There was never a time when Joyce and Kross ever got along. She just thought her daughter could do so much better. A part of Kross understood where Joyce was coming from, but the issue was that she lacked respect and boundaries. Now that Cassie was gone and could no longer put her in her place, Joyce was overstepping and dictating things like never before.
He could see the guilt that weighed down on her. However, she quickly concealed it with another menacing scowl. “Let memake this clear to you, Kross. You don’t have a say in nothing when it comes to my daughter. If you wanted a part in these decisions, you wouldn’t have wasted seven years of her life being a locked-up street thug, and you would have married her. I have zero respect for you and would like for you not to attend my daughter’s funeral. I don’t want you in the vicinity of me or my family.”
The thought of not being able to say a final goodbye to his lady caused his blood to boil. Joyce had him fucked up, and the more she continued to poke at him, the quicker she would fuck around and find out. With his fists clenched in fury, he internally coached himself to breathe.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Seven years ago, he would’ve painted every wall in this motherfucka’ with Joyce’s blood for playing with him, but now, with Aniyis needing him, he opted to spare her life for now.
“Stay the fuck away from my son. If I catch you ‘round him, that’ll be the end of me sparing your wicked ass,” he warned her in a promising tone.
The coldness in his tone was impactful enough to send a shiver down her spine. He had just fought fire with fire, and Cassie wasn’t around to extinguish the blowout that was bound to happen. Before Joyce could get the chance to utter anything else out to him, he stormed out of the funeral home. His back was against the wall, and he felt fucking defeated. Getting in the car, he rested his head on the steering wheel and let out a depleted sigh.
“I should’ve fucking married you when I had the chance,” he grumbled while speaking aimlessly to Cassie’s spirit.
Before he ended up spending too much time wallowing in his weakness, he lifted his head, started up the car, and headed in the direction of the condo. Once he arrived, he didn’twaste any time getting in the shower to wash away three days’ worth of stress and filth. After seven years, he was terribly institutionalized, so instead of taking advantage of the hot water to alleviate all the aches and pains in his tense body, he took a cold shower. Shortly after, he got dressed in a blue sweatsuit that went perfectly with a pair of Dolce and Gabbana sneakers Cassie copped him.
He looked himself over in the mirror, spotting the pain that masked his entire demeanor. He was trying to put his best foot forward, but life was kicking his ass. His umber-brown skin had gone dull, mimicking the emptiness in his eyes. He ran his hand over his smooth waves before stroking his beard, taking note that he needed to get a haircut. That was the least of his worries, though. All that would just have to wait.
Turning away from the mirror, he trekked back over to the closet so he could put the shoebox back where he retrieved it. In the midst of doing so, he managed to knock down a lockbox. The lock wasn’t engaged, which caused all the contents inside to spill onto the ground. Kross’ brows furrowed at the sight of a Glock 19 along with its clip on the floor.
“When the fuck did she get a gun?” he mumbled to himself while crouching down to pick it up. He eyed the gun in his hand, trying to make sense of when and why she felt the need to cop one. She would have told him if she felt like her and Aniyis’ lives were in danger. At least that was what he would’ve hoped.
A heavy breath dispelled out of him as he shook his head. “What you trying to tell me, Cassie?”
To him, coming across this gun wasn’t just a coincidence. Cassie was trying to tell him something. The question was what was she trying to reveal to him? He knew the answers wouldn’t come as soon as he wanted them to, so instead of wasting time, he shoved the clip into the Glock before concealing it in the pocket of his sweats. If someone was watching him like hethought someone was watching Cassie before she got shot up, he wasn’t about to get caught lacking.
He exited the condo before heading down to the car. Once he got in, he received a text from Amoura letting him know that Aniyis was in the same condition and nothing had really changed. It was a little disappointing; however, Kross was just grateful that his baby boy still had a chance. In response to her message, he advised her that he had one more stop to make before he headed back to the hospital.
As he pulled out of his parking spot, he dialed the only other contact he had in his brand-new phone, his baby brother.
“What’s good, K? ‘Niyis good?” Ezekiel answered the phone.
“Still ain’t wake up, but we still hoping for the best.”
Ezekiel nodded his head on the other end of the line. “I heard that. You like the whip? It ain’t the Lambo I promised you, but it’ll do for right now so you can get around.”
“This shit nice. ‘Preciate you for looking out. I already told you, though, I don’t need to be pushing no Lambo,” Kross declined once more with a shake of his head, causing his baby brother to smack his lips.
“Man, whatever. I just need you in better spirits. I know this ain’t what you thought it would be like when you got out, but you’re handling this shit better than anybody. You a real hardbody solider, K.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders before letting out a breath. “I’m doing what I can, Zeek. I was calling to ask if Ma moved her church.”
There was a brief silence on the other end of the call, mostly because Ezekiel was surprised that he was asking about their mother. “Nah,” he replied while shaking his head. “It’s still at the same spot. You stopping by?”
“Yeah. I’ll hit you later. ‘Preciate you for everything, bruh,” he expressed his gratitude once more before they said their goodbyes and ended the call.
He took the exit out of the gated community and headed straight to his mother’s church. He didn’t have it in him to pull up to her house, so he was really taking a leap of faith by assuming she would be there. The entire car ride, he was in heavy thought about how he could make it right with his mother. He went down a path of destruction, and she simply couldn’t support it, so as painful as it was, she took a step back from her son. She was hoping she still had the chance to save Ezekiel, who was eager to jump off the porch like Kross, but she failed with him also. The boys had no bad blood with their mother. They just lived their lives separate from her. They were just too far gone to allow her to convince them to change their lives to what she perceived as better.
He eventually arrived at the small brick flat decorated with a cross that was tall enough to look like it was reaching for the sun. Kross could remember his mother and stepfather putting all their money, blood, sweat and tears into this very church, hoping it would become a safe haven within the community. Prior to prison, Kross was far from a Bible thumper. During his sentence, he got his fix of the Word, and it gave him a different outlook on life. Was it enough to have him never contemplate going back to his old ways? Hell nah! But it was enough for him to come out of prison wiser than he was when he went in, and for that, he was grateful.
Getting out the car, he was met with a gentle breeze that felt like it was luring him right through the doors of the church. He walked up the pebble stone pathway with a heaviness resting on his chest. Before he could talk himself out of it, he pulled on the door and entered. Instantly, he was hit with the images of Jesus that took up most of the walls and stained glass inside.He knew this was mostly his mother’s doing. Any piece of art that had Jesus on it earned a spot on the walls of her house. Through a second set of double doors, he could hear the angelic voices of the choir harmonizing. He followed the sound of the singing, leading him inside where the stage and pews were set up. The church was built to only fit a small congregation of about sixty people. For years, people encouraged his mother, Raquel, to expand and find a bigger space, but her heart was settled in Liberty City.
His presence drew a dark spirit within the church, mostly because of all the shit he’d been through over the past few days. Raquel, who stood in front of the choir with her back to the door, looked over her shoulder as their singing ceased.
She turned around fully, eyeing her son up and down. It had been seven years since she had last seen him, and despite her being disappointed with the life choices he made, she couldn’t deny the fact that her heart was still open for her baby.
