MYRICK
When I saw Shariece sitting in front of the jail, all I wanted to do was run up to her and throw my arms around her. I saw how good she looked and knew that my journey to get to this point was all worth it. But my eagerness turned to anger when I saw this silver SUV pull up in front of the jail alongside Shariece. This boy, who was probably still suckling from his mama’s titty, got out to greet my woman. And when they kissed, it took everything in me to keep from putting my fist through the windshield. “Who the fuck is that?” I tailed behind them careful to keep my distance. They led me to a house in the country that was a good twenty minutes out of town. The image of them kissing was like repeated stabs through my heart. I parked at the end of the studio apartments as he pulled in front. I waited a few minutes until I thought they were inside the house to make my move. “I’m too close to let anyone get in my way.” I pulled the .38 automatic out of the glove box and eased up toward the house. I peered through one of the front windows to find them kissing and necking. The angrier I grew, the tighter I gripped the gun in my hand. “Fucking whore.” Shariece disappeared out of my sights, leaving this loser to scrounge around in the kitchen. My heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest and thrown in the dirt. How could she let this broke-ass, high-yellow wannabe motherfucker put his hands on her? I quietly turned the knob of the front door and tipped in. I could hear the shower going from the bedroom. This nigga was rummaging around in the refrigerator with his back facing me. Dumb fuck didn’t even hear me walking up behind him. Just as he turned around, I hit him over the head with the butt of my burner. He dropped to the kitchen floor like I sad-ass sack of potatoes. I aimed the gun at him about to shoot him when I heard the shower water stop.
“Honey, I’m home,” I whispered as I crept down the hall toward the bedroom.