Page 17 of Girl, We Go Together
“Dragging? Your brother’s the one dragging his dick through my marriage. He’s fucking my wife, Orion. My wife. And you sit here like I’m supposed to just let that slide?”
My jaw flexed, but I kept steady. Honestly, I didn’t give a fuck about his wife or his marriage. Seems to me like he married the wrong bitch if she was stepping outside of their nuptials anyway.
“I ain’t co-signing that, but you know stealing his shipment is the type of shit that starts a war. You could’ve called me to handle it differently.”
Sometimes Omari was hard to talk to because he only saw the world as he wanted to. I left the streets five years ago, yet people were still banging down my line in some situations for me to talk some sense into my brother. With every new dilemma that arose, he had me regretting even handing him the torch. If muthafuckas were still going through me for certain shit, it didn’t make any sense for me to leave the streets alone to begin with.
Fresh slammed his glass on the table, causing his liquor to spill all over his hand.
“Handled it differently? Fuck you wanted niggas to do? Go to your mom's backyard and slap box like we used to do when we were kids? Man, fuck your brother! He disrespected me first, and you expect me to sit on my hands? Nah, I hit him where it hurt. That product is mine now. If he wants his work back, tell him to say please, nigga. As a matter of fact, tell him to come get it if he wants it. It’s a fair exchange for the shit he took from me.”
My hands balled into fists on my knees.
“You're crossing the line. You're putting business in the middle of some personal shit. That’s not how we move.”
He, more than anybody, knew how I got down out here. Even pulling some shit like this was emotional as fuck. This tender dick ass nigga was in his feels. I didn’t give a shit that he gave the ho his last name. It was a personal issue that needed a personal resolution.
Fresh leaned back with his eyes narrowed and his grin cruel. He was on demon time, and instantly, my guard went up. “This business is personal, Orion. You just don’t wanna admit your brother got you looking weak. He fucked up and got himself in some shit. And what do you do? Sit here and beg me to let it go. Asking more than once is begging, right? That’s what you taught me. The O I knew didn’t even sit down to politick with anybody. Especially not on another nigga’s behalf. You used to make moves without the convo.” He paused and then looked me up and down like I was little or something. “Nigga, you got soft.”
The words burned hot in my ears.
“Watch your mouth, Fresh.”
He chuckled lowly while shaking his head.
“Or what? You gonna handle me? You ain’t even like that no more. Didn’t you leave the game? You went and got this club and started acting like James St. Patrick. O is bad and boujee now while my feet are still down in the trenches. You ain’t that nigga no more. Mind ya legitimate ass business.”
I shot up from the booth, towering over him with a coldness to my tone that I hadn’t heard in years.
“If it’s smoke you want, I’ll bring it. The only reason I tried this sitting down bullshit is because of our history. But cool, that’s dead. Just remember, you were family before you were food.”
We stared each other down. The bass in the club rattled in my ears like a war drum. I felt like taking both of my fists andpunching his ass at the same time right then and there; that’s how fucking mad I was. But I had something else in mind. Since lines were already crossed, I was about to be the one playing tic-tac-toe in this muthafucka. I ran my tongue over my teeth and then sucked them. He was lucky this wasn’t five years ago because he would have been picking his broken jaw off the floor, and he knew that shit. Fresh finally leaned back, cool like nothing rattled him. The smirk he wore before he opened his mouth had me fuming.
“Guess we’ll see.”
I walked away; I had to. My chest was tight, knowing one thing for sure. Fresh and I weren’t brothers anymore. We hadn’t been for a while, but this shit right here solidified it. We were enemies. And one thing about me was that once a nigga was on my shit list, he was there for the rest of his fucking life.
Shenell was blowing my phone up on the drive home. I guess she called herself trying to remind me that the next day was mine with OJ. I hated how, at times, she liked to micromanage. It was the controlling way she had. I knew what the fuck I had to do as a father, and I didn’t need her breathing down my damn neck.
I couldn’t get out of my car fast enough when I made it home. I slammed the front door of my crib harder than I meant to, chest still tight from the bullshit at the club. Fresh had me heated, talking slick like I was soft, like I wasn’t the one who used to fight his battles. Like I wasn’t the one fighting battles for the whole hood. I put East New York on my fucking back, and everyone knew that shit. That type of disrespect sat heavily. Heavy on my shoulders and heavy on my heart. The shit wasfestering in my head. I wanted to hurt the nigga like he had hurt my feelings.
I dropped my keys on the table in the foyer and rubbed my face, trying to calm down. I was about to skip up my stairs and head to my bedroom. That’s when I heard the faint clink of a spoon against one of my ceramic bowls. I followed the sound to the guest room, and there she was, Cayla. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, rocking one of those big ass moo-moos with a half-empty bowl of ice cream balanced in her lap. Her calf was bandaged, a reminder of the night bullets flew. A reminder of the night that brought us together. She looked up at me, eyes wide but soft.
“You good?” she asked gently, spoon pausing mid-air.
I exhaled hard while pacing a little.
“Nah, I ain’t good. A nigga that’s dead to me now is disrespecting me. Turns out, my little brother is fucking his wife. Now, business is getting caught in the middle.” I paused because I didn’t want to reveal too much to her. Still, she held this glare of trust in those brown orbs that let me know this was a safe space. “Before I decided to leave the streets alone, there was order. And now my brother is out here causing chaos. This ain’t what I built, Cay.”
Shortening her name felt so regular. Talking to her freely felt like I had been doing the shit all my life. Over the days that she had occupied my house, she had this thing of randomly checking up on me. Whether it was asking how I was doing when I walked through the door, or randomly sending me a text throughout the day. She was showing how she could look out for a nigga, and that, I was starting to appreciate. Especially now, when I needed it. She set the bowl aside and leaned back against the pillows, watching me unravel.
My mind was running, so naturally, my legs started to as well. I was wearing my hardwood floors down right in front of her.
“Whatever is on your mind right now, drop it. Leave that drama on your front step. Your home is supposed to be your peaceful place. So far, from what I can see, you have been spreading yourself thin. You have been looking out for me, so I can only imagine how you are with the people closest to you. Is your load always this heavy?” She rhetorically asked the last question.
I stopped pacing to glance at her. That glare of trust she once had turned into seduction. I was reading her aura, and it was screaming lust. She gave a slight shrug.
“Maybe tonight you don’t gotta carry that weight around. Maybe, you can just… let it out.”
