I opened the door and stepped outside before he had a chance to knock.
“Trip, what are you doing here?”
“Looking for you.”
“Why didn't you just call?”
“Because I knew you wouldn't answer.”
I looked back toward the house, then back to him. “Probably not.”
“Don't you think we need to talk?”
“Nothing to talk about. You're single. You can fuck whoever you want to fuck.”
He shook his head. “Come on, Idalis. I sent that drunk bitch home in a cab.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
His tone changed to frustration. “What do you want from me?”
“I don't want anything from you.”
He took a step toward me but stopped.
“Idalis, what's going on with you? You're not the same person I grew up with,” he said.
“Maybe because I grew up,” I snapped.
He snapped back, “So, are you trying to tell me you pissed about some ho whose name I probably wouldn't have remembered the next day?”
I crossed my arms against my chest. “Like I said, you can fuck whoever you want to fuck.”
He let out a sigh. “This is ridiculous. You're getting married but you want to check me. You acting real out of pocket right now, not mention you got people worried about you.”
“Worried about what?”
“What's up with you and Lincoln?” he asked.
I turned and headed toward the house; then I stopped and went back and got in his face.
“There's nothing going on with me and Lincoln. It sounds like somebody is just jealous.”
He shook his head slowly. “Idalis, it's not like that, and you know it.”
“Oh, it's not?”
He asked, “If nothing is going on, what happened a few nights ago at 404?”
My mouth opened slightly, but nothing came out. Tears burned my eyes, but I dared them to come out. “What goes on between me and my fiancé is none of your business. I'm not a little girl anymore. I don't need you protecting me.”
“I guess that's Lincoln's job now.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, who's gonna protect you from him?”
Trip kept his eyes on me for a moment before heading toward his truck.
I called out to him, but he ignored me, got in, and drove off.
Chapter Fifteen
Idalis
My mom and I ate dinner in silence.
Other than the sound of Cameron crashing his cars on the table and singing songs, which only he understood, there was no interaction. I knew what she was going to say if I tried to spark up a conversation, and I didn't feel like expending the energy right now.
Trip and India had taken all the emotional energy I had for the night.
After I finished helping my mother clean the kitchen, I headed upstairs to visit my grandmother. I walked into the room and found her seated on her rocking chair, watching television. As always, my heart ached a little seeing how frail she had become. Her brown eyes lit up and a smile spread across her thinning face when she saw me come into the room.
I sank down onto the bed across from her. “Hi, Grammie.”
“Hey, baby. Why do you look so sad?”
“I got into an argument with India, Grammie.”
Her voice was stern. “That's your sister, baby, you don't push her away you need her.”
“I know Grammie, but I don't want her to go.”
She turned her head and looked at me. “Listen, baby. Whenever you're in conflict, you figure out whatever the hardest thing is to do, and you do it, because that's usually the right choice.”
“So you also think she should go?”
“I think India needs to do what's gonna make her happy. She can't live for you or anyone else.”
I tried hard to stop it, but the tears flowed. I slid onto the floor next to her, laying my head in my grandmother's lap, and cried as she stroked my hair. She started humming and the song soothed me. I wanted so bad for her to be proud of me, and I felt like I was blowing it, big-time.
I sat up and hugged her, inhaling her scent: the smell of her hair, the scent of her soap, everything. I wanted to take in her strength.
Before I left, she said, “You do what you have to do to be happy too, baby. You hear me? But don't do it at the expense of anyone else.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
I kissed her and told her mama would be up with her dinner.
After putting away most of Cameron's toys and picking out the ones he wanted to bring home with him, we headed home. My mother didn't have a lot to say before I left, but I didn't think she would. I knew she wanted what was in the best interest of both India and me, so I couldn't be mad at her.
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At home, after Cameron succeeded in damn near flooding my bathroom with his over-the-top bath play, he fell asleep before I could finish getting his pajamas on. The later it got, the better I felt. I slowly allowed myself to relax into my evening. By nine o'clock I had washed my hair, showered, pulled on a pair of Lincoln's APD sweats, and was relaxing on my couch in front of a rerun of
Criminal Minds.
