Page 194 of The Coldest: Stay Dangerous Part 2

First one tear, then another slide down my cheeks, before more follow them. Aaron and Amani Shaw… they fucked us up. Hopefully only almost beyond repair.

“Please, Auty,” I beg. “I don’t hate you. I never can. But I… I can’t be around you if you don’t get help. You don’t know how bad I wanted to drink after you hurt me… I’ve come too far, Autumn Night. I’ll let you go if I have to.”

Just thinking about it sends a thousand knives straight into my heart, and acid into my veins. No matter how far music took me, I’ve never let myself get too far away from my sister. But sitting in her bedroom, letting her break down in my lap, I mean every word.

I can’t carry both of us, and be her punching bag, and stay on the path I’m on. I feel every single thing, and if I can manage to keep going, minute after minute, then she can get the help she needs, too.

Her voice is barely audible. “I’ll make an appointment in the morning.”

Not even five minutes later, she’s out, not even opening her eyes when I help her into her bed. Grabbing the folder and my stuff, I pad out of the room.

Turkey’s still in his suit, tie loosened, sitting on the couch with his head between his legs. I take a seat next to him, open the folder, and hold it out to him.

“Her psychiatrist formally diagnosed her with Borderline Personality Disorder and Complex Post-traumatic Stress Disorder. Medication won’t help, just talk therapy, a lot of talk therapy, and support, and her wanting to be better. She said she’d make an appointment in the morning.”

Turkey leans back with a sigh. His hand reaches for the folder, but I pull it back at the last minute.

“This is not your fault. I mean it. This isn’t because of you, or what you think you did or didn’t do. Auty has never been okay, and you were never going to be able to love her whole. You have to stop coddling her, Turkey. She won’t leave you just because you tell her no.”

“You gon’ stop?” he asks, anger lining his voice as he takes the folder from me.

“I told her if she doesn’t get help, I’m done. And I mean it. I know you see these marks fading on my neck. That’s from her.”

His eyes flit to the faint marks, before his shoulders drop, and he nods slowly. “Okay… I’ll do better.”

“Read up on that… later. I need a ride home, and you need to go update your other wife.”

He closes the folder and we both stand. Before I can even step around him, he pulls me into a fierce hug, nearly suffocating me as he anchors me to his chest.

“I talk a lot of shit,” he chokes out, making my eyes stretch impossibly big. “And I mean a lot of it. But I also need you to know I love you, man. And not ‘cause you Auty’s sister. You my sister, too. I love you, and I’m so proud of you, and I need you to never be almost dying ever again.”

“The tumor was benign, Turkey–”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he stammers, my shoulder soaking immediately. Gently, I hold him to me, patting his back.

Royce Taylor Atkins Senior professing that he loves me… was not in my bingo card for the year.

“I, uh, love you, too, Turkey. And I talk a lot of shit about you, too, so don’t feel bad.”

Wet laughter barks out of him, and thankfully, the painfully sentimental moment is over with him letting me go and wiping his eyes.

“I can’t stand you, bro.”

“Unt unt, too late! You already professed your undying love for me.” I pat his chest and skip away. “Ugh, you would do this when I wasn’t recording! Come on, we can start over in the car.” I take out my phone and go to the voice memo app. “Speak loudly and clearly into the mic. I need real evidence for when I tell Rico.”

He tries to mush me as he opens his door, but I duck out into the night, my giggles mixing with his chuckles.

“Seriously, though,” I say, curling my arm around his as he leads me to his car. “She’s gonna be okay. I know it.”

He nods, opening my door for me before tossing the folder onto the back seat. I sound convincing enough, and hopefully if I wish it hard enough, it’ll come to pass.

Rico

The back hallway of the South Kenton Community Center is in a tizzy. From my vantage point in the corner, next to the ceremonial big ass check I’m to present, I see all the aides and staffers and volunteers trying to direct traffic and get Slime ready for his punk ass speech.

It’s no secret the nigga has presidential aspirations. From what I can gather, he’s supposed to be announcing his mayoral run after I present the check. The current mayor is a Birch Baby himself, from Pooh’s time, but he’s not seeking reelection, which is the only reason Slime’s young ass has a shot.

His cold eyes find their way to me as his mother straightens his tie. Whoever is sponsoring his political ambitions is cool enough with Pooh to where he can put his foot down and niggas listen. Luney is back good in any hood, and I don’t have to worry about my tires getting shot out on a random Tuesday. I thought I would feel a way, having Pooh come to my rescue, but honestly, it’s nice not having to cultivate a full-proof plan without actually killing this nigga, since I know that no matter what, it isn’t what Fred would want.