12. Ghost
Ghost
The apartment had been too damn quiet lately.
Ever since the last time Trigga had come over, I’d caught myself reaching for my phone more times than I cared to admit.
We hadn’t really talked much since he came over after Maliah’s daddy paid me that little visit.
We would text here and there but only small updates.
Life had a funny way of getting in the middle.
He was focusing on whatever the fuck he was doing, and I was over here checking over my shoulders every two seconds.
I leaned back against the couch and stared at the ceiling for a long moment before grabbing my phone off the coffee table.
If anybody could help me figure out what the hell to do about Reemo… it was my brother. The phone rang twice before he answered.
“What’s up?”
I frowned. A lot was going on in the background. I heard air tools, people talking, and a car horn.
“Where you at?”
“At work.”
I sat up a little straighter.
“Work where?”
“One of Mr. Browne’s shops.”
For a second, I didn’t say anything.
“You got a job at one of her daddy’s shops?”
A small laugh came through the phone.
“Yeah.”
“Damn.”
“I told you he offered me a job.”
“I ain’t think you was gone actually take it.”
“I needed one.”
I leaned back again, shaking my head to myself. The thing is that he had a job and he quit that shit to go and work up under this girl’s daddy. I guess the pay was more, or maybe he was trying to get back in good with her dad.
“Look at you,” I teased.
“What that supposed to mean?”
“You becoming a responsible citizen and shit.”
“You stupid,” he laughed.
I looked around my apartment, and the sudden realization hit me that I had nothing going on in my life.
“I just ain’t used to hearing you at work.”
“Well… I like it.”
That answer surprised me more than I wanted to admit.
“You good?”
His question pulled me back.
“Yeah.”
The lie rolled off my tongue easier than the truth ever would’ve.
“You needed something?”
I rubbed my hand across my face.
“I was seeing if you could slide through.”
“When?” he asked.
“Whenever.”
He was quiet for a second.
“I’m here until five.”
I heard another impact gun buzz in the background before he spoke again.
“But I can stop by after work.”
After work, the words echoed in my head.
“Aight.”
“I’ll hit you before I leave.”
“Bet.”
The line went dead. I lowered the phone from my ear and stared at it for a second before tossing it onto the couch beside me.
“After work,” I muttered to myself.
A quiet laugh escaped me. Who would’ve thought? The same little nigga who couldn’t keep a job if his life depended on it was talking about getting off work. Life really had changed.
TRIGGA
The impact gun rattled in my hand as I tightened the last lug nut before lowering the Silverado back to the ground.
“All set.”
I wiped my hands on a shop rag as the customer walked over.
“Appreciate you, young man.”
“No problem.”
The older gentleman climbed into his truck before giving me a wave as he pulled out of the service bay.
I watched him disappear through the open garage door before reaching for the work order sitting on my toolbox.
A few months ago, I never would’ve imagined this being my life.
Now, I couldn’t picture doing anything else.
There was something satisfying about honest work. It was something fulfilling about fixing something with your own two hands and watching somebody drive away happy.
“Tahari.”
I looked up. Mr. Browne was making his way across the shop floor with a clipboard tucked beneath one arm.
“Yes, sir?”
He stopped beside the truck I’d just finished and glanced over the work order.
“You rotate the tires?”
“Yes, sir.”
He crouched for a second, looking everything over before standing again. He gave me a small nod.
“Good.”
That was it. It was just one word, and for me that was good enough. He walked away like the conversation never happened. I couldn’t help but smile. The guys around the shop always joked that if Mr. Browne only had one word to say, then you were doing something right.
I folded the work order and set it on the completed stack.
“Tahari.”
I turned toward the service counter. One of the advisers leaned out of the office.
“Your last appointment canceled.”
I looked up at the clock, and it was four thirty.
Guess I was done for the day. I untied my apron and tossed it into my locker before grabbing my keys.
As I headed toward the parking lot, Ghost crossed my mind.
The truth was that we hadn’t talked much since Mr. Browne showed up at his apartment looking for me.
Life had gotten busy. I was juggling three major things in my life: school, work, and Maliah.
All while trying to build something I could actually be proud of.
Still… the way Ghost sounded on the phone didn’t sit right with me.
He said he was good, but I knew better. I climbed into my car, started the engine, and pulled out of the lot.
