Page 21 of Girl, We Go Together
I sat back in the booth, knife and fork in my hands, but truth be told, I wasn’t paying attention to the food. My eyes stayed on Cayla. She was across from me, smoothing the napkin in her lap. She had this kind of class to her that made me smile. She was the kind of woman that you could put in any atmosphere, and she would blend right in.
“See?” I leaned back, smirking. “Can’t have you thinking all I know is the club.”
She laughed, soft at first, then louder when I raised my brow at her. She had this little snort at the end that made me laugh. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear it until right then. We started talking, and she asked me something nobody ever really asked—what I wanted in life. Like what I really, truly wanted to do in life, and it didn’t matter what it was either. I didn’t even plan to answer, but the words just slipped out.
“I used to draw,” I admitted, chuckling a little at how surprised she looked.
Her eyes widened, like she couldn’t picture it, and I laughed again.
“That sounds crazy, huh?” I teased.
She shook her head, smiling, but I could tell she believed me. Hell, she probably believed in me more than I believed in myself. She had that kind of aura that would just feed into a nigga’s spirit for real. When I asked about her, her whole face lit up. She told me about vet school and how she always wanted to work withanimals. I could hear in her voice how much she wanted it, how much it still burned in her, even though life had knocked her off track.
“You will start your career,” I said, leaning forward, my voice dropping, “you don’t strike me as the type to let a dream die.”
She froze, fork halfway to her mouth, like I had hit something deep. I wasn’t used to being that man… you know, the one who spoke life into a woman instead of taking it out of her. But with her? It came naturally. I barely touched my food after that. I was too caught up in watching her. It was the way she smiled when she remembered something from her past or the way her eyes softened when she talked about her future.
She opened up to me about her mother, why she didn’t drive, her past relationships, everything. Talking to her just felt so good. Cayla wasn’t like Shenell. She wasn’t like the women who came through my club, looking for money and attention. She had a warmth about her, and it pulled me in closer than I meant to get.
When we finally left the restaurant, the night air hit cool and sharp. I walked her to the car, and without thinking, I slipped my hand into hers. A public display of affection that I didn’t offer to most. She didn’t pull away, and that put me at ease. It was good that she had welcomed the PDA moment, because if she hadn’t, I probably would have snatched her arm off and taken it with me. Me being soft for a bitch was rare, and she had me softer than cookie dough. And once I realized that, I knew I was in trouble.
Dinner was supposed to be simple. A break from the current drama in my life. But standing beside Cayla, holding her hand, I realized I wanted more. Way more. It was refreshing to get this moment of stillness with her, especially right before I had to bring the dog back. That nigga O from five years ago had a point to prove to Fresh. Before I turned bad, I just wanted a moment ofpeace with Cayla. We engaged in conversation on the way to my spot. Tomorrow, it was back to business. I had a score to settle.
I shut the office door, killing the neon glow leaking in from the club’s stairway and upper sitting area. The bass still thumped through the walls, but in here it was quieter. The only noise that filled the room was the hum of the air conditioning unit. I let the silence sit for a second before I spoke.
Dre stood on the opposite side of my desk. He was old enough to remember when I ran corners and sharp enough to read people. He slid his slim frame into the chair across from mine. He was my runner back when the whole operation was smaller. Back when I was running shit and the entire operation was cleaner. The problem I was handling now wouldn’t have been a problem back then. I wouldn’t have allowed it. Dre was on the sidelines now, but he always came on the field when the money was right for a job.
“I need a team,” I said without emotion. The words came out flat.
He blinked, then leaned forward.
“You pulling me back in? For what, O?”
“For Fresh.”
I watched his face go still. Most wouldn’t have thought they would ever see the day when he and I would be at odds. When he moved his mouth around like he was thinking about taking the job or not, I continued.
“He stole a shipment from Omari. That’s not business. That’s personal. And it doesn’t fly. He took from my brother. So, I want to take straight from his kingdom. I want his house touched.”
Dre was known for his robbery jobs. In his day, he hit clothing stores, cash checking places, and a couple of banks. He tapped his long, frail finger on the desk, thinking. “You sure you wanna go that route? Hit his crib? That’s big.”
“I’m sure,” I kept it tight, “he had a lot to say when I tried to squash this shit. So much to say to me,” I slapped myself on the chest, “the same nigga who once upon a time would have gotten my last.”
I didn’t even want to get riled up by going over how Fresh had pissed me off.
“I just need it done,” I said with the straightest face.
Dre’s jaw worked. “I know you, so I know that you want things clean. Do you want shit quiet? Or do you want him to know it was you?”
“Silent for now,” I said. “No theatrics, be in and out. Take things that make a statement, cash, jewelry, shit, take some paintings if they look worth something. Take anything that says ‘nigga you lost.’” I named it plain because I wanted him to hear the discipline behind the anger. “Nobody gets killed. Nobody gets exposed. This is a message and a retrieval, not a funeral.”
I wasn’t sure if his bitch would be at home or with my brother. Badly, I wanted to loop Omari in beforehand just to make sure that she wouldn’t be near, but he talked too damn much. He would either pillow-talk the whole plan to that bitch or run straight to social media to throw subliminal messages toward Fresh. Him knowing beforehand could escalate things before I was ready for it. I knew I didn’t want any bloodshed, though. At least not yet.
He nodded slowly, already running possibilities.
“I can pull Rico, Jules, and Kato. They are hungry types with quiet hands. What you know about his setup?”
I laid it out. I was able to give the layout of a house I had never been in before. Although I could have asked Omari,again, this nigga talked too damn much. It was amazing what information niggas would reveal for a little money. The men around him weren’t loyal because nobody could pull the information I had gotten about his closest from any of my niggas. For just a couple of bands at that. If any of my men crossed me, they'd better have made it worth their while. Made it worth their life because that is exactly what I would take from them. I sat up in my chair before speaking.
