Page 137 of Own It

Tonight, had quite possibly been one of the worst nights of my life, second to Rakim murdering Judd.

TWELVE

rakim

A DAY AND A HALF LATER . . .

I kept my focus on the task at hand as my father walked into my office inside the boxing gym. I really wasn’t in the mood to talk to his ass, and ever since I pressed him in Las Vegas, he’d been trying to put up this father of the fucking year facade. I wasn’t buying it, and the muthafucka should’ve known better.

“How you doing?” he queried.

“Straight.” I looked down at the documents atop my desk before typing in the schedule on my computer.

“You know the shit with you and Ayan⁠—”

“I might have to smoke yo’ son.” I cut him off, sulking back in my seat and watching him closely as my words seeped in and settled. If he wanted to discuss Ayan, we could but in the way I wanted to. “He pushed up on my girl, and though she not going for the shit, it’s about time that nigga learns who and who not to fuck with.”

My father groaned, running a hand down his exasperated face.

“Rah, that’s not just your brother, he’s your twin.”

“Fraternal.” I rested my chin on my interlaced fingers. “No different than my relation to Zaire and Jojo. It ain’t like it is with our younger brothers; they’re identical.”

Glancing off, he regained eye contact with me, then said, “Your brother is a famous and coveted boxer. If he disappears, they will not let it go, and this time, you would go to prison for life.”

“This time? You think I’d get caught?” I laughed, watching the horrific expression bleed into this nigga’s face at my revelation.

Leaning forward, Nate replied, “Rakim, just think about this shit. He’s⁠—”

The man of the hour burst off into my office, the stench of whatever alcohol he’d been drinking peppering the air.

“You better knock like you got some fucking sense next time, nigga.” I glared up at him as he slammed the door, stumbling inside.

“Nigga, you drunk?” Nate exclaimed, looking his son up and down in disappointment.

“He fucked her behind my back and them kids ain’t mine!” Ayan pointed at me, whining like the bitch he was.

“Huh?” My father toggled between Ayan and me, confusion embedded in his face. “Where did you get this shit from about the kids?”

Running his wrist across his runny nose, he replied, stupidly, “I just know it. Plus, she ran to him with some bullshit, and the nigga got all in my face about it in Vegas. Remember? Don’t no nigga do that unless he fucking her still!”

“Well?” My dad looked over at me for an answer, brows furrowed.

Laughing and shaking my head, I said, “You one insecure ass, immature idiot, you know that?” I cocked my head, watching fury filter into my brother’s mug. “You hit her and send her outside with a black eye. Of course I saw the shit and put you in yo’ fucking place.”

“You have no business getting into your brother’s affairs,” my dad stated through clenched teeth as if he were scaring some fucking body.

“Of course you’d say that. You don’t see shit wrong with putting hands on women and even children for that matter.” I locked my eyes to his as I spoke.

Ignoring my statement and peeling his attention away from me to place on his discombobulated ass son, he said, “That shit is not true. LaMia loves you, and she would never sleep with someone else or lie about the paternity of ya kids. Aight?”

Nodding his head as if he agreed, Ayan opened his mouth to contradict his body language. “Nah. I’m getting a DNA test, and soon as that shit come back saying I’m related to the father and not the father, you gon’ have to see me.” His eyes were pinned on me as he spoke.

“That supposed to scare me?” I stood.

Without words, Ayan rushed around our father and toward me, making me deck his ass. I gave him a deep one to the stomach as my father hollered, bending his ass over. Flipping Ayan around and pinning his arms behind his back, I rammed his bitch ass into the wall, ignoring the way he wiggled and fought to release himself to no avail.

“Let him go!” Nate shouted.