Tyree
My head banged with every pound that came from the front door. I sat up in bed and the room spun. Closing my eyes, I held my head.
Hopefully, when I open my eyes again, the room will stop spinning.
I opened my eyes and everything was still, but the banging on the front door didn’t stop. Tossing the covers back, I climbed out of bed, stepping over empty liquor bottles as I made my way to the hallway. Whoever was at the door, obviously wasn’t going away if they were still knocking.
Finally, I made it to the door and pulled it open. The sun blinded me where I couldn’t even see who was on the porch. My body was pushed out the way and Trayvon entered the house. I massaged my temples.
“What time is it?”
“Five in the fucking evening. Why the fuck are you still sleep?” His eyes scanned the living room. “Why you ain’t cleaned up shit? What the fuck do you have going on?”
“I really don’t feel like hearing this right now.” Shutting the door, I headed for the kitchen, and he caught me by the wrist.
“Are you fucking high?” Trayvon gripped me by the face and stared me into the eyes. I snatched away from him.
“Don’t you got something else better to do?” I mugged him.
“Yo’ ass fucking high. I should’ve know when you fucking disappeared. Haven’t you learned from yo’ past mistakes? I guess you haven’t if you’re still drinking and getting high.” He kicked one of the empty liquor bottles and it rolled across the floor.
“Stop trying to lecture me like you my fucking dad.” I knew that stung him to the heart, but right now, I don’t care. All I want is for him to leave me alone—at any cost.
“’Cause I know you’re high out yo’ got damn mind and you going through something is why I’m not gon’ slap the shit out of yo’ ass right now. You really need to get yo’ shit together. Where the fuck you getting drugs from in the first place?”
Entering the kitchen, I grabbed a bottle of Crown that I had sitting on the counter and opened it.
“Huh, Tyree?”
Trayvon stepped into the kitchen and yanked the bottle away from me as I placed it to my lips.
“I did what you weren’t man enough to do.” My teeth clenched.
“What the hell are you talking ’bout?”
“I found a new connect, and he’s way cheaper than Maniac.”
“Who?”
“Roc.”
“Have you lost yo’ fucking mind? Roc is the last person you should be dealing with.”
I waved him off and went over to the couch. Maybe if I ignore the shit out of him, he’d leave.
“I really wish you would’ve just left that shit alone. You out here thinking that you’re that nigga when you not. You don’t have the brains to run no operation alone. You don’t have the fucking discipline. All yo’ product gon’ go straight up yo’ fucking nose.”
“Can you get the fuck outta here with all that bullshit?” I shot to my feet and hands balled into fists.
Trayvon stared at my hands and brought his attention back to my face. “What? You wanna hit me? Gone hit me.”
“I’m gon’ prove yo’ ass wrong. I can do this shit and I am. You’ll see.” Marching over to the front door and yanked it open. “You’ll see.”
Trayvon shook his head. “All I ever did was try to protect you and yo’ sister, but I see you don’t need me anymore.” He closed the gap between us. “Let’s just hope that you don’t end up getting yourself killed.”
“Just wait ’til I prove you wrong.” He exited the house, and I slammed the door behind him. Trayvon thinks that I can’t do this shit, but I’m gon’ show him.