Chapter Four.
Crown sat behind his desk, fixing Smoky with a deadly glare.
They had just made it back to the clubhouse, and he didn’t know what to think or how to react.
Maino had somehow dodged a bullet. Instead of ending up in a body bag, he was being questioned by Detective Lawson.
That alone pissed Crown off. Smoky’s involvement made it worse.
No matter how Crown tried to piece everything together, nothing made sense.
“You just gon’ sit there? Or you wanna tell me what the fuck going on? Why the fuck were you with a nigga who shot up our clubhouse? Even worse, a nigga that’s the cousin of a rat we disposed?”
Smoky let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “Bro, listen…”
“I’m fuckin’ listening. Speak.”
Smoky leaned back in his chair, his nostrils flaring as he fought to keep his temper in check. He didn’t like being talked to like a bitch, but he also understood exactly how this looked. If their positions were reversed, he’d be asking the same questions.
“This shit ain’t easy to say.”
Crown slammed his palm against the desk, sending his helmet crashing to the floor.
“What the fuck you mean it ain’t easy to say?
Smoky, nigga, now ain’t the time to be playing with me.
I got another war brewing on my hands, and when I looked around, you were nowhere to be found.
I thought something happened to you. Then my wife steady blowing up my phone, and I ain’t got no answer for when the fuck I’m coming home.
So, you better tell me something before I lose my shit. ”
Smoky licked his lips and rubbed his sweaty palms together before scooting his chair closer to the desk.
He wanted to say, nigga, you already losing it.
But this wasn’t the time for that. Instead, he rested both hands on the edge of the desk, trying to steady the slight tremble creeping through them.
“Me and you been rockin’ since we were kids, bro. You know me. You know I’d never do nothing to snake you. As far as I’m concerned, we blood. I’d lay down my life for you.”
Crown leaned forward. “And that’s exactly why I’m confused. So, talk.”
“You remember how you kept your other life from me? The architect shit?”
“What the fuck that got to do with anything?”
“I ain’t been telling you everything either.”
Crown narrowed his eyes, staring at him.
In all the years they’d known each other, he’d never seen his best friend look like this.
Smoky had stared down guns without flinching, walked into fights without hesitation, and dismembered bodies without a care in the world.
But now he sat across from Crown, looking damn near terrified.
His hands trembled, his breathing had turned shallow, and the words refused to come.
After a long pause, Crown glanced toward Danger, who had been leaning silently against the wall.
“Bro, step out.”
Danger’s brows knitted together. “The fuck for?”
Crown slowly cut his eyes toward him once more, and the silent warning was enough.
Danger exhaled a stream of smoke through his nose before yanking the office door open and slamming it shut behind him.
Normally, Crown would’ve checked him for slamming his shit.
This time, he let it slide, too concerned with Smoky.
“What is it?” He questioned.
Smoky swallowed one last time before forcing the words out. “I’m gay.”
The confession landed like a brick to Crown’s chest. He didn’t blink.
Didn’t move. Couldn’t even breathe. He just stared at Smoky, trying to make sense of what he’d heard.
Very little ever caught him off guard. Crown prided himself on reading people before they ever opened their mouths.
He could usually sense when somebody was lying, hiding something, or plotting behind his back.
His instincts had kept him alive for years.
But this…this had never crossed his mind. Not once.
“What the fuck you mean you gay? You telling me you been fuckin’ over your wife with a nigga?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Then what the fuck you saying, muthafucka?”
Crown’s eyes burned a deep shade of red as anger and disbelief collided inside him. His pulse pounded so hard against his temples he swore a blood vessel was about to burst.
“T knows. She’s been known. I told her the truth a long time ago.
She stayed because we have an arrangement.
I ain’t here to explain my marriage. I’m telling you I’m gay.
And the nigga whose house I just left…I been seeing for a little minute.
But I swear to God I ain’t know Maino was Boe’s cousin until we ran up on him that day.
I hid this part of my life from you because…
” Smoky stopped, struggling to get the words out.
He looked away before letting out a defeated sigh.
“’Cause…shit, I don’t even gotta say why. We both know why. I’m telling you now because the life I been hiding finally caught up with me, bro. Full circle.”
