4. Rakim
FOUR
rakim
ONE WEEK LATER . . .
“You need something, my nigga?” The scrawny ass block-boy queried as soon as he hit the corner.
I was at the top of the food chain, supplying little niggas like him boss’s boss with product, so it was no surprise when muthafuckas didn’t recognize me. I preferred shit that way. I didn’t wanna be the plug that niggas knew at first sight. Shit, I didn’t even want the praise. Keep it.
If they did know my face, it was likely from my boxing days or the murder I’d committed, but seeing as those were both almost a decade ago, it was an infrequent ass occurrence.
The ones who did remember, though, usually showed love, commending a nigga for handling shit for his woman.
Downside to that group of muthafuckas, though, was that a small sum of them knew Ayan’s woman was the same girl I sat down for.
These new niggas had no idea Ayan Godfrey’s main thing used to belong to his brother or that his brother killed for her ass.
Couldn’t lie and say I didn’t prefer the latter.
“Yeah.” I looked around the dark street.
“What, nigga? I ain’t got all fucking . . . day.” His last word was damn near a murmur when I took my hood off, revealing my heat at the same time as I prodded his throat with it.
“Calm yo’ ass the fuck down. That little bit of money ain’t going nowhere, nigga.”
“Look, I only got fifty on me—”
“Shut yo’ ass up.” I spoke menacingly but kept my tone cool. “You be out here selling fentanyl?”
“You twelve?” His eyes mushroomed, swallowing so hard his Adam’s apple pushed at the barrel of my gun.
“Nah.”
Sighing in semi relief, he replied, “I do on occasion.”
“You ever sell to a nigga named Zaire?”
“Uh, I can’t be sure because I don’t really collect names. What he look like?”
“Almost my height, locs, a G tatted between his eyes.”
Old boy looked off, brows kissing as he pondered before shaking his head. “Nah, I don’t remember nobody like that. He clean? In appearance? Everybody I serve are pretty much down and out, my nigga.”
I surveyed him for a minute, trying to read past the fear he held in his eyes to see if he was bullshitting me.
He liked to fell out due to relief when I dropped my gun, putting the safety back on and locking it back in my waist.
“You know anybody else selling that shit?”
“Nah. I be out here dolo and don’t really be trying to discuss that shit, ’cause that’s some hard time, boss,” he spoke some real shit.
“It is. Stop fucking with that shit, lil nigga.” I kept my head on a swivel before directing my eyes back on him. “I been to prison, and you wouldn’t make it a week unless you became somebody’s bitch.”
His eyes widened in horror before he nodded.
Patting his shoulder, I went down the block and hopped into my whip where Mylo sat in the passenger seat. In a sense, he had sort of taken Talid’s place as my right hand since the latter had been too sick to do shit. While I missed my cousin, Mylo wasn’t a bad stand in.
“What he say?” Mylo questioned as I yielded then pulled away from the curb.
“Nigga ain’t sell shit to Zaire.” I shook my head, frustrated as fuck. Truthfully, I didn’t know what killing the seller would even do for a nigga.
“Maybe that ain’t what did it.”
“The doctor said it was, and he ain’t got no fucking reason to lie.”
Zaire wasn’t no drug dealer, but I was, and he knew a lot of shit just from being in the room.
By saying that, he wouldn’t just take some random shit unless done purposefully.
A part of me believed he took the shit intentionally out of depression, but I put that into the recesses of my fucking mind.
“True.” Mylo caressed his beard in thought, peering out of the window. “He would recognize that shit too.”
“Exactly.” I pulled up to Tam’s Burgers. “I won’t stop until I find out who the fuck he got that shit from though.”
“I know.”
* * *
Walking into the front of Godfrey Baking Co. with Mylo on my trail, I was surprised to see LaMia emerge from the waiting room off to the side. Her lip was swollen as fuck, and she was sporting a black eye that looked fresh.
“I’ll go start.” Mylo excused himself and went to the back, speaking to Raquel who he must’ve run into back there.
“Ayan?” I queried though I knew the answer already.
She nodded.
“Yeah,” she still stated despite her non-verbal confirmation.
“Aight, so why you here, LaMia?” I peered down at her, thoroughly confused on why the fuck she was in my place of business battered up.
“I was wondering if you can maybe just have a conversation with him about . . .” She took her pointer finger and circled it around her face as if that hadn’t been the first fucking thing I’d noticed about her. “This.”
