That’s why it stood out. Headlights pulled up behind me. They’d been there longer than I realized. I slowed just a little, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror, and the car slowed too.
Same distance and everything, but then again, it could be nothing. It could be someone heading the same way.
I turned onto my street, and they followed. My grip tightened on the steering wheel, and my jaw clenched as I watched them in the mirror.
Aight. I nodded as I pulled into my driveway with my hand hovering near the garage door opener.
The car rolled in behind me, slow and deliberate as my hand froze. The headlights shut off, and the car's outline faded into the darkness.
It was a black Charger with tinted windows. I knew that car.
My chest tightened, adrenaline rushing through me again, sharp and immediate. I put the car in park but didn’t kill the engine. My eyes locked on the rearview mirror.
The driver’s door opened, and Jamal stepped out.
“You got me fucked up,” I muttered, my voice low, already pushing my door open.
He moved slowly, with control, as if he had all the time in the world. And that’s when I noticed it—his right hand tucked behind his back.
Every instinct I had told me to throw the car in reverse and get the fuck out of there.
But this was my house. My space. I turned off the engine and stepped out.
“The fuck you doing here, Jamal?”
He didn’t answer right away. He just kept walking toward me, steady, like he’d been waiting for this moment.
“You think you can put your hands on me like that?” he asked finally, his voice tight. “In front of everyone? Embarrass me like that?”
“You embarrassed yourself,” I shot back, stepping toward him. “Should’ve kept your mouth closed.”
“That bitch?—”
“Watch your fucking mouth.”
The words came out rough and low, serving more as a warning than anything else.
Then, I saw it. The gun.
He brought it from behind his back in one smooth motion, the metal catching my porch light. Glock, maybe. I couldn’t really tell.
But that shit didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that it was pointed right at my chest.
Everything slowed down, and my heartbeat thumped so loudly I could hear it in my ears. Every muscle in my body tensed, prepared to move, ready to act.
But I stayed still.
“Jamal…” I kept my hands where he could see them, voice steady even with my pulse jumping. “Put the gun down. This ain’t what you want.”
“Nawl.” He shook his head, eyes wild in a way that told me he was too far gone to hear shit. “This is exactly what I want. You think you better than me? Think you can fuck me up and just walk away?”
“I think you need to calm the fuck down and think.” I took a slow breath. “You pull that trigger, your life is over. You know that, right? Everything you worked for?—”
“Everything I worked for?” He laughed, but it sounded cracked, empty. “You took that from me today. My respect. My reputation. Made me look like a bitch in front of everybody.”
“You did that when you kept playing with me.”
“Your girl.” He spat the words. “That fake-ass arrangement y’all got ain’t fooling nobody, Kyrie. I know what it is. Everybody knows.”
