He nodded. “They aired it out from that alley. Pharaoh was sittin’ on the steps crackin’ jokes. Jules had just walked out the corner store with a bag of Flamin’ Hots and a white tee. Ten seconds later…”
His jaw flexed. “Ten seconds.”
The street suddenly felt too loud. Or maybe too quiet. Either way, it felt wrong.
Some young boys in blue eased up from the corner. A few of them were lean and wiry. One had golds, another a babyface that didn’t match the .40 tucked under his hoodie.
“Ayo, is that Key?” one called out.
Malik gave a chin nod. “What’s good, lil’ homies?”
They pulled up all smiles and daps, clearly showing respect.
“You good out here,” one of them said, glancing toward Aku. “We got eyes everywhere. Ain’t no funny shit gon’ pop off.”
“Appreciate y’all,” Malik spoke genuinely.
“Other side been talkin’ though,” another one added. “They still bitter about that work we put in after Zay made it. Be actin’ like blue success mean red loss. Dumbass logic.”
“Fuck them niggas,” someone else muttered, spitting to the side. “We die behind this color, feel me?”
Aku swallowed hard and placed a hand over her belly. She hadn’t meant to, but it just… happened. It was something about hearing “die behind this color” while standing in front of a mural dedicated to a boy whoactually did diethat made her stomach twist.
Malik clocked the gesture but didn’t say anything.
The young boys gave one last nod and wandered off, laughing about something she couldn’t catch. The tension didn’t leave with them.
“I used to sound just like that,” Malik’s words came after a moment of silence. “Same tone. Same weight behind my words. Proud to throw my life away for a street that ain’t gon’ remember my middle name.”
He looked over at Jules’ mural again. “I still dream about it sometimes. The shots. The way Pharaoh screamed after he realized he couldn’t move. The way Jules’ chest went still under my hands.”
Aku stepped toward him, arms folded and face trembling. “You were just a kid too, Malik.”
“I was old enough to know better. But too young to stop myself. And now I carry all they pain, all they blood, like it’s part of my birthright.”
She grabbed his hands, lacing their fingers.
She wanted to tell him right then.
Wanted to saywe’re not just us anymore. Wanted to let the truth fall out of her mouth and soften this pain. But the timing felt wrong. Too raw. Too much weight already sitting on his back.
So instead, Aku squeezed his hand tighter. Pressed her shoulder to his. “You’re still here,” she whispered. “So maybe that means you get to do it different.”
Malik’s exhale came out slow. His eyes lifted toward the mural of Jules, then Zaire. “I hope so.”
He leaned into her, body heavy with the grief of what he lost and the quiet hope of what might still be. “When we get back on the bike, play that song.”
“Which one?” Aku looked confused.
“Can I be him… Cause I’m gon’ be him for you.” Malik pulled her into him more. “I put that on the gang.”
chapter 24
. . .
Noodle and Akuwere down near the water, talking low and laughing between whispered prayers that both their men could find common ground. The fall sun shimmered across the waves. Every few seconds, Aku peeked back toward the house, and Noodle touched her arm,let them handle it,her eyes said. But you could see it in both their faces—they were holding their breath behind those smiles, hoping they made it out to the yacht later. Noodle was a water baby and Aku loved luxury.
Malik stood on the back deck, gaze locked on Aku like she was the answer to every question he ever had. His focus shifted real quick when Bu stepped out onto the patio.
