“Meet us at my crib,” he tells her, before helping Brina into the car.
They speed off, but YT is still standing there, frozen, holding her phone.
“YT come on!” I yell. People are running everywhere, trying to get to their cars as sirens start filling the air.
I run up to her, but she doesn’t budge. Doesn’t snatch away from me, but doesn’t move, either. Just… stuck. Not even blinking as a single tear rolls down her cheek.
I hear someone yelling into the phone, so I pry her fingers off and look at the screen.KhiKhi.
“Mekhi?! It’s Macy. What’s wrong?! YT’s just–”
“Them Mathers niggas sprayed my Pops’ whip. Junior…”
My chest cracks. My eyes immediately go to YT, still standing there. Uncle Junior may not have biologically been her father, but he was in every other sense of the word. She was a Daddy’s girl to the T. He taught her to walk, to talk, to hustle. To not take no shit. Tre’s influence got him unlimited visits with the Triplets during his bid, but it was YT who he guided and taught the most.It’s YT who was unequivocally his favorite, his pride and joy. His True Love.
It’s why she couldn’t tell him she found out she wasn’t his. She didn’t want to break his heart. She didn’t want their relationship to change on his end, because regardless, on her end, hewasher father.
And now he’s gone, just like that. Done in by the same family that took her unborn from her.
“Fuck, Mace. I’m so sorry–”
“I’ll call you when we get to Brina’s.” I hang up and pocket her phone. I can’t even begin to think about how much Uncle Junior meant tome.To Mo. To Mom.
Fuck.The sirens are getting louder and louder. We gotta go.
I grab YT’s wrist and yank her as hard as I can toward the passenger seat of her car. She’s compliant enough to slip in without my help, so I book it to the driver’s side, and in fifteen seconds we’re speeding toward the sirens, pulling over to let the police pass.
They don’t even look our way, thank God.
Still, I avoid the freeways and take the streets to Rolling Estates.
YT whispers something, but I can’t hear her.
“I said pull over. PULL OVER! PULL THE FUCK OVER!”
I slam on the breaks, just as she opens the door and vomits all over the gutter.
Once she’s done, she leans back into the car, closes the door, and wipes her mouth with the bank of her hand.
I cup her other one. “We gone do what we should have done years ago, and wipe all them muthafuckas off the planet, YT. For Junior.”
“For Junior,” she whispers, squeezing my hand back.
Shad
Age 24
Idon’tknowhowmany drinks she’s had. I’ve been posted up on the wall, just watching her knock them back one after the other.
We talked about this. She said she’d slow down.
Then I see why she’s going so hard. This nigga Cochise comes up, giving her another drink. He whispers some tired ass line in her ear that’s got her blushing before he disappears. Prolly to get whoever’s driving them so he can stamp her.
I see the way he looks at her in some sessions. I guess tonight he finally grew some balls.
Wyn knocks her drink back before I can get to her. Her face is flushed, and though the smile spreading on her face is dazzling, it’s still all wrong.
“I’m taking you home.”
