8. Rakim #2
“Aight.” I sat back against the couch, so she straddled me.
“Ayan tried to get with me the day I brought you food to the boxing gym.” I was silent, so she continued.
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to get upset and do something to imperil your freedom.
” I still hadn’t said a word, trying to tamper down the fury that was rising within me like a gas fire.
My hands ached to commit another murder.
“He touch you?” I asked as collectedly as my mind would allow.
“Not at all.” Cupping my face and making me look her in the eyes, Daylin added, “Ignore it, Rah. Ayan will forever want what you have, but I am not nor will I ever be LaMia. Ayan couldn’t hold a candle to you, but even if he was better than you in every way, I would still choose you.”
I sat up, hugging her body as she embraced my neck. Laying my head against her chest, I closed my eyes, replaying her words and realizing a nigga had never been told such a thing.
“In all the fucking bad luck I’ve had, how did I run across enough luck to get you, baby?”
Kissing my head, she asked, “Was it luck or kidnapping?”
Chuckling along with her as I tightened my grip, I said, “Still.”
Tilting my head back to peer down into my eyes, she fused her lips to mine slowly, then said, “I can’t say, babe, but I’m pretty sure I’m luckier than you.”
For now, Ayan could live. ’Cause if or when I did come for that nigga, shit had to go perfectly because I refused to lose everything I’d rebuilt to sit behind bars for the rest of my days over his ass.
* * *
Entering the back of Godfrey Baking Co. with Josias trailing me, I nodded to say ‘what’s up’ to Mylo before quickly checking in with Raquel in her office. Upon returning, I guided Mylo and Josias into the soundproof office of my own.
“What you find?” I questioned Mylo.
“Nothing unfortunately. I—”
“Man, what the fuck is you even good for?” Josias sized Mylo up, chest out like he wanted the fade.
“Aye, calm yo’ ass down.” I placed a hand on Josias’s chest to back his ass away from Mylo.
“Fuck off me!” Josias knocked my hand down off him, making me hop back in his face since he thought shit was sweet. “This nigga over here bullshitting around while we was in Vegas and you letting him!”
“So why you ain’t bring yo’ ass back home and help then, nigga?
I don’t know what side of the bed you woke up on this morning, but you better check yo’ muthafuckin’ self next time you even contemplate stepping to me, nigga.
You not ’bout to come in here locc’ing up on every fucking body like you king ’round this bitch.
Calm yo’ ass the fuck down and understand we all got the same damn goal, Jojo.
” I bolted my eyes to his, following them every time he bounced them around my face with his lips balled up.
Finally, he conceded, bobbing his head and falling down onto the love seat within my office.
“My fault, Mylo.” Josias ran a hand down his face.
“You straight. I ain’t been fucking off, bruh. But niggas out here is either too afraid to admit to selling that shit or they really don’t fuck with that. Fentanyl is some gutter shit. Real dope dealers don’t fuck with that.” Mylo spit facts.
I nodded affirmatively, wading through my own damn thoughts as to who sold the shit to Zaire.
“We gotta look outside of these block huggers. Head to them uppity muthafuckas in the suburbs,” I suggested as Josias and Mylo rocked their heads in agreement.
We chopped it up a bit longer before Josias left to make some actual bread deliveries to a few of the small grocery stores around the hood.
“Nigga, I thought we was going to the port?” Mylo queried when he noticed I was headed in the opposite direction.
“We are. I just gotta make a quick stop first.” I pulled up to the small and dirty ass apartment building in Hawthorne.
Hopping out, I rounded the back of my whip and stepped onto the curb, ignoring the niggas looking my way. I didn’t need to say a word or provide eye contact to let them niggas know I couldn’t and wouldn’t be pressed.
Entering the gate that had seen better days, I located Téa’s apartment on the second floor and made my way up. Via text, she let me know she was home all day and only worked nights, so I could stop by any time before eight p.m.
“The fuck are we?” Mylo’s brows furrowed as I knocked on her door, stepping back some so she could see me.
I chuckled at Mylo keeping a hand on his heat as he swept the area of the apartment.
“Oh . . .” Téa froze upon answering the door, eyes darting between Mylo and me.
“This the homie Mylo.” I stepped in as she moved back, widening the door to allow us entry.
“Nice to meet you, Mylo.” She faked a smile and exhaled heavily. “I thought you would text or call before coming so . . .” She started trying to tidy up.
“You good with all that. I do shit at random most times, so while I apologize for the unannounced drop in, I can’t say that shit won’t happen again,” I admitted, noticing then that Mylo was staying by the door, seemingly refusing to step further into the apartment.
“No worries.” She tightened her robe and folded her arms.
“For you. I ain’t come to stay, only to drop this off.” Taking in her surroundings, I added, “You gotta move up out of here, lil mama.”
“I like this place.”
Smiling, I said, “And while that’s cool, if you put my niece or nephew’s life in jeopardy, I’m gon’ have to do the same to yours.
So it’s best we not even have to go there.
What you carrying is possibly the only piece of my fucking brother I got left, and I won’t put them in harm’s way because you like this hood ass spot. ”
“Alright.” She succumbed. “Thank you.” She peered down into the bank bag.
“Should be enough to find you a new spot, get some movers, and maybe not have to work nights.” I lifted my brows for some confirmation.
“Yeah. Is this gonna be monthly or . . .?”
“Monthly, maybe more frequently when I feel like it.”
“Okay then, yeah, I should be able to take some time off my job.” She zipped the bag back, eyes toggling between me and Mylo’s weird ass who was acting as if he were super glued to the fucking door.
“I’ll be in touch. Stay safe.” I turned to leave, and Mylo yanked the door open, hurrying over the threshold and toward the stairs.
“Damn, nigga. I’d think you’d never been to the hood before with the way you acting,” I jested as I trailed him down the stairs and toward the rickety gate that led to the street.
“Sup.” One of the niggas hovering the area finally spoke.
“What’s good?” I nodded my head up to him and so did Mylo before I yielded traffic then stepped out to get in on the driver’s side. “Hawthorne that scary to yo’ big ass? This barely the hood,” I said.
“Nah, them niggas just look like they plotting.” He peered out of his window at them.
“Yeah. Aight.” I pulled off from the curb.