Page 10 of Weddings on the West: Vol. I Brick & Destiny

“Don’t do that fuck shit,” I scolded. “You can’t put her in this without telling her exactly what the fuck is going on. Tell her.” I had known this girl for ten minutes and already had to stick up for her more than her bitch-ass daddy.

“I…” his voice trailed off and he looked away dramatically, like it pained him to speak. “I made a grave mistake, and now I need your help in righting my wrongs.”

“What did you do?” she repeated.

“I… made some bad investments with money that wasn’t mine,” he said.

“You stole from me,” Ma cut in.

“Unfortunately, I aligned myself with the wrong kind of people, now I have to pay the price.” I scoffed, the nerve of this nigga acting like he was losing something while putting her in that position. The thought had me mad enough to shoot the fuck out of his old ass.

“So, what do I have to do with all of this?”

“He needs a wife.” He shrugged, diminishing the fact that he sold her life away to those four words.

“What?” Now she looked like her stomach was hurting. She looked at him, then back at me, her brown skin now glowing a bright red.

“Listen, I didn’t choose this either,” I said with a shrug.

“I-I-I’m leaving. I don’t know what y’all are into, but figure it out without me,” she said before quickly spinning on her flats and storming out of the house. We stood there in awkward silence as the slapping sound of her steps in them gotdamn flats faded away and the front door slammed hard enough to make us all jump.

“What did you say to her?” Ma asked when she turned to me.

“I just told her the truth. This nigga was about to sell her off like a damn used car without even telling her.” I sneered at Coop.

“She’s never been used,” he mumbled.

“I know one fuckin’ thing, y’all better figure it the fuck out. Because if I show up to that venue on May nineteenth, and there’s no bride, there will be hell to pay! Let’s go, Main!” She made her dramatic exit, leaving me standing there looking at Coop and Sarah, who hadn’t said more than two words since I walked in the door.

“You need to do better, nigga,” I scolded his old ass.

“What?” He had the audacity to look offended.

“I said you need to do better, nigga. That’s your seed, and you actin like it ain’t shit that you just sold her off to some nigga to pay for your mistakes.”

“You got the gall to lecture me when your own mother just did the same to you?” He sneered at me like it was supposed to strike fear in a nigga or some shit. The next thing I knew, the gun that I carried on me at all times somehow made it out and cracked him across his face… multiple times. Sarah’s ass had to be zooted as fuck because she didn’t even react to her husband getting his shit bashed in with the butt of a pistol right in front of her.

“Let that be the last time you speak on my mama, bitch! I know she ain’t shit, but at least she ain’t running’ around this muhfucka actin’ like a saint. You supposed to be a pastor, but I know the money you stole wasn’t used for nothing holy. You better apologize to your daughter, nigga. You sure as fuck got a lot more to lose than me.” I didn’t give him a chance to reply as I let go of his shirt, making him drop to his knees before I stormed out the door. I could already tell that this was about to be some bullshit and knew that if I had to be around that fraudulent ass nigga for a minute too long, it would most likely end in bloodshed.

My whole drive back home, all I could think about was the look of betrayal on Destiny’s face. She didn’t want this anymore than I did.

Four

Not My Type

DESTINY

My frown was so deep that it hurt as I sat at my computer, typing away. My access to the financial records had been denied, and my role at the church had been diminished to typing up programs and transcribing sermons and notes. I hadn’t spoken a word to my parents in days, but that didn’t stop my father from trying. Every morning he would sulk into my office with breakfast and a sorry look on his face—the same face that had apparently been beaten to a bloody pulp again sometime after I stormed out the other night. Lady West, or whoever, really did a number on him, but I couldn’t even feel bad, not after what he did.

“Good morning, Baby Girl.” Right on cue, there he was again, carrying a takeout bag from one of the best breakfast spots in the city. I didn’t reply, simply glaring at him before returning to my riveting task of working on his sermon on greed from two weeks ago. I almost laughed at the irony, but I was still so angry that all I could do was tap the keys violently, wishing they were his face.

As a Christian, I was raised to never question my parents, to always hold them to the highest regard, and trust their judgement. Finding out that my daddy—the man who I placed on the highest of pedestals—was just as conniving and sneaky as the other men he raised me to be wary of, broke my heart every time I thought about it.

“Des, it’s been long enough. You need to stop behaving like a child and speak to me.” I turned, looked him dead in his eyes, and pushed the bag of food right into the trashcan. We had a stare off for a few moments before I spoke.

“How could you do that to me? Not only did you steal, but I have to pay the price for your bad decisions?! That man you’re trying to pawn me off on is… disgusting! He’s rude and worldly—nothing like the man of God that you raised me to save myself for! How could you do something like this?”

“Destiny!” he snapped like he was at the end of his rope. “I need this! Do you not understand what she will do to me if I don’t pay her back?!”