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“That’s nice of you.”
“Yeah, you gotta take care of your people.”
One of the clerks walked by and looked between us and smirked.
“You really don’t care that everybody sees us talking?” I asked.
“Why would I?”
“You own District 12, and I’m Rah’s baby mama. It don’t take much for people to turn that into something.”
His expression changed. “Do you always introduce yourself through Rah? Like is that your whole personality?”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I didn’t introduce myself through anybody.”
“You just told me who you were by telling me whose baby mama you are.”
“Q, you know damn well that’s not what I meant.”
“I’m not disrespecting that man. I knew Rah.”
“What you mean you knew him?”
“Who didn’t know him? He would come to District 12 every now and then.”
“When was the last time he came through District 12?”
“He would come through with different people. Sometimes with his brother and sometimes with other people. Why are you interrogating me?”
“Can you tell me the last time you saw him there?”
“A couple of weeks before he got murdered.”
“Who was he with?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You remember seeing him but don’t know with who.”
“Averie, I own a bar. I see hundreds of people a week. We standing here like you’re asking me did I kill your baby daddy? All I said was I knew him. What happened to that nigga had nothing to do with me. You make sure you have a good rest of your day.” He started walking off.
“Okay.”
“And Averie,” he stopped. “Don’t be suspicious of every person who says Rah’s name. That man touched a lot of lives.”
CHAPTER 18
KYENNA
The King Foundation gala was one event nobody in the family was allowed to miss. It didn’t matter what was going on in the streets, who wasn’t speaking to who, or what business needed attention. Every year, the Kings cleaned themselves up, put on expensive clothes, smiled for the cameras, and raised money for the same neighborhoods that had helped build the family name. We wrote checks for scholarships, youth sports, housing assistance, grants and funeral expenses. Rah used to joke that Pops spent half his life putting poison into the city and the other half trying to make peace with God by giving the money back.
This year was different. Rah’s name was printed across damn near everything. Seeing it on the program when I stepped inside almost made me turn around and go home. I stood near the entrance longer than I should have, staring at the gold lettering across the thick black cardstock. For months, I had gotten used to seeing his name on documents. Somehow seeing memorial beside his name felt worse.
“You plan on standing in the damn door all night?” Jaharee asked.