Trip called around nine-thirty, but I let his call go to voice mail. I was almost relieved when there was no follow-up beep alerting me of a message.
“Good,” I said, aloud to the empty room.
I got up and started turning off the lights and checking the locks. I already knew that Lincoln wasn't coming home because he'd sent me a text earlier saying something about working late because of the case. Honestly, I didn't even read the whole thing. I just deleted it.
Once I made sure the doors leading to the deck were locked, I turned the lights off in the kitchen, causing the night-lights to dimly illuminate the room. I was just about to set the alarm for the night, but I noticed a light coming from underneath the door that led to the garage. I rolled my eyes because Lincoln was always forgetting to turn the light off whenever he left.
In my socks I padded out into the garage. The first thing I noticed was how dirty my car was. I had to remember to have Lincoln take it to get it washed. I skirted around my car and reached for the light switch on the wall; but before I could touch it, I damn near tripped and broke my neck. My foot got caught on the strap of a black duffel bag. I reached down to untangle myself. As I pulled the strap free, the bag tipped over, exposing its contents.
For a moment I stood there staring at what was laying on the concrete floor next to my feet. I stepped over the pile, never taking my eyes off it, as if it would disappear if I did.
I stooped down and picked up one of the stacks of money. I held it in my hand and stared at it like the intruder it had just become in my life. I dropped it back to where it had been resting. Just as I was about to reach down and touch a brick of cocaine, Linc's voice echoed through the garage.
“What you doin' out here?”
I stood up and looked at him, but he was staring at me as if I were in the wrong.
I could barely speak. “Whâwhat am I doing?” I motioned to the stack on my garage floor. “What the hell is this?”
He walked down the steps and came toward me. “I asked you a question. Why are you in here?”
I motioned toward the light switch. “You left the light on again and ...” I could barely finish my sentence.
“And what?”
I felt light-headed. My hands were trembling. “Lincoln, why is this in my garage?”
“I'm keepin' you with this big-ass roof over your head and clothes on Cameron's back. Keepin' that club runnin'. That's all you need to be worried about.”
I looked at him in disbelief. “You're joking, right?”
“Does it look like I'm joking?”
My eyes cut to the bag on the floor. “Lincoln, where did you get this from?”
“Why you out here goin' through my shit, Idalis?”
“I wasn't going through your shit! I tripped over the bag andâ”
Before I could finish my sentence, he reached up and grabbed my face, squeezing my cheeks in his hand, cutting me off. “And what?”
He shoved me backward so hard that my body slammed into the truck of my carâthankfully keeping me from hitting the concrete ground of the garage. It took all I had in me not to let out the scream that swelled in my throat out of fear of waking Cameron.
A sinister smile spread across his face. “I told you about questionin' me, Idalis.”
I was frantic. Anger and fear shared space in my chest; each fighting and clawing to take over. “What if Cameron had come in here and found this?”
I watched, stunned, as he resituated everything back into the bag and zipped it up.
Totally ignoring me.
He stood up and glared at me. Defiant and angry. “Go to bed, Idalis.”
I followed him as he made his way back into the house, closing the door to the garage behind us. He made his way to the front door, and I headed toward the steps to go upstairs and check on Cameron.
“I'm on my way back out,” he spoke to my back.
Just as my foot touched the bottom step, he called out my name.
“Idalis.”
I kept my hand on the railing and my back to him. “What?” I answered matter-of-factly.
“I hope you ain't plannin' on doin' nothin' stupid.”
I turned around and shot him a look. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, opening your mouth.”
I was in complete disbelief, not sure how to respond. In my opinion there was no response. I flinched, gripping the railing even tighter when he walked toward me.
He leaned in and planted a kiss on my lips. “And if you're thinkin' about runnin' your mouth, I would think long and hard first.”
“Why?” I asked. “You gonna slap me around some more?”
He let out a laugh. “Nah, I'd just hate for you to get pulled over”âhe started walking toward the doorâ“and have your car searched. It would be a shame if they were to find drugs in your possession. 'Cause you know if they do, you're going straight downtown, right? And by the time you fuck Trip to get out of holdin', Cameron will be so deep in the system, you'll never see him again.”
