Page 5 of Obsessive Love

“Xoey wants him, too?” I asked.

“Yeah, something about one of the women in his videos being a friend of hers,” he said. “You know how my daughter is regarding her friends.”

“I do,” I said, nodding. “Send me the location.”

“The address is sent,” he replied, and I nodded. “Oh, and Pyrite?”

“Yeah?”

“If Xoey gets to him first, leave it be,” he warned. “Our friendship may span years, but my daughter will always come first. You understand?”

“Yeah,” I said, then hung up. My phone buzzed, indicating I had a text, before I set it down, and I turned to Citrine. “Xayne gave me a two-hour head start to get to Texas.”

“Xoey’s going, too?” he asked, and I shook my head. “You might as well just stay put.”

“Nah, he’s giving me a head start,” I answered as I stood. “He said that Javien had one of her friends on video.”

“And Xoey took that shit personally,” he sighed. “I don’t even feel sorry for that nigga.”

“Not even close,” I said with a chuckle. “But he ain’t gonna have to worry about Xoey because I’ll get my hands on him first, and when I do, he will wish she was the one who showed up.” I grabbed my phone and keys and rounded my desk. “Can you hit Phil and tell him I’m on the way to the airport?"

“Yeah,” Citrine answered. “Be safe.”

“Always.” I dapped him up and then left my office. The flight to Dallas was less than two hours, but that was more than enough time to plan out how I was going to torture Javien. Xayne may not have cared about the money; he was a millionaire more times over than I could count, so I understood why he wasn’t worried. Money came and went, but respect was timeless.

My driver pulled up to the address I’d received from Xayne, got out, rounded the car, and opened my door. I dapped Albert up and then checked my surroundings. The neighborhood was vastly different from the one in which Javien lived. Houses sat empty while others had people moving in and out of them. I wasn’t out of my element; I’d grown up in a place just like this. My pop ran the streets, hustling and trying to keep a roof over our heads, while my Mama worked as a secretary at the neighborhood elementary school. While they worked, my brothers and I ran the streets. Citrine boxed, spending his time in underground boxing rings, first as a fighter, then as the one running it. He’d beat niggas to death with his bare hands by the time he was thirteen. I was a numbers nigga; I saw every opportunity to make money at every turn. If it moved, I stole it and then sold it, which eventually got me into rooms with niggas with a lot of money to lose, and I was always willing to collect. Amethyst was a science nigga; we tried to keep him out of the streets, but all it took was one body, and little bro’s eyes lit up with interest. His life options were serial killer or doctor. He chose the latter, but at times, I even questioned that.

I took my time walking to the house. When I got to the front door, I turned the handle and let out a small laugh. When it turned, I let myself in, whistling at the layout; shit was a fucking mess. The living room was filled with junk, a few crackheads, and a nigga that I wasn’t sure was dead or not, which didn’t matter to me. I made my way through the house, checking each room before I lucked up and found Javien asleep in the smallest room on a dirty ass mattress.

I approached him, lifted my foot, and stomped down onto his chest with all my might. “Wakey, wakey, bitch nigga.”

“Fuck!” he wheezed as he gasped for air and turned to his side. I watched as he coughed and struggled to breathe. There was a good chance I cracked his sternum, but I didn’t give a fuck.

“You thought you could hide from me?” I laughed as I shook my head. “Nigga, did you think I was playing when I said I would always collect my fucking money?” I kicked him in the face, making his head snap back, and blood poured from his nose. “I told you the day you signed your contract that you either pay me my fucking money or lose your damn life?” I kicked him in the chest again. “Why the fuck am I in a crack house, Javien?”

“Wait, Pyrite,” he moaned and coughed. “Wait.”

“No, nigga.” I grabbed his shirt and dragged him from the small room through the living room and right out of the house. “I waited long enough.” My driver opened the car’s trunk, and I threw Javien into it. “Time’s up, hoe.”

“I can pay you!” he screamed. “I can get you the money.”

“No, you can’t, “I laughed.

“My sister has the money!”

“Melissa is dead, nigga,” I kissed my teeth.

“My other sister!” he yelled and coughed. “Fable! She has the money.”

“You better hope she does,” I said, then slammed the trunk closed.

“You want to find the sister?” Albert asked. He opened my door and waited.

“I already have the address,” I answered as I got in the car. I sent him the address to Fable’s bakery and relaxed in my seat. Javien screamed and banged against the trunk, but I didn’t give a fuck. Nigga could yell all he wanted; he was still going to die.

“A bakery?” Albert verified after he got in.

“Yeah,” I answered.

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