Page 107 of Dope Boys: Most Wanted
Reign’s brows furrowed. “Only one of us is expecting.”
Ms. Ophelia didn’t say anything, just returned to whipping the eggs. After moments of letting Reign’s mind linger on the possibility, she continued. “One thing my friend wanted more than anything was to see her sister’s children thrive, find, and create families of their own. To have all the love and support her sister never fully experienced. I guess now, I have to make sure I’m the overseer of that.”
Nia joined Ms. Ophelia and started washing the fruit. Reign pulled out the bacon and started cooking it.
“I think we’re going to need you to keep doing that,” Nia shared softly. “I’m definitely going to need it.”
“Me too,” Reign chimed in. “Since being around y’all, this is the first time in my life I’ve been seen.”
Before Ms. Ophelia could respond, the front door opened and Svyn entered. A jolt of relief zapped over Reign’s body only to be snatched away when the door closed and Markus wasn’t behind him. Nia abandoned the fruit and ran into his arms, not caring that he was still in the same clothes he’d left the day before,wearing. He held her so tenderly, so lovingly. He kissed her face, wiped her tears, and whispered something only they could hear.
When they released each other, Svyn looked past Nia, finding Reign’s concerned eyes. “Money wants me to stay here with y’all until he gets back.”
Reign and Nia asked in tandem, “Gets back?”
Svyn gave Nia a knowing look, but when he looked at Reign, he minced his words. “He uhh…he said he needs a minute.”
A minute alone under these circumstances meant that Markus could slip away from her. Sink under water in the abyss that he pulled himself out of. Alone in grief was a playground for demons to take up space. She didn’t verbally give the information a response. Instead, she finished what she was doing, left the three in their conversation to ample to her bedroom. She changed into one of Markus’ sweatsuits and eased out of the house.
She remembered what streets to turn down to reach the brownstone she’d only visited once. His truck was haphazardly parked behind his BMW. A visible sign that he was in a state. Markus took pride in his cars. How they were cleaned and parked. Reign parallel-parked on the other side of the street and made her way inside. The code to the door, Aunt Lucille’s birthday. She remembered that from one of the lunch dates she had with Markus. As she entered, she could smell the weed lingering in the air. The house had no light, no peace. Only darkness waited for a weak spirit to attack.
Through the first and second floors, she didn’t find him until she reached the third. Markus sat in the living area, eyes red, rimmed with pain. Shoulder slumped with the weight of regret and grief. She studied the table, the liquor bottle, the pills – sorrow scattered about.
“Markus,” she softly called his name.
Markus’ eyes snapped to her like a man possessed. She didn’t flinch. She was ready for this. Expecting this.
“Who the fuck told you to come over here?” his tone was void of the tenderness he held for her. It was buried in the ashes over everything he had to burn down in the last day. The man he had to become when the sanctity of his family was violated.
“No one. I needed to come see about you.” Reign’s tone, even, unbothered by his grief.
“You think I need someone to see about me?” his voice rose, and still she didn’t flinch. “You think I’m a weak nigga or something?”
“I think I watched your heart break,” Reign replied, moving closer to him. “I think I’m witnessing you trying to mend it alone.”
“I don’t need you. Get the fuck out,” he grumbled before taking another swig from the bottle. “Fuck you still standing there for? Get the fuck out!”
His words bounced off every wall. His pain couldn’t run her off. He couldn’t shake her. That was her strength. The things that broke her in one season were her superpower in another. She removed the sneakers from her feet, trekked over the floor to where he staggered. She knew Markus would never hurt her. He wasn’t that far gone. She also knew that her touch could settle him. He attempted to avoid her, but the clasp of her hand stopped him.
“Look at me,” Reign said.
He refused. “Get out, Reign.”
“Emilliano. Look at me,” she urged.
Markus turned around, peering down at her. She could see the fight in his eyes. He wanted to fall into her, wanted her touch to soothe the wounds of betrayal. The drugs in his system wanted their freedom to roam and destroy what was left of his good parts.
“I can’t do this shit with you. I can’t be no weak nigga right now,” he protested as she pressed the warmth of her palm against his face. He pulled away. Only for her to do it again. “He killed my aunt. His mother. I had to. I didn’t want to do it. I’ve been trying not to fuckin’ do it. I ain’t cold like that, Reign!”
“I know.”
“I ain’t fuckin’ weak either.”
“You’ve never been weak,” she assured. “You did what you had to do.”
It was his next sentence that unlocked the floodgates. “What if it was you? What if it was you? What if he took you from me?”
Reign wrapped her arms around him, panting her feet to handle the weight of his emotion-riddled body. She gave him the comfort he needed. The comfort he wouldn’t ask her for.
