Page 20 of His Favorite Felon

“About you ghosting me, nigga! You fucked me for three years. THREE FUCKING YEARS! You promised me the world, even though I never asked for it. All I asked was for you to be real with me and not play in my face, and that’s exactly what you did.” She paused to breathe, trying to calm herself. You know what! Your silence is speaking volumes, and if you don’t say something quick, I’m going to turn into Left Eye in this bitch and burn all this shit to the ground.”

I studied her for a second longer while I thought of the perfect response. I wanted to tell her the truth.

I wasn’t the Chance Legend she thought I was. From everything she’d said so far, I could Scooby-Doo the fuck out of this mystery.

My bitch ass brother had been using my name, again, to do his dirt. His ass had been fucking with inmates he was supposed to watch for years. I thought he got his shit together when I heard they transferred him out of Cumberland. He was transferred when an inmate popped up pregnant at another prison he was working at.

I thought about how she’d react if I revealed mine and my brother’s true identity, but I knew she’d curse me the fuck out and leave, making it impossible to keep her in my life.

I wasn’t sure why, but I wanted her to stay a bit longer.

I wasn’t shit like my brother, but I wanted to see what shorty was about. It was something about her being in my presence that calmed down my thoughts, and she intrigued the hell out of me.

“Please don’t burn our house down, baby.” I winked at her.

Yeah, I was laying it on thick. I wanted her to be speechless, just as she made me.

“Our house? Nigga, please. Where were you when I was released six months ago?” she demanded to know.

I had to think on my feet, which was nothing new to me, but I’m not sure which version of Chase my brother showed her; he had many versions of himself who showed up depending on what he wanted. I had more game than that cornball ass nigga, so I was going to try to tame the beast.

“They let me go, Trouble,” I lied.

“Who?” She looked at me with a confused expression.

“The prison. They fired me not long before your release. And before you ask, I didn’t come looking for you because I wasn’t working, and I knew you ain’t want shit to do with me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, I don’t think that was your decision to make. I have a mouth, and I’m more than capable of letting you know what I will and won’t tolerate.”

“You’re right. I apologize for thinking for you.” I tried not to smile at her boldness. She was feisty as hell, and I was definitely feeling it, but I was trying not to push her too far. She looked around my house again, and I watched her take in every little detail.

“So if you’re not working, how do you afford this?” She waved her hand.

Fuck, man, I was already irritated by the lies that were coming up, but I had to see it through. Lying wasn’t something I ever had to do, so this definitely felt foreign. I had to remember to keep up with my lies and not lie about any crazy shit. Worst-case scenario, if it’s something I can’t and won’t take the blame for, I’d just tell her I lied. I wasn’t about to look like a real lyin’ ass nigga.

“I teach classes at a shooting range up the road called Last Chance.” I lied partially. I didn’t teach classes. I actually owned the range, but I’m positive that never came up when she was speaking to my brother.

Surprise covered her face. “Oh. I didn’t know you taught classes there. I thought you only went there to get your required hours of training for your correctional gun license.”

That response shocked me. The fact that my dumb ass brother not only gave her my first name but also told her about my range. This nigga had to be the dumbest alive.

“Yeah, but since I was let go from the jail, I was hired there and had been working with the manager to turn it into a franchise and hopefully open up my own branch in D.C.”

That wasn’t a complete lie. I was looking into other locations, but I would not be managing shit. A selected, trusted group handled the day-to-day operations.

The location in Champagne, Maryland, was low-key, and I plan to keep it that way, but as our clientele has picked up, I needed to send them to a new shop. Champagne was where I cleaned money. Money I made on the streets. I ran four trap houses in the city. One in each quadrant. Southeast, Northeast, Southwest, and Northwest. Then I had my guy, Rich; he ran security. I was actually in a meeting with them when Trouble showed up. But since it was routine and they were here for their monthly drop-offs, I was okay with ending early.

“Oh.” Her eyes lit up with what looked like pride. “That’s wassup. I’m glad you had a backup plan.” She paused momentarily. “Even if you said fuck me, I ain’t gon’ hold you. I’m pissed that you said fuck me because you thought I wasn’t gon’ fuck with you because of what you didn’t have. I would have hoped that in the time we shared together, you’d know me better than to assume I was with you for money.”

That actually made me feel bad, even though I wasn’t the one who abandoned her.

“I do, but I knew you’d need to figure out your shit, and I didn’t want to burden you with my own bullshit. I’m sorry.”

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Okay, that was too easy, but I’d take it.”

I stepped closer to her. “Good. Can I have a hug now?”

“Umm hmm.” She murmured, then walked into my waiting arms.