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That sentence hurt worse than everything they told me upstairs because I knew he believed it. In his world, loving me and sacrificing me could exist at the same time.

He got out and closed the door behind him, leaving me back there by myself.

Later that night, I stood on the balcony with a joint between my fingers while my body begged me for meth. The craving came in waves. One minute I could fight it, and the next I was trying to convince myself one hit wouldn’t erase the three weeks I had already survived.

I went back inside before I could make a decision I would regret. I grabbed my sketchpad, sat on the floor, and started drawing.

A wedding ceremony took shape across the page with a long aisle, white flowers, and two people standing at the end of it. I shaded the groom darker and made the bride smaller, then covered most of her face with a veil.

I stared at the drawing until I couldn’t stand looking at it anymore.

I ripped the page from my sketchpad, tore it into pieces, and threw them over the balcony. I watched the pieces disappear below me while one thought kept running through my head.

I wasn’t ready for any of this.

Nobody had even bothered to ask if I was okay.

CHAPTER 7

Zay

“Everybody Needs Something From Me”

After my aunt’s brunch, later that night, I went to the Laveau warehouse with a chip on my shoulder.

I walked in, mad as fuck. My father was there, arms folded. My uncles lined the walls.

“You and your wife could’ve handled my little sister better, telling her that news. She ain’t ask for none of this. You knew for years she was gonna have to marry, and you let your guard down because of your ego.”

My father stood up. The same way he used to when I was a kid and knew I’d said something that crossed the line.

“You trying to blame me for her downfall? I didn’t put those drugs to her lips. I didn’t tell her to run off.”

“You did,” I shot back. “You pushed her away every time she tried to be herself. Punished her for school. Punished her for dating. Didn’t let her live, so she ran off with your fuckin’ driver, thinking he was a father figure, and he set her up. She had to sneak to breathe. Live with it. You did this.”

He stepped closer. “Who are you talking to, lil nigga?”

I laughed once, low.

“I’m talking to the nigga that owes me a million dollars. You taught loyalty, paying debts, standing on business, then been shorting your own son for years.”

My uncle moved quickly between us before it turned physical.

“Enough,” he said. “Handle business.”

That’s what this always came down to anyway. Money. Power. Pride.

My father opened a case and pushed it across the table. Cash.

“That’s half a million. Don’t ever act like I won’t pay you,” he said. “Shit rough right now, but not rough enough I can’t pay my son. I’ll do better by Azaria too.”

I looked at the money. Didn’t touch it right away.

Words didn’t fix what he’d done to this family.

I took the case anyway.

I had plans with it.