Page 41 of The Impossible

I laughed to myself as I descended the steps. The fuck she gonna do with a dog when she’s about to have all these fucking animals?

I was downstairs for all of five minutes before Otto texted me, letting me know he was outside, which I expected. He probably thought I was gonna leave without him, so he rushed here. When I opened the door, he was ashing his blunt and telling somebody he’d catch them another time and to lock a door. Nigga had company but didn’t hesitate to come babysit me.

“You were busy.”

“Not even close. Now I am.” He slipped his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. To be the oldest, this nigga looked and dressed like the youngest.

I nodded, then looked straight ahead at Steeve pulling up to the round curb of my driveway. I closed the door of the house, instinctively making sure it was locked before I descended the couple stairs to the truck Joe was now standing outside the rear door of.

“How do you know where ol’ boy is right now anyway?” my brother asked, falling in step with me.

“Sent Shawn ahead earlier. He’s at his business that doesn’t close until five. Opens at five and closes at five.” We got into the car.

“Let me guess, it’s closed now, at your insistence.”

I laughed. “Hell yeah. Tryna make this shit quick.”

The drive to the city wasn’t quick at all given it was a Friday night and late summer in Briar. Everybody was outside while niggas like me were trying to handle business and get back to the house. I had all I needed there.

Thirty-five minutes later we pulled right in front of the establishment and of course Shawn was standing out front with his hands at his sides like he hadn’t just emptied the building on my command.

“It’s clear, boss. You can go right in,” he said, just as another of my guards held the door open for me and my brother to enter.

When we entered, I was thoroughly impressed by the interior. It was decked out, a nice lounge vibe, enough to pull in a good amount of folks, especially with the hours he was open. I glanced ahead and he was seated in a half circle booth, looking in my direction.

“Must’ve fucked up really bad to have Pops sending you after me, huh?” he asked. Then he put a glass of brown liquor to his lips.

His statement caught me by surprise, but I didn’t let on that it did.

I shook my head before taking a seat in the booth. My brother grabbed himself a chair, placing it at the edge of the velvety red pool inspired table.

“Fucked up how?” Otto asked what I didn’t.

He shrugged carelessly. Another young cocky nigga with apparent daddy issues. This, I didn’t have time for. “You tell me. I came out of my office to see your men shutting my business down during prime time. Something happened, right?”

I shook my head. “That’s a fucked-up way to think. But since you asked, what were you doing at Bistro this afternoon?”

“Paying a bitch to get rid of a baby,” he responded in a matter of fact tone. Yep, another young cocky nigga.

I studied his reaction and there wasn’t one. He didn’t flinch or anything. His facial expression didn’t even change.

“This got something to do with the shooting that happened outside?”

My ears perked up.

“What do you know about it?” Otto asked.

“That it happened and saved me a couple dollars.” He shrugged, letting us know without explicitly letting us know what he meant.

“My wife was out there. You know anything about that part?”

His eyes jumped from me to my brother, then back toward me. “I ain’t have shit to do with that, but if you know her people like I do, I wouldn’t be searching so far out, maybe even my people.”

“Fuck is that supposed to mean?” Otto asked.

“You see where I’m at. No security behind me. Couple months back Pops called me and said O’Leary wanted to see me. Said he had a proposition. I went to meet with him and he offered me ol’ girl’s hand, telling me it was a good business move. Turned him down. I ain’t with all that, never have been. Anyway, Pops called me right after, telling me I blew my chances and how it would have been over before it started anyway. I didn’t ask what he meant, but if you saying somebody tried to kill your wife, I’d look at the marriage contract. Not only that, but fucking with Shamus, you should probably pay attention to how much they have on her head.”

“What do you mean on her head?” Otto asked, because lowkey, my mind was everywhere.