Page 22 of Girl, We Go Together
“So, it’s on a dead-end block. He has two security cams pointed at the porch. His office is up front, where he stashes small stuff. I was told there’s a safe in the master bedroom behind a painting. Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays are when he is supposedly outside.”
Dre listened to me intently. The way his eyes shifted back and forth, I knew he was retaining the information.
“We go on Wednesday, then. Cameras can be looped; that is Jules’ specialty. Rico knows safes, and Kato is our exit.”
“Wednesday,” I repeated. “Make sure these niggas you’re using are loyal. I don’t wanna hear no chatter. These niggas better not post shit on social media. If anybody folds after knowing the plan, they gotta go.” My voice tightened.
Dre nodded and met my eyes. “I’ll line them up and make sure things remain clean and quiet. You sure about this move, though? You ready to burn that bridge with Fresh for real?”
I stared at the dark glass of my window. The view was the dance floor beneath us on the ground level. Making this move was final for me. Fresh checked up, and it was my time to make a move to shoot. This shit I was about to pull would start a war between him and me, and honestly, I no longer gave a fuck. The only thing with this get back was the revenge that I was sure Fresh would cook up. I wanted him to know I was exactly who was bold enough to pull some shit like this. When the time was right, though.
“Yeah,” I finally spat. “I’m ready. Remember, whatever y’all find is for y’all to keep.”
I didn’t even want shit from Fresh’s house. I just wanted his shit taken from him. Dre pushed up out of the chair and smoothed his shirt out like it had gotten wrinkled or something.
“Alright. I’ll assemble it. Wednesday it is. You want to be on it, or you want to stay a ghost?”
I paced back and forth as I thought about it for a second. Being in on it would feel so damn good, but staying hidden kept my hands clean. The only thing I didn’t like about that shit was that it meant trusting others with my message. My palms itched like they were begging me to step back into the game completely. They were screaming for me to literally take matters into my own hands.
“I’ll stay lowkey,” I said. “But I want updates once it’s done. I honestly don’t have time for surprises.”
“Consider it done,” Dre said before dapping me up.
As he left, I watched the club lights breathe through the glass of the window in my office. I stood there, looking down at how my club functioned. And as I watched the bitches dance, I smiled. The plan was in motion. The streets do things to men. It turns loyalties into ledgers. The way to keep score is with violence. I had no illusions about how this could ripple, only that some lines, once crossed, demanded a response.
Wednesday would knock over a domino that would surely keep tumbling. The efficient thing to do would be to get rid of Fresh, but I wanted him to feel this shit. I wanted his ego and pride bruised, and more importantly, I wanted him to know that I was the one who had done it.
Thursday morning slid in rough. My phone buzzed before the sun even finished cutting through the blinds. Cayla was resting easily on my chest. I had been invading her space in the guest bedroom ever since I invaded her walls. And this past week had been us pressing the replay button on our first time. Exploring each other’s bodies had become my new favorite hobby. I lightly kissed her forehead and then gently wiggled out of her embrace to tend to my phone, which was on the nightstand. Omari’s name flashed on the screen.
I answered with a grunt. “What now?”
I swear these days, this muthafucka didn’t reach out unless something was wrong. Omari didn’t waste any time.
“You hear about Fresh?”
That snapped me all the way awake. “What about him?”
Omari laughed a little too hard, that messy kind of laugh he only did when he enjoyed somebody else’s misfortune.
“Man, word around the hood is his crib got hit yesterday. They cleaned him out. Safe, cash, jewels, all that. Niggas left him looking real… regular.”
I sat up on the edge of the bed, rubbing my temples. My first instinct was to act surprised, but I kept it steady.
“Yeah? Who’d be bold enough to move on Fresh like that?” I asked sarcastically.
“That’s what everybody is asking,” Omari said, still hyped. “Niggas say his mom was in the house, too. She didn’t get touched, but she’s spooked. He is tight right now, barking at everybody, trying to figure out who set it up. Lucia is over here telling me all about it.”
I leaned back and stared at the ceiling. This was the reaction I wanted. I needed Fresh looking over his shoulder, scrambling and second-guessing everybody. Still, hearing it out loud hit different. The streets were already buzzing, and the buzz turned into whispers quick. Whispers into rumors even faster. I wasn’t going to let them sit for long, though. I intended to tell the muthafucka that it was me. But then a piece of me wanted to stay quiet and have him question those around him.
“You think he's gonna pin it on you?” Omari asked, dropping his voice low.
Omari knew I didn’t move sneakily. I was direct with my revenge, so to even steal from Fresh wasn’t my speed. But I was on some eye-for-an-eye type shit. He stole from my brother, so I made sure to steal from him. I smirked before opening my mouth.
“Let him. Fresh doesn’t have proof. All he got is feelings.”
Omari clicked his tongue. “Still, big bro… if he even halfway thinks you're behind it, this is gonna turn ugly. When are you making your move?”
He sounded a bit too eager for me to take care of Fresh.
