Page 84 of Love & Vendettas

“Right. Then there’s me. That bullshit investigation they tried to start earlier this year into police harassment and corruption was all to get me tied up in my shit so that I couldn’t focus my attention where it needed to be. Other than our family, who knows about us? Who knows, we’re siblings.”

“Essence.”

Damascus sneers. “She didn’t remember all of us. Only you, Cheyenne, and I. Savannah wasn’t around when she was, and neither were the twins. So, that leaves who, big bro?”

My mind doesn’t want to turn over what he’s saying. The wind leaves my chest, and I feel like I can’t breathe. “He’ll fucking die!” I shout, throwing a glass paperweight from my desk at the wall, leaving a hole there.

38 – ZAIRE – TRUST NO MAN

“Hey, just checking in to see if you are good. Y’all need anything from me?”

“Nah, I’m leaving Ghalen’s place now. Bay’s going to help with the funeral planning because Pam isn’t capable of doing any of this shit right now.”

“That’s fucked up. I can’t imagine what she’s going through.”

“Yeah, she and the kids are going through hell right now.”

“I’ma roll through there later. I’m about to make a run right now. Just finished up over on Clayton and Reeves Street. I’m heading to Adam’s now.”

“A’ight.”

“I’m only five minutes out.”

Adam is Adam Vietti, an Italian tailor here in town. He makes all my suits, as well as the suits of several other wealthy patrons. He also has some suits he’s designed but didn’t create himself for patrons who can’t afford the custom-made ones.

We run drugs through his place, Adam’s Closet, a high-end fashion store that offers custom suits and casual attire. We have a pickup and drop-off at the store on the first of every month.

“Holler at me when you finish, and I’ll let you know if we got some other shit shaking. My source inside the police station says they’re still chasing down leads on Ghalen’s murder, but that shit ain’t going anywhere. You and I will have to put our heads together and shake some niggas down for information.”

“That’s what’s up, Boss. Been telling you we need to hit the streets and find out what these niggas know.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking you’re right. Gon’ and handle that business and get back at me later.”

“A’ight.”

We end the call, and I turn to Jamal in the seat beside me.

“He’s heading over to Adam’s now.”

“Let’s roll,” Jamal states, pulling out of Ghalen’s driveway.

It takes us ten minutes to get to Adam’s Closet.

Jamal and I both climb out of the car and head into the store. It’s not that busy for a Wednesday afternoon, which works in our favor.

The bell over the door tinkles as we walk in, and a little cutie behind the counter calls out, “Welcome to Adam’s Closet.”

“Wassup, Liyah!” I greet.

“Hey, girl,” Jamal greets.

“Hey, Z! Hey, J!” Aaliyah, Jamal’s little sister, greets eagerly. She runs from behind the counter, wearing an Adam’s Closet uniform of black slacks and a black shirt with a white collar. The words Adam’s Closet and her name are stitched in gold over the pocket.

“Why did he get greeted first? I’m your brother,” Jamal complains, patting his chest.

“He spoke first,” she says, sticking her tongue out at her older brother before she throws her arms around me.

“Hey, girl.” I hug her and kiss the top of her head.

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