Page 32 of Mr. Calloway

I turned to see Streets and Beans standing there. “You cool, nigga?” Beans asked. “’Cause that shit back there was wild.”

I ran my hand down my face. “I don’t know if I’m coming or going. What if Samara doesn’t want to be found?”

They both stood there looking at me like I was crazy, but the question was genuine.

“I think whatever you feel is what it is.”

That was the thing. I didn’t know what I felt. All I knew was I needed to find her and face whatever the truth was. I knew I couldn’t do it by myself. It took a village. The prince and the king would have to work together. I just needed to figure out how to apologize to Chev because I knew that nigga was hot.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket to check her location one more time before a car pulled up. It sat there for a few moments. The windows were so tinted I couldn’t see inside. My first thought was to ignore it, but the longer it sat in front of me, the more I realized whoever was inside was watching me. My feet started moving as I tried to run up to the window. As soon as I reached it, the driver sped off.What the hell?

I turned to glance at the guys, and they caught it too. Something fishy was up. This wasn’t random; it either had to do with Mars, or someone was coming for the Zoo. I just hoped whoever the fuck it was, was ready. The one thing about our wild pack was that adversity always ended in bloodshed.

I tapped at Streets’s shoulder as I looked at Beans. “I’m headed back to Covana. Y’all down or what? I’ll text Chev and let him know.”

They both nodded and responded in unison. “Let’s go.”

Zaria

I sped to get to my office because the audacity Samara’s mother had was worth me breaking my foot off in her ass. From my son being sick, to June being too afraid to ask about his family history, to the postpartum that wouldn’t take its foot off my neck, I felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders. The feeling I had did make me appreciate June more, though, because anyone who could carry so much and somehow still find space for love was a superhero. My hope was that, at some point, all the bullshit would end.

When I reached my office, I quickly hopped out, hurrying toward the door. That was when I noticed it was cracked. “The hell?” I mumbled.

Before even setting foot inside, I hurried back to my car and popped my trunk. I pulled the latch and pulled out the mini thirty-round choppa June got for me. It was pretty as hell. The forehand was a clean shiny gold, and the bullets, well, they were custom gold tips, ones that exploded as soon as they kissed your skin. I cocked it back as I walked back to the door. There was no hesitation in my groove as I swung the door back and aimed.

“Who is in here?” my voice boomed through the open space while I swung my gun left to right.

As I held the choppa in my hand, I swung one last time before aiming it at a mirror. My eyes peeked over the sights, and a smirk appeared on my face. Cynthia thinking June was the one who shifted me into this was laughable. It was I who shot his gun with no fear, but June guided me to do it right. Guns had always been my interest, but at that moment, the person behind the cold metal wasn’t ready for what could happen if something went wrong. Now, I simply didn’t give a fuck.

Before I could turn, I saw her come from the back, standing behind me. “Bingo, bitch!” I shouted, swing her way. “You broke into my office?”

Her demeanor said yes, so I stepped closer. “It was open,” she lied.

Closer.

“Where is she?”

“There is no need for the attitude. I came to see if you knew where she was. I mean, you claim to be her mother, right?” She smirked.

Closer.

I knew she was lying because my gut told me so. However, I knew if I killed her right here and now, we may never find Samara. It was clear the tracker wasn’t working, and she was my only option. My arms lowered as I was now so close to her that if she uttered a word I didn’t like, my hand was going to greet her face.

“I don’t claim to be anything.I am.Why are you really here? To scope the scene? To see if you can read me?” I eyed her curiously. “That’s why you’re around.” I nodded. “So, you’re a nosey bitch. A should have, could have, would have been-ass bitch. Just because you birthed her doesn’t make her yours.”

She pulled her eyes away from me and began glancing around. “You used money to buy her,” she muttered. “You took a broken little girl, gave her a home, and now you’re trying tocall her your own. What was the point of having kids if you were going to steal someone else’s?”

My head flew back. “Earth to the bitch in front of me. Are we on the same planet? She’s grown. She makes her own choices. It’s funny you have a whole lot to say, but you’re not saying shit. You don’t deserve to be a mother, and I see why she ran far away from you. How can you give up a child who is innocent, looking for guidance? How can you call yourself a mother when you know nothing of the child you gave life to? The problem isn’t me. It’s you, and I would be jealous too if my child chose the perfect family over my sorry ass.”

Everything I said stung. It stung so bad that she clenched her stomach. Typically, I held compassion for people in these situations. Sometimes I even played devil’s advocate because there were always two sides to a story, but leaving your child behind to fend for themselves left no room for compassion. There was no excuse for bad parenting, and if, for a second, she thought I was going to muster up some sort of mother united front, it was clear she was just as delusional as I thought.

“She is not?—”

Suddenly, I lunged at her, and she quickly backed away. “She’s not my what?” I roared. “Where is she?” I yelled again.

This time, she moved past me and hurried outside. As soon as she hopped in the car, I pulled out my phone and took a picture of her plates. I was going to find my baby, and when I did, her mother had better fucking run.

June’s Entry