Page 61 of Wasn't Supposed To Be Yours
“Of course you don’t. My word doesn’t mean shit to you these days,” he spat, and I nodded my head.
“Just so you know, I’m working with the cops, and I’m not going to stop until I find out who that man was that came into my condo building, knew to go down to the pet concierge, and leave with my fuckin dog, and then sent me a picture of my dog unalive. I won’t rest until I find out who did it,” I calmy let him know.
“That nigga that you’re running around with, ask him if he did it!” his words shocked me. So much so, that I froze a little bit, not being able to believe his words.
“You must have forgotten that I’m the biggest Miami Hurricanes fan. I saw the game the other night. I saw you in thesuites with him. You know I did my homework, so I looked him up. You coming down here, jumping down my throat, asking me if I had something to do with Bagel dying, when you need to be asking him. You’re running around with a thug. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had someone do that shit,” he sounded stupid.
I stepped closer to him, and I smiled at him, looking up into his eyes.
“That thug that your referring to is willing to do anything for me. When we find out who killed my dog, he already told me that all I have to do is give him the word on what I want done to the person, and I know that I want that person dead. They must die, just like Bagel did. So, if it was you that caused harm to my puppy, just be ready to die over it,” I kindly let him know, and then I walked out of his office, making sure to slam the hell out of the door on my way out.
The way people would mourn the loss of a child, that’s the way that I was feeling right now. I didn’t want the person that had done this to go behind bars. I wanted them dead. A picture of my baby was sent to me, and he was lifeless. I wanted the same thing for the killer, and for anyone else that was a part of it.
I couldn’t prove it right now, but something in my gut was telling me that Garrus had something to do with it. He just had to.
Chapter 19
Rico Briggs
Should Have Listened
“Now that’s how you play football, Rico! That’s what the fuck I’m talking about man! Let’s gooooo!” my teammate Gio yelled, hitting me multiple times on my chest, as we were in the locker room, celebrating our big win against Florida State.
I balled my ass off out there on that field today. I played the best that I’ve probably played in my entire years of playing football. All night when I was on the field, I could hear Tank’s voice in my head, basically telling me not to allow Toby to make a bitch out of me, and to have me walking around here, afraid of that nigga.
I did my thing tonight, getting eight catches, got well over 200 yards, and I scored two touchdowns. We played in Tallahassee tonight, and last night, Toby hit my phone back to back, more than likely to tell me about the ticket that he’d put in, and the way that he wanted me to play for him, but I didn’t answer the phone for him. I ignored all his calls. That didn’t stop him from sending me messages, letting me know what his ticket was, all the while threatening me that I better play it. I’m not going to lie, I was gambling with my life by going against that nigga, but there was a piece of me that believed Tank when hetold me that I didn’t need to walk around, allowing those niggas to put fear in my heart.
I celebrated in the locker room with my teammates, along with my coaches. We turned up in the locker room for about an hour, and then I finally hit the shower. I changed, throwing on a sweat suit, socks, and some slides. I walked out of the locker room, with my gym bag over my shoulder, going to meet my dad out front. My pops didn’t miss a game. This man didn’t care if we were going to have a football game way across the world; he was going to be there.
I knew where he would be, so I walked, finding him, and once I did, like he was the proudest father in the world. He quickly came over to me, and I don’t know if this nigga had been crying, or if he was just tired, but his eyes were blood shot red.
“That’s what the fuck I’m talking about son! I’m proud of you, man!” he beamed, his arms wrapped around me, hugging me tightly. I got a little emotional myself, listening to my pops tell me that he was proud of me, and feeling the tight hold that he had on me.
A good man had raised me. As a kid, my pops used to work at the train station, fixing up the trains, but it wasn’t enough money for him, so he would do his thing in the streets too, moving a little weight. The drug money was just for him to take care of home. He saw that I’d grown a liking for football, so at five years old, he took me out on the field and signed me up.
My dad never played football, but he liked to watched it, so as a kid, I would get a lot of training in with him. He was super hands-on when it came to me playing football, and that’s why there was this piece of me that felt like I owed him, but every time that I would tell him that, he would always tell me that I already paid him back by staying out the streets, going to college to play ball, and one day getting to play in the NFL.
“You must have got some pussy last night, playing like that. Boy, you showed out!” he hyped me, and I couldn’t do shit but laugh at him.
“Nah. That ass whopping that Bama put on us last weekend just woke up the dog in me,” I lied, knowing that that’s not the real reason why I played my ass off tonight.
He was happy, smiling from ear to ear, as we walked out of the stadium, and headed to his truck, so that we could ride out, and get some food.
It took us longer than usual to make it to the truck because I kept getting stopped every few seconds with fans wanting to take pictures with me.
We eventually made it, and I quickly got in the passenger seat, put my gym bag down on the floor, and the whole time, my phone was going off in my pockets. I didn’t look at it though. I didn’t care to see who was calling me. A big piece of me knew that Toby was hitting me and was probably angry that I had fucked up his ticket, and that’s why I wouldn’t check my phone.
“Where you want to go?” my dad asked me once he’d gotten in the car.
“Shit. Let’s go get some wings,” I told him, and he nodded, saying that he knew a good spot for us to go to.
He pulled out of the parking lot, and I just slouched down in the chair, having my mind wonder.
“You talked to your sister today? She told you that she’s thinking about moving to Cali?” he asked me.
“Nah. She ain’t tell me that. What she trying to move to Cali for? I love my sister to death, but that’s the most indecisive person that I ever met in my life,” I told him, and he laughed.
“That’s my baby, and I love her too, but I agree with you. I guess Cali showing her a lot of love out there with her poetry shit that she got going on, so she’s entertaining the move. She claims that Miami not big on supporting, and showing love, soshe wants to move out west. Your mama trying to convince her to stay though,” he let me know.
