Page 51 of Stay Dangerous

I added them on MyRoom, tickled when Sean put me in his Top Five, and after I yawned for the fifth time, I promised Sean and Shad–he insisted I called him that–I’d keep in touch and promote their songs to my following.

I had a better time with them than I ever would have had at the kickback. I didn’t know what that said about them and their company, or me, but I didn’t go too deep into the rabbit hole as I dozed off curled up in the bottom bunk Sean said was reserved for “guests.”

Just how many people were stashed there by an angry Rico? Who knew.

“You spending the night with me,” he rumbled, walking deeper into the hallway before going into another apartment.

He set me on my feet in the middle of the living room, sighed, and ran his hands over his fuzzy plaits.

“You hungry?”

“Where’s your Nan or Fredo?”

“Fredo’s in his room, sleep. Nan went back to Belize yesterday to look at the house she been building since I was born.”

My lips quirked. He’d mentioned he wanted to go back, but there wasn’t anywhere for them to stay.

“And why aren’t I going home again?”

“Because, Snow,” he sighed. “The block is too hot. We staying indoors for a while. And don’t act like you got somewhere to be, since I made you quit that bullshit job where they was recruiting you to marry they son.”

“Look,” he said, in my face again. “I’m still beyond mad at yo ass. Go shower; your bag is in my room. I’ll heat up some chicken for you so you won’t be hungry when I’m chewing you out.”

He dismissed me without so much as a look back, and I rolled my eyes hard, stomping off to do what he says.

“And stop stomping, Snow. We respect our neighbors ‘round here.”

I couldn’t even focus on being inRico’sroom, because his words loomed over me. Grabbing my bag from his chair, I went to the bathroom, noting how clean it was and the fresh towels on the sink. The tub was wet, telling me he showered before he got me, and my mind couldn’t help but wonder what he’d been up to, that he needed to shower before getting me.

What was he and Peanut doing at that party?

My phone had been in my bag, not wanting to worry about it or worse, lose it or have it stolen. I grabbed it and powered it on, going straight to MyRoom.

My hand went to my mouth, cupping it.

Pictures of the boy who was dancing were everywhere, with RIP attached. Videos of Porscha’s cousin’s block lit up with sirens and ambulances were posted. An incomplete story from the local news indicated the party got shot up, with multiplefatalities and injuries. I switched to my texts, reading Porscha’s meltdown as she asked me where I was, to please call her and tell her I made it home safely. She was unharmed, but her cousin was shot, and the guy she was sitting with was among those who died.

“Damn,” I whispered. My thumbs hovered over the keyboard, but I couldn’t reply to her. Partly because of what she’d said before I left, but because I knew she’d want to talk about it, and I couldn’t.

I couldn’t politic about this because, even without confirmation, I knew it was Peanut, Rico, Tyree, and the Birch Babies.

And regardless of anything, my loyalty was to them, always.

Told her ass to leave with me.

I let the hot water rinse off any creeping doubts and theories about the night, and indulged in someone’s–probably Fredo– shea butter before putting on some pajamas.

Sure enough, there was a steaming bowl of smothered chicken and rice on Rico’s nightstand when I entered his room. I sat my bag back in his chair, grabbed the bowl, and got comfortable on that side of the bed. He lay on the other side, readingThe Great Gatsby.

“Reading for school?” I mused, digging in to the delicious food.

He closed the book immediately and sat up. “New teacher tryna be proactive and gave us a list for the year.”

“Mmm.” I couldn’t even say anything else, this food was so good.

“It’s good?”

I dropped the drumstick bone into the empty bowl and rolled my eyes at him. “Why? You cooked this?”