4. Daylin #2
“But why?” I attempted to stall, eyes bouncing around as inconspicuously as possible in an attempt to find a way to get around and possibly outrun this nigga without him noticing the wheels churning in my fucking head.
As I peered up at him, fidgeting and thinking, I tried to see if I recognized him or not, but because my ass was filled to the brim with fear and terror, that part of my brain wasn’t processing.
He was young, though, maybe a few years older than me, but his eyes mirrored ones of a man who’d lived two lifetimes.
Then, it hit me like a gut punch. This was Rakim Godfrey, Ayan’s brother. Was this some type of ploy for Ayan? It probably was no coincidence that they showed up to my place of business in the same day. Had he tasked his brother to kidnap and deliver me to him?
Then again, the two didn’t seem fond of one another back at the party. My damn head was spinning trying to piece everything together.
Truly, I didn’t get what I’d done in life for something like this to be happening to me.
With every true crime documentary I’d watched, I never fathomed that I could ever be the subject of an episode or, depending on how far things went, a whole two-hour documentary dedicated just to my case.
The thought alone made my blood go cold and tears form at the rim of my eyes.
I began to replay every conversation I had with the people I cared for, and from what I recalled, none of them were positive.
“Don’t matter why. Shit is bigger than you.” He checked the time on a watch that seemingly blended into his clothing, so I wasn’t able to clock it well enough to tell on him once I eventually escaped the situation, . . . if I escaped the situation.
That small detail let me know that the nigga before me was a career criminal, and shit like what he was doing right now was nothing new to him. That, coupled with the current circumstance at hand, heightened my fear somehow.
“I promise I don’t know anybody . . . I . . . Anyone involved in anything doesn’t know me, and I don’t know them. I swear,” I pleaded and explained at the same time, praying this was some kind of mix-up and that Ayan wasn’t thirsty enough to have me captured.
That had to be the reason for this because nothing else made sense.
I contemplated making it known that I knew his name but feared that would only anger him or, worse, make him shoot my ass where I stood.
Rakim made a face, running his large hand down his beard in vexation to show he was starting to tire of this back-and-forth with me.
He also made it clear by his lack of response that he wouldn’t be elaborating further.
I knew then, as my stomach roiled, that talking my way out of whatever this shit was would not work.
Silence lingered between us as the man watched me intently, awaiting on how I wanted to do things. Never one to bend and fold easily, I turned, dropping my beloved workbag that was much too heavy to take along with me, and darted off toward the front of the parking lot of my warehouse.
I was too afraid to look back and see if the man was chasing or to check how close he was, so I kept my eyes on the exit of the lot and the hundreds of cars flying up and down the street as if it weren’t nighttime.
If he was chasing me, he was preternaturally quiet, causing even more uneasiness to seep in and settle itself in the pit of my stomach. Fear had wrapped around me like vines on a tree, prompting me to beg God internally to save my ass.
“Fuck did I tell you?” That eerily deep voice that I’d just been conversing with startled me as he gripped my frame from behind. I could feel my bones attempt to leap from my skin and muscle as he held me in a vice grip.
The irritation in his voice was prevalent, rendering tears of fright from my eyes instantly.
“Hel—” I tried yet failed to launch a scream that was quickly blanketed by the man covering my mouth with a chloroform-ridden towel.
As panic surged throughout my body, my limbs wailed momentarily before wilting while my vision blurred. My mind turned into a cocktail of memories, loved ones, un-obtained dreams, and forfeited plans just before everything went black.
Hours later . . .
“Shit.” I awoke with a horrific headache, making it difficult for me to even open my eyes.
I attempted to sit up, but the searing pain had me incapacitated at the moment. Surrendering, I fell back onto the soft piece of furniture that felt like a mattress, and lay there, praying to God that what I recalled happening to me had just been a terrible nightmare.
The unfamiliar smell of the cold room I was in disproved this hope before I could even finish the internal prayer, making a tear slip from my still shut eyes.
Finally, my throbbing headache subsided enough for me to sit upright successfully and open my eyes. Like I’d already known before gaining my sight back, I wasn’t anywhere near home. The room was dark, but I could make out certain furniture in the abandoned but large bedroom.
