“Nah. From what I hear, she’s where she wants to be. I’m trying to move on with my life. So whatever it is?—”
“Okay, well, that’s fine. You can look the place up online. It’s called Harbor Realty. It’s right off Frontier Street,” he informed me before he turned on his shoes and walked away.
Before he got to the door, I called out to him. “Yo, what’s your name?”
“You should check on ya girl. You never know… you just might be what she needs,” he said, ignoring my inquiry, as he stepped outside of the gym.
I immediately went to grab my phone off the bench and called Harold. After the third half ring he picked up.
“Lock?” he questioned.
“Yeah. Can we meet somewhere and talk?” I asked.
He paused, then sighed. “Yeah, come by the house. I’ll be here.” He quickly hung up.
After a shower, I changed in my office and got ready to leave. Just as I was grabbing the keys to my Range Rover off the desk, I looked up, and Alba wobbled inside. She saw that it looked like I was heading out, and turned her face up in annoyance.
“Where are you going?” she asked, breathing heavily.
She was almost eight months pregnant and in that irritable stage. Everything set her off. It was hard being around her when she was like that. I was spending a lot of time at the gym, and I got paid pretty-decent money to spar. I was hustling outside of that still and trying to expand the gym into some other shit. But that underground fight club type shit kept paper rolling for me. I was a monster when it came to battling it out in the ring.
“Just meeting with a new sponsor. What’s up?” I asked, slinging my bag over my shoulder.
“Lock, what the fuck is up? You been on some other shit for months now. Ever since?—”
“Ever since what?” I prodded.
“I saw the fucking newspaper. Couldn’t miss Harbor splattered over the front page with some nigga all on her arm. Looks like she’s out there living her best life,” Alba enunciated with her arms up. “I know you must be feeling?—”
“You don’t know what the fuck I’m feeling!” I snapped.
“Then talk to me!” she shouted back, exasperated.
“Ain’t shit to fucking talk about.” I gritted my teeth. “I gotta go. I’ll see you at the house later.” I stormed around her to go.
Alba was my best friend, and I loved her. Our relationship was heavy and deep. There were things between us that could never even compare with me and Harbor. Things ended so abruptly with us, and all that time, I’d been thinking the worst. Knowing that it was all the opposite only left me with more questions. I did need closure. I wasn’t some weak ass, bitch ass nigga. For two years I’d been wrapped up in that girl.
Loving her, getting to know her, and hoping one day that everything between us would become solid. She was it. Alba was just my friend. I knew that she always had feelings for me, but I wasn’t as invested in the romantic part of us as she was. I depended on her more as a friend than anything. She was the one pushing the line. After Harbor disappeared, shit weakened me to Alba and her advances. I knew that she genuinely cared, and nothing between us was artificial. We were rooted together. That shit wasn’t going to ever go away.
When I pulled up to the Lawson house, I sat in my car, studying the home. I could remember vividly all the times that I picked Harbor up or when we were chilling on the porch. Planting my feet on the pavement, I used the sidewalk to the front door as it flung open. Chaya, her stepmother, answered, carrying a baby boy on her shoulder and rocking from side to side with him against her chest.
“Lock, hello. Harold said that you were coming by. He’s in his office.” She stepped aside and let me enter.
The little man let out a loud burp, and Chaya chuckled while shaking her head.
“Cute kid,” I said, making sure I secured the door behind me.
“Thank you. Greedy kid.” She bounced him along into the living room.
I walked ahead to Harold’s office and tapped on the slightly open door before stepping inside. He was behind his desk, sipping his drink as I crossed over inside.
“Lock, have a seat.” He signaled to the chair across from his desk. “What brings you by?” Harold stared at me through the thin frames of his glasses.
“Someone came to see me… about Harbor. Have you heard from her?” I asked, slipping into the chair and leaning on the edge.
“I’ve been keeping up with current news. Seems that she made the front page.” He slammed the newspaper article down in front of me, and I was greeted with her smiling face again.
She was on the arm of this man, Frequency Roth, grinning like everything was right in the world. My nostrils flared, and my gaze met Harold’s across the desk.
