Page 53 of Heart Of A Goon II

Zoya Caselli was mine.

For whatever fucking reason, she continued to choose niggas that couldn’t or didn’t protect her. Like Biz Markie, he didn’t take the shit seriously, and I had to show him just how serious of a job he had fumbled. When it came to her, I was proving points and sending souls back to sky daddy. He could decide if they headed to hell or heaven, because that wasn’t my business.

He touched his fat dick to my baby. That wasn’t something that I could ever let go. She thought she had protection and in reality, he was a fucking predator she allowed in the confines of her safety. She trusted wolves, allowed them into her safe space, and they betrayed her.

The house was quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge, and the distant sounds of the city outside: the city bus, cars passing by and the few people who were making their way home after a long night out. New York City, no matter which borough, was always going to have some noise. Queens, especially this neighborhood, wasn’t as live as other parts of New York City.

It wasn’t quiet, either.

As I made my way past the kitchen, I quickly doubled back and looked at the golden vintage frame that housed a picture of Ollie with a brown skinned woman. She seemed familiar as shit. Like I had met her before and even sparked a conversation with shorty. I held the frame in my gloved hand and tried to rack my brain on where I remembered her from.

“Shorty familiar?” Khaos whispered, as I continued to stare at the picture.

Ollie held her around the waist, as she looked straight at the photographer. He was full on in love with her, while she was concerned with looking perfect for the picture. I could tell that he loved her more than she loved him.

Probably provided this home for her and did whatever she wanted to keep her happy. I could tell when a man loved a woman more than she loved him. Moms said that the man should always be more in love with the woman. Ollie wasn’t shorty’s type, but for the right price and accommodations, she would make him her type. Judging from this house, she had found some room in her cold heart to make him believe she loved him the same way he loved her.

Shit was sick.

I never had that problem because Zoya felt the same way that I did. She played that shit off but let me cut her ass off and the crazy would come out. I never questioned how she felt, I just needed her ass to stop running from the best thing that happened to her. I knew I loved her more than she loved me, and that was something that I was fine with.

“Montana,” I whispered.

Khaos looked at me confused. “Huh?”

Wylie had brought her and some other shorty in our section at the opening of Havoc’s lounge. While her friend was all over Wylie, she kept checking her phone and giving small pieces of conversation. I remember her because when she mentioned being a premed student, we said we knew a doctor, and she wanted to know who.

In the picture, she was smiling and though she didn’t feel the same way Ollie felt about her, she was at peace.

Judging from the expensive tote bag filled with books and a laptop, the designer sneakers neatly placed at the foyer of the home, and the BMW key fob sitting in the expensive decorative bowl on the counter, she was at peace and had requested a piece.

“Wyoming,” Khaos said.

I looked at my brother confused. “The fuck?”

“We saying random states and shit, I’m adding Wyoming to the mix.”

Usually, I would have time to go back and forth with this nigga, but not right now. I also didn’t have time to explain how I knew who shorty was in the picture.

I exhaled slowly and headed up the stairs where the bedrooms were. As I made my way upstairs, my hand rested on the waistband of my sweats. Just because Ollie pretended to suck as security didn’t mean the nigga was to be underestimated. Nobody was to be underestimated in this life.

Every pussy nigga eventually let their balls drop when they felt like they had something to prove, or something to live for.

Ollie had both stacked against him.

The upstairs matched the same color scheme and coziness of downstairs. If the doctor shit didn’t work out, she could become an interior decorator. I mean, if she lived to speak about the shit, and I had no plans on leaving anyone breathing in this house.

Khaos finished naming random ass states and was right behind me. I stopped in the middle of the steps, and my brother didn’t question it. We worked well together because we moved as one. If I stopped, then he was stopping right behind me. He didn’t need to know the reason for my decisions.

The toilet flushed, which meant I was either too early, or whoever was too late. “Tana, I got to be up in a few hours. You were supposed to have been home.” I could hear Ollie’s voice, laced in sleepiness.

He made that little pig noise people did when they were scratching their throats. It always irritated me whenever Chef did that shit. He had the phone on speaker, because I could hear everything going on in the background of the call. There were sirens and a shit load of people chatting away like it wasn’t the early hours of the morning.

His feet shuffled across the carpet runners that lined the hallway. From where we stood, I could see his feet and the bottom of his pajama pants. Bitch ass wore pajamas like a pussy.

I slept in my draws so whenever Boobie got to feeling for my shit, it was ready for her. It was better that he had on pants. I didn’t want to see his ass in his draws, anyway.

“Baybeeeee, you said that I could hang with the gurlsss,” she slurred.