Page 1 of The Prodigy 2: Rise of a Queen

1

Jakari

Mykneesachedonthe tile patio floor, but as hard as I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to a standing position. I was gone off weed, Hennessey, and emotion.

I was all over the fucking place. Pissed, shocked, worried, hurt.Disgusted. With myself. With my mama. With my daddy for putting us in this position in the first damn place.

I looked back toward the house, at the door my mama had just walked through after she dropped the fucking bomb on me. She was drunk and upset when she told me, but that didn’t make the shit right.

Would I have wanted to know she killed my wife’s mother and made me bury her? I guess, yeah, eventually. Shit, maybe not. Cuz it wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it now except be stressed the fuck out.

Did she do that shit on purpose?

My daddy never came out and talked shit about my mother, but he threw hints sometimes. “Ya mama knows how to get what she wants,” he would jokingly say. Or, “My wife is sneaky like a spider. Spinning webs and laying traps.”

So maybe shediddo it on purpose. Right when I was about to make a move. A move that would take me away from her.

Oh, well.

Fuck it.

It was done, now.

The only question now was if I should tell Malika. We were married. Only technically, yeah, but I cared about her. She was already hurt enough about her moms, not knowing where she was or why she left. This? This would fuck her up.

I couldn’t do that to her.

Time passed. Can’t say how much. Just that when I finally dragged myself off the patio floor, the moon was hiding behind the trees instead of shining down on me like it was when I first came outside to smoke.

On my way back inside, I grabbed a bottle of vodka off the bar cart and headed up to my bedroom to sleep. Wasn’t no way I was gonna be able to go to the new place and sleep next to Malika tonight, knowing what I knew.

I slammed my bedroom door behind me with my foot and plopped down on my bed. After several swallows of Belvedere, I was finally faded enough to text my wife.

I’ma see you tomorrow.

And then I turned my phone off. I ain’t have shit to say to nobody, so, what was the point?

“Wake up, sleepy ass nigga. We got work to do.”

I opened my sticky eyes to the big, blurry face of my brother, Nay. Mans was six and a half feet tall and two-hundred-sixty pounds of muscle. Thick neck ass nigga.

I rubbed my eyes to get them to focus. “Why the fuck are you in my room, Nay?”

“Mama said you been in here almost two days.” He crossed his meaty arms and stared down at me like I was a peasant. “We been calling and texting yo ass. Malika, too. She was worried about you.”

“Why she ain’t here, then?” I sat up and put my feet on the carpet. They felt heavier than they should. I looked down and realized I still had my damn shoes on.

“She came by this morning, but mama wouldn’t let her in.”

“What?” I went to stand and a bomb of pain exploded inside my head. “Fuck! I shouldna drank last night.”

“Yo, what the fuck is wrong with you, bruh?”

I made a face like it should have been obvious. “Hangover, nigga.”

Nay chuckled. “Well, look, wash ya mouth, ya ass, and ya face and meet me downstairs. We got business to take care of.”

That shit was easier said than done.

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