Page 1 of Disrespectfully, Relic
A blade.
A dollar bill.
A single baggie of coke.
Relic had lined those three items in front of him on the glass table in his bedroom corner where he’d sat for the last hour. Darkness surrounded him outside of the glow from his bedside clock. His body sulked further into his saddle leather chair as he rolled his jaw—his mouth watering and dry eyes unblinking as though he could make those three objects vanish if he focused hard enough. When his sluggish lids won the battle, shutting and reopening, the taunting items were still present.
The simple mantra to never get high off his supply became a struggle each time he stuffed another skeleton into his cramped internal closet. His yearning for that mind numbing vice had catapulted after playing an unintentional hand in his baby mother’s murder through a home invasion he’d orchestrated. After Jessica’s death, guilt crawled around his insides and took permanent residence in his gut, coaxing him to retrieve a blade, a dollar bill, and a baggie of nose candy she’d left in his prior home. He’d pulled out those three items more times than he cared to admit it, but for once, he didn’t have the balls to execute a plan.
Relic scratched his chin stubble with a slow blink, debating which option made him weakest—not following through with the act, or repeating the torment because he believed the poison that he’d built a lucrative lifestyle with could cure him of an inutile emotion.Regret. He could count his life’s regrets on four fingers, and bereaving his son of a mother held the number two spot on that list.
A thump, accompanied by muffled shouting, broke the suffocating silence of his bedroom and sent his gaze wandering toward his shut door. Relic scrubbed his sluggish eyes and stood, swiping up those three triggering items to stash in his bedside table so that he could torture himself with them later. After twisting the tiny key hanging from the drawer lock, he removed it to drop into the pocket of his night pants while studying the red three A.M. glowing on his alarm clock. His son should’ve been sleep hours ago.
His head shook as he padded barefoot out of his room and down the hall to its opposite end, stopping short of the second master suite. The light trickling beneath the door told on Jahleel before Relic pushed it open.
“What the hell are you still doing up?”
Jahleel’s fingers paused mid-press of his game controller while his eyes rounded like he’d seen a ghost at hearing his dad’s groggy voice. The second Relic stalked inside, Jahleel leapt from his gaming chair, letting the controller slip from trembling hands that he raised to shield his face. A tick started in Relic’s jaw after noticing the familiar panic.
“When I ask a question, answer,” he asserted, bending to pick up the controller. Relic didn’t miss his son cowering in anticipation of a hit that wasn’t and would never come. “Put your damn hands down and grab your other controller. I got first player.”
“Huh?”
Jahleel heard him but was too baffled to move. If he were at his grandmother’s house, she’d already have her favorite leather belt to his ass. His mother preferred using her fists when she was alive.
Confusion scrunched his features but then he perked up, doing as told before plopping down into his gaming chair with a relieved grin. Relic copped a seat on the edge of the bed. His eyes went to the seventy-inch screen on his son’s wall while his brain conjured up visuals of Shabu cowering in the same manner whenever their father used to strike him for the simplest shit. Those memories resurfaced no matter how deep Relic stored them in his mental closet.
“What’re we playing?” He initiated a conversation, hoping quality time with his son would clear his head.
“Street Fighter six, but we can play something else if you want.”
“I’m gon’ bust yo ass in whatever you put on, so this is straight. How long have you been up on this damn game I told you to turn off hours ago?”
“I did turn it off! I fell asleep watching a movie, but woke up when our girlfriend texted me back.”
Jahleel grinned, glancing at Relic who smirked but kept his eyes on the screen, scrolling through the character lineup for a fighter. He didn’t have to ask who his son was referring to.
Kennedy.
A brief run in with her at the mall had left his son infatuated with the scarred beauty, but Relic’s fascination had begun the moment he saw her at his brother’s gala. Kennedy had checked him that night as if he wasn’t that nigga, and she was the real big dog at the table. His interest had piqued further after she conned him and his folks into her apartment just to pull out a gun on Pierre for whooping her nephew’s ass. Her tune didn’t change at the bribery of materialistic shit either, unlike every other woman he’d persuaded under those pretenses.
Relic fed the bitches he entertained mere scraps off his plate, but he’d offered a chick whose pussy he hadn’t even sniffed a new salon on his dime. Kennedy rejecting his peace offering without so much as a blink warned him; she wasn’t built like most women. He’d been trying to pinpoint where the differences stemmed from since then.
“Savvy shouldn’t have given your friendly ass that girl’s number. What was she talking ‘bout?” he quizzed, keeping his tone casual to conceal his interest.
“Nothing for real. She asked me why I was up so late, and then I asked her on a date for you. She said yea.”
Relic snorted a laugh. “Oh, did she?”
“Yep, and she said you better take her somewhere nice, but she sent laughing emojis when I said the movies. Don’t take her there.”
“Where do you want me to take her then, since you’re planning dates I didn’t fucking agree to?”
His eyes flicked toward his son, who gazed at the ceiling with furrowed brows for all of five seconds before shrugging.
“I don’t know! I did the hard part, so you gotta figure out the rest.”
“What the hell was hard about you shooting her a text to ask her out, Jah? I could’ve done that myself.”
