Page 22 of The Prodigy

9

Jakari

Iwasn’theretolay my father to rest. In my mind, I’d done that already. Years ago. I was twenty years old when he got shot. Three bullets to the torso. He should have been dead. I thought he would die at the hospital, but miraculously, he survived.

It was bittersweet.

He wasn’t the same Lester Windermere. He went through a gang of surgeries, some of which were touch and go, then he needed dialysis, and rehab, and nurse care for the days my mama had to be away. It was a lot on him. And her. And I guess I just made my peace with his death. Every day, I woke up and wondered if today was the day I’d get the call.

So in some ways, this funeral was a relief. The daddy I knew died the day he was shot, and the one I came to know after that was a shell. He hated living like that. Probably would have been better off if we’d let him die. But we didn’t. We needed him alive. For love.

And for business.

My daddy ran the family business, and the family business was too important.

I bowed my head as Pastor Franklin led us in prayer. Morris Franklin married my parents, and he’d baptized me and all my siblings. His old ass had one foot in the grave himself, but he was still kicking. The streets said his mistress just had a baby, but I don’t go up for all that personal gossip. My only concern is business. Always business.

“Amen,” I said begrudgingly. With the prayer out of the way, I finally got a chance to scope out the mourners.

Marshall McGrady was here looking like his usual clown-ass self in his Steve Harvey suit and matching gators. We all roasted him for his fits, but he was solid. He’d been head of security since I was in diapers. Gray Hightower was in the building, too. Only white boy to spend more than ten minutes on this side of Midling. Gray was the descendant of the original settlers of the county, and our high school was named after his people.

Gray was a powerful man.

Byron O’Neal caught my eye and nodded upwards. I returned the favor, but I wasn’t exactly happy to see him. He was my father’s rival for years before he gave up and got with the winning team. But I never trusted his ass. Still didn’t, but I would deal with that later.

I peeped Aubrey Jones standing next to Nay and figured she was his chosen one today. She had his two oldest kids. Shavonne Nash, his other baby mama, was off in the cut with Nay’s youngest on her lap.

A few rows back on my right side was my…wife. Fuck, that shit still didn’t sound right to me. But there she was in her black dress, only here because I didn’t trust her enough yet to leave her home by herself. I would have made Jaz watch her, but she was grieving. I didn’t wanna put that on her.

I looked to my left to make sure she was okay. Mama was next to me, and Jaz was next to her. On Jaz’s other side was Milo Combs. My eyes narrowed as I watched his arm snake around her waist.

It wasn’t that I had any kinda loyalty for Jaz’s boyfriend, Terio. I knew he was trouble before I even heard a word of his shitty music. Nah, this shit had my antennas up because Milo was Terio’s manager. When he got locked up this last time, he made Milo promise to look after Jaz.

Maybe we had different definitions of looking after my little sister. Mine didn’t include fucking on her while she was vulnerable.

I had my eye on that.

Theridetothecemetery was quiet. Mama was holding strong, I guess, her eyes hidden behind her Gucci sunglasses. Her emotions were always hidden, though. I’d only seen her cry like twice in my life. But that’s what made her so frustrating. Holding shit in the way she did made the explosions inevitable.

And dangerous.

As soon as they lowered my daddy into the ground, tears burst out my eyes and ran down my face. This shit hurt, I couldn’t even front. It felt like my heart, the actual physical organ, was being squeezed into a ball. I guess I’d been in denial about how fucked up I really was behind losing him. He was a complicated man, but I was gonna miss him.

Eris put his arm around me, and Nay came up behind us and put his hands on our shoulders. Three brothers, bonded by grief.

A funny thing, grief. Strong enough to overcome a lifetime of competition and jockeying for position, but could we keep that going after today?

I wasn’t hopeful.

Now that my daddy was in the ground, choices had to be made. And after we’d all had a plate at the repast, and I made sure McGrady was watching Malika, we headed to the study to get started making those important decisions.

Time was of the essence.

The game waits for no one, grieving or not.

“Alright,” Mama said as she looked around the room. “Nobody wanted this day to come, but it’s here. And I’m not in the mood for no bullshit. We ain’t about to be arguing up in here.”

She fixed her gaze on me. “Your daddy wanted Knight to step up into the top spot. Period.”

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