Chapter 18 FLEX
FLEX
The sun had come up, and I hadn’t gotten any sleep. Kareem had been up the entire night, pacing the floor and rapping. I thought that after Mison had run out, he would for sure run after him, but he didn’t. I glanced at Kareem, whose eyes screamed he needed sleep, yet they held pure desperation.
I knew that feeling of desperation all too well.
To want to be free of whatever was holding you back.
He wanted riches, and so did I. He wanted normalcy, and so did I.
He wanted freedom from the vice grip around his neck, and so did I.
Although Kareem seemed evil, he was merely a man who wanted better, but the only way he knew how to get that was by being a menace.
I didn’t know if I was trying to mentally justify why he was being the way he was, or if I truly felt sorry for him, but I knew it was something.
I stood from the couch, walked over to him, and placed my hand on his. He stopped pacing and gazed at me. “I-I’m losing my fucking mind,” he muttered.
“You can’t be doing this shit. You have to find another way,” I told him.
He shrugged. “What am I going to do, huh, Flex? I can’t go pop dick on a pole, I can’t get a decent fucking job because of my record, and the little piece of shit I do have ain’t nothing for real.
I have a nigga taking care of my brother when I’m supposed to be doing that. How do I compete with a rich nigga?”
I could see agitation starting back up. I didn’t know how to respond to it, so I continued to stare.
He snatched his hand from mine. “Exactly. It almost seemed better in jail. Shit, at least there I was somebody. My voice was heard. My raps,” he paused.
“Were appreciated. I guess this is what you get when you sell your soul to the fucking devil.”
I didn’t know what he meant by that, but what I did know was that I was going to try to help him any way that I could. I walked past him and into the kitchen, “Let me feed you. You need to eat something.”
“Keep your food, Betty, no Crocker. I’m not hungry.”
“Look, I want to help you. I know the things you’ve been through, so let me,” I mumbled as I continued to move around the kitchen.
A wild laugh came from him. “Says the girl who was supposed to give me money, Flex. You don’t have to butter a nigga up. I’m going to leave, it’s obvious my beef isn’t with you.”
I stopped and turned to him. “Let me help you. What do you need me to do?” I asked.
I knew his trust in me was slim, but maybe doing something for the greater good would bring me some luck in the long run. I wasn’t sure what I was walking into, but at this point, I didn’t care.