Page 184 of Own It
For a moment, I stood in place, heart thundering in my chest and knees weak as ever. I was proud of myself because the Kasia from a couple months ago would’ve conceded.
TWENTY-TWO
rakim
A WEEK LATER . . .
Peeling off some cash, I handed it over to Téa, watching as she nervously took it.
“Relax. We got the results, so we good.” I expelled a breath. “I’m probably the only muthafucka that don’ took multiple DNA tests for my brothers.” I shook my head, speaking more so to myself.
Téa smirked, but then it dissipated once she processed my words.
“Wait, who else?” She pushed the money down into the pocket of her robe.
“Just some other shit,” I threw out, not even wanting to get into all that. “But look, now that we got proof you’re carrying my niece or nephew, I’m gon’ continue to take care of you. I want you to get some shit going for yaself though. You not gon’ be living high off the fucking hog, but you gon’ be stable. I suggest you start working towards something so you can afford the extras, ’cause once you give birth, I’m only funding the basics. Only my girl can use my bread for leisure shit.”
“I understand.” She gave me a closed-mouth smile. “I plan to figure something out.” She moved away from me to sit down on her couch. “I need to tell you something. I wanna keep open and honest communication between us because it’s the right thing to do, but also, I’m a little afraid of you.”
“Aight.” I folded my arms, remaining calm. Nothing could be worse than her lying about being pregnant by my little brother, and that had been confirmed already. So whatever the fuck she had to say, I was sure it wouldn’t bother me in the least.
“Um . . .” She ran her hands up and down her thighs. “So Mylo came over one day to bring me some food—a platonic gesture,” she assured me. “Anyway, after we ate and kicked it for a little bit, . . . we . . . had sex.”
“Wait, is this recent?” I frowned.
“It is. B-but we haven’t done anything since. I can promise you. I haven’t even been talking to him because I feel so bad.”
Running a hand down my face, I replied, “I can’t control what you do—so long as it ain’t drugs or alcohol consumption—or who you do the shit with, Téa. Do I want you fucking on niggas while carrying my niece or nephew? Nah, but it ain’t gon’ keep me up at night. I got my own pussy at home to be worried about. If you like the nigga, do you.”
“So you’re not gonna kill him for . . . you know?”
“You want me to?”
“No! No, I’m just making sure.”
“Nah. I’m not gon’ kill the homie for smashing you,” I said dryly, making her roll her eyes once she realized how dumb the fucking thought was.
“Future deposits are gon’ be just that, Téa. Get a bank account, and send me the Zelle information once you do.” I turned to pull the door open before I left.
As soon as I got in my whip, my phone rang, and it was the man of the hour, Mylo.
Answering, I placed the phone to my ear before saying, “Sup.”
“Hit pay dirt, nigga. You free?”
“Even if I wasn’t, I am now. Where you at?”
“The usual. No rush either.”
“Bet.” I hung up then calculated the quickest route to the warehouse before pulling away from Téa’s apartment building.
It took me about an hour to get there since it was evening time and prime rush hour traffic. But when I pulled up outside the warehouse, I damn near sprinted from that fucking car to get inside.
Rushing through, I hurried right to the soundproof room where we typically held victims for torture and murderous purposes.
Entering, I saw a white man with a busted nose and lip, tied to the chair while Mylo sat partially on the stainless steel table off to the side, inhaling on a blunt.
“This our man.” He blew out smoke, rising to his feet and coming toward me.
