Page 37 of Saint Baptiste 2

“Nah, nigga. I peep,” Jah stated, tugging on his beard. “You know what gets me though? I had to mention Mer?—”

“You didn’t. You really fuckin’ didn’t,” I paused and leaned over to grab the bottle from in front of him. “Takin’ it there was a choice. If you left the shit buried like we agreed to, I would’ve sat here and let y’all rock. You know me,” I laughed. “I mean, nigga. You really know me.” I pointed at him. “I’m starting to think you brought it up on purpose.”

Jahad sat back against his chair and said nothing.

That was all I needed. He did it on purpose.

“Listen—”

“You really turned bitch on us,” Blaise interjected with a laugh before jumping up.

Hmph. Look at that shit. Surprised the fuck out of me. I thought it would be Jah. But then again... Jah did make a bitch move.

“You niggas turned bitch on me,” Jahad said through gritted teeth, before slapping his hand against his chest. He stood. “I wouldn’t have taken it there if every fuckin’ time I talked to you niggas, you pretended. You were raised better. Like men. You got something on your heart—we come together, we discuss it, and we end it there. We resolve it. but instead, you choose to keep a chip on your shoulder. And then you accuse me of being like him?” Again, he slapped his chest. “You accuse me? of turning my back on you?” With a squint, he looked between both Blaise and me. “I remember that price tag vividly. Do you niggas remember it the way that I do?”

That price tag Blaise mentioned? The price tag was me. My life.

That was the price tag on me speaking up. We were in a mercy meeting, and I spoke up about the way Samuel handled this one nigga that used to come around the house back in the day. Ern. Apparently, he stole something. Apparently. There were no facts. Just word of mouth from the bitch he was fucking. Not Ern’s bitch, but the bitch Pops was fucking. Yeah, exactly. Shit was like that. He took her word because Ern didn’t have the best track record. He did odd jobs and shit like that for us. Didn’t make a lot of money so when the bitch said she saw him taking shit, Samuel believed her and murdered that man. It wasn’t the murder that bothered me. It was the way it happened.

Back then, we met at factories. The family. Samuel still had a lot of fucking cleaning up to do. So… we hadn’t quite made it to where we could secure a big ass house with enough space to house a team of damn near fifty to sixty niggas. So… we met at an old chip factory. Mind you… a nigga what? Fifteen. I walk in, see a man I’ve known since Pampers, strung up, bound to the fuckin’ ceiling. Naked. Bloodied, with a couple gashes on his head and across his face. Samuel walk out from the back, gripping a machete, grinning, with his brothers, casual as fuck, as if Ern wasn’t strung up. As if there wasn’t a naked man hanging from the pipes on the ceiling. He did his thing. Talked his talk. Mentioned stealing and the gravity behind it. Without warning, he split the nigga open. From his chest to the bottom of his stomach. Left him hanging there until he was empty. Traumatized me. Couldn’t wait to speak about the shit at the meeting. I did, Samuel said he understood where I was coming from.

Couple weeks later, I find myself in a predicament similar. He sent me and B on a run… something came up missing. He questioned us. I’m defending myself, B defending himself. We at it. Samuel chastising me. Fifteen-year-old me. Accusing me. Calling me all types of shit. Said I had love for the nigga Ern because we were one in the same. Slimy. Disloyal. He told Blaise to handle me. Blaise hesitated. Didn’t move until Samuel put his gun to Blaise’s head. The minute Blaise upped, Jah did. Not on him; on Samuel. And that was when it ended. His little game. It ended with a laugh. Ended with Simon bringing the sack of missing money into the room. Blaise came close to ending that nigga. You know what Samuel said? That it was a test of loyalty. The only one to pass was Jahad.

It wasn’t a test.

It was manipulation. It was a way to keep us quiet. To make us follow him, like minions without question. A way to mind fuck us. And it worked because I stopped talking. It was easier for me to sit quiet. I learned that it was easier to just shut the fuck up and listen. So, I adapted to that. Instead of expressing myself, I kept it all inside. Keeping quiet had its drawbacks for sure. I stopped speaking up, so decisions were made for me. Lost control of my own life. But eventually, I found a way to gain it in one area they couldn’t touch. Sex.

Jahad pinched the bridge of his nose. “One thing I’ve never done is turn my back on you niggas,” he scoffed with his top lip curled up. “Samuel got sick and y’all forgot. I never faulted y’all for that though. I get it. But what I’ll never respect is blasphemy on my name From either of you.”

The only person I did speak freely with was Jah. What he did, putting that gun to Samuel’s head shifted things for me. I saw him in a different light. When we came up out that hole, it was him I sought out. No one else. Not even mom’s. He became a father to me.

Blaise and I sat silent for a good thirty seconds, while Jahad continued to slowly pace, gawking down at us. Shit. There had been plenty times before where Jahad had to put his ‘father’ hat on and ‘get us together’ but today was different. Today he opened old wounds to get us to see what we had forgotten about. That wasn’t our faults per se. Sometimes people forget. I was guilty of that.

I didn’t let his question marinate that day. When he asked me who I saw. When he mentioned Samuel being sick and me forgetting who he was... I did. I forgot all about the shit he did. Forgot about what cemented the bond between my brothers and me. I knew it was solid. Just... forgot about the shit that put it in position. The things that made it what it was. We weren’t just tight because we were brothers. Didn’t just have respect, love, and loyalty because we came up and struggled together. We created this bond. We had to bond. Because if we didn’t, Samuel would have driven us fucking insane. We had to bond together because we were all we had.

I sat the bottle down, stood and circled the coffee table. With my hand extended, I approached Jahad. “Forgive me, fré,” I apologized.

Shoulders squared, eyes locked, standing tall. When our palms met, the handshake was firm. Just the way he taught me. everything I learned about what it was to be a man, I learned from him. No one else.

He nodded. “All is well, my nigga,” he said, pulling me in for a brotherly embrace. “I didn’t want to take it there, but it was necessary.”

I understood. Had he not taken it there, we wouldn’t have had the conversation. Not to the extent that we had it. Not because there was animosity but because we didn’t know how to properly deal with our emotions. He had to pull it out of us and the only way to really get to the bottom of shit was to take it to darkness.

“Konprann.”

It took him a minute but eventually, Blaise stood to give Jah the same grace. I stepped aside and let them have their moment. Because ‘moments’ like these didn’t come often, I let it linger a minute. Made sure what was needed, was taken from it before I decided to lighten the mood with a joke.

Before I could though, the sudden sound of laughter caught my ear. With raised brows, I shifted my eyes away from them to the doorway that lead out into the hallway. She was here. Anticipation grew in the pit of my stomach as the sound of her laugh grew closer.

“How was the fall, fré?” Jahad asked from behind.

“Look at this nigga. Here we are, having a moment and he’s what they say... ‘smitten’ over a laugh? A fuckin’ laugh,” Blaise added.

“Fuck y’all,” I said with a laugh just as there were a couple knocks on the door.

Sienna stuck her head in and said, “Knock. Knock.”

Jahad did something. Must’ve motioned for her to come inside. I didn’t know. I was captivated by a pair of brown eyes that found mine the minute she walked into the room.

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