After I seen some shit I ain’t like, I calmed down on that though. I knew I’d get up with her once I completed my program.
But that allowed me to fine tune my plan. See, when Set, Nut, Turk and I would do our shit, serving our country, I mostly played intel. Creating dossiers, staying out the way, making sure my brothers were good. Not only am I not one for blood, but Set has always been protective of me in his own lil way. Turk and Nut mostly did logistics and planning and shit.
So this has been a lil treat for me. Getting my mental right, and meticulously planning exactly how I’ma wipe a couple muthafuckas off the planet. It would be the first thing I thought about when I woke up, and the last thing I thought about when I went to sleep. Niggas who don’t deserve in the same timeline on the same earth as my shorty and my lil shorty.
I rub the back of my neck like I do any time I think about my daughter. No one has posted a picture of her, anywhere.Not even a status update. I only know she’s healthy because I hacked into her medical records when Mace took her for her appointments and shots. But as far as what she looks like? I don’t have a clue.
I guess I’ll find out today.
Dr. Bell is in the lobby to greet me when it’s time for me to go. I got my computer in one bag, and my comp books in the other. I would have the clothes I came here in, but Day fifty-nine I was approved to start working out, and between the nightly six-mile jogs around the facility, and heavy lighting until I passed out, I don’t even fit that shit.
I may not have ED, but I didn’t totally escape the side effects of getting my mind right. Niggas gained ten pounds in two weeks, and I’m lucky if I get six hours of sleep.
Still, I’m not tryna off myself. I take my Ws where I can.
“I’m very proud of you, Rahshad. You came and you saw it through.” She smiles as shakes my hand firmly. Dr. Bell is a short, petite woman with an inch-long gray afro, but she’s the toughest person I know.
“Thank you Dr. Bell.”
“We’re all set for our weekly sessions to resume, and I emailed you some group times as well. And if you need any help, you know my cell is always on, no matter the time.”
That’s another reason I fuck with her. She actually cares, and don’t be blowing hot air. I don’t know if she has a life outside of this facility and her practice, but shit, once I got comfortable sharing with her, it was nice knowing if I slide back or not feeling like myself, she’s here.
She knows the stigma our community has on mental health, and fights every day to break that shit down. Most of the people in group were people of color, and we saw and felt firsthand how she cultivated a safe space for us to at least confront and acknowledge the storms in our minds.
I smirk at the short woman. “I know, doc. I’ll see you next week. If my ride comes in here y’all prolly gone try to keep her.” I salute her and go through the glass doors, going back into the real world feeling more hopeful than I’ve ever felt.
YT is perched on the hood of her turquoise 1964 Mustang parked in front of the fountain. I know her eyes have been trained on the door because before I hear it close behind me, she takes off her shades and beams at me for a flash, before scowling.
When I make it to the car, she slides off the hood and folds her arms. “What bitch you had doing yo hair? Do they know you married to my godsister? Do I need to–”
I throw my shit into the window and pull YT into a hug. She’s not wearing heels, but we still eye level. “I did my own plaits, sis. Ain’t no bitch but mine touching my shit. I miss you too, YT.”
She scoffs but hugs me back. “Don’t put words in my mouth, nigga.”
We get into the car and she pulls off, toward the city. The Center is in Henderson, only about forty-five minutes away from Kenton.
“That’s your phone in the cupholder. Fully charged and everything.”
I grab it and go into my ghost app to sync all that I’ve been working on to my phone. It’ll beep in about ten minutes when it’s done, so I set it on my lap and turn down the music.
“How you been? We talked, yeah, but not about you.”
She shakes her head as she gets on the freeway. “You’ve been gone three months and you still worried about everyone else.”
“Niggas can’t care? Besides the fact you Mace’s godsister and Brina’s cousin, we been plotting on these muthafuckas, building a rapport. Thought we were at least friends by now. I mean, you told me your full name.” I smirk when she stiffens. As much as she and her brothers hate their names, none of them have mademoves to change them, so all this extra shit just be making me weak, to be honest.
“You might wanna be nice to me. The way you in Deezy’s doghouse, I doubt she’d be upset if you come up missing.” She cuts her eyes to me but my phone pinging saves her.
Once my phone is synced, I double check the shit I asked her to do for me. “The Atrium? You don’t think that’s too big?” I ask her. The Atrium is a venue some R&B singers and comedy acts book out. It’s not as big as the Kenton Amphitheater or the stadium, but I still have never performed in a venue that big before.
“I think it’s too small. The internet has been buzzing about where you’ve been. #WheresShotta trends every time yo ant looking ex shows her ass on that damn show. You know she’s made it her whole storyline.”
I chuckle. One of the people I spy on now is Sahara, and I’ve seen all her “Where’s Shotta” t-shirts and her crying on that show Set’s obsessed with. It’s been interesting to say the least.
It’s even been more fun posting anonymous and false sightings of me around the city and country. I’ve even confused Nut a few times. I know he’s got a headlock for me.
“Well, it’s only one way to find out.” I post the link to the ticket site on my story, as well as the prerecorded video announcing my comeback concert. As soon as the notifications start coming I silence them, but YT’s phone is off the hook, too.
