Chapter 40

The world passes me by from the passenger seat of Daz's car. He hasn't said one word to me since we got in it. There's a void between us that wasn't there before. I mean, most of me and Daz's friendship developed in a car. I would ride with him while he made his drops just to spread my time between the boys. He was always busy so my best chance at growing closer to him was to ride with him while he made his errands. Now the silence in the car is so thick that I go in my head to escape it.

I've been crying so much that my brain feels fuzzy around the edges. I want to cry some more but the wells behind my eyes are tapped out. My eyes are so dry that they hurt to look around so I close out the buildings, the cars and the trees as they pass the window. I shut out everything and hope and pray that my mind can do the same.

This is my fault.

The realization is just as staggering as it was when I came to terms with it in the room with Caesar. Only this time, he's not here to coax me back to sleep.

I'm on my own.

It's funny, I left the scene without a stratch on me--unless my twisted ankle counts. But every thought since then has been excruciating. It's like my mind is trying to kill me slowly. Each new thought brings a new set of knives with it. I'm being attacked from the inside out.

I need to unarm myself. I need to get this weight off my chest before it kills me. I need a priest to forgive me. I need my mom to tell me everything is gonna be okay. I need Daz to not blame me. I need to talk to the only person who'll understand.

Where's Tory when I need him?

Better yet, where was I when he needed me?

I'm in the mirror in Yuri's room sticking my arms through the blue and white button-down she gave me when I catch her staring at me through the mirror.

She don't notice me smirking at her until I start buttoning up my shirt. Then she catches my eye in the mirror and rolls hers.

"See something you like?" I laugh.

Ri pushes herself off the bed.

"Yeah. My daddy's suit," She says.

I nod my head, "You damn right."

She smacks my arm as she walks around to face me.

"I meant my actual daddy's suit. It looks nice on you."

I check myself out in the mirror.

"Eh. It ain't really my style."

Ri swats my hands away from the shirt. She does the rest of my buttons herself.

"I agree. I think a navy blue would look better against your skin but this all we have. You shouldn't have waited until Christmas morning to decide you needed a suit."

"I didn't know I was gon' need one 'til today," I say.

Duecy kept his word about getting me a meeting with those Haitians he knew. It took some time but they finally followed up with me. Some woman called my phone 'round 4 this morning telling me The Toussaints had an opening at 11 am today. It was last minute as fuck but I accepted. It took them over a month to get back to me; I wasn't wasting another day, birthday or not.

"All I'm saying is if you knew something like this was coming up you should've told me. I could've picked you up a suit on my way from work this week," Ri says.

I smile down at her.

"Now don't you sound like a good housewife," I say.

Ri scoffs. She pushes my chest after she's done with my top button. It's all fun and games until she tries to walk away with an irritated look on her face. I pull her back by her arm.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Nothing," She says.

I smack my teeth.

"Is it cause of what I said? Don't tell me you back on this feminist shit," I say.

"Why would I get offended at you calling me a housewife? I'm not yo wife and I'm outside more than you."

"Then what's the problem?"

"There is none, Ace."

"Then what you keep tryna leave for?"

"I'm not the one dressed up," Ri says.

I let go of her arm.

"So that's what you mad about? You don't want to spend Christmas alone?" I ask.

Yuri just stands there sulking like a mad child. I don't have time for this.

"I don't have time to sit here and play 21 questions with you, Yuri. If you don't wanna spend Christmas alone, say that but I thought you was going visit yo mama in rehab today."

"I am, Ace."

"Then what's the problem?" I ask.

"You!" Ri yells.

I pull my head back. Where the fuck that come from?

Ri sighs.

"It's just like you said. I am acting like a housewife. I cook for us; I wash our clothes. I tell you about my day and I look forward to hearing about yours. We kiss; we joke around."

"So what you saying? You want more?" I ask.

Ri points between us, "I wanna know what this is. I wanna know if it's gonna go anywhere when you leave."

Fuck. Here we go. I was hoping we could avoid this conversation until I knew what my next move was gon' be. There's this meeting with the Haitians but ain't no telling how that's gon' go. I've had business meetings where the niggas looking for business left in body bags.

That ain't gon' be me so I gotta stay focused. The last thing I need is Yuri in my head while I'm tryna do business.

I rub my hands down my face.

"Right now, Ri? You wanna do this shit right now?"

"When else am I supposed to do it?" She asks.

"How bout when I'm laid out on the couch doing nothing? You pull this shit when I got somewhere to be."

I take a deep breath as I reach for the grey tie on the bed.

"This just like you, Ri. Everything move on yo time. You wait 13 years to talk about us and you do it right before I'm boutta walk out the door?" I ask.

Ri folds her arms.

"Well, I'm sorry. It's just the last time a man walked out the door in this suit he didn't come back."

I stop fooling with the tie.

"What?" I ask.