“We still on that, huh?” I mumbled to myself. “Like I said, that shit will go left. He and I don’t get along, ain’t ever gotten along to keep it real, and I’m not going to prison for you.”
“Why? Don’t wanna leave your new girl all alone?” she spat, then looked off like she hadn’t meant to voice that.
“Nah, she loyal. I ain’t even worried about that.
However, if I ever go back to prison, I wanna be sure it’s worth it, and this shit right here ain’t.
” When she nodded, I continued. “Leave. Ayan ain’t gon’ come looking for you like a lot of these other crazy, abusive muthafuckas will.
I know him; he not holding yo’ ass hostage.
If you tired of the shit, pack up AJ and Ayanna, then dip. ”
Most women in situations like this, my own mama for example, usually had a reason for not getting the fuck out. Either the nigga abusing them would hunt them down and murk their asses, or the nigga had enough power to strip them of their kids and some more shit.
My pops was both. He’d warned my mama that if she left, he would not only smoke her ass, but he’d make sure he got full custody before he did.
And being a celebrated boxer whom everyone saw as a gentle giant and family man, we all knew like she did that he could make every threat he spewed at her come to fruition.
On the flip side, Ayan wasn’t like him. He beat on LaMia because he was an insecure ass little boy who would rather fight someone smaller and weaker than go pick a bar fight to get his anger out.
If LaMia woke her ass up one day and disappeared, he’d move onto a new bitch before her perfume even fully dissipated from their bedroom.
“I . . . I can’t.” She pushed her hair back, sniffling. “He’s going through a lot right now, Rah. I can’t just go because times are rough.”
What she meant to say was she wasn’t ready to leave that lifestyle being with Ayan provided.
Half of it was the riches while the other half was the fame and notoriety.
LaMia basked in being known as the popular boxer’s girl, something she hadn’t been able to experience with me because a nigga was so private.
“Aight, well, if you wanna continue to let him get his frustrations out on yo’ damn face, then I ain’t gon’ stop you, LaMia.”
“I just, please. Please think about it. Mr. Godfrey doesn’t even talk to me, and I guess I understand why.
” She blinked back tears. My father barely liked her when she was with me, but now that he deemed her the cause of Ayan’s and my beef—a fallacy and he knew it—she wasn’t worth the shit beneath his shoe.
“Ayan doesn’t respect Jojo, and his friend circle is full of yes men, so you’re the only one left.
” She pondered for a moment, then said, “You know your little girlfriend told me she didn’t want anything serious with you and was only after sex. ”
“I’m waiting to hear what the fuck that gotta do with you,” I replied, and the way her jaw lifted and fell with no sound coming out, I could tell she was surprised by my answer.
“I-I just am looking out for you.”
“And that’s always been yo’ fucking problem, LaMia.
You running around worried about another woman’s intentions with me, when you should be more focused on the fact that you trying to find excuses not to leave a nigga who will send you out looking like that.
” I pointed to her face. “I’m not yo’ nigga and never will be again.
You always in one muthafuckin’ house but looking in on another, and that’s why you in the place you are now. ”
“I’m sorry. Can you please—”
“Let yaself out, LaMia.” I started toward the back, leaving her ass standing there.
“Bruh did that?” Mylo inquired as soon as I made it to the storage room. I could tell by the horrified look on his face that he was shocked.
“He did.” I exhaled, shaking my head as I started pulling bread crates down for Josias.
“Talk about some fucking karma for yo’ ass.”
“Mhm.” I bobbed my head.
Deep down, though, despite how LaMia dogged me, I didn’t believe she deserved to be getting her ass beat. Being with Ayan all the fucking time was karma enough. Getting knocked around was too fucking much.
“My bad, it was traffic.” Josias entered the storage room, running a hand down his overly tired ass face.
“You good?” I asked him as he started to stack the crates on the dolly.
“Yeah.” He wouldn’t look at me, so I made his ass, nicking his chin with my knuckle.
“Look at me when you speak, nigga. Men don’t talk looking down,” I scolded.
“I’m good, nigga.” He picked his head up, staring me in the eyes with his bloodshot and somewhat misty ones. “Help me with this shit.” He started out of the room.
Choosing to have a private conversation at another fucking time, I did as he’d requested with Mylo in tow.
* * *
“You stopping by now?” Shardaya palmed her hip as she stood in the doorway, her glare altering her soft features.
“Yeah,” was all I could say, unwilling to reveal the truth behind my spotty attendance as of late.
Rolling her eyes so hard I thought she was having a seizure, she threw a hand over her shoulder and said, “He’s in the back room. He’s better but still in pain and out of it.”
