You good, Mo?
Aria kept staring at the text message. She had sent it hours ago and then dozed off. Morgan had never responded, and Aria was unsettled. The only thing that made her feel better was the fact that she had called Ahmeek. She was sure he would take care of things, so instead of anticipating a response, she finally clicked out of the thread. Her worry about Mo had distracted her from the fact that Isa wasn’t home. She looked over at the empty spot beside her and then swung her short legs over the side of the bed. She threw on a Michigan State hoodie and didn’t bother with pants as she walked out of the room. The house was silent. Aria’s fingertips graced the red walls in the hallway as she made her way toward the living room.
“Isa?”
She heard the faint sound of his voice and followed it to the living room. The front door was wide open, and Aria frowned.
Her heart fell when she saw him leaned over onto the roof of a car. A girl was parked curbside. The car window was down, and both his hands were on the roof as he leaned into her. Aria felt like she would be sick.
“You got me?” The sound of Isa’s voice made tears come to her eyes.
“Yeah, I got you. You know how I get down.” The girl’s response ripped through Aria. The disrespect was high, and Aria’s tolerance was low.
“I’m so stupid,” she whispered. She wasn’t even disappointed in Isa. She had failed herself. She knew what type of man she was dealing with. She had chosen him against her brother’s wishes, fighting her better judgment, and she felt like a fool. Determination filled Aria as she took heavy steps back to their bedroom. She grabbed her Chanel bag and then grabbed Isa’s keys and phone, dropping them into the toilet on her way to his safe. She emptied it inside her oversize tote. There was a price for pain and a tax for wasting her time. He was lucky she wasn’t headed toward his storage unit. If she were dirty, she would leave his ass on empty, but Aria loved fair and fought fair. A man would never be able to burn her name after she left a relationship. The money she’d taken was what she was owed plus a little more for pain and suffering. It wouldn’t break Isa. Just bruise his ego and stroke hers. Aria slipped into ripped jeans and Valentino boots before heading to the front door. Isa was waltzing in as she rounded the corner. He froze.
“Fuck you doing with bags?” Isa asked.
“Leaving,” she answered curtly.
“Man, stop playing, yo,” Isa said. “Fuck you got bags for?”
She went to walk around him, and Isa grabbed her wrist. Aria dropped the bag to free one of her hands, and before she could stop herself, she swung. “Don’t touch me!” she shouted.
Isa jumped hard from the blow to the side of his head. Then he touched his ear in shock. “What the fuck wrong with yo’ crazy ass?” he shouted.
“You!” Aria screamed. “I’m done!”
“You done?” Isa asked.
“That’s what the fuck I said, nigga. Done with all this shit,” Aria said.
Isa scooped her, picking her up.
“Put me down before I beat your ass, Isa!” she screamed. “You just dumb disrespectful. It doesn’t get no more disrespectful than you. You bringing bitches to our house while I’m asleep? You that fucking dirty, I can’t even close my eyes without worrying about you and some ho!”
Aria was flung over his shoulder as he turned the corner to their room, knocking her head against the wall from the change of direction.
“Ow!” Aria shouted as she hit him again, this time aiming for his back as she kicked her feet. “Put me down, Isa!”
They were back in the bedroom, and Isa flung her onto the bed before yanking one ankle and then quickly restraining her with a cuff. Ankle to bed frame, she was trapped.
Aria kicked at the bed. “Give me the key, Isa! I’m not playing.”
Isa stood in front of her, playing in his chin hair with one hand as the other arm crossed his chest. “You’re a fucking nut, you know that?” he stated. He winced as he scratched the top of his head.
“Did you or did you not have a bitch pull up to this house while I was asleep? I’m not this girl, Isa. I’m not the one to forgive bullshit time and time again. I’m Left Eye, nigga. I’m going to geek out on you, and one of us will end up hurt behind you fucking these random-ass, dusty-ass, put-five-dollars-in-my-tank-ass hoes!” Aria shouted as she kicked the bed frame again in frustration. “So before that happens, I’m just going to let this go.”
“I’m not fucking nobody, man,” he stated. “You stay tripping.”
“I heard her, Isa!”
“You ain’t hear shit. You assuming. Making an ass out ya’self,” he shot back. “I told you I was gon’ be straight up with you, Ali. If I ain’t got my word, what I got?”
“You’re just like a nigga. You want me to trust your word over my eyes, over my ears. My intuition has never lied to me; I’ma trust that,” Aria snapped. She kicked the bed frame again, and the cuffs rattled. “Now let me go!”
