Page 140 of Anything Necessary for Her
“I love him as well.” I reached across, opening my palm to request his hand.
He indulged me, leaning down to kiss the inside of my palm, his eyes closing as he did so. Sitting back upright, he intertwined our fingers, his eyes latching onto mine. The setting sun made his deep brown skin sort of glow, making him even more mesmerizing than usual.
“I been falling in love with you since Vegas, Peep, and I keep wondering when I’m gon’ hit the ground.” He examined my hands for a second. “Don’t seem like I ever will though, ’cause every minute we spend together reminds me that a nigga is still falling.”
THE NEXT WEEKEND . . .
I drummedmy fingers on the top of the metal table in the dark ass interrogation room, hoping to get this shit over with as soon as possible.
From the first time Detective Booth had contacted me, I’d been making the moves I needed to in order to cover my tracks as far as an alibi went.
I wasn’t too worried at all about them finding Brenden, because his body was as good as fucking gone, but I knew an ironclad alibi was necessary, especially when you had a detective who was like a dog with a bone trying to pin some shit on you.
I wasn’t new to shit like this, and though I never thought I would be thankful for having such an expertise in a field like this, I was grateful for it now.
“Sorry about that, Mr. Harris.” Booth burst into the room, letting the heavy metal door close slowly as he walked briskly around the table to sit across from me. “I know a man like you has much business to tend to,” he said sarcastically, opening a folder to peer at the contents. “We will be recording this if that’s okay.”
“Do what you gotta do.” I folded my arms, keeping a strong hold on the eye contact I had with his ass.
He set the small camera up on the miniature tripod, then pressed the record button.
“Let’s start with my initial question that it’s taken you weeks to give me; where were you the night Brenden Maddox was murdered? The night was May fifth.” He clasped his hands in anticipation.
“Took me weeks because that shit was a long ass time ago, and I was twisted. But after looking through my phone and shit, I remember I was having some after the club breakfast food at Egg Fair,” I replied cooly.
I’d already pulled up on the owner of Egg Fair and made it clear to him that if he didn’t use the old footage of me being there several nights prior to make it look like it was the night of the fifth, he’d better prepare his will.
I’d already had one of my niggas doctor the shit up, so all old boy had to do was press play on it. And judging by the puddle of piss he’d left after we talked, I was sure he’d do what the fuck I asked him to.
“Mr. Harris, why were in you in Vegas?” Booth frowned.
“Why else? The hos.” I shrugged, smirking when I saw the irritation in his expression bloom. “You wasting time and tax dollars on me, my nigga. Get yo’ ass in the field and do yo’ job.”
He stared at me, so I stared back at that nigga until he finally shut the camera off.
“You know, Mr. Harris, whether you did this shit or not, I will make sure you go down for it. And don’t even think about trying to do something to me, because I have so many of my colleagues privy to you and your shit that it won’t even matter. You’d have to murder the whole force.”
I remained unmoved physically, but on the inside, I was irate. I paid good money to Kenneth, who was supposed to be top dog over peon ass niggas like Detective Booth, yet this little nigga had been following, stalking, and pressing me for too long. I definitely planned to murk this nigga right here, but before I did, I needed to weed out and pluck off every nigga he had backing him, and that might include Kenneth’s ass.
“We done here or what, nigga? I got shit to do.”
“You’re free to go . . . for now.” He closed his folder up, and I could tell by his demeanor that he was pissed off. I wasn’t sure what he expected, maybe for a nigga to be so spooked that I came in here singing like a fucking canary at just the thought of being in the penitentiary, but if so, he was way off base.
I was too deep in this shit, too seasoned for shit like conversations with detectives to scare me. I knew how shit worked, and them muthafuckas needed more than just an inkling or gut feeling to get a nigga indicted, let alone put in jail.
I left from the station and hopped in my whip, heading straight to the warehouse while being sure I wasn’t being followed. I doubted I was, because Booth only showed up to public establishments, and only after I’d been there for a minute, letting me know he was either driving through the hood looking for me, or somebody was phoning his ass.
Regardless, I would be having my car swept like always to be sure nothing had been planted while I was inside the station.
Stepping out of my whip, I leaned against the car and waited for Kenneth to climb out of his Lincoln, looking scared as shit.
“Let’s talk.” I waved for him to trail me inside of the warehouse.
“Listen, Lo?—”
“Pat him down,” I instructed my niggas, and they did so, making him strip down to his boxers, ignoring him complaining that he wasn’t wearing a fucking wire. “Lookout.” I nodded for Taye and Jere to leave the room and play lookout outside of the warehouse.
“Low, man, I need to talk with you,” Kenneth said once we were alone, standing there barefoot with his suit crumpled in a pile.