Crown remained silent. His eyes searched Smoky’s face, looking for any sign that this was a lie or some sick joke, but all he found was pain. Shame. Fear. Over twenty years of friendship sat across from him, looking more vulnerable than he’d ever seen him.
Crown was angry. There was no denying that.
But beneath the anger was something else.
Confusion. Sadness. Sympathy, even. The realization that his best friend had carried this secret alone for years had him wanting to take off his president’s hat and respond as Smoky’s brother.
In a perfect world, he would’ve told him everything was going to be aight…
that it didn’t matter…that he still loved him regardless.
However, the timing made that nearly impossible. A war was knocking at Crown’s door. He had to worry about if Maino said anything about Boe’s disappearance. And despite everything Smoky had just confessed, one question refused to leave Crown’s mind. Why had he gone to Maino’s house?
“You went to warn him.”
“Yeah,” Smoky admitted quietly.
“That wasn’t a fuckin’ question. I know.”
Smoky’s chest rose and fell with uneven breaths. He stared at the floor as sweat gathered along his hairline and beneath his arms, soaking through the fabric of his shirt underneath his vest. He’d rather take a beating than sit through this conversation.
Crown watched him for a long moment before asking the one question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to. Then again, he felt like he already knew. Body language spoke volumes, and Smoky’s was screaming.
“You care about that nigga?”
Smoky’s throat tightened. The room suddenly felt too hot. A bead of sweat rolled from his temple, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand before dragging both palms down the front of his jeans. His mouth had gone dry, leaving him unable to force out a single word.
“That was a question.”
Smoky shut his eyes for a brief second and bit down on his bottom lip. When he finally opened them, his eyes had glossed over. Unable to bring himself to say the words aloud, he gave Crown a slow nod, his expression heavy with embarrassment.
∞∞∞
Crown didn’t pull into his driveway until 1:45 that morning. He killed the engine and climbed off his Harley, every muscle in his body aching. His knuckles throbbed beneath dried blood and swelling, and his mind refused to stop replaying the events of the day.
As he quietly unlocked the front door and stepped inside, he expected the house to be pitch black. Instead, a soft glow spilled from the kitchen, accompanied by the steady sound of running water. Crown let out a weary sigh before making his way toward it.
Nivéa stood at the sink with her back to him.
Relief washed over her that he’d made it home safely, but so did every unanswered phone call and every hour she’d spent imagining the worst. Despite her talk with Kerri, she’d done the opposite of getting in bed and relaxing.
Instead, she’d kept herself busy, washing Nyla’s clothes and bottles just to keep her hands and mind occupied.
“I’m glad you’re okay.” She said, her attention remaining on the bottle in her hands. “I called you twice.”
Nivéa was met by the scrape of one of the heavy dining chairs as it dragged across the floor before settling back down with a dull thud. Crown still hadn’t said a word, so she turned around to face him. The sight stopped her cold.
Crown sat hunched over at the table, elbows resting on his knees and both hands covering his face.
His shoulders sagged as he stroked his temple, a picture of defeat.
Nivéa’s heart broke instantly. In the time she’d known him, she had never seen him like this.
Quickly, she set the bottle aside, turned off the water, dried her hands, and moved across the kitchen.
“Ahmad? Baby, what’s wrong?”
Crown slowly lowered his swollen hands, and the redness in his eyes stole the breath from her lungs. Whatever had broken him that day was written all over his face. Her gaze then drifted lower to his busted knuckles.
“God…” she sighed.
Nivéa stepped between his knees and gently cradled the back of his head, pulling him against her stomach. One hand rubbed over his waves while the other slowly massaged the back of his neck.
“My apologies, baby. I had so much shit going on.” Crown whispered, his voice rough with exhaustion.
For the first time in his life, he allowed himself to lean into someone else’s strength. His hands slowly wrapped around her waist.
“It’s okay.” Nivéa closed her eyes and held him a little tighter, resting her cheek against the top of his head. “I’m just glad you made it home.”
After a long while, Nivéa finally eased back, keeping her hands on either side of his face.
She searched his features, silently taking inventory of every stress line.
Questions filled her mind, but none of them found their way to her lips.
She understood the answers would come when he was ready…
or maybe not, if he thought it was better for her sanity not to know.