Ri finishes what I started. Her hands guide the tie around my collar and through the loop while I wait for her to explain herself.

"This the suit my daddy was wearing when they sentenced him to life in prison," She says, "And I helped him tie the knot just like I'm doing now."

I push her hands off.

"I wish you woulda told me that before I put the shit on," I say.

"Why does it matter? It's not like you going before a court," Ri says.

I better not be.

"Right?" She asks.

I finish doing the tie myself.

"I got a job interview," I say.

Yuri laughs.

"I've never known the prince to a work a day in his life," Ri says.

"Shit changed when the prince became the king. Now I'm always working even I'm not," I say.

Ri gets quiet.

"So is this an honest job?" She asks.

Now it's my turn to laugh.

"It's Christmas Ri, but don't go wishing for miracles."

I give her a kiss on the cheek as I grab the matching grey suit jacket. I throw it over my shoulder and leave the room. I don't expect her to follow me but I ain't surprised when she do.

"Are we gonna talk about us?" She asks.

I turn around.

"Is there an 'us'?" I ask.

The determination on her face fades a little.

"I don't know," She says.

I nod my head. This what the fuck I'm talkin' bout. She pressing me for answers like she know what she want. The only reason she ain't got a ring on her finger or a bun in the oven is 'cause she don't know what she want. After 13 years, she still need more time.

I don't got that much more to give.

"While you think on that, I got business to handle. We'll talk when I get back," I say.

I slip my suit jacket on and head out the front door.

We've reached an impasse. Not in our conversation, since that would mean Daz actually has to talk to me. I mean literally. Our car has rolled to a stop.

The railroad that cuts between the entrance of the neighborhood the trap is in, has cut me and Daz off with a smoking train. We stare at the train as it moves past. Silently, I'm thinking about making a run for it. Not towards the train, of course. My guilt hasn't taken over the logical part of my brain just yet. But I'm thinking of running in the opposite direction. Maybe if I run far enough away, I can escape from reality and create a life in my head where Tory survives. By some Christmas miracle, I was able to drag him out of the car before Guiterrez came back to finish the job.

Then there wouldn't be an elephant sitting between me and Daz big enough to stomp on my already broken heart.

Yeah, accepting this ride from Daz was a mistake.

I sit perfectly still in my seat like a statue. I'm hoping if I brace myself for the impact, Daz's words won't hurt as much. At the very least, they won't break me into pieces. His mouth keeps opening and closing but so far he hasn't said anything. He's gotta say something. We're stuck with each other for at least another thirty minutes while the train passes. He's gonna say something.

No matter what it is, it'll sting like a million knives to my heart and a thousand splinters to my head because he blames me. I know he does. Why else would he drive us here in silence when this was the one place our friendship thrived?

That's like Tory ignoring me in the club's office or Munch refusing to look at me at the trap. Then again, once you take Tory out the equation the whole thing just falls apart. Everything is upside down. What was starting to feel like Heaven on Earth is now Hell. I don't think my life will ever be right-side up again.

Out the corner of my eye, I see Daz's lips move. I turn to iron as I watch his mouth open.

I turn to mush when I hear sobs pour out of his mouth.

He bends over the steering wheel crying like his insides are filled with water. It's so heartbreaking to see, it makes the dried up wells in my eyes spring up with water. Tears silently slide down my cheeks as Daz sits next to me sobbing.

It's not like I can go anywhere so I close my eyes to give him privacy.

"I'm sorry, bro. It's all on me. This one's all on me," Daz cries.

I open my eyes.

"It's my fault. My fault," Daz whispers.

He turns his head to look at me. Tears stain his cheeks. Snot runs over his top lip. That's when I realize it wasn't an elephant that sat between us in the car. It was Daz's guilt. Guilt he shouldn't even be feeling.

"My bad, Candyce. I put you in a fucked up situation. I let my shit at home get in between business and now... now T was the one that got caught in the crossfire," Daz says.

"No, Daz," I say.

"Vee was just so mad. She was tryna take Kareem and leave. She ain't never done that before. I couldn't just let her leave. Now my nigga's dead and it's all on me."

I'm speechless watching and listening to him break himself into pieces.

"You could've been dead too. I'm so glad that you not. I'm sorry, Candyce. I'm really sorry," Daz says.

That's my line.

He shakes his head against the steering wheel.

"This one's on me. This one's on me," He mumbles.

I eject the seatbelt and lean over the console. I wrap my arms around him as far they would go. He starts to knock his forehead against the steering wheel. The entire time he's whispering to himself that Tory's death is his fault.

I know firsthand what guilt like that can do to the soul. That burden is not on Daz to carry. He didn't leave him there; I did. So I tell him what I wish somebody would tell me.

"It's not your fault, Daz. You hear me? It's not on you," I say.

"I sent him out there. It should've been me," Daz says.

More tears prick my eyes. I swallow them down.

