10. Rakim #3
“Don’t feel weird.” I sank down into the seat I’d forgotten to return behind the writing desk, watching her. “I might not kill you. I might just keep you for myself.”
We stared at one another for a long while before she opened her mouth to speak.
“You—”
“Get some rest.” I stood, knowing I’d said too fucking much. “We have to be somewhere tomorrow evening.”
Daylin was already feisty and disobedient as fuck, and women seemed to get even worse once they knew you fucked with them. I couldn’t have her already feisty ass knowing I liked her, or I might as well end this whole shit and let Talid perish.
“Umm, where?”
“You’ll see. And it don’t matter. Ain’t like you can’t not go. I wouldn’t even take you, but I have no one to keep an eye on yo’ ass.”
“Hmph. We better not be going anywhere public, because my hair is fucked up.” She lay back down and opened her book.
When she realized I was watching her with a look that said she only proved my point about being rebellious as fuck, she clenched her teeth and shrugged.
“Good night.”
“Good night, Rakim,” she sang in that soft voice of hers that I wouldn’t stop hearing replay in my fucking head for the rest of the night.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING . . .
I had to do a few things at my own house, so while Zaire and Josias were free before tonight’s festivities, I had them at the ranch house babysitting Daylin.
After cleaning out my fridge, something I usually had my maid, Gina, do, but I’d put her on vacation until this shit with Daylin was over since I wouldn’t be here like that, I hopped in the shower.
I didn’t feel comfortable with Gina having a key to my crib, coming and going as she fucking pleased while knowing I wouldn’t really be here.
I brushed my teeth once out, then slipped on some clothes before sitting down to make a few calls. Before I could even hit the green call button on the first one, my doorbell sounded off.
Standing, I exited the bedroom and made my way downstairs to the foyer to look through the peephole. Seeing LaMia, I froze for a second, running through my mental rolodex trying to conjure up any reason as to why her ass was here.
“What’s up?” I opened the door, scouring the surroundings behind her to be sure this wasn’t some bullshit setup.
“Can I come in?” She fidgeted some before peering up into my eyes.
“Nah. Why you here, LaMia?”
She hesitated for a moment, but upon witnessing how impatient I was becoming, she finally said, “I need your help.”
“Help? With what? I’m not trying to pull fucking teeth. Talk in full sentences, please.” I let the doorknob go and folded my arms, my entire frame fully visible.
“Your brother. He’s um, he’s getting worse with his hand problem.”
I chuckled, but it was humorless. I had to have been fucking dreaming or experiencing a nightmare, whichever fit better.
“Wow.” I shook my head.
“I didn’t know who else to ask, Rah. My daddy loves Ayan too much and won’t hear anything negative about him. You’re really the only man to have ever protected me.”
LaMia’s father, Lester, was a clout chasing ass nigga.
He didn’t care who his daughter dated so long as he was famous, rich, or both.
When I met him, the nigga didn’t talk with me like most fathers wanted to, to find out my intentions with his daughter and so forth.
All he cared about was that I made a lot of money being a well-known boxer.
“And what did that get me? Protecting you.”
“I deserve that.” She nodded. “And I’m sorry. I wish—”
“I don’t wanna hear that. We don’t need to go there.
That shit is over with.” I exhaled, pondering.
“If I approach my brother about this shit, I may end up killing him or hurting him real fucking badly. He yo’ nigga, so you should know how he is.
He tender, especially when it come to me.
If I make contact with him on yo’ behalf, he not gon’ take the shit well.
I need you to understand that shit before I agree. You cool with that?”
LaMia nibbled on her lip, eyes darting off to the side before she brought them back up to me. I knew she wasn’t cool with it.
“D-do you still love me? Because I still love you. I-I just got caught up in my feelings, Rah. And . . . and I—”
“I don’t. I ain’t trying to be rude or cruel, LaMia. I’m being honest with you.”
I didn’t want her to think I was saying I wasn’t in love with her in order to hurt her or to seek some kind of retribution. That would mean a nigga cared, and I didn’t.
“Damn. Okay.”
“Look, regardless on whether you care if he die by my hands or not, I don’ killed my last person for you. You lucky I didn’t take yo’ life, too, but I wasn’t about to spend another day in that hell on fucking earth for the same bitch that was bouncing on my brother while I was locked up.”
“It was an emotional affair, Rah! I didn’t fuck him until after I told you!” She squawked, probably lying, but I didn’t give a fuck. “He was saying all the right things, and you were gone, and I knew you would—”
“Don’t come back, LaMia. Deal with what the fuck you chose or leave the nigga. Aight?”
She stared up at me teary-eyed before nodding woodenly, then turning around and leaving.