“That bitch ain’t shit, Ali,” Isa said. He took a seat across the room, ass to carpet, back to wall as he reached into the square pocket on his shirt.
“What is it this time? She takes pain better? Cuz that’s the game you sold me last time. What is she doing for you that I don’t?” Aria snapped. “Cuz I been doing a hell of a whole lot for your light-skinned ass.” Her heart was racing. Adrenaline and heartbreak were a deadly combination. If only looks could kill.
Isa pulled out a blunt. He kept them rolled—actually she kept them rolled for him, and the fact that she had been so accommodating pissed her off in this moment. “Why aren’t I enough, Isa?” she asked.
“You’re the whole damn pie, Ali,” he said. The lighter was next. It was like he borrowed the fire in her heart to light the weed, because her anger turned to sadness.
“What she doing for a nigga, you can’t do, Ali. It’s business, and I don’t mix business and pleasure,” Isa said. “I don’t even want to bring that type of energy to you. I come home after that to escape. I don’t want you wrapped up in my bullshit. I’d have to hurt somebody, man. My mind won’t be where it’s supposed to be if you’re involved.”
“What is she doing, Isa? A bitch shouldn’t be in your business, period. A woman shouldn’t know something about you that I don’t,” Aria snapped. “I’m not going for that.”
“I’m not fucking her. She setting a nigga up for me, Ali. Damn!” Isa barked.
Aria jerked her neck back in shock. “What?”
“A nigga riding me and Meek for some paper. We into a nigga for a lot of money from a job that went bad a few months ago. He’s a square. A suit-and-tie-wearing-ass mu’fucka. I’ma rob him. She’s my way in,” Isa stated.
“Why would she do this for you if you’re not fucking her?” Aria asked.
“You ain’t never did nothing for a nigga without fucking him?” Isa asked, smirking as he lifted the smoke to his mouth. He blew it out, then moved over so that he was sitting against the bed. He lifted the blunt to her mouth. “Feisty ass need to chill.”
“I don’t know where your mouth been,” Aria said.
“On you, with your funky ass,” Isa shot back.
“You fucked that girl, didn’t you?” Aria asked, refusing the blunt.
“Before you, I fucked a lot of girls,” Isa stated. “I don’t fuck with them no more, though, and that’s all you got to worry about.”
“And you’re sitting here telling me that this girl was before me and that you don’t mess with her no more, yet she’s willing to hit a lick for you? Make that make sense,” Aria stated.
“She getting compensated, baby girl, ain’t doing it for free, but it’s straight business, Ali. Ain’t no nothing with me and her. She just a pretty face. The type of face I need to pull this off.”
“Why can’t you just leave this shit alone? Maybe Nahvid was right. You’re not ready for this. I’m going to ruin my whole life fucking with you,” Aria stated.
He gripped her face. Her words had struck a nerve. “Your brother don’t know shit about me, Ali. You want that nigga to keep breathing, you might want to stop while you ahead.”
“You want to keep breathing, you might want to stop while you’re ahead,” Aria snapped back.
“You swear that D.C. nigga so tough,” Isa stated.
“And you swear he ain’t,” Aria replied. “You swear you the toughest nigga alive. Like it’s not a possibility that somebody can hurt you. Like you can’t be touched, Isa. We’re supposed to be getting married. You think I want a life of worrying about you? You think it’s cool to be a husband and take these types of risks every night? You’re going to die on these streets, and I’m going to be alone. If that happens, I’ll never be the same. It isn’t worth it. I want this forever, but forever can be over in a flash if you don’t get out.”
“If this play goes down smooth, I won’t have to do shit but spend this money and fuck my bitch for the rest of my life,” Isa replied. “This nigga Hak got it coming, yo. It’s fair play. All a part of the game.”
“Ain’t no manipulating some girl’s affection when you with me, Isa. I don’t play those types of games. You won’t be making promises, putting money in a bitch pocket, none of that. I don’t care if you not having sex with that girl. You won’t be fucking with these bitches mentally either. These hoes shouldn’t even have your number. So it’s not happening. That’s dead, or I’m gone,” Aria stated. “What if I told you I was going to do the same shit for a man I used to deal with?”
“You can’t tell me shit like that. Every nigga you used to deal with is dead,” Isa stated. “Niggas are memories already.”
Aria’s heart galloped because she knew Isa wasn’t playing. It both terrified and excited her. “Your ass is a hypocrite.”
