Page 96 of Vega

The detective asked the husband where he was the night his wife died. The man started talking too fast.

Prodigy scoffed at the TV. “That nigga sound guilty.”

“He could just be nervous.”

“Novi, that man was stuttering saying his own fucking name.”

The husband kept rambling, explaining his timeline, adding details nobody had asked for.

Prodigy threw a hand up. “Ask for a lawyer, dumbass!”

I covered my mouth, but the laugh came anyway.

“He in there giving them a whole TED Talk about why he ain’t kill his wife,” Prodigy said. “Police ain’t even got to work no more. He doin’ the job for them.”

The husband started crying on camera.

Prodigy shook his head. “Now look at those fake ass tears. He ain’t shed one fucking tear.”

“Are you going to watch the show or give commentary the whole time?”

I laughed again, realizing what he was doing. He had seen my red eyes. He knew I had been crying before he came in, and instead of making me explain my grief, he became overly invested in a murder documentary he hadn’t even been watching.

He was pulling me out of my head one joke at a time. I looked over at him, but he kept his attention on the TV.

My heart still hurt, but for the first time that day, I could breathe without feeling like I was breaking apart. So, I wiped my face, tucked my legs beneath me, and watched the dumb husband talk himself into prison while Prodigy yelled at the screen like the man could hear him.

VEGARRO “VEGA” MORETTI

“If something happens to me take care of Sonnet.”

Wise’s voice came through the speaker. “The hell you just say?”

In the background, Prodigy said, “Did this nigga just give us custody instructions?”

“Dico sul serio. (I’m serious.)”

“È così che so che è grave. (That’s how I know it’s bad.),” Wise laughed.

Since I confessed what I felt for Sonnet, those feelings had only gotten stronger. Kissing her made the need to have her harder to ignore, but I didn’t just want her body. I wanted the woman. I wanted her smart mouth, her soft heart, her mind, and every guarded part of herself she kept trying to protect from the world.

Clearly, she was feeling me too, because she kissed me back like she had been thinking about it just as much as I had. But I needed to know she wanted me because the feelings were mutual, not because boredom, fear, and isolation had her looking at me through rose colored glasses. When Sonnet chose me, I wanted the door open, her mind clear, and her choice to be real.

I checked the magazine in my gun, then pushed it back into place. “Make sure she’s straight.”

Prodigy’s teasing faded. “You love her?”

I looked through the windshield at the empty lot ahead of me. “I said take care of her.”

“That wasn’t no,” he pointed out.

Wise blew a heavy breath. “We got her.”

“Yeah,” Prodigy added. “Nothing happens to her.”

I opened the car door. “Appreciate it.”

“Vega,” Wise called through the phone.