Page 10 of This Is Law 3
She spread her legs a little bit, so that I could stand in the middle of them. She wrapped her arms around my neck, while she looked up at me.
“Be safe today, Sevyn. I can just feel it in my gut that you’re going to piss some people off today. Please be safe, so that you can come back home to me,” she released.
“Don’t I always come back home to you? You divorced me mami, and I came back home the same day. Ain’t no such thingas leaving you,” I shared with her, and like our life was some kind of sick ass joke, she started laughing, and she removed her hand from around my neck for a second, just so that she could playfully tug on my beard.
I stayed wrapped up with her for a little while longer, giving her a few more kisses, and just soaking up her energy.
As much as I wanted to stay in this position forever, and I knew that she wanted to stay this way as well, I kissed her one final time, lifted her from the counter, so that she could stand on her own, and I promised her that I would call her during the day whenever I got the chance. I could see it in her eyes that she was worried about me, and this situation, but she didn’t speak on it. She let me walk over to the table, grab my briefcase, and I had my coffee in hand, heading for the front door.
I made it outside, and Legend started the car, just like I’d asked him to. Legend was in the back, while Creed sat up front. I sat my briefcase in the back seat, placed my coffee in the cupholder, and I climbed inside, turning the radio down a little bit. Creed’s ass hooked his phone up to my car’s Bluetooth, so he had the bullshit rap music that he liked to listen to playing.
“Ain’t nothing more disrespectful in the world than getting in another man’s car, and hooking your phone up to the Bluetooth,” I told Creed, and he laughed like the shit was funny. This wasn’t the first time that I had to get on him about this, yet he continued to do it.
I disconnected his phone from the Bluetooth, like I would always do, and I paired mine. Once I had some good music playing, that’s when I pulled out of the driveway.
“Now that me, and Legend have you alone, can we discuss our 16thbirthday?” Creed asked, turning in his seat a little bit, with his eyes trained on me. I was driving with my left hand, holding my coffee cup in my right hand, taking a sip.
“I thought ya’ll told Soraya ya’ll didn’t want a party. Also, you talking about your 16thbirthday like it’s around the corner. You still got a lot of time,” I responded.
“We don’t want a party. We want cars. Because we want cars, we gotta come at you early with it,” he let me know.
“I trust Legend with a car. I don’t trust you, and that’s my honest opinion,” I said, and he sucked his teeth at my response.
“I feel like all you, and ma ever do these days is judge me based off that stuff that happened with me, and Vivian,” he complained, and all I could do was shake my head at that.
“I’m not basing my opinion off that, but that does play a part though. Right now, I just can’t see myself putting keys in your hands, and telling you to go off, and drive somewhere. You’re the kind of person that’ll tell me, and Yaya that you’re going one place, only to turn your location off, and go somewhere totally different. I don’t know about getting you a car right now, son. You got a lot of time left until your birthday, so maybe my mind will change by then,” I finished, and he shook his head.
“So, ya’ll going to get Legend a car, and not me? Let me know now, so that I can run away!” he said that shit like he was dead ass serious, getting Legend to laugh in the back seat.
“I don’t even want a car. I like being chauffeured around,” Legend said from the back.
I expected that kind of answer from Legend. Legend wasn’t my child that was in a rush to grow up, but it always felt like Creed was. Even though I felt like Yaya babied Creed too much, Creed was still the one that would always make comments about not being able to wait to graduate from high school, go to college, get drafted into the MLB, and the money, and the cars that he was going to have. I knew that my son was excited about his future, but at times, it felt like his young ass was having a race with life. Just like Yaya, I wasn’t in a rush for the boys to grow up. Just as badly as that shit was going to hurt her when theywent off for college, it was going to hurt me too because my sons were my little best friends.
“You have a while until your birthday. Show more signs of maturity, and maybe we’ll think about getting you a car,” was all that I had left to say about this conversation. As if he was satisfied with my answer, he nodded his head and then changed the conversation to something else.
I talked with the boys all the way up until they got out of the car. I shook it up with them, let them know that I loved them, and they eventually got out. I pulled out of the carpool line, and once I hopped back on the main road, I was now en route to the jail, where Dutch was being held.
While the boys had been in the car, I played it cool, like I was in a perfect state of mind, but truth is, I was still fucked up about that revelation from Dutch. Even as I’m sitting here right now, driving, I’m questioning how he’s going to try and get himself out of this shit. I just didn’t know if I saw Dutch confessing to it and saying that he in fact was the one that was responsible for killing my pops. If he wasn’t locked up, I would have played the game, just like Yaya told me to do, but with the extent of the crimes, and the charges that were pinned against him, I knew that he was never coming out, so I came with a plan this morning to slap all this shit on the table in front of him.
This stuff was heavy on my mind, and because it took up so much space, and time, it felt like the ride to the jail was quicker than what it should have been. I checked in with the security guard that was sitting up front, guarding the gate, and because I was always here as often as I was, I was quickly let through. I scanned the lot, looking for a spot, and I found one up front. I shut my truck off, stepped out, grabbed my briefcase, and I headed inside the building, where it felt like a reunion when I walked in because everyone knew me here. I was scanned in, and one of the C.O’s came over, so that he could walk me to the back.
He took me to the back, in one of the private visitation rooms, and when he opened the door, Dutch hadn’t been inside yet.
“He’ll be in here in a few minutes,” the office let me know, and I assured him that that was fine, as I sat my briefcase down on the table.
I opened the briefcase up, pulled out a couple of folders, and then I took my seat. The second I sat down my phone buzzed, indicating that I had a text message. The text message came from Yaya. She sent me a prayer. I read through her message with a smile on my face because that little action alone was speaking volumes to me. I read through the message in its entirety, and I texted her back, thanking her, letting her know that I loved her, and that I was in the room, waiting for Dutch, and that I would hit her later.
The second I put the phone down, the door opened, and I turned my head to look at Dutch. This nigga came in laughing with the guard, and he didn’t have a look of worry on his face because I’m sure that he thought that I was here to save the day and get him out of this mess. Dutch was a cocky ass nigga. He put that same cockiness into me, making sure that I always knew that I was that nigga, and with that, you could just tell that he didn’t believe that he was going to spend a day in prison. He probably thought that all of this was just one big game, and that he would be home soon. I couldn’t wait for him to sit his ass down, so that he could hear this bomb that I was getting ready to drop on him.
“Law, this nigga talking about this color orange looks good on me, and that I need to get used to wearing this color. I told him he must not know who the fuck my god son is, and that I got the best attorney in the world representing me. Law, tell this nigga Ima be home soon, kicked up in my bed in a little while,” Dutch came in saying.
This nigga really thought that life was a joke. As badly as I wanted to mug him, and walk over to him, and tackle him down to the ground, I had to hold my composure.
His hands that were shackled up, those were the same hands that were used to pull the trigger and kill my pops. Those were the same fuckin hands that wiped tears from my eyes as a little boy, when I would go through phases, wanting my pops here with me. I really wanted to fuckin kill his ass.
“You crazy, man. What’s good?” I had to turn off all the hate, and the anger that I was feeling right now, which was hard because I wasn’t a fake person like that.
Dutch was shackled up from his hands to his feet, just like majority of my clients would be whenever I came around for our visits. It’s like the guard knew that there was no way in hell that Dutch would get out because he was still laughing from whatever it was that he’d told Dutch.