Whatever was weighing on my brother. I was about to find out.
The ride over to Ghost’s apartment didn’t take long.
By the time I pulled into the parking lot, the sun had already started dipping lower in the sky.
I cut the engine and looked around. Ms. Gia’s car wasn’t in its usual spot. I figured she was still at work.
Lately, she’d been picking up more shifts at the hospital.
She never complained about it, but I knew why she was doing it.
Ghost wasn’t bringing in money like he used to.
I climbed out of the car and made my way toward the building.
The familiar smell of somebody grilling on one of the balconies mixed with the thick Miami heat as I took the stairs two at a time.
When I reached the apartment, I knocked three times.
It took a minute before the lock finally clicked.
Ghost pulled the door open. For a second, I just looked at him.
He looked tired. Not physically but mentally. It was like he hadn’t slept much.
“You gone stand out there staring at me all day?” he asked.
A small grin pulled at my mouth.
“I’m deciding if I should come in.”
He stepped to the side.
“Man, get your ass in here.”
I laughed under my breath and walked inside.
Ghost shut the door behind me.
“You hungry?”
“Nah, I had something before I left work. Mr. Browne had ordered us all some wings for lunch today.”
“There you go again,” he shook his head and fixed his face with disgust, “talking about work.”
“You are acting like I committed a crime or something,” I said with a laugh.
“Nah.” he walked toward the couch and then plopped down, “I’m just trying to get used to hearing that shit come out your mouth.”
I took a seat across from him. There was a slight awkward silence. Ghost grabbed the remote and muted the television before tossing it onto the cushion beside him.
“So…”
I leaned forward, resting my forearms on my knees.
“What’s really going on?”
The smirk he’d been wearing disappeared, just like that. His eyes drifted toward the floor. Something was bothering him.
“I ain’t even gone hold you…”
He rubbed both hands together before looking back up at me.
“I think I’m in some shit.”
The room fell quiet. I didn’t interrupt him. I just sat back and listened because whatever was weighing on Ghost, it was heavy enough for him to finally ask for help.
He leaned back against the couch and let out a slow breath.
“You remember Bashar?”
“Yeah,” I nodded.
“He been dead a little minute now.”
“I know.”
His shooting was all over the hood when it first happened. Especially since it happened right in his own house. He rubbed both hands over his face before looking back at me.
“Reemo is his right-hand man, and he’s been on my ass lately.”
I frowned.
“What the fuck does he want with you?”
“He is looking for answers.”
“About what?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.
“About Bashar.”
He looked down at the floor for a second before continuing.
“I was the last person to see him alive,” he admitted.
That caught me off guard.
“You were?”
“Yeah,” he nodded.
“What was y’all doing together?”
“I had to talk to him about something.”
He didn’t elaborate, so I didn’t push. Although this feeling in my stomach was telling me that I should have.
What he was saying didn’t make any sense.
To my knowledge, Bashar helped us with the layout and codes to the first MB Autos.
If Ghost gave him his cut, there shouldn’t have been shit to talk about.
“So now Reemo thinks because you were the last one with him…” I drifted off.
“That I know more than I’m saying,” he finished the statement for me.
“Damn.”
Ghost leaned back against the couch again.
“He doesn’t care what I tell him. He already got his mind made up.”
I shook my head. My boy had himself here in a sticky ass situation.
“So, he just pressing you?” I asked.
“Him and a few of his homeboys.”
“They ain’t touch you, right?”
Instantly, I got overprotective.
“Nah. They just trying to get me to say something I can’t.”
The room fell quiet. I sat there thinking it over. Something about this shit just was not right.
“I ain’t gone lie…” I rubbed the back of my neck before continuing, “I can see why he is looking at you.”
Ghost looked over.
“What that supposed to mean?”
“I ain’t saying you did nothing,” I held my hands up, “I’m saying if you the last person somebody seen before they died… you’re automatically gone have eyes on you.”
Ghost looked away. I had to know the truth though for myself.
“So, did you kill him?”
He screwed his face up like the question I had asked offended him.
“Of course I didn’t,” he looked me dead in the eyes and answered.
Slightly, he lifted from the sofa and reached into his pocket. He tossed what was in his hand onto the coffee table between us. It was a business card. I picked it up. The second I saw the letters across the top, my eyebrows dented in worry.