"Tory knew what this life had in store for him. He knew his time was coming. He even called the grim reaper his soul mate 'cause he always knew how this would play out. If it wasn't that cop, it would've been someone else. T had made too many enemies in this life; He told me himself," I say.

I choke on tears as our conversation from The Penthouse balcony plays back in my head. He knew he would die young. He told me back then. I just wasn't ready to hear it.

"So it wasn't a matter of how he died. It was about when. If it wasn't last night, it woulda been some other day. Be lucky you was at home with your wife and kid," I say.

I grab the back of his neck and make him look at me.

"Cause you right. It could've been you. But I am so glad it wasn't," I whisper.

Daz sits up and hugs me back. It's an awkward hug with the console between us but I don't let him go and he doesn't let me go either.

...

By the time the train pulls the last of its wagon, Daz has straightened up. He's wiped his nose clean, and the tears have dried on their own. He sits back in his seat and puts the car into drive.

The next time I look over at him, there's a scowl on his face and no tears in sight. I can't help but wonder if he'll ever be easygoing Daz again.

The silence between us is less heavy as we pull up to the trap. Surprisingly, my car is still parked out front. The roof is pulled up just how I left it. All four wheels are in sight and none of the windows have been smashed in.

I guess we've made a name for ourselves 'cause in no other hood in America would a brand new car be left unoccupied and untouched.

Seeing that everything's still intact, I undo my seatbelt.

Daz grabs my arm. I look up at him, half-expecting him to tell me he knows shit didn't go down the way I told Munch. I still expect him to say that he blames me or he hates me or both.

But he only nods his head solemnly.

"Thank you," He says.

For some reason that hits harder than it would if he had told me he blames me. My heart drops through the car floor. I nod my head and get out before the rest of me falls through with it.

I close the car door behind me. I take my keys out of my pocket surprised that I didn't lose them along the way.

I unlock my car door and climb inside. I make no move to stick the key in the ignition.

Daz leans over in his car.

"The car okay? You need a jump or something?" He asks.

"Yeah, uh, no. I'm-I'm okay. I just wanna sit here for a second," I say.

Daz looks unsure. I stick the key in the ignition to ease his mind.

"I'm okay, Daz. Go home. I'll text you when I make it inside," I say.

Daz sits up a little, "You sure?"

I nod my head. I'm literally unable to speak. I wave my hand for him to go.

"Make sure you text me," He says.

I nod my head again. After hesitating a couple of seconds, Daz rolls his window up and drives off.

I lean my head back against the seat. I turn the car off but leave the keys dangling in the ignition. I run my hands over 9 and 3 on the steering wheel.

Next thing I know, I'm slamming my hands over 10 and 2. My body starts shaking; I get hot all over. And I just keep slamming my hands down hard over the wheel. Then my hands close into fists and I'm punching the wheel. My hands ram over the horn a couple times but the street is empty. Everybody is gathered away at their grandma's house eating food and opening presents. I'm the only one on the street.

I should be at Juanita's right now. Munch should be throwing jabs at Vee. I should be laughing quietly. Daz should be overdoing it trying to get back on Vee's good side. And Tory should be there for it all.

"It's not fair!" I scream.

My fists fly all around me. I don't care where I hit as long as my hands land on something.

"It's not fucking fair!" I yell again.

I punch until my hands are sore and then I punch some more. The seat rocks back and forth as I throw myself into each punch.

"Why him?! Why him?!"

My hand slams into the rearview mirror. A shard of glass slices my hand from my knuckle to my wrist. It might as well have been a paper cut because I don't stop. I'm not done.

I shake the wheel viciously.

"Ahhhh! Was Jonah not enough! Was he not enough for you!"

It's only then that I realize I'm yelling at God himself.

"Why me?" I sob.

My hands slam against the wheel one more time.

"Why me?"

I lean my head against the wheel. Tears slide down my cheeks and onto my lip. I lick them away.

"How much more am I supposed to take?" I whisper.

When God doesn't climb off his high horse to answer me, I cry until my throat feels rubbed raw. After awhile, I don't have anymore tears to cry, so I close my eyes and let darkness take me.

I'm usually a patient man. I've waited over a month to get in with these people and now it feels like I'm waiting longer for my name to be called. All this waiting is starting to add up as disrespect. Newcomer or not, I don't tolerate disrespect from nobody, no matter how fucking established they is.

And these Haitian motherfuckers are indeed established. I expected to pull up to an abandoned warehouse or a nice storefront with a place to do real business in the back. Nothing against them, but that's just what I'm used to.

If I wasn't such a fuckin' professional, I would've been shocked by what I pulled up to. These niggas got a nice two-story brick building on the corner of a busy street with they names above the door clear as fucking day: Toussaint Properties & Real Estate.

They might as well have put a big fucking bullseye on they backs letting 5-0 know where to hit 'em.