“What am I’m supposed to do, Ali?” Isa asked.
“Use me. I’ll do it. One time and then you’re done. Then we plan this wedding, and you put this Crew shit behind us. You go legit.”
Isa stood and unlocked the cuff, then went right back down to his knees as he lingered between her thighs as she sat on the edge of the bed. She put her hands on his face, and Isa tried once more to offer her the blunt. She took it in this time, eyes lowering a bit before she exhaled it in his face.
“Absolutely not,” Isa protested. “Fuck I look like using my girl on a lick? You use bitches that are expendable. Bitches who you willing to toss in the fire.”
“Then it’s not happening, because you bring any other woman around for the sake of”—Aria put her fingers up in air quotes—“business and I’m done. I’m not having it.”
Isa blew out a breath of frustration and massaged his forehead as his eyes closed.
“This is exactly what I feel every time you walk out the door,” Aria explained. “We take the risks together from now on. It’s me and you. I’ll be fine, Isa. Just tell me what you need me to do.”
Ethic and Hendrix occupied the small space of the holding cell. They didn’t speak as they faced off. Ethic dragged a slow hand down his beard before rolling forward, leaning onto his knees as he shook his head. He had been filtering his words for the past hour. He was trying his hardest to withhold the buildup of anger that he was feeling in this moment. Hendrix was the second young boy he had given a chance. Somehow they always disappointed him. He cuffed his knuckles, keeping his hands busy to avoid wringing Hendrix’s neck. This second time was supposed to be different. This mentoring of sorts was supposed to work. He had tried to do things differently this time around, yet things had still ended in disaster. He had to stop getting his heart involved with these young boys. They didn’t value what he tried to teach them enough to put action behind the lesson. When Ethic saw the silver bracelets close around Hendrix’s wrists, his heart broke. His own arrest, he could handle that. He could beat that case like Ike beat Tina. His lawyer was on speed dial. He had no worries about that, but Hendrix … the loyal, witty, smart, and finessing-ass little nigga Henny had gotten caught red-handed with product and a loaded, unregistered weapon on him. He knew there was no walking away from that unscathed. Another good one lost to a cold world with a fucked-up system, and Ethic’s soul was crying.
“What you have on you?” he finally asked, voice low, but the disappointment was loud.
“A quarter,” Hendrix answered, head leaned against the wall.
Two hundred and fifty fentanyl pills.
Ethic blew out a breath and pulled up, back aligning as his face bent in turmoil. The opioid crisis that Michigan was fighting would make Hendrix’s case high profile. Any judge he landed in front of would be eager to punish him hard.
“What did I tell you?” Ethic asked. “I told you to come to me. If you needed anything. I told you to—”
“I just wanted to earn my respect,” Hendrix admitted.
Ethic’s heart clenched because he knew respect was a currency on the streets of Flint. He had been there. He knew what it was like. He pinched the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat. “Niggas who don’t respect themselves can’t ever respect you, Henny. You don’t even respect yourself selling that shit. Not when you have access to better, to more. I’ve given you access. You should have utilized it.”
“They gon’ lock me up, ain’t they?” Hendrix asked.
“I’ma do everything I can,” Ethic stated. “But every day you not free, I’ma walk ’em down with you. I’ma be there. I didn’t want to have to be there, though, Hendrix. You’re hardheaded. Too fucking smart for your own good.”
Hendrix lifted his chin and lowered his eyes because they were burning. He was terrified, and Ethic could see him fighting it.
“You’ll tell Bella I’m sorry?” Hendrix asked.
It was like someone had hit Rewind. Déjà vu, only these words about his daughter were coming from Hendrix, not Messiah. Messiah had asked him to deliver a similar message to Morgan once before. He was always the courier of goodbyes when it came to his girls, and those messages were heavy.
Ethic nodded.
“We’re not there yet. When we’re there, I’ll make sure you have a moment with her to say what you need to say. I’ma put the best lawyers around you.”
“Don’t waste your bread, man. I know what they about to hit me with,” Hendrix said. “I came over your crib to kiss my girl tonight, man,” Hendrix said, shaking his head.
“Lil’ nigga, don’t get brave,” Ethic snickered.
A solemn Hendrix laughed as he shook his head. “They gonna throw me away, man,” he said, eyes filling with emotion as he lowered his head. “I know niggas that went in for trying to feed they families who ain’t never getting out. They won’t ever even breathe free air again. They gon’ do that to me. Put me in there, then forget about me.”