Suddenly, a light flickered on as Rakim came into view, sitting on the edge of the desk and biting an apple like a psychopathic teacher holding me after class.
The sight of him made me abruptly sit up even straighter as if I would be able to fend off whatever he tried with me next, making me realize I wasn’t tied up.
Sniffling, I asked, “Why? What did I do?”
I sat there as he watched me, taking one last bite of the completely diminished apple before tossing it into the small black trash can near his corduroy slipper covered feet. I tried to remain quiet but couldn’t stop the tears or the sniffling even if I tried.
Dabbing his mouth with a napkin, he said, “My cousin needs brain surgery, and instead of getting his operation, your father felt he should instead push the shit back and go kick it on fucking vacation.” Cocking his head some, he asked, “You think that’s fair, Daylin?”
“No, no, of course not.” I shook my head repeatedly.
True enough, I was shocked to hear this about my father and halfway didn’t believe it.
My dad wasn’t the best person, but he wasn’t evil, and a person would have to be evil to pull some shit like that.
“But I can talk to him. I can convince him,” I lied, knowing my damn father saw no value in my words.
I wasn’t Serene.
“No,” Rakim stated with finality as he stood up.
“Too late for all that talking shit. And judging by his ticket information I had pulled, the nigga is already at his destination.” He came closer, making me crawl back toward the wall that the bed was pushed up against in fear.
Squatting down, he added, “And from what I know, he don’t even fuck with you enough for you to be able to convince him of shit, lil mama. ”
He’d gotten me there, and I didn’t know how to take that or respond. The fact that some random man who didn’t know me or my father could easily pick up on my dad’s disapproval of me hurt a little bit.
“So then why the fuck am I here? Why didn’t you go for someone he cares about, according to you?” I shot back.
Smirking in a way that I typically would’ve found alluring under different circumstances, he said, “I ain’t say he don’t give a fuck about you. I said you can’t convince him of shit. He don’t respect you, baby. You the only one in the family that ain’t a doctor.”
I kept quiet, not wanting to confirm anything Rakim was saying, especially because he’d hit the damn nail on the head.
Instead of focusing on arguing with him, I let my eyes bounce around the big ass room to see how many exit points there were, including windows.
“I—”
“Don’t get any ideas. You not tied up, ’cause even if you got out, you wouldn’t make it far before I blew ya fucking head open.
We far as fuck from wherever you think you may be, lil mama.
I suggest you chill, cooperate, and don’t try to outsmart a muthafucka that’s one hundred steps ahead of you.
I don’t wanna murk you, but I will.” He let his eyes linger on mine, and I knew it was to be sure I understood every word that came from his mouth.
Once he rose to his feet, I licked my dry lips and inquired, “So you won’t kill me then, right?”
“Long as you listen and yo’ pops cooperates and saves my cousin.” Rakim talked as he put together what appeared to be a phone, but I couldn’t see well due to its dark color.
After a minute or so, he flipped over the tiny device that he’d just assembled, and I was able to confirm that it was a phone. Walking back over, he extended it to me.
“For what?” I quizzed, taking it. He smelled good, and up close like this, I could definitely validate my attraction to him. The onyx skin, warm, brown eyes, thick lips, broad nose, tall stature, full beard, and the artwork that was embedded in his arms was something serious.
He’d done away with the hoodie and was now in a wife beater, black joggers, socks, and the corduroy slippers. He looked nothing like Ayan except for the shape of his eyes.
“Call yo’ pops.”
“W-what do I say?” I was nervous because I was scared but also because Rakim was sexy.
If I wasn’t under such pressure, I would shake my damn head at myself for finding this crazy ass nigga to be attractive, but I cut myself some slack since I’d actually found him to be sexy before all of this and couldn’t just turn it off.
“Just that you been kidnapped and if he wants you alive, he needs to do whatever the fuck I tell him. You say anything more than that, I will kill you and do this whole thing over again but with big sis.” He gave me that penetrating stare again, and I nodded this time, catching on to its meaning.
“I know you know who the fuck I am. I can see it in ya eyes. Don’t think telling ya pops my name is gon’ change things.
Only thing it’s gon’ do is piss me off.” His forbidding eyes lasered in on me, terrifying me deeply, which I was sure was his intention.