I didn’t feel bad about waking Tyrell. I paid his ass enough to get out of bed anytime I called, and I damn sure didn’t give a fuck about Darryl’s stinking, thieving ass. I was more pissed that the motherfucker was bleeding out on my expensive carpet.
I left him there, taking my watch and gun. Went downstairs to the bar and poured myself a glass of cognac. It burned going down but didn’t burn away my anger. “Fuck-ass coming into my shit to steal—he better be glad I didn’t shoot him.” I grabbed the entire bottle, hit the living room, and turned on ESPN.
About fifteen minutes later, Tyrell showed up. He didn’t even say anything when he walked in through the front door. He was the only person I trusted with a key.
I nodded toward the stairs, then pushed myself up to follow him.
He looked at my dad on the floor, shook his head, then looked back at me. “This shit is gonna end up on social media,” he muttered. “We gotta call the police so he can’t twist the story later.”
Tyrell crouched to check on him. “You alright, old man?”
My father didn’t respond. He was still on the floor, trying to get up and failing.
“He’s good,” Tyrell declared before stepping out. I heard him making the call, his tone calm and professional, like always. My father and I just glared at each other.
I hated to admit it, but I was just like him.
The police and EMTs came soon after. They took him away on a stretcher. I didn’t even watch. I sat in the bathroom on the side of the tub, popping gummies to calm my frayed nerves. Tyrell handled everything, smooth as always.
He only called me downstairs to back up the story he’d told the cops. “He fell, right, C?” Tyrell asked, nodding slightly.
I nodded. “Yeah. Slipped and hit his head.”
“See, officers,” Tyrell continued. “He slipped and hit his head. He’s alive. It’s no big deal, right? Since he was breaking in?”
The cops seemed skeptical. I had a reputation for putting my hands on people. But there wasn’t much they could do since my father already admitted he broke in. I was surprised to hear him say it, but it worked.
“You good?” Tyrell asked once the cops were gone, his eyes searching my face.
I nodded, but my chest still felt tight, the anger stuck there, refusing to let go. “Yeah,” I managed, though it felt like a lie.
“Cool. I’m going home. My wife mad as fuck I got up out our bed to fix shit for you.”
Tyrell was a big-ass ex-NFL linebacker turned manager—light-skinned, pretty-boy type. Used to bodyguard entertainers after he fucked his knee up, then decided to use his business degree. I’d known him since we were young. I didn’t trust many people, but I trusted him. He was married to an ex-porn chick turned holy-roller. I didn’t see how he put up with her self-righteous ass. We butted heads all the time.
As we headed toward the door, my mind shifted to Jordin. “Jordin? She coming back anytime soon?” I called behind him.
I’d been trying not to mention her, but her pretty ass constantly stayed on my mind. Ever since the first day I met her. Women didn’t always bring out the best in me, but Jordin—she was different. With her, the noise in my head just… quieted down. “I know she requested time from the label, but she didn’t say how much,” I said.
He turned to face me, a sneaky smile curving his lip. “Nah, she won’t be back for a while.”
I rubbed a hand over my face, exhausted. I was barely getting three hours. “What happened?”
He blurted it like he’d been waiting to tell me. “Her husband cheated on her. It’s been all over the place for weeks. Thought you’d have seen it on social media, considering how much you stalk her.”
I stiffened, shooting him a glare. “Stalk? That’s a strong-ass word, Tyrell.” My voice was defensive as hell. “I don’t stalk her. I just… like to know what she’s doing. Big difference.”
She had this pull, this energy I couldn’t shake no matter how much I tried. It wasn’t just about wanting her. It was deeper. She got under my fucking skin, made me think about shit I didn’t want to think about.
Tyrell laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, sure, C. Whatever makes you sleep at night.”
I ignored him. Truth was, I hadn’t looked at her socials in weeks—not because I didn’t want to, but because I’d told myself I needed to stop. Last time I saw her, she made it clear she was off-limits.
“Damn. So she’s free now?” The news brought a smile to my face.
Tyrell nodded slowly. “Yeah. You’ve been wanting her for a while. Maybe this is your shot.”
I turned away, looking out into the dark beyond my window. “Shit, maybe it is. Book me a flight from Atlanta to Tampa for tomorrow,” I told Tyrell.
