Page 57 of Wasn't Supposed To Be Yours
Rico and his team have lost games before, but he’s never been this mad about it, and he’s never shut down like this. When we all saw him after the game, he came out with blood shot red eyes, and he didn’t even want to talk. I could sense that he wasbattling something deeper, and I knew that whenever he was ready to talk about it, he would hit my phone, and here he was.
“Yeah. I’m here. You good?” I asked.
“Man, it’s a lot. I’ll tell you when I get over there. I’m about ten minutes out,” he let me know.
“Aight. I’ll be here,” and like that, he hung up.
I finished doing what I was doing on the laptop, and in exactly ten minutes, the doorbell was ringing. I got up, slipped my slides on, and I walked through the house, going over to the door, and Rico was standing on the other side, with his hands in his pockets, hoodie over his head, looking like he’d just lost his best friend.
I reached my hand out, slapped it up with him, and he came inside. He looked down at the floor, seeing a pink pair of Chanel sandals, and he looked back up at me.
“Somebody here?” he asked.
“My girl upstairs in the room, sleeping,” I told him, and he smiled.
“Nigga, for as long as I’ve known you, I have never in my life heard you refer to a woman as your girl. So, that fine ass dark skinned woman that you were with at my game the other night, that’s you?” he asked, and I laughed.
“You saw her, right nigga? Why wouldn’t that be me?” I asked him, and this time, he laughed.
“You right. Let’s go out back and talk. The shit I gotta tell you is heavy,” he told me.
I led the way to the back. I took the lock off the sliding door, and I decided to walk over to the gazebo. It was a high-top table over here, and I took a seat in one of the chairs, and Rico did the same. He removed his hoodie from his head, showing off his fresh braids. There was a faraway look in his eyes, as he looked at everything, but me. I wasn’t going to rush him to talk. I would let him share what was heavy on his mind, whenever he was ready.
With a sigh, and running his hand down his face, that’s when he eventually looked me in my eyes.
“I fucked up. I fucked up bad, and I’m in the middle of some deep shit,” he started. I didn’t say anything because I wanted him to just go ahead and get it all out.
“I don’t even know where to start. You remember that nigga Tobias that I used to tell you about? The one I played ball with in high school?” he asked.
“Yeah. The hating ass nigga that got hurt, right?” I asked, remembering who he was talking about. He nodded, letting me know that I was right.
“I saw him last year at a house party that I went to. Nigga was mugging me the whole night from across the room, talking shit, saying how the Hurricanes were sorry. He had been trying to get a reaction out of me the entire night. I could sense that I needed to get the fuck out of that house before I put my hands on that nigga, so I went on the porch. The dudes Toby, and Jax that pulled up to grandma’s house the other day were on the porch. I’d come to the party with them. As I’m on the porch, Tobias came outside, bringing the bullshit out there. Next thing you know, me and this nigga started fighting. It was a real-life street fight. He was picking up shit, trying to kill my ass with it. Toby put a gun in my hand and….
His voice just trailed off.
“You killed that nigga?” I asked it in a harsh whisper.
When I asked him that, he looked me deep into my eyes, but he didn’t say anything. His silence was everything though. I stood up from the chair, putting my hands behind my head, thinking about the possibility of this shit one day coming out, and my cousin going to prison for murder. That shit would break me down.
“Toby and Jax made me leave. They handled it. Them niggas in the streets, so they were able to get someone to come and clean the body up and?—”
“Man, I don’t trust that shit! That nigga knew what the fuck he was doing when he put that motha fuckin gun in your hand! If it was just a fight, it should have stayed a fight! You ain’t never been in the streets, Rico! Nigga, I have. I know when I’m standing next to a fuckin snake, and that’s the vibes that I got from them two niggas in that car when they pulled up, looking for you. That Toby nigga had me feeling like I was looking in the eyes of the devil! What’s the coincidence that you go with them niggas to a house party, and a nigga that you were once beefing with in high school is there, ya’ll end up fighting, and a gun is put in your hand to kill him? Man, that shit sound like a set-up, and a trap to keep your ass in fuckin line with them. They not going to just clean up a dead body and not expect nothing from you in return. What the fuck them niggas want from you?” my voice roared, angry as hell because I called this shit the other day when I saw them. I felt it in my gut that something wasn’t right.
“Tank, them niggas got me by my fuckin neck. Toby be sports betting, and he making money off me. Every game, this nigga got me dropping passes, not getting yards, and not running the fuckin ball. I’m about to damage my career at the expense of this nigga. He watched me commit a murder. He got too much leverage on me. I gotta do what he telling me, or Ima go to prison. Tank, I don’t think I ever said this shit out of my mouth, but nigga, I’m scared!” his voice cracked when he said that, and a tear fell.
I was angry. Angry to the point that I was shaking. I knew that my cousin was wrapped up in some shit with them dudes, but I wasn’t thinking anything like this.
I stepped closer to him, standing right in front of him.
“That game that you had the other night, that’s why you wouldn’t make a touchdown? Because them niggas told you not to?” I asked, and he just nodded.
I kept saying that I had no understanding why Rico had been playing like that. I knew he could score, so to find out the real reason why he was doing that shit, I literally didn’t have any words.
It took about five minutes for me to respond, and right before I did, I cleared my throat.
“If them niggas were going to snitch on you for catching a body, they would have been did it. If we going to be technical about the situation, if push comes to shove, they could go down for that shit just as much as you can, and that right there is how I know that they won’t snitch. They moved that body. They had a murder scene cleaned up. Right there, it makes them an accomplice. Just as guilty as your ass is. Even if they tried to be some green ass niggas and snitch, it’ll still be their word against yours. No witnesses, no cameras, and no proof, so what fuckin dead body? Don’t speak on that shit. Pretend that you never even did it. You letting this shit control you, nigga. I saw it in the way you played the other night. I knew you could run that ball every time that it got in your hands, but you were choosing not to. If I felt that way, other people probably going to start thinking that too. The league find out what you out here doing, and you can kiss all that football shit goodbye. Fuck them niggas! Don’t do shit else that they asking you to do!” I spat.
“Them niggas will kill me, Tank. They always threaten me with that,” he responded.