Nausea washed over me as I stood there and glaring at him, my mouth was hanging open in disbelief.
He winked at me. “Sleep tight.”
The front door closed and the soft click of the lock set off a bomb inside me. I fell to the steps and sobbed. I wanted to scream, to break things, to scoop up my son and run. But I knew that no matter where I ended up, he'd find me.
At some point I managed to pull myself up off the steps and made it to the living-room. I didn't know how much time had passed. I just remembered waking up on the couch with my phone in my hand.
I looked down at the display and saw that I had found Trip's number in my contacts, but I didn't hit send.
My head and my ribcage were pounding, so I got up and grabbed some Advil out of the medicine cabinet in the downstairs bathroom. I popped two in my mouth and washed them down with a handful of water.
I looked at my reflection in the oval-shaped mirror
. At least this time it wasn't my face,
I thought. I lifted the oversized tee and spied the large purplish red bruise on my side from where I slammed into my car. That little souvenir was unmistakable, and to call it painful wasn't doing it justice.
I pulled my shirt back down and went upstairs to Cameron's room. I stood in his doorway and watched his little chest rise and fall under his
Cars
comforter. I moved closer and stood over him, watching him sleep. His face was so angelic; it always made me smile. But what broke my heart more than anything ...
What bothered me the most ...
Was how much he looked like his father.
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“It is a man's own mind, not his enemy or foe that lures him to evil ways”
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â
Siddhartha Buddha
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Linc's truck rolled to a stop in front of the address that Twist texted him. “This is it,” he said.
Nate leaned forward and looked across Linc and out the window.
“All right, let's see what this dude is talkin' about.”
“You think we need to trust Twist?”
Linc rubbed his goatee. “He's been good up to this point. Moved a lot of shit for me. If he says this cat is one hundred, then I believe him.”
“I know, but this was supposed to be a hit and run type deal. When we started this a while back we were gonna hit these dealers up hard and get out the game. There's a lot going on,” Nate argued. “Shit's getting to hot out here.”
“Once we move the weight we got things will start running smooth again. You let me worry âbout that the heat, you just keep banking the money.”
Nate put his hand on his arm. “Yo, is this about that shit with Idalis and Trip?”
Linc pulled his arm away. “Man if you don't get the fuck outta my truck with that bullshit. This is about my money and my reputation. These fools won't hesitate to wipe me out if I get caught slippin', ya dig.”
“A'ight I hear you,” Nate said.
“I feel where you comin' from. Trust me, I'm on top of this shit, believe me.”
“That's all I wanted to know,” Nate responded.
They got out and headed toward the huge double doors situated at the top of the steps. This was supposed to be a quick exchange and Linc hoped it went down the way it was supposed to.
He was out of his comfort zone and he was on edge. The only reason he'd agreed to meet this dude was because he needed the stacks to flip the weight he was sitting on.
Nate hit the door three hard times as Linc looked over his shoulder, half expecting someone to rush up on him at any moment. Shit was getting hectic and he was losing his grip, not to mention he was out of his element. But if this dude could deliver like Twist said, then it just might be worth the risk.
A few moments later the door swung open and a big dude, who had to weigh no less than 250, was standing there. He didn't look happy. Instinctively, Linc put his hand on his gun, but he didn't pull it out.
“Yo, playa, fuck y'all want?” he barked.
“Whoa! Whoa!” Linc answered, hand still on his gun. “Damn, you need to calm the fuck down. Where Twist?”
Twist ran up behind the dude, laughing. “They cool; they cool.” He pushed by the dude and ushered them inside. “It's about damn time.”
Twist led them down a long hall and into a room where a tall brown-skinned guy was waiting. Linc began sizing up the dude immediately: a black Yankees cap rested on top of his head; an oversized black tee hung loosely on his muscular frame. Linc was sure he had more than muscles under that shirt. He was in the small room with two other dudes; one was situated near the window, where he was setting up scales. Linc couldn't help but notice how big he was, and the fact that the dude looked like Charlie Murphy on steroids. There was a little light-skinned dude sitting on the couch playing Xbox; Linc didn't even bother to acknowledge him. The other guy, the one who opened the door, made his way into the room and stood in the corner.