Page 42 of Juliet's Echo

"Walmart Dave East — a Clarke, ain't he?" Optimus asked.

"Yeah. How'd you know that?" Tate responded.

"That fake ass AP on his wrist," Optimus said.

Muffled snickers moved through the room. I didn't find a single thing funny. This punk had disrespected baby-girl. Major violation.

"Let them go," I said, burning a hole through the Clarke nigga’s chest with my eyes. "All of them, Tate — let them go and make this disappear. I'll speak to Mr. Pristine and make it right with Sunday."

"Bro, you sure?" Optimus asked.

"Yeah. These two," I said, nodding toward Mega and company, "are good. But these two," I said, eyes settling on bootleg Dave East and his partner, "are about to prove to your doubting ass exactly how thorough the niggas I pay really are." I grinned devilishly.

"Well alright then — give me twenty minutes," Tate said, clearing his throat.

As the cuffs came off I made my way over to the Clarke nigga and his homeboy. Standing over them, still grinning from ear to ear, I asked —

"Aye. Y'all niggas know how to play manhunt?"

Juliet

It’s been almost two weeks since the incident at Sunday’s, and Choo-Choo was winning the battle in this psychological warfare. Shit was killing me because he never yelled. No three-day span of lecturing like he normally would, and he was annoyingly extra with providing me personal space. For example, if we both headed toward the refrigerator at the same time, he would step five beats back and quietly wait until I made my selection before choosing his. At this point, I would prefer the lectures, explosive anger, hell, even a beating would be better than him punishing me with his distance.

“How long you gonna be mad at me, Choo-Choo?” I asked, spinning in the chair in the studio. Every spare moment I had, I spent it at HUSH trying to get back into his good graces.

“Forever,” he responded, never taking his eyes off the mixing console. He wasn’t even playing anything, just being a jerk.

“Forever is crazy work.”

“Well then, until I’m dead, Juliet.”

I couldn’t help but suck my teeth. At least he was talking to me.

“And even then, I’m going to side-eye you from paradise,” he continued.

“In order to make it through the pearly gates, you must forgive. So, unless you want to go to Hell, you might as well stop being mad at me.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure Hell needs new management. I’ll take my chances.”

We both couldn’t help but laugh. Echo had the most beautiful smile. It was so reassuring of everything a little sister could want from her big brother: friendship, protection, and most important, love. Him smiling again at me, with me, was a huge victory. Standing, I walked over and stood beside him, seated at the console.

“I’m sorry, Echo. I really am. I was wrong to lie, and it caused people to get hurt. That was selfish of me, and it will never happen again. I’ll even give you the money back you had to shell out for the damages at Sunday’s. Please, let’s just get back to us. Ju and Choo. The dynamic duo,” I pleaded.

He stared at me for a few seconds without a word, and I put on my best pouty face in hopes of gaining sympathy.

“You scared the fuck out of me, Juliet.”

“I know.”

“You lied.”

“I’m sorry, Choo-Choo,” I signed.

“But the worst part of all of this is...” He choked out a laugh. “Your nigga can’t even fight. You snuck around with a clown-ass nigga, with a fake Rolex, and he got his ass beat.”

“Okay, first off, not too much on me. Second, he is not my nigga. Third, it was a fake AP and not a Rolex. And last but not least, I wouldn’t have to sneak around if you’d lighten up a bit, Choo-Choo. Damn,” I clarified.

He rose from his chair.