8. Rakim
EIGHT
rakim
LATER THAT NIGHT . . .
We’d just had a celebratory dinner for Ayan’s win, and thankfully, the shit wasn’t too awkward since everyone acted like they had some sense, keeping the conversation light.
Though I didn’t wanna come to Las Vegas, thinking this shit would be exhausting, I couldn’t lie and say I didn’t enjoy being laid up doing leisure activities with my woman. It was nice to get away and with yo’ person. This was some new shit for me.
I did come here to kick it with my girl and to indulge in the unlimited pussy she promised, but I also came here to tap Ayan on the fucking nose.
As much as I didn’t fuck with that nigga, I couldn’t have a muthafucka around me or walking the streets as my brother who put their hands on women.
In my eyes, a nigga who sat idly by while a nigga did dirt like that was bitch-made and just as guilty.
So as badly as I didn’t want to extend any grace to LaMia, who didn’t even wanna help herself, I would.
I thought about my mother and how I wished when I was a child, someone my father halfway respected or feared or even just listened to pulled his coattails about putting hands and feet on my mama.
Instead, he had homies and cousins that continued on with their conversations, drinks, meals, and cigars while she screamed bloody murder in the back bedroom.
As a little boy, that shit was more traumatizing than listening to the young nigga in the cell next to mine get his manhood taken.
Seeing Ayan was on the balcony having a drink, I kissed Daylin’s temple, telling her I’d be back since she was engrossed in conversation about Delicacies with one of the random women either Ayan, Josias, or Nate invited.
The latter two were single, but Ayan didn’t let him being in a relationship with LaMia stop his game.
Shit, she was here tonight, and he didn’t give a fuck.
He and I differed a lot, and this was just another thing I would never do. I wouldn’t waste my years, time, and seeds on a woman I had no respect for. I’d rather be single.
“Congrats,” I said, making my brother turn around and bob his head as a ‘thanks’ before putting the glass to his lips.
“Appreciate that.” He surveilled me, clearly wondering why I was even speaking to his ass, and rightfully so.
Slipping my hands into the pockets of my hoodie, I glanced over the balcony of the penthouse suite before locking eyes with him.
“I wanna holla at you about putting hands on ya girl.” I got right to it.
“Putting hands on my girl? I ain’t put hands on no-fucking-body.” He sized me up, clutching his glass tightly enough to break it.
“Yan, cut the bullshit. I seen marks on her, and she don’t do shit but lay up under yo’ ass.”
“You jealous?” He laughed, gulping down more of his liquor.
Scratching my beard, I replied, “Even you don’t believe that shit.”
We had a quick staring contest before he said, “Look, she lying. I haven’t touched that girl.”
“I just said I saw the bruises. She ain’t tell me nothing,” I said, half lying.
True enough, LaMia didn’t have to say a word for me to know Ayan had put those big ass bruises and lumps on her fucking face, but I didn’t wanna reveal that she’d been tattling on this nigga and to me of all people.
Ayan had a visceral reaction to any-fucking-thing involving me, and to find out his woman was running to me to be a savior would surely set him off.
Shit, it’d set a confident nigga off, let alone one who was insecure as fuck like him.
“Well you must need glasses, nigga, ’cause I don’t put my hands on women.” He slammed the glass onto the stone balcony so hard I was shocked the shit hadn’t shattered.
Closing the gap between us, I stared deeply and knowingly into the muthafucka’s eyes before I said, “This yo’ first and final warning to keep yo’ fucking hands to yoself, nigga.
I don’t fuck with you, but I’ll be damned if I got a brother walking ’round this bitch with a hand problem.
You wanna be a bitch ass nigga like Nate Godfrey and put ya hands on women and children, you better make sure I don’t get wind of the shit, or it’s gon’ be me and you, nigga. ”
Ayan’s chest rose and fell as he held onto my unwavering eye contact, matching the shit.
“You fucking my bitch?” His lids lowered in distrust.
“Not a fan of fucking after my siblings. I’ll leave that one to you.”
Before I even got the last word out good, he hit me in the mouth, opening the door for me to break my foot off in his ass.
Decking him in the nose, I uppercut his ass and proceeded to knock his ass all around that balcony.
His hits were sloppy, due to his inebriation, but he still landed some of them muthafuckas due to his profession.
“Aye!” My father’s loud ass voice boomed as he came to jump in front of and shield Ayan. “Stop this shit!”
“He fucking LaMia!” Ayan hollered through a bloody ass face as the party migrated from being inside to out here on the fucking balcony.
