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Chapter One
Wanda was crying. Bobby was sitting across from her, staring out the window of the limo, looking like he wanted to cry. We just buried one of our best friends, so I had been fighting back the tears all day, because I had never known pain. Not like this.
I don’t have much family to speak of; it’s just me and my mother. Her father died when she was six, and her mother, who I had never met, died when I was young. So, I never lost anybody that was close to me, never lost anybody that I loved, never lost family … until now.
Vickie was my family. Not that gangster shit we do for money. Vickie was my sister and this shit hurts like a mutha fucka because I killed her.
How could I have been so fuckin’ stupid? I don’t care how fucked up I was, the second I opened my eyes and saw Vickie sitting there, I should have snatched that bag up and locked it in my safe. But I didn’t. If I had, Vickie would still be alive, Wanda wouldn’t be crying, and I wouldn’t have to fuckin’ feel this way.
Now, I am not an emotional guy. I mean, no one was ever gonna accuse me of being a man with sensitivity, but over the last few days I’ve run the gambit. Shock, anger, guilt, but mostly what I feel is pain. Pain because I killed her. I was in shock when I kicked in the door and found her. I remember feeling numb at first, and then disorientated because I couldn’t believe it was happening.
That didn’t last long because it very quickly turned to rage and anger at myself because I killed Vickie. I called Andre and he called his police and they took care of everything.
Since it happened, everybody has been telling me that it’s not my fault, but I can’t accept that. They say Vickie was on a path of self-destruction and there was nothing I could have done. That’s bullshit! All I had to do is put the fuckin’ dope away and I wouldn’t have to feel this guilt.
And neither would Wanda.
I looked over at Wanda, she hadn’t stopped crying, so I moved over and put my arm around her. I can’t even imagine what she must be feeling right now. As close as me and Bobby are, that’s how close she and Vickie were. She was her best friend. I know if somebody took Bobby from me, I’d wanna kill them.
But she can’t, because it’s me that took her.
Wanda buried her head in my chest and cried harder, her body shaking against mine.
“I’m sorry, Mike,” I heard her whimper.
Wanda doesn’t blame me for Vickie being dead. No, Wanda blames herself.
Wanda thinks that, at best, we share the blame because we saw what was going on with her and we should have done something about it. And she is absolutely right. She’s right because we talked about it. Me and Wanda were in the office at The Late Night talking about Vickie and her drug problem.
“You think we need to get her some help?” I asked her that night.
“You talking about rehab?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think we’re at that point yet,” Wanda said and then Freeze came in. After that, things started happening quickly and then me and Bobby were off to kill Wes and we never got back to it.
“I should have done something to help her,” Wanda cried in my chest because she should have done something to help her, and so should I. So, Wanda shares my guilt. But Wanda being Wanda, she wants to shoulder all the blame.
But she can’t … because she didn’t kill her, I did.
“It’s not your fault, Wanda,” I said and held her a little tighter to comfort her.
“I knew what was going on and I should have done something, Mike.”
“It’s not your fault, Wanda, it’s mine.”
