AllFreeNovel
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e you file a police report, first thing this morning. Do you have any idea who it was?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“That shit’s crazy,” she huffs. “I don’t think you should be staying here alone. I’m gonna stay here with you for a while; at least for a few days. I don’t want this nigga thinkin’ shit’s all sweet. We family, boo. And that muthafucka done fucked with the wrong one.”
I smile, reaching for her hand. I squeeze it. “I’ll be fine. There’s no need for you to disrupt your life for me.”
She rolls her eyes, waving me on. “Oh, girl, puhleeze. We’re like sisters. You ain’t disruptin’ nothin’. I can stay as long as you need me to.”
As much as I appreciate her gesture, there’s no way in hell I could have her, or anyone else, staying here watching me like a hawk. “Thanks. But, it’s really not necessary. You being here is more than enough. It means everything to me.”
A tear slides down my face. I wipe it as quickly as it falls.
She gets up and hugs me. “We’re all we have, Pasha. If something were to ever happen to you, it’d kill me, girl.” We hug and rock for a few minutes, before she sits back down.
She sighs. “I still can’t wrap my mind around this.”
I blink back more tears. “Me either,” I say, holding my cup in both hands. Its warmth calms my nerves as I gulp down the last bit of my tea.
“Chile, the last thing we need is another nut on the loose.”
“Yeah, you’re right about that.”
I get up and refill the tea kettle with water then turn on the stove. I offer her a cup of tea. “No, that’s alright. But what the hell you got to eat up in here? You got a bitch up outta bed all early and shit, the least you can do is feed me.”
“I got you,” I tell her, walking over to the ’fridge. I open it, peering in. “Let’s see. There’s eggs, turkey sausage, four slices of pizza and—”
“Where’s the pizza from?”
“Papa John’s; vegetable.”
“With extra cheese?”
“Yep. Six cheese with mushrooms.”
“Hook a sista up, then.” I ask her how many slices she wants, pulling them out of the ’fridge. “All of ’em,” she says, laughing. “Andre broke me off some of that good stuff before you called. And the shit always has me starving afterward.”
I feign disgust, laughing as I place all four slices on a plate, then stick it in the microwave. I set it for two minutes. The tea kettle starts to whistle. I turn off the stove. I place another teabag into my cup, pour water in, then let it steep for awhile. When I bring her plate over to her, she thanks me.
“No problem,” I tell her, pouring two teaspoons of honey into my tea. I grab the cup, then walk over to the table and sit across from her. Felecia takes a big bite into the first slice. I watch as grease spurts out and coats her lips. She licks them.
“Damn, this pizza is good as hell.” I agree, watching her finish her slice in three huge bites. There’s a minute or two of silence between us as she chews and I sip my tea. She slices into the quiet with her question. “Umm, what time did you say that shit happened?”
“About one,” I say, shifting my eyes as I take another sip from my cup.
She studies me. “One?” she asks, frowning. She eyes me accusingly. Or at least that’s how her gaze feels to me. “Girl, please tell me what the hell you were doing out at that time of night.”
The lie forms my lips before I can even think. “I had to run out to the store.” She tilts her head, squints at me. Before her wheels start spinning in the wrong—well, right—direction, I add, “My period came on three days early and I needed some more pads.”
“Hmmph,” she grunts, pausing. “I hate when that shit happens,” is all she says, taking a bite into her second slice of pizza. She keeps her eyes on her plate, slowly chewing. I can tell her mental wheels are spinning. Can tell she’s conjuring up images in her head. She slowly lifts her eyes from her plate, rests them on me. She squints. I brace myself for what’s about to come out of her mouth. “Wait a minute. First, the nigga in the shop, then your car window gets smashed out, then the shop’s window gets knocked out; and, now this. Something’s not adding up here.” I avert my eyes from hers, shifting in my seat. She catches my nervousness. “Does this nigga know you or something?”
“No,” I boldly state. “I don’t know who that crazy motherfucker was.”
She tilts her head, unbelievingly. “Are you sure?”
I look her dead in the eyes. I don’t flinch. “Yes. I’m sure. Like I said, I don’t know who the fuck he is.”
She leans up in her seat, resting her forearms on the table. “And there’s nothing else going on that you’re not telling me?”
