“How you even get close to her to a point that almost fuckin her was an option?” I just had to know.
“Man, that shit old. Over a year old. Ya’ll was in the middle of your divorce. She was going through shit. You was out there fuckin other bitches, and Soraya wanted her some get back, but she couldn’t pull through with it. I pulled up one night at the bar, and she was there. We talked and shit for hours, and then she came to my crib. We kissed, I undressed her, but we didn’t go there. Nigga, if I got the pussy, I would have told you. We didn’t fuck. I tried to hit her the next day, and she cursed me out, telling me not to call her phone no more. That’s it,” he said, his story sounding like Yaya’s story.
“She said you called her recently. What the fuck you called her for then?” I asked, nose still flaring, genuinely wanting to know. When I asked that, he sucked his teeth.
“Man, I overheard Edward Sterling in the parking garage, speaking on your son, and how he was going to put in work to get the shit brought back up again, and pay someone to lie, and say that they witnessed your son attack his daughter. I was just looking out. I’m not the kind of nigga that you painting me out tobe, man. Soraya told me that she didn’t want shit to do with me, so I respected her wishes. I haven’t reached out to her in over a year,” was all he said.
“Man, aight,” that’s all I had for him.
I really wanted to beat this nigga’s ass, but I turned around, and I walked away. At the end of the day, I understood that Soraya would want to get her get back. I did some fucked up shit while we were going through our divorce, and I know that the hoes I fucked genuinely messed with her because till this day, if we get into an argument, she’s so quick to bring it up.
The shit just hurt because I used to pride myself in knowing that she would never do to me what I did to her. She used to threaten me all the time that she was going to go out, and fuck another nigga, but she never went out and made good on that promise. Granted, even though her, and Dominic were saying that they didn’t do anything, the part that was fuckin me up was that they almost did. It fucked me up so bad, that I had to find a spot in the back of the hotel, and in this expensive ass tux that I was wearing, I sat my ass down on the pavement. Legs straight out ahead of me, hands leaned back behind me, as I thought about this nigga seeing my wife naked. Seeing her titties… her pussy… kissing her. Man, I wanted to shed tears right now, but I didn’t want to look like a bitch.
At the most, I thought that tonight I would have to deal with Edward Sterling trying to be cocky and popping his ass up to this ball. I pulled up on that nigga last week, and I still had the recording device, but I planned to hand it over after the event tonight. I wasn’t super impulsive to hand it over. It was just the asshole part of me that wanted him to sweat, as he lived his life in constant fear, thinking that the feds would come kicking down his front door, or even popping up at his job to put cuffs on him.
Honestly, there was a piece of me that was hoping that he was going to show his face tonight at the ball because the planhad been to play it in front of everyone if she showed, so that I could humiliate him in front of everyone that thought he was this perfect, stand-up person. I’m thinking that situation would be the drama tonight… not this shit.
As I was sitting out here reflecting, my phone started ringing. I accidently left out of the house tonight with my business phone, picking it up too quickly. I thought that it would be Dutch hitting me because he had been hitting me all day, telling me that he felt bad that he wouldn’t be at this event tonight because he would always come out, and show love. His son was in the hospital. I didn’t ask too much about it because I didn’t have that kind of relationship like that with Kross to care, but from what Dutch willingly told me, Kross was shot, and he was hooked up on a ventilator, and the shit wasn’t looking too good for him.
Dutch knew fuckin well that I didn’t give a fuck about his son, and what had happened to him, but there was this piece of me that wondered if he called me and told me because he was trying to wean people out on who he felt like might have shot his son. I didn’t have a reason to kill Kross yet. If I did, I knew that I was a damn good shooter, so if it was me, he wouldn’t be hooked up on a ventilator. Instead, Dutch would have been preparing his funeral services.
I didn’t recognize the number that called me, so I didn’t answer. They called back again. Then again, and two times after that. Feeling like it might have been something important, I went ahead and picked up the call.
“This is Law,” is how I answered.
“Law, what’s good? I’m sorry to blow your phone up like this, but man, I got something that I need to share with you. My name is Dedrick. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you personally, either. I knew your pops. My dad used to take me to the same barber shop that Knox used to go get his hair cut at. I was a teenager when your pops was killed. Shit fucked the wholehood up, you know? Just like you, I lost my dad to gun violence. To honor him, I’m putting together a small documentary, so lately, I been going out to the gravesite, recording my intimate moments with him. I write poetry and shit, so I like to go out to the cemetery, and recite it for him, hoping that he can hear me. Anyways man, your pops headstone not too far away from my dad’s. Probably like five to six headstones down. Today, I happened to play back the audio on one of the videos that I recorded, and I heard something in the background. I could be wrong, man. I don’t want to do no accusing, but I’m going to send it to you, and you tell me if you hear the same shit in the background that that nigga saying as I’m hearing,” the voice on the other end of the line said.
That shit immediately got my attention. So much so, that I sat up, and I processed everything that he said.
“Yeah. Send it to this number. Who the voice belong to that you heard?” I asked.
“Dutch. He was out there the same day that I was. I was so locked in, having my moment with my pops, that I didn’t even know that it was him until I looked up, and saw him walking away. Because of the distance that I was from him, the audio really isn’t that clear. Ima be honest, his voice not too clear, but try to drown out the wind, and the sound of my voice, and I swear you might hear what I’m hearing. I swear my mind not playing tricks on me, but if it is, I apologize in advance for what I’m accusing him of,” he finished, and my phone vibrated, letting me know that the video had come through.
“I just got it. Ima hit you right back,” I said, ready to hang up.
“Fast forward to 3:52 in the video, and 7:34. I feel like you hear two things a little clear,” he said.
“Aight,” and like that I hung up.
My hands were shaking as I went to the video to listen because I really didn’t know what the fuck I was going to hear.I played the video, and right there, you could see that the phone was propped up on this Dedrick nigga that just called me. He looked to have been in his 40’s. I’ve never seen him before in my life. I could tell by his surroundings, that he was right at the gravesite. I’ve been over there so many times throughout my life, talking to my pops, that I knew that he was in the same area.
The video started, and he was talking to his pops. I fast-forwarded to the time that he told me to, and right when I got there, it was wind, you could hear Dedrick still talking, but I put the phone to my ear, and off in the distance, I heard…
“I think… me,” that’s what I heard the first time.
I played it back to hear it again, focusing as hard as I could to catch it clearly.
“I think... on... me” that’s what I heard the second time.
Played it back again, and I heard…
“I think... might be on to me,” that was the third time.
I played it again. By this point, my whole body was shaking because I felt like I knew what this nigga was trying to say.
“I think... your son... might be on to me,” I heard that nigga clear as day the fourth time. I sat here, and played that audio over fifty times, and the more I played it, the more I could tune out Dedrick’s voice, and hear what Dutch had said clear as day.
I fast- forwarded to 7:34, and this time, I heard…