Federal Bureau of Investigation
I looked back at Ghost.
“What the fuck does the FBI want with you?”
Ghost let out a humorless laugh.
“That’s the other problem. You remember that white boy from the club?”
I frowned for a second before it clicked.
“The one that bought all the work?” I question.
“Yeah.”
“What about him? Don’t tell me he’s a fucking rat.”
“Nah, worse than that. He tracked me down.”
Ghost leaned back against the couch and shook his head.
“Turns out that white boy is the damn feds,” he added.
For a second, I couldn’t say anything. My mind immediately went somewhere else.
I thought about school and Maliah. The promise I made to Mr. Browne crossed my mind.
Everything I’d been working toward over the last two months flashed through my head all at once.
Ghost watched my face long enough to know exactly where my mind had gone.
“Relax.”
His voice pulled me back.
“He doesn’t know anything about you.”
I looked at him.
“He doesn’t even know your name.”
I let out a slow breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
“You sure?”
“I’m positive.”
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.
“Everything stayed between him and me.”
I nodded, but it didn’t do much to settle my nerves because this was the fucking FBI. That wasn’t local police. That wasn’t somebody trying to scare muthafuckas into talking. That was different.
Ghost rubbed his hands together before looking over at me again.
“He’s asking questions about them bricks,” he said
“The ones from Mr. Browne’s shop?” I quickly responded.
“Yeah.”
I stared down at the business card still resting in my hand.
The more I thought about it, the more it felt like everything was starting to collide.
Reemo wanted answers about Bashar. The FBI wanted answers about the bricks.
And somehow, both roads led straight to my brother. I looked back up at Ghost.
“What you gone do?” I asked with worry laced in my tone.
Ghost sat there for a long moment before letting out a slow breath.
“I honestly don’t know.”
Ghost always knew what to do. Even when the plan was reckless, he still had one. This time he looked just as lost as I felt. Ghost leaned back against the couch and his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
“This Ryan situation. I gotta be strategic with it,” he said as he rubbed his jaw.
“What you mean?”
“It ain’t something I can rush.”
He let out a slow breath.
“It’s gonna take a lot of thought.”
“Thought about what?” I frowned.
I nodded toward the business card still sitting on the coffee table.
“You don’t know where them bricks came from.”
Ghost looked over at me.
“No,” he paused, “but I know who they came from.”
The words made my stomach tighten up. I looked at him for a long second. I know this nigga ain’t thinking about telling. Ghost must’ve read every thought across my face because he shook his head before I could even open my mouth.
“I’m not gone flip,” his voice was firm, “I can’t.”
He leaned forward, and this look spread on his face like he was deep in thought.
“I’ll think of something.”
The room fell quiet again. After a few seconds, he looked back at me.
“But this Reemo situation,” he pointed in my direction, “I need my brother for that.”
I didn’t say anything.
“I need your domesticated ass to step outside for this one,” he added.
Normally, I would’ve laughed. This time, I couldn’t. Mr. Browne’s face flashed across my mind. Tell me you’ll never touch the streets again. I gave him my word. I had to stand on that shit. Ghost frowned.
“What?” he asked.
I rubbed my hands together before answering.
“I gotta think about it.”
His eyebrows shot up.
“Think about what?”
I looked down at the floor.
“When Maliah and I got back together…” I let out a slow breath. “Mr. Browne sat me down.”
Ghost stayed quiet.
“He wanted two things. He wanted to know who else robbed him, but I couldn’t give him that. The second thing he wanted, though, I could give to him.”
Ghost’s expression slowly changed.
“What was it?” he asked.
I swallowed hard.
“I promised him that I wouldn’t touch the streets again.”
Ghost just stared at me. I could almost see the wheels turning in his head.
“So…”
He finally spoke.
“You are telling me because of a promise, you gotta think about helping your brother?”
I didn’t have an answer. Because the truth was that wasn’t just a promise to Mr. Browne. It was a promise to myself. Suddenly, keeping it didn’t feel so simple anymore.
He didn’t pressure me, though he nodded his head toward the front door and told me to think about it then.
Knowing that he wasn’t pushing me to break that promise honestly felt good.
I stood from the couch. And when I did, he did the same.
I then dapped him up before I made my exit.
I needed a shower and to get myself ready for work the next day.