14. MJ #2
He sat up a little straighter.
“You serious?”
“Dead serious.”
I flipped the camera around long enough to show him the house before turning it back toward myself.
“I know where he stays.”
His eyes narrowed.
“What are you doing over there?”
“What does it look like? I’m about to handle this.”
Tahari looked over at Maliah.
“Babe, I’m gonna be right back.”
She looked up from the couch.
“Okay.”
I could tell that she was trying to see into the phone, but he was quick to get out of the way. He stood and disappeared down a hallway before bringing the phone back to his face. His voice dropped to a whisper.
“Ghost… don’t do no stupid shit,” he pleaded.
“We can end this right now,” I urged.
Trigga had no idea what it was like every single day wondering if a muthafucka was going to pop out of the bushes and end it all.
I had too much pressure on me. I had Reemo and Ryan it was starting to become suffocating.
I could take care of one of my problems, the other took more time, more thought, more skill that I didn’t have right now.
But Reemo? This was street shit, and that is all I know. I looked back toward Reemo’s house.
“Pull up. We’ll handle him together.”
It was so silent that I had to look into the phone to make sure that his ass didn’t hang up on me. Trigga looked at me for a little minute and then slowly shook his head.
“I can’t.”
My jaw tightened, and I was about to curse his ass out, but he finished talking.
“I told you. I made Mr. Browne a promise. I can’t go back to the streets.”
I looked out the windshield.
“So, it’s fuck me?”
I was fuming. This nigga really wasn’t trying to have a nigga’s back.
“It ain’t like that,” he quickly responded.
“It feels exactly like that.”
He looked off to the side, I’m sure, to see if Maliah was eavesdropping on his conversation before nervously rubbing the back of his neck.
“I’m not saying don’t protect yourself. I’m saying I can’t be the one standing beside you while you do it.”
Neither one of us spoke, and then finally he sighed. I was hoping that he was about to change his mind, throw on that black hoodie he loved and meet with me, but when he opened his mouth, I knew that this would probably be the line in the sand that separated us indefinitely.
“Just… be safe, bro.”
The call ended.
I stared at the dark screen for a long moment before tossing my phone onto the passenger seat.
“Fuck.”
My fist slammed against the steering wheel. The horn blared through the quiet neighborhood, and I froze. A porch light flicked on across the street.
“Damn.”
I sank lower in my seat until the light clicked back off.
After another minute passed, I reached into the backseat and grabbed the ski mask.
Trigga wasn’t coming, so that meant I was on my own.
I pulled the mask over my face, opened the car door, and started walking toward Reemo’s house.
I kept low as I crossed the yard. Every step I took was measured.
The neighborhood had gone quiet. There were no barking dogs and no passing cars. It was just the sound of my own breathing beneath the ski mask. The porch light cast long shadows across the concrete. I reached the front door, and when I wiggled the knob, surprisingly it was open.
By the time I stepped back outside, my pulse was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.
The front door slammed behind me. I didn’t look back because I couldn’t.
I hurried across the yard. My footsteps carried me toward the street as fast as they could without turning into a run.
Halfway to my car, I looked down, and that’s when I saw it…
Blood. Dark stains were splattered across the front of my hoodie.
“Damn.”
For a split second, I wasn’t standing outside Reemo’s house anymore.
I was back at Bashar’s. Everything at this moment was oh so familiar.
The smell of blood and the deep silence after it was over.
I could still see Bashar lying on that floor every time I closed my eyes.
I blinked, and then the body on the floor became Reemo.
I blinked hard, forcing both memories away before unlocking my car.
I snatched off my ski mask and tossed it to the back while starting the car at the same time.
The engine roared to life, and once it did, I pulled away from the curb without looking in the rearview mirror.
My hands tightened around the steering wheel.
One problem was gone. That should’ve made things easier.
Instead, it felt like I’d just buried myself even deeper.
I drove in silence while the blood started to dry against my clothes.
One thought kept circling through my mind.
How many more bodies before there wasn’t any coming back?
I heard so many stories about how taking a life could change you.
I think that shit changed me once I put Bashar down.
I was different in ways that I couldn’t explain.
More ruthless maybe and definitely more detached from my emotions.
The drive home felt longer than it actually was.
Every red light seemed to last forever. Every car that pulled in behind me made me check the rearview mirror twice.
By the time I turned onto my street, my shoulders had finally started to relax.
I backed into my usual parking spot and killed the engine.
For a moment, I just sat there. The silence inside the car was almost deafening.
I looked down at the dried blood staining the front of my hoodie.
There wasn’t any washing this tonight. I probably should get rid of the shit.
Everything that I was thinking could be handled when the sun was up.
With a tired sigh, I climbed out and headed toward the apartment. I unlocked the door and stepped inside. The television was on. I frowned because Mama wasn’t supposed to be home yet.
“I thought you were working?”
She looked up from the couch.
“They let me leave early.”
She smiled at first, and then the smile disappeared when her eyes dropped to my hoodie.
She slowly stood.
“Giovani…”
I instinctively looked down. Damn. She really wasn’t supposed to be home. She wouldn’t have seen any of this.
“It ain’t mine,” I quickly spat out.
She didn’t move, and she didn’t speak. She just stared at the stains spread across the front of my sweatshirt.
“Mama?”
When she finally looked back up at me, there was no anger in her eyes. I could tell that she wasn’t disappointed. All I could read on her face was fear. The kind of fear only a mother could have. A lump formed in my throat.
“I can explain.”
She shook her head once.
“I don’t want to hear shit.”
I didn’t know what to say. My mother looked at me like she didn’t know me at all. And maybe she didn’t anymore. I was starting to think that I didn’t know myself.