I stepped inside, shutting the door as Shardaya sauntered off, attitude on one hundred. She wasn’t my woman, though, so I truly didn’t give a damn. Also, I understood her disappointment in a nigga, but it was for a greater good.
“Where Khalid?”
“School,” she answered dryly over her shoulder.
I ambled toward the back room, the one where Talid usually stayed in when he was extremely ill.
He’d paid to have it set up to mimic a hospital room where his home nurses could have any and everything they needed but in a somewhat sterile environment.
The floors were tile, and the temperature was kept lower than any other room in the home.
Often, I forgot I wasn’t in a medical facility when I kicked it back there with him for too long.
Stepping down into the room and closing the door, I spotted him laid up, bundled in several blankets and in a loose beanie he kept on his head usually after having several surgeries.
Though his scan had come back clear a little bit ago, Dr. Conrad wanted a second scan to double check and ended up finding a small tumor he had to remove.
I was happy he did the shit even after having Daylin back.
“Cuz,” he grumbled, smiling as much as he could as I neared him. “Been MIA lately.”
“I know.” I slapped hands with him carefully, pushing my hood off my head to reveal the do-rag I wore over my fade. “My bad.” I took a seat beside him.
“Where you been at?”
“Handling business.”
“Glad a nigga didn’t die.” He coughed, laying his back on the pillow as the old ass In the Heat of the Night show played in the background.
“Nah, I was making sure of that.”
“How when I ain’t see you?” Talid’s tone was casual, but I could tell he was just as bothered as his wife.
It was uncustomary for me to not visit him when he was in the hospital or going through it because whenever he had to be checked in and spend weeks there, I was dropping by daily.
So to not show up at the hospital once when he was admitted, then only one time when they sent him home for a few days, threw up red flags in his and his wife’s eyes.
“Just know that I was. We’ll talk more about that another time, Talid,” I said, seeing it was a struggle for him to even have a simple conversation. This wasn’t the time for me to discuss all that I had done to be sure he was where he was right now.
His eyes darted from me back onto the TV as he watched, silent for a bit. I joined him, having nothing to say but just wanting to be in his presence since I hadn’t seen him in a minute.
“I know I told you it was a possibility we couldn’t work side by side no more, Rah, but it’s indefinite now,” he blurted without preamble.
“I figured,” I replied, dusting off my joggers and thwarting the urge to be optimistic about shit. Mylo had taken over for him long ago; I just never wanted to face the shit. I kept telling myself it was temporary. “I won’t be in this shit much longer.”
“I know. We was supposed to get out together.”
“Do everything at the same fucking time.” I smirked, thinking about the conversations we used to have as kids.
“Now, you just gotta find you a . . .” He started hacking, so I stood to pat his back until he recovered, handing him his bottled water before I descended back into my chair. “Find you a woman.” He finished after gulping the water.
“What if I told you I have already?”
He winced from damn near snapping his neck to look in my direction.
“When? So that’s why I ain’t see you? You was in some pussy. It bet not be LaMia,” he quipped, laughing so hard he began coughing again when I shot him a look.
“Fuck outta here, nigga.” I shook my head. “LaMia couldn’t fuck with her on her worst day, and I ain’t even talking about looks. Just ain’t no competition all a-fucking-round.”
Talid smirked, nodding.
“When can I meet her?” he questioned groggily, side-eyeing me as he drank more water.
“Soon.” I caressed my beard, hoping that what Daylin and I built was as real for her as it was for me.
I was afraid her family, friends, whomever would, over time, convince her she was experiencing Stockholm or wasn’t really in love with a nigga, but I had to remember that wasn’t Daylin.
I had to remember the main thing—other than her beauty—that attracted me to her and that was how headstrong she fucking was.
So my only obstacle, truly, would be if Daylin herself felt like she was in some sort of trance while with me, and now that she was free, it had broken.
“Can’t wait. About time you found somebody, Mr. Grinch.”
“I don’t hate Christmas or love. I just didn’t want it.”
“She must be a hell of a woman to make you want a relationship and be smiling all hard and shit. Yo’ ass blushing.”
I laughed, sitting back in the chair with my arms folded.
“I don’t blush. I’m a grown ass man.”
“I’m looking at you, cheeks red than a muthafucka.” He started laughing and coughing.
“Let’s change the subject for you clock the fuck out,” I joked, causing him to flip me the bird. “But she is one hell of a woman. Godsent. Real shit.”