Page 14 of Dope Boys: Most Wanted
Neveah swayed. “I was at the shop like you told me. I called you after I was done but you didn’t answer and I know how you feel about me calling you back to back.”
He groaned, needing something to drown out all of the pain and her voice. Standing, he stumbled past her to the liquor cabinet, finding a bottle of brown liquor with no regard of the brand, he pulled the top off and moved back to the couch.
“You standing here to help or just fuckin’ look? Go back to wherever the fuck you been.”
“Emilliano,” Neveah huffed his middle name as if he would soften to her.
He’d shown her more grace than she deserved. He didn’t want to sleep with her, didn’t care about her day-to-day activities as of late or how she felt. The reason she still had access to his house – he didn’t want her on the streets. It wouldn’t sit well with his conscience. What little bit of it the drug game hadn’t stolen.
“Don’t call me that,” he huffed. Only Nia and his aunt would call him that from time-to-time to let him know they meant business.
Neveah’s brows creased, remembering what G said. Part of her preferred to be killed by his hands than Markus’. Markus would go to the deepest, darkest place in his mind and not spareher an ounce of pain. She tiptoed over to him and kneeled before him.
“Can I help take your mind off of the pain?” she asked, reaching up to maneuver her hands into his sweats.
Forcibly, he pushed her hands away. “Not to fuckin’ touch me. Matter of fact, pack your shit and get the fuck out.”
“What?” Neveah asked, as though any of this came as a surprise. “Money. I-I just want to take care of you!”
“Now?” he asked, orbs blazing with a rage she’d only seen for his enemies. “I ain’t trippin’ on who you fuck. You gon’ do whatever the fuck you want. That’s been clear. The respect though. I’m going to trip about that shit every muhfuckin’ time. I ain’t never been the type of nigga to put my hands on a woman but you fuckin’ testin’ me. Get your shit and get the fuck out!”
His voice roared. It was saturated in physical pain that was triggering the mental pain he had in check. No, it wasn’t his first time being shot but this one seemed like it was unraveling every thread he used to sew himself back together. He was a leader, and two days of sitting down on the job made him feel like everything he’d sacrificed his life for was slipping away. He couldn’t do the down time. He couldn’t do the memories and the triggers. He couldn’t do Neveah kneeled in front of him as though she was only his.
“M-markus,” she pleaded, standing up and moving to a safe distance. “Let me, make it right! Please!”
He grabbed the bottle of liquor and pills before flipping the coffee table over with his uninjured arm. “Get the fuck out!”
Neveah knew any further pleading would yield her being the target next. She threw her hands up in surrender. “Fine.”
“Hurry the fuck up.” The bottles of pills and liquor in tow, he roamed down the hall to the guest room, hoping that this mixture was enough to give him some relief, if only for a night. He dropped his body onto the bed and stared at the ceiling fanspinning. Gazing at the motion, he let his mind fall into a trance, promising himself that when he woke up, it was back to business by any means.
The vibrating of his phone next to his head pulled him out his slumber, dry mouth, a sore shoulder and recollection of the dreams that were back to haunt him. He grunted, remembering why he hated the mattress in the guest bedroom. Too soft.
Palming his phone, he eyeballed the name on the screen and answered.
Svyn.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“Look we’re trying to let you heal up, but we got a problem,” Svyn shared.
“What’s the fuckin’ problem?” Markus asked, silently wincing as he sat up.
“I’m headed to your spot, I’ll tell you when I get there. Get your ass up, nigga. We got business.”
With that, Svyn hung up.
“These niggas always doing some bullshit, I swear,” he huffed, pulling himself off the mattress, barely stretching and roaming up the stairs to shower and dress.
The coffee table was still flipped over, the contents scattered about. He hoped that when he reached his bedroom, every trace of Neveah was gone. It wasn’t. She’d left dumb shit. A toothbrush and other toiletries, a handful of clothes and bags and some jewelry. Reasons to come back over. He made a mental note to call Nia and have her handle the lightwork.
Almost thirty minutes later, he was dressed, re-medicated and walking out his front door toward Svyn’s car. He pulled the door open and eased in.
“You look like shit, nigga,” Svyn stated. “You ate?”
“Nigga, you wanna know if I took a shit too?” Markus snapped. “Ain’t shit to eat in that fuckin’ house and I’m in too much fuckin’ pain to attempt.”
Svyn pulled off and shook his head. “Fuck you keeping Neveah around if she ain’t helpin’ you for shit?”
