“I trust my woman before any nigga, and that includes you,” Nine said, shaking his head.
“I know that shit sounds fucked up, but it’s the truth.
I trust Cross before any person on this earth.
When she moves, I move and vice versa. No questions asked, no hesitation.
And if it was a nigga out there, blood or fuckin’ not that hurt her?
” He smiled again. “The only person that would be strong enough to pull me off them would be her, and we both know she ain’t stopping me because she’d be the first to draw blood.
” He mugged me. “Did Corinthians call you off?”
“Cori said she couldn’t ask me to kill Trey,” I told him.
His speech wasn’t moving me because I already knew what I had to do.
I wasn’t here to ask him for his opinion.
I needed him to know what I planned to do and be prepared for Purpose to come after us all.
She may have fronted for Trey and acted like she didn’t love him.
I saw how she moved around him, how she watched him, and how she loved on Reason.
Purpose Blackmon wasn’t just going to let Trey’s death go.
She was going to want revenge, and she was going to do it legally and illegally.
“I already told her I was going to give her every nigga in that room head. Trey being added to that list is just what it is.”
“Then what the fuck are we having this conversation for?” he asked. “If you already know he’s a dead man walking.”
“He has a wife,” I told him. Nine chuckled and shook his head. “And a daughter.” His laughter stopped, and his nostrils flared. “She has spina bifida. She knows all about us. Looks like One, acts like Six.”
“So, that’s what’s stopping you?”
It was my turn to laugh and smile. “No,” I told him. “It's what gave me the green light to show him what suffering means.”
***
I watched as Judah ran towards the display wall and looked around. He was excited as hell to be here, and all I could do was let him enjoy his time. He tapped Deuce on the shoulder, then pointed at the helmet at the top of the wall.
“The answer is no,” Psalms said, coming to stand next to me.
I glanced over at her but didn’t say anything.
She looked relaxed, calm even, but there was an air of relentlessness about her.
She fidgeted with the bangles on her right arm.
“He’s going to ask for the helmet, and you have to tell him no. ”
“Why?” I turned my attention back to Judah and Deuce.
I couldn’t front I was the least likely to tell him no when he asked for stuff.
Everyone knew it and gave me shit about it, but he was a good kid and deserved shit.
He wasn’t spoiled though. His mama made sure he learned that he had to earn the extras.
He got good grades, did his homework and chores without being reminded too often, and didn’t give her a hard time.
“Because I already know you had Ex buy him one,” she answered with a smile. “He doesn’t need another.” She was right; I did, but having another one wouldn’t hurt.
“What about having it signed?” I asked her. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her smile blossom. “You called in a favor?”
“I’m best friends with two people outside of my sister.
” She held up two fingers. “A lawyer and an artist who happens to also be in the FBI and is a BMX rider in his free time.” She dropped her hand.
“One saves me from going to jail, and the other knows where the bodies are buried because he helped me bury them.”
“I always wondered how you became friends with Script,” I said, still watching Judah and Deuce.
Script Lidell was the middle brother of the trio.
Quiet, reclusive, and lived his life on the edge.
The media knew nothing about him, which added to his appeal in a world where BMX riders were supposed to be dangerous and adrenaline junkies.
Script only showed his face at events, and then after that he wasn’t seen again until it was time to work.
“We were committed at the same time,” she answered with a shrug. “I came on to him. He turned me down. Told me my pussy was hot because I wasn’t used to being told no.”
“Damn.”
“He wasn’t wrong,” she laughed softly. “I was going through an episode. When I’m good, I’m good. No issues, but when it’s bad?” She shook her head. “I committed myself that time.”
“Why?”
“Because I saw how scared Corinthians was,” she answered. “I saw the fear in her eyes and heard it in her voice. Corinthians is my saving grace on a lot of things. I know what she went through for me. I saw how it affected her, how it still does, and I don’t want to be a burden for her.”
“You aren’t a burden,” I told her.
“I have a mental illness,” she replied. “Even if I don’t mean to be, I am a burden that she didn’t ask for.
” She put her hands in her pockets. “I’ve been to therapy enough to know that it’s neither of our faults.
That it was just our fucked-up luck. More than likely I always had it; our trauma just made it known faster. ”
I nodded because I didn’t have anything else to say about it.
I could never tell her how to feel about her life or what she was going through.
I didn’t agree with the thought that she was a burden to anyone, let alone her sister.
I never heard Cori complain about Psalms, ever, and we talked about a lot of shit.
She was supportive and proud of the strides her sister made.
There was an acceptance and unconditional love there that I felt honored to witness, let alone experience.
“When will Script be here?” I asked.
Psalms softly laughed, then nodded her head toward the back of the room.
Script Liddel stood in the back of the room, hands in his pockets, a mug on his face, and watched us.
He was short, only about 5’5, slim, with a freshly cut short beard.
He wore khaki shorts, a white T-shirt with a picture of him doing some stunt on his bike midair, his signature across it.
A black KC fitted hung from his belt loop, and he wore a pair of white Nikes. Everything was his signature style.
“He got here as soon as I called him,” she answered. “Wednesday isn’t too happy about it.”
“If a nigga looked at my woman the way Script looks at you, I wouldn’t be happy either.”
“I don’t want Script Lidell,” she said, shaking her head. “He’s attractive, yes, but Script thinks submitting is weak. He craves power, dominance, and control.” She looked over at me and smirked. “He doesn’t understand that submitting is just that and so much more.”
“Auntie Bug!” Judah excitedly called out from across the room as he ran to her. When he was close enough, he wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her. “You came!”
“Didn’t I say I was?” she laughed as he hugged her.
“Yeah, but I didn’t see you when we got here.” He let her go and stepped back. “Is he here? Is Script here?”