“Kyrie…” She frowned. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I answered quickly. “Everything straight.”
“No, it’s not.” She turned the stove down before looking at me fully. “Your whole demeanor changed. What happened?”
I rubbed my hand over my beard for a second.
Truth was, I ain’t even wanna tell her. I already knew this shit was gon’ stress her out. But at the same time, I wasn’t about to keep shit from my wife either.
“Thomas just called and said they let Jamal out.”
“What?” Her eyes widened instantly.
“Yeah. They saying it wasn’t enough evidence, and now the nigga claiming self-defense.”
She let out a slow breath before shaking her head. “See? This is exactly why I told you to tell them everything.”
“Sianni, that shit wouldn’t have changed nothing,” I snapped, frustration creeping into my voice. “You see what the fuck just happened. They let the nigga walk anyway.”
“Yeah, but you have cameras around here, Kyrie,” she argued. “They could look at the footage and clearly tell he was the aggressor.”
“Man, fuck all that,” I muttered, already walking out the kitchen. “I’ll handle this shit myself.”
Because at this point? That was exactly what the fuck I planned to do.
I already knew who to call, too.
The second I made it upstairs, I pulled my phone back out and dialed Marvin.
He answered on the third ring. “Yeah, nigga?”
I laughed a little despite how pissed off I was. “Damn, nigga. What the fuck you doing?”
“Working out. What’s good?”
“I need you to hit up Zeek for me. I’m gon’ call CJ.”
There was a pause. “Why? What happened?”
“That fuck nigga Jamal just got outta jail.”
“What the fuck?”
“Exactly.” I rubbed my jaw hard enough to feel the tension in it. “Nigga talking about self-defense.”
“Man, that shit don’t even sound right,” Marvin muttered. “How the fuck they let him out already?”
“’Cause the system is weak,” I replied, pacing across the room. “That nigga should’ve never even had a chance to touch daylight again after what the fuck he did.”
“Facts.”
I rubbed my hand over my beard before glancing toward the bedroom door. My whole body still felt tense as hell.
“Nigga lucky I’m trying to stay focused on football right now.”
“Nah,” Marcus snorted. “That nigga lucky you married now. Old Kyrie would’ve been crashed out.”
“Who said I still won’t?” I muttered.
