Page 132 of Certified To Handle You 2

My fingers stopped when I saw the message he sent hours earlier.

Since he the better nigga, go get his ass

For a few seconds, I stared at the words without understandin’ ‘em. My brain was still too sleep-heavy to put the message together with Couture’s car sittin’ in the driveway.

Then everything inside me dropped…

I read the message again while my heart started poundin’ so hard it hurt.

Now Couture’s car was outside my mama’s house, and Renza was tellin’ me to go get him.

“What’s wrong with you?” my mama asked while watchin’ my face. “Why you lookin’ like that?”

I turned my phone facedown against the bed before she could see the message. “Nothin’. I’m just confused.”

The lie came out weak, but I couldn’t tell her the truth. I couldn’t tell my mama that there was a real chance Renza’s crazy muthafuckin’ ass flew into Greystone, found Couture and done somethin’ terrible ‘cause I hurt his damn feelin’s.

Renza had already proven what he was capable of.

When I got shot, he went after every person involved and made sure none of ‘em lived long enough to ever hurt me again. I knew that was different. Them folks almost took my life, but Renza ain’t seem like the type to care about the difference once anger took over him.

My stomach twisted so hard that I bent forward and pressed my hand against it.

“What’s wrong?” my mama asked again while steppin’ into the room.

“I said I’m good mama,” I told her, but my voice came out lower than I meant for it to.

She studied me for another second before lettin’ out a breath. “Well, you need to get up and figure out why that man car sittin’ out there. I gotta get ready for work.”

My mama left the room, but I stayed in bed after the door closed behind her.

I couldn’t move…

Every awful possibility ran through my mind at the same damn time. Maybe Renza had shot Couture and left his body in the car. Maybe he cut him up, beat him half to death or done some other sick shit I couldn’t even picture without feelin’ like I was gon’ throw up.

I looked at the message again.

Go get that nigga.

That sounded like Renza knew Couture was alive, but I couldn’t trust it. With him, alive could mean barely breathin’. It could mean broken, bleedin’ or hurt bad enough that the man I knew would never be the same afterward.

I pushed the cover away and put my feet on the floor. The second I stood, my knees felt weak, and I had to grab the edge of the dresser until I felt like I could walk without fallin’.

I pulled on a pair of shorts and grabbed the first shirt I saw. I ain’t stop to fix my hair or put on shoes. I slid my feet into somesandals and left the room while holdin’ my phone tight enough for the edges to press into my palm.

My mama was in the kitchen when I walked past, and she turned toward me with a coffee cup in her hand.

“You see him?” she asked.

“I’m finna go look,” I answered without stoppin’.

The mornin’ light hit my face when I stepped outside, and Couture’s car sat right there in the driveway beside mine. My chest hurt worse when I saw it.

The car looked normal from where I stood. The windows was up, nothing was broken and there wasn’t no blood on the outside that I could see. Still, the fact that it was here without him standin’ beside it made the whole thing feel wrong.

I moved closer with every part of me tellin’ me not to.

I looked through the driver’s window first, but the seat was empty. The passenger side was empty too, and I couldn’t see nothin’ in the backseat except darkness and a jacket tossed across one side.