Page 202 of Own It
“I’m sorry. Part of me felt like you wouldn’t want to talk to me, then I felt awkward about hitting up Rakim to check for some reason,” I explained, but when Mylo smirked at me cutely, my shoulders fell due to the sudden ease I felt.
“You good. I get it.” He sat down on my couch, and I joined him. “I ain’t mad though. I knew it was possible I could be apprehended when I stole off on that nigga, but I couldn’t allow his disrespect to go unpunished.”
“I get it. Thank you, but I want you to know because of the life I lived for the majority of my days, shit like that doesn’t bother me. You don’t need to come to my rescue or fight for my honor every time someone says something disgusting like that. I barely even notice those types of comments anymore.”
Mylo nodded, taking his eyes off me briefly as he chewed on my words.
“I feel that, but I need you to understand that I won’t allow anybody to be rude or talk shit on yo’ name in my presence. I may have to adjust how I go about the shit, but letting it roll off a nigga’s shoulders ain’t happening.”
I could only bob my head, knowing that continuing to try and convince Mylo to let shit go would be in vain.
“So what happened? When did you get out?”
“I got out yesterday. They tried to press charges, but Rakim somehow convinced old boy to cooperate. With nobody willing to give any more information, plus Rakim’s connects, I got a slap on the wrist and a warning.”
“Okay, that makes me feel better.” I smiled, and we exchanged smiles. “I like you, Mylo. I’ve been trying not to and keep you at bay, but I can’t deny how much better I feel when I’m around you.”
It felt pointless to push Mylo away in favor of a man who was no longer breathing. And with Mylo being in trouble, it gave me time to realize how much I liked and wanted him around.
“I know. Was just waiting for you to admit the shit.”
“Damn. I thought you’d say it back.” I giggled.
“No need to. I’ve made that clear.” He caressed my knee, staring down at it longingly for some reason. “I got some shit to tell you though, Téa.”
“Oh no.”
“Calm down.” He sat up since he’d been leaning back on the couch. “We found out what happened to Zaire.”
“Who was it?”
“You’d never guess.” Mylo steepled his fingers, staring down at them pensively and pushing me to the precipice of my anxiety. “His own father.”
“Huh?” I felt my brows kiss. “His father killed him? How? I mean, I know how, but what?”
“I know. I still can’t wrap my head around the shit, but we got proof.” Mylo ran a hand down his face. “Apparently, he secured the drugs, and somehow—we’re assuming via injection—got it into Zaire. He had enough in his body to kill two people.”
Here I was excited to have an extension of a family, but now I was finding out that my baby girl’s grandfather had murdered her father. What the fuck?
“But why? I don’t get it.”
“We still trying to piece that shit together. Rakim wants to know before he makes his move.”
I nodded, knowing that made sense.
“My father passed when I was in high school and while he wasn’t perfect, he was far from being the type to want to kill his own kid,” I half joked to lighten the dire mood in the room at the moment.
“Mine was a good dude. And I thank God he wasn’t that type of nigga.” He nibbled on his lip. “Nate never was one of them Cliff Huxtable type fathers though. So, while this shit is shocking, it ain’t at the same time, if that makes sense. Whatever Zaire knew or did was enough to make that nigga murk him.”
“Are you close with your parents?”
“I am or was, depending on which one you asking about. My father passed from cancer when I was younger, but my mama is still around. I think I’m closer to her because she been in my life longer, but I loved my pops too.”
I nodded, listening and enjoying learning about him.
“I wouldn’t even know my father if he walked up to me and my mom was never really like a mom. She treated me like a sister she never wanted.”
“That’s fucked up.” Mylo looked over at me, shaking his head. “I think my mama got enough love in her for both of us. She warm and inviting like that.”
