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Life here had been sweet and grand, though I could admit for the first six months, I was constantly looking over my shoulder. I just knew Slim would find me and that would be the end of my life. Yet still, every day that passed that he didn’t show up, I could breathe a little easier.
These days, he was barely a second thought.
The sound of my phone ringing broke my trip down memory lane. I smiled when I saw that it was my mother. I was grateful that I’d been able to repair many of the broken familial relationships I had left behind. I’d gone through hell and highwater to get a burner phone to my parents so I could tell them everything.
“Hey, Ma,” I answered.
“Hey, baby. How are you this morning?”
I sighed. “I was doing okay until my meditation was interrupted once again by my coworker.”
“I know how you hate that. I just wanted to hear your voice. I miss you.”
“I miss you too, Ma. Your visit is coming up soon though! There’s so much to show you—” I paused when I heard her sniffle. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I just wish you could come home, Nala. It’s been six years, baby.”
“I know, Ma. I wish I could come home too, but we both know why I can’t. If Slim catches wind that I’m back, I’ll never get away again.”
“I hate that you ever got caught up with that bastard.”
“You and I both. It won’t always be like this. One day, he’ll get caught up in his mess and he’ll either go to jail for good or he’ll be six feet under.”
“You know I don’t wish death on anybody, but the world could do without scum like him.”
“You’re right,” I said, looking down at my watch. “I have to go, Ma. It’s time for me to clock in, but I’ll call you on lunch, okay?”
“Okay, baby.”
“Give Daddy my love.”
“I will. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I disconnected the call and swiped the tear from my eye. Some days, hearing from her made me extremely happy. Other days, much like today, it served as a reminder of the life and loved ones I left behind. I was happy in Greenwood City for the most part. I had life and I was safe.
But it wasn’t home.
2
Ahmad "Play" Pryor
Rain sounds serenaded throughout my loft apartment as I sat on the yoga mat in deep meditation. It was something I’d started doing three years ago to help me with my thirst to kill. Motherfuckas loved to try me a lot. So, to make sure I kept my guns locked away, I purged myself of all negativities before I put another body in the dirt.
The sound of my phone vibrating on the coffee table next to me broke my concentration.
Shit.
I thought I put the shit on silent before I got comfortable. It couldn’t have been anyone other than my brother, Ashton, calling to ask me about some bullshit that I didn’t want to hear. He was the only person that had my main line number.
Ashton and I were like night and day. He was the corny golden kid, while I was the rebellious menace our parents dubbed me as. It was never my intention to get in the hitter’s game, but hanging around the wrong people, showing me the wrong way, had me thirsting to do the wrong shit.
However, I was smart enough to do my dirt then leave the game with a hefty amount of money and my life. I opened up a waste removal service that had been thriving since opening and invested the rest that generated a lot of revenue. I only had two employees plus myself, and they were the only people I interacted with daily, aside from my annoying ass little brother.
Trying to ignore the constant buzz of my phone, my brother was clearly on some bullshit as I snatched up the remote, shut off the stereo system, then snatched my phone up answering on the third ring.
“Nigga, this shit better be important. I haven’t taken my meds yet, and I’m liable to come to wherever you are and put one in your kneecap.” I seethed.