Locking eyes with Daylin, I shook my head subtly to let her know that was bullshit as I spit out blood, and she just stared at a nigga. I couldn’t read her expression.
Whipping around to yell down in Ayan’s face, my father said, “I don’t give a fuck!
I raised y’all better than to be fighting over these bitches!
” Turning his venomous eyes on me, he continued.
“And you fucking your brother’s woman is wrong, Rah!
She is the mother of his children! The shit he did to you doesn’t fucking matter, because she was just some bitch you were fucking! ”
LaMia was more than that, but in my father’s eyes, there were wives/mothers of children or hos, no in between.
A girlfriend didn’t mean shit to Nate. I wasn’t gon’ correct his ass, though, because I didn’t give a fuck what he thought LaMia was.
She didn’t mean shit to me now. Daylin did.
I wasn’t about to get into it about what another female used to mean to a nigga.
I wouldn’t do the shit even if my woman weren’t present.
Ultimately, Ayan and I didn’t have beef because he took LaMia.
In my eyes, a person couldn’t be taken; they only went where they already wanted to go.
If I saw a woman I wanted, I would take her ass, too, but never from my own brother—hence Daylin being mine now.
Still, my brother and my issues dated way back before LaMia was even around.
Everybody knew that shit, including my pops.
“He don’t care with his hating ass!” Ayan barked, thinking that would bait me, but he knew better than I did that I wasn’t the envious twin.
“Let it go! She left you!” Nate hopped in my face, pissing me off.
“Aye, you better shut the fuck up talking to me, nigga,” I told my pops coolly but sternly.
Laughing, Nate bridged the small space between us and inquired, “Or what?”
“Keep running ya fucking mouth, and I’m gon’ show you.”
Again, I was interred into another staring contest. After a few moments of filled silence, he chuckled but backed the fuck down, seeing I was deadass.
“Like I said . . .” Nate made sure to retreat some, putting space between us. “Y’all are brothers and shouldn’t be fighting over no woman. Y’all don’ just lost a sibling. You’d think you niggas would try to mend fucking fences.”
“Move!” Ayan roared down in LaMia’s face when she tried to put a towel to his busted nose. “You probably been fucking that nigga the whole time, stupid bitch!”
She startled as he slipped around her, shooting daggers my way beforehand.
“Come on.” Daylin’s soft hand slipped into mine at the same time her perfume assaulted my nostrils pleasantly.
I listened, letting her lead me from the suite and down to ours. Once inside, I sat down on the couch and pulled her into my lap within the dimly lit room.
“I’m sorry,” I told her, not even sure what the fuck I was apologizing for, but I knew this shit didn’t feel right for her.
“What happened?”
“Tried talking to him about putting his hands on LaMia, and like I knew, shit went left.” I looked up into her eyes, pushing her hair back before kissing her. She was slightly stiff, a far cry from the way she usually melted into a nigga. “It bother you? What I did?”
“Why did you do it? Was it genuine or to get back at Ayan or because you feel something for her?”
“I have never competed with Ayan. I wanted to be brothers, have one another’s back and shit like with Zaire and Jojo.
He the one that got beef, so I don’t ever do shit to get back at him.
That’s something I want you to understand immediately, Baby,” I explained, and she nodded.
“I haven’t had feelings for LaMia since I found out she was playing house with my brother.
I barely like her, but what’s right is right, and growing up in a household where grown men sat up and ignored my mother getting fucked up by Nate’s big ass, I can’t do the same shit.
That’s not in me. I don’t fuck with Ayan, but I love his kids, and they don’t need to see that shit.
Nor do they deserve to have three uncles—now two—sit by while their mama gets her face punched in. ”
Since childhood all the way to now, I recognized that I had difficulty ignoring violence toward women. Even the times I should’ve and wanted to mind my fucking business, I couldn’t if I witnessed some shit. I hated that about myself.
“Okay.”
“I ain’t all there, Baby, and if I gave a fuck about LaMia and Ayan being together, I would’ve been put a bullet in him.”
“You also wouldn’t have been able to be so cordial and unbothered like you are.” She pressed her nose to mine before kissing me. This time, she melted like always, and I needed that.
“You the only woman I care about, and as much as it would fuck with me, if you take issue with me pressing him for her, I won’t touch that shit no more.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I like that you chose to say something. Most men turn blind eyes like what you experienced as a child.” She raked her nails through my beard. “I wanna tell you something.”