She pulled out of the garage and took a left, heading out of the cul-de-sac speeding like a motherfucker, but she had told me she was a speed demon.That shit was sexy as fuck.
I pulled out of the driveway right after her, headed to Bo’s spot. Dropping off the face of the earth didn’t necessarily mean dead, not until I saw that shit for myself.
It was still early when I pulled up to Bo’s spot. I parked around back and watched the space. I had a good vantage point because his spot was on a corner.
About thirty minutes after I was settled, a blue Grand Cherokee pulled into the backyard. The door opened and Wiley, Bo’s brother, climbed out. Then he went around to the trunk andopened it. He had headphones on and wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings. It was early as fuck in the hood, which meant niggas were still asleep from last night’s festivities.
I watched him pull a roll of industrial plastic and a plastic store bag out of the trunk before he slammed it shut and started toward the house.
I checked my piece before pulling my hood over my head. Then I got out of the car and approached briskly, following him in. It was risky, but I didn’t have shit to lose at this point. Something told me he was here to clean up a mess.
I followed him into the house and the moment I stopped the door from closing, the most pungent smell filled my nostrils. It smelled like settled death in a home without a central air unit—thick, sour, and heavy with a must that only meant one thing. I had to catch myself before I nearly threw up because whatever was in here had been sitting for a while.
“Damn it, Bo. Look what the fuck you did to yourself,” Wiley said aloud.
He wasn’t paying attention to anything around him but his brother who was dead on the floor. He set the roll of plastic and the bag down, but by the time he went to stand, I had the chrome against the back of his head. I reached forward and snatched the gun from the back of his pants before nudging his head forward.
He turned around with his arms up in surrender. “What the fuc—” When he saw my face, his expression changed. “No fucking way.”
“Don’t fucking move or I swear I’ll splatter your shit all over this motherfucker.”
“You gotta be a fucking ghost.”
“Nope, I ain’t. What happened here?” I motioned toward Bo’s body sprawled out on the floor.
Wiley looked from me to his brother. “The fuck you care. This is all?—”
“Answer the fucking question and make it quick. I don’t have all day.”
“Fuck, man! Fuck! It was you. He had the work at Adrian’s house, then the night she got killed, the house burned down. You burned it down, didn’t you?”
“So you killed your blood over work?” I asked, never mind his question.
“I ain’t have no fucking choice, man. You know how it is. It was me or him. I’m dead anyways. If not you, then Junior.”
“And that means?”
“Junior paid fifty large for your head. Bo already did that shit messy, but the fact that it was confirmed on the news that you were dead was the only way we got paid. Used that money to buy the work and he still fucked us, being careless.” He shook his head, sweat rushing down his face.
“Junior who?”
“Rich Jordan Junior. He’s taking over Watertown and wanted to remove all the competition before he did. You think that shit with Sr. popped out of nowhere? Junior has been planning this for a while. Pete said this is just the beginning.”
I nodded, taking in all he said. I knew Junior had a part in my death. I felt it, even if the streets were quiet about it. It all made sense. He’d put money into the hands of a man who already had a gripe with me. He was fucking my baby mama, so it wouldn’t tie back to Junior.
“What am I going to tell my mama?” His question took me by surprise.The fucking audacity.
“The same thing a motherfucker told mine. Nothing.”
I didn’t hesitate to squeeze the trigger, dropping him right next to his blood in an eternal rest. I gave him a onceover, peeping the blood seeping from the back of his head before I left.Who the fuck was I to give anybody’s mama comfort when nobody gave it to mine?
FOUR
Liora
A week later
One less night at the range became a few days, and before I knew it, I had a sleep routine. One I’d had no intention of creating, but he intrigued me. The whole “dead men had feelings” thing had me enthralled. Even though I should have been keeping all my space, I couldn’t. I craved his warm, thick, broody demeanor—the comfortable silences I didn’t realize I valued until lying next to him. I didn’t meet people as dark as myself, let alone as complicated. His whole existence hit in this deep beneath the soil type of way. I was sure he had been this way before the whole tortured dead man theme, probably just quieter. Iso was intriguing with a being that both warned folks to steer clear and come on in. I entered without even meaning to, took my shoes off and got comfortable too. That should’ve been my first sign.
