“She was in luh with fuck boi.” Chef kissed his teeth and finished his drink, while Papa grabbed the bottle to refill his cup.
They were talking about my pops. The man who was responsible for so much of my mother’s pain, and the strain between her and my grandparents. After him, she never dated again. She only focused on herself, and I never saw a man around.
All a son wanted was for their mother to be happy and I often wondered if she was. I knew a lot of the shit I did that ended with me being locked up contributed to her sadness. It was a regret I would always have. I wondered if she was actually happy, or just content with the life she had.
I met my father once when I was six.
I could walk right by him and never know it was my father. Pussy nigga left a woman to raise his kids and never looked back. There wasn’t shit he could say to me. Mommy deserved the world, and her boys would make sure she got that shit.
“Good afternoon. Breaking news, police are investigating a break-in at the Huntington House Museum. A historic emerald necklace and a modern art painting were taken overnight. Rodge Gears is live with the latest.”
I was looking down at the cup in my hand while listening to the news talk about me and Khaos.
“Good afternoon. Museum staff say the thieves got in through the roof just after three this morning. They went straight to the jewelry case, taking an emerald necklace known as The Huntington Green, and a painting titled Blue Days no 4. Security cameras glitched soon as they entered the museum. Once they were gone, the cameras went back to regular. So far, the police have no suspects, and they think this is linked to the string of other gallery heists over the past year. If you saw anything near the Huntington Museum overnight, call the police or the museum’s tip line. Live at Huntington House. Back to you.”
“Wraithe boys in and out like ghosts.”
“No face, no case.” I smirked.
Papa smirked. “My boy.”
Last night after we dropped the painting and necklace at the port, I went home to walk Bando. It was like five in the morning, but he didn’t mind. I knew he was missing his mama too.
After we walked for an hour or so, I brought him back up to Navy and Don’s crib and went to shower and lay down for a little while. When Chef called and asked to have a drink, I knew he just wanted to get out the crib.
We never needed to talk.
All we had to do was nurse a drink and sit in each other’s presence. With all the wild shit we’ve done in the past, we never needed words. Sometimes you needed peace when your mind was chaos.
I’d like to say I was sane.
It was Khaos and Chef that had a mind filled with chaos, and unreleased tension. There was a time when I felt like them. My mind felt like mush, and I never cared about the consequences of my actions.
I still didn’t think of the consequences.
At least I didn’t go around looking for problems. The problems usually came to me, not me looking for them. Like Brenay’s fuck boy baby daddy. I didn’t ask that nigga to spit on my cousin.
He used his free will.
I used mine.
Now only one of us lived to continue using our free will.
The door swung open and Khaos came in on the phone. “I knew yo ass would be here… surprised to see you, old head.” He grabbed Chef’s head, and kissed the top.
The phone was still to his ear, as he put it on speaker and leaned across the counter and dapped Papa. “Fuck up,” I replied, still watching the news.
“Bitch, if yo baby daddy show up while you giving me head, I’m gonna beat his ass to Mirror.”
“By Michael Jackson?” Her ass had the nerve to reply.
Khaos looked at the phone. “Nah, bitch. By Justin Timberlake, and you know that song eight minutes, so I’m gonna fuck his ass up to the whole song, so you better tell his ass not to come straight home that day.”
“Dang, Kenneth, why you gotta act like that?”
Papa passed him a drink, as he turned in the stool, his back touching the bar. “Cause you still letting him touch you after I fucked him up last year. Who went to your son’s career day, Day?”
I turned my head, confused as to why this nigga went to career day. “You, Kenneth.”
