My robe was sitting at the foot of the bed, so I walked over to it, quickly placed it on, and after I tied it at the front, I sat down next to Riot.
Her eyes weren’t on me because she was too busy with her head down, looking at her socks. Her shoes were off. I’m sure she left them downstairs by the door like she usually did before she came upstairs.
“How did you know it was him?” I wanted to know.
“His voice, ma. He was telling a story. His voice went up an octave, and he sounded just like he did in that video when he killed my dad,” she immediately stopped herself from talking after she said that last part.
She turned to look at me, knowing that she fucked up. I saw red when she said that shit. I didn’t even know that Riot saw that video because I used to always tell her, and her bother that they shouldn’t go looking their father up online because they were going to see things about him that they didn’t want to see. I never wanted my kids to see the video of their father getting murdered. I feared that it would haunt them in the same manner that it haunted me. When that shit hit the internet years ago, I thought that I could hire lawyers to get the video removed, but it was too late and nothing that any lawyer could do to help me because the video was already up, and on so many sites.
“When the fuck did you even see that? I thought I told you not to ever look Grim up because I didn’t want you to stumble across that video!” my voice went up a little bit, pissed that she had to see that.
“Well, I’m glad that I saw it, or else, I would have been at Dolo’s parents’ house right now, shaking hands and laughing with him. One day you’re going to understand that you can’thide and protect me from everything ma. I hate that I had to see that shit but look where it led me. It placed me in the same fuckin room with that nigga and not even being around him for two whole minutes, and I was already able to make out who he is. Before you try to fix your mouth and tell me not to kill him… don’t. If you give me any kind of advice, the only thing I want to hear is that I better do it smart, and not get caught,” she finished, as she stood up from the nook, and she placed her hands in her pockets.
“I’m not going to sit here and tell you not to kill him. That would be foolish of me because I know you’re going to do what the fuck you want to do. What I will tell you is that if you plan on killing an ex-cop, you better do it smart and know what the fuck you’re doing. He might have moved out there to West Palm Beach and retired, but don’t you ever think for a second that he doesn’t have people still in the police field that love and respect him. Meaning, he’ll have people that will want to get to the bottom of who killed him. They will tear the whole West Palm apart trying to figure out who killed one of their own. All that tough shit that you like to do, just make sure that your ass has a good fuckin plan behind it,” I stood up as well because I needed to go into the closet, and find something to throw on.
“Yeah okay. Anything that I do, I have a plan behind it,” she shot back.
“I’m not arguing with you Riot. I said what I said,” I walked away, and I could feel her on my heels, following behind me into my massive walk- in closet.
“You always think that somebody is trying to argue with you. I’m not arguing with you either ma,” she said, hopping up on the island, crossing her legs at the bottom, while her eyes followed me around the room, checking to see what I was doing.
I went over to the section where a lot of my denim was. I grabbed a long-sleeved denim top, and I tossed it on the island.Then, I went over to my jeans, looking for a pair that matched the top. When I made it over here, a few of Major’s clothes were hanging up, that he forgot to take back home with him, and since Riot was following me with her eyes, and she didn’t miss anything, I knew she was going to call me out on it.
“You always talking about that nigga don’t stay here, when he probably does. Why he got clothes in your closet if he doesn’t live here?” she asked, and her question made me release an annoyed laugh because I knew that shit was coming out of her mouth next. She acted just like her fuckin father. They didn’t miss anything.
“Answer me something Riot. You keep shit at your nigga house, don’t you?” I wanted to know.
“I don’t lie to you and tell you that I don’t. You tell me that Major doesn’t live with you,” she said.
“Girl because he doesn’t. He keeps shit over here, just like I keep shit over at his house. Call your nigga back and tell him to come and get you. You getting on my fuckin nerves. Better yet, hop in the car with me, and I’ll drop you back off,” I said, and like I was playing with her, she started laughing.
Riot knew when she would get up under my skin, which is why she was so tickled by what was going on.
“Every time I start asking you about you and Major’s living arrangements, you get in your feelings. Where you getting ready to go?” she asked, changing the subject.
“To get my nails done, and probably to the mall. I’m going out with your aunties tonight,” I shared with her.
“Where ya’ll going?” she inquired.
“Lounge hopping. Why? You want to go?” I asked, already knowing that her answer was going to be no.
“I’ll pass. I’ll go with you to the nail salon though. I could use a re-fill, and I need a pedicure as well,” she said, and I walked over to her with a smile on my face.
As if I was standing in front of an imposter, I reached my hand out, so that I could place it on her forehead, just to see how she was feeling. Riot has never, I mean never offered to go with me to the nail salon. It just wasn’t her thing.
“Oh, you’re in a relationship now, and you want to keep up with your girl maintenance? Look at you. Next thing I know, you’re going to be wearing heels to run little errands. I love that for you Riot,” I said, with a smile on my face, and like I was annoying her, she rolled her eyes at me.
I wanted to get in her business a little bit, since she had been getting in mine.
“So, you say that you don’t want kids. I can tell your in love. What are you doing to protect yourself?” I asked her.
“I’m on birth control,” she said, and I looked at her like she was crazy.
“Riot, you can barely remember to call me back whenever you have a missed call from me. How are you going to manage keeping up with taking birth control?” I wanted to know, cocking my head to the side, waiting for an answer from her.
“And that’s why I’m not on the pill. I have an IUD,” she shared, which was news to me.
“Who told you about an IUD?” I inquired.