“I’m not,” Ethic said. “Every single day, you hear me? We gon’ walk ’em down one at a time together. Get your mind right so they can’t capture that. Your freedom is up here.” Ethic tapped his temple. “I’ma do everything I can to make sure that don’t happen, but if it comes down to it, you need to be strong. Your mental always got to be sharp. Hold your head up.”
Hendrix squared his shoulders and stared Ethic in the eyes, clearing his throat to rid his overwhelm. The sound of the locks being buzzed open pulled his attention to the door of the cell, and Ethic stood as he saw Messiah’s face. He was guided inside.
Ethic frowned.
“I’m assuming you the reason I’m in here,” Ethic said. He had no idea that this was Morgan’s doing. Messiah was the likely suspect. This had to be his doing. Something that had blown back on Ethic as a result of Messiah’s carelessness. The assumption was fair. Messiah knew it, so he didn’t take offense. He sat across from Henny.
“I don’t really know what the fuck this is about, OG.” Messiah looked over at Henny. “What you doing in here, lil’ Henny?”
“I was at Ethic’s when it went down. Fucking SWAT or something flew through there. Searched me. I was carrying,” Henny stated.
“Carrying for who?” Messiah asked.
“Crew shit. You know the deal,” Henny stated. “I’m deaf, blind, and dumb to that shit, though. I know how to stand on my own two.”
“That’s real shit,” Messiah stated. “Look like we all gon’ have to strap up our boots. Somebody want us out the way. Somebody close.”
“Somebody too close,” Ethic stated.
Ahmeek lay in bed, arms bent behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling of his loft. Her loft. Their loft. It had never felt lonelier. He couldn’t predict where his life was going next, and it was torture. The thought of the unknown. The fallout behind the secret Morgan had kept was catastrophic. He had never felt an ache so deep. He felt the buzz of his phone, and he rose a bit to fish it out of his back pocket.
The Sun.
The name he stored Morgan’s number under was exactly how he felt about her. She just melted shit inside him … warmed him. Today, she had burned him. In fact, she had burned them all. Morgan Atkins’s truth had shone down on them like a one-hundred-degree day, showing no mercy. It took everything in him to hit the red button on her.
He powered off his phone and placed his eyes back on the ceiling. It would be a long night. A long life. Without Morgan. A knock at the door pulled him to his feet, and his brow bent, heart stalling a bit because not many people knew about the location of the loft. He knew it had to be Mo. She had called from outside his door, and now she was knocking. She was there to apologize. To tell him she loved him. To figure out how to work it out with Messiah as the twins’ father and still keep Ahmeek in her life. They would fix the shit. They could because they loved each other too much to let the shit rot and die. That was the story he’d pieced together in his head before he even pulled open the door.
“Hi…”
The reality that greeted him on the other side threw him off. Livi stood before him, and Ahmeek felt like his insides were spilling out. He hated this shit. This feeling. Feeling anything, in fact. The lack of control he had over this entire situation made him uneasy. No one had ever manipulated his emotions before. Morgan Atkins was the first, and he promised himself she would be the last.
Ahmeek wasn’t particularly happy to see her, but she was the perfect stroke for a bruised ego.
“I don’t mean to pop up—”
“Yet here you are,” he interrupted.
His crass response shocked her. “I just can’t stop thinking about you,” she admitted.
“It’s four in the morning,” Ahmeek said, frown so deep that it made Livi nervous. “You drove an hour…”
Livi loosened the belt to her tan trench coat, revealing neon-yellow lingerie, a full set because Livi wasn’t a halfway bitch. If she did something, she did it correctly. Thong, lace bra, and the garter belt to match. See-through stiletto heels revealed white paint on her pretty toes. “I mean I really, really, missed you,” she said. “I got niggas on my line all day and all night, but never you. When all I really want is you.”
Somebody wanted him. Somebody needed him. He wondered if she felt the rejection Morgan made him feel. Had he put the same feeling of unimportance on her soul? If he did, he regretted that.
“That’s how you feel?” he asked.
She nodded and stepped across his threshold, tracing the front of his jeans with her stiletto nail. She reached for his neck and leaned into his lips. Ahmeek moved his head slightly. Livi paused and stared at him. “One day, you’re going to let me in, and everything you thought mattered won’t even be a thought anymore.”
He loomed over her like a gray cloud as storms of indecision took over his body. Livi placed the softest lips on his neck.
“I would be so good to you, Ahmeek,” she whispered. “Just let me…”