Page 15 of Crown: Phase 4

Smoky’s face was hard, but his body betrayed him. His jaw clenched as he turned away, pacing across the rooftop. The thought of being the one to kill Maino unsettled him in a way he couldn’t hide. Dragging a hand over his fade, he took a few more steps, then retraced his path, as if movement could quell the turmoil inside him. He wasn’t sure he could commit such an act, and it made him feel weak…something he had never experienced in his life. He loathed himself for it.

Crown studied him in silence, contemplating what lay before him. Whatever Smoky felt for Maino ran deeper than he had realized, and that disturbed him more than he wanted to admit. He couldn’t grasp it.

“Smoky, dawg, I don’t know what the fuck you want me to tell you.” Crown lifted a hand, tapping his temple hard enough to show his frustration.

“Think about it. Even if I let the shit with the clubhouse slide for your sake, this nigga was being questioned about the last whereabouts of his cousin that he knows we snatched up. He’s a fuckin’ witness. And had I known Boe’s retarded ass brought that phone to that bitch, I would’ve killed Maino then. Now this fuckin’ Lawson is sniffin’ around.”

“He ain’t tell that detective shit.”

“You don’t know what he told him once you left. You don’t know if he had enough to take him in for further questioning.”

“I know him.”

“And I know what happens when niggas get backed into a corner.” Crown shot back.

“They start talking. They start remembering shit they swore they didn’t know. They start protecting themselves when the cuffs come out permanently. These muthafuckas were already investigating Preach, and with that, we came up. What the fuck you think gon’ happen if that detective realizes that it was a Knight at his crib? He saw your face. He gon’ start trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together, back this nigga into a corner, and make him flip.”

Smoky looked away, his nostrils flaring as he grappled with everything Crown had just said. He had to admit it made sense. Yet, the more he reflected on Maino—every conversation, every quiet moment they shared—the more his certainty about the man he had grown to care for deepened. No matter what Crown tried to implant in his mind, Smoky wasn’t ready to accept it. He was positive Maino was a real nigga.

From afar, Crown watched his best friend, shaking his head as he took another pull from the blunt. “Don’t worry about it. I already called Pete. I’ll put D on Maino as soon as he lets me know what all this nigga Lawson has.” He pushed away from the ledge and started toward the rooftop door as if what he had said wouldn’t hurt.

“Bro,” Smoky called behind him.

Crown paused but didn’t turn around or respond. His hand hovered near the door handle, shoulders rising and falling with a slow breath. He felt tired, frustrated, and pulled in too many directions. For the second time in his life as president, he found himself struggling with a decision that should have been simple. It was only the people closest to him who had the power to make him question himself like this. First, it had been Danger, consumed by a thirst for revenge when he should have been focused on healing. Now, it was Smoky, imploring him to spare a man who had put their brothers at risk by shooting up the clubhouse.

Crown couldn’t see himself excusing this shit with Maino. They had brothers downstairs who knew nothing about Smoky’s truth and wanted blood for those shots fired. They wanted a name, and as president, Crown owed them one. And if he let Maino breathe, and the nigga snitched, he would never forgive himself for putting Smoky’s feelings above their freedom. But if he gave the order, he knew Maino wouldn’t be the only thing Smoky lost. Something between him and his best friend might die right along with him. Crown could sense it in the way Smoky was acting.

Smoky stood behind him, heart racing in his chest. The sound of it seemed louder than the traffic below. He lowered his head for a moment, staring at the concrete as he tried to force the words he was about to say back down. Pride urged him to let Crown walk away. Yet love or whatever the fuck had taken hold of him wouldn’t let him stay quiet. Maino's final words echoed in his mind. He glanced back up just as Crown finally turned around.

“You probably ain’t gon’ wanna hear this. But I care about him. Real shit.”

“You already told me that.” Crown responded, cold as ice. This was new to him, and he was adjusting.

“I know what he did. I know who he related to, and I know what kind of position this puts us in. I ain’t blind to none of that, bro.” Smoky paused, throat tightening around the words.

“But you standing there telling me we gotta handle him is like somebody telling you they gon’ put Nivéa down.”

“Say what, nigga?”

Crown’s nostrils flared as he tossed the blunt over the rooftop and walked up on Smoky. His boots struck the concrete hard, closing the space between them in seconds. All he saw was red. His hands balled into a fist before he caught himself, every protective instinct inside him rising at once.

“Don’t you ever in yo’ mu’fuckin’ life say some shit like that ’bout my wife!” The veins along the side of Crown’s forehead and neck stood out as he pointed two fingers in the center of Smoky’s head.

“You wanna build a bridge between us, dawg? Fuck you going behind my back, tryna save Maino. Speaking on my wife will do it.”

Unbothered, Smoky held his stare as they stood face to face. He and Crown had come to blows before in their younger years. Their relationship was no different than Crown’s and Danger’s. So, he certainly wasn’t scared to talk shit to him or even throw hands with him. But that night, he didn’t want smoke with his brother. Smoky wanted understanding. He needed Crown to see past the name, the club, and the danger long enough to recognize the man standing in front of him.

“Maybe that came out wrong. I apologize, bro. But you see how you feel? That’s how I feel. I can’t help who I care about. I’m human, dawg, even when we try to pretend we not.” Smoky’s voice slightly cracked as he punched at his chest, his fist landing over his heart.

The sound echoed between them. Smoky didn’t know what embarrassed him more: admitting out loud that he loved a man or not being able to control his emotions and practically begging. His eyes shined beneath the rooftop lights, but he refused to look away.

“I ain’t saying he innocent. I ain’t asking you to forget what happened either. I’m telling you what he means to me. He hurt about some fuckin’ dogs and tripped out. That’s it. I’m telling you that this a nigga that been in the game for a while… with an aim so clean that he could’ve took out our prospects if he truly wanted to. But he didn’t. I been to the range with him myself.

I’m telling you that he a solid nigga… I’m telling you that I vouch for him. I ain’t never asked you for shit, bro. I just rode with you on whatever you ever said. I’m just asking… nah, fuck that, I’m pleading with you to do the same for me. Or at least try to.”

Chapter Seven.

My Lady: I’m not feeling well. My period just came. Can you buy me some period panties and bring them over? Pretty please.