30. Cemone

THE NEXT DAY…

Walking through the private hospital entrance, I clutched the file folder containing documents typed up by my brother before stopping at Milaysia's door. When I entered, she was surprised initially but then lit up, as if this would be a joyous fucking occasion.

"Hmm, didn't expect you to visit me." She turned her body some as I inspected her head wrapped in bandages. Yolani had fucked her up. "Your little wife is gonna pay for what she did." She pointed to her head. "I could've died, and who knows how long I will be unable to work because of this. I was supposed to perform, win, and present tonight, exposure that I needed, and she ruined it!"

"Did she ruin it, or did you ruin it by trying to initiate some beef 'cause you jealous as fuck?" I pulled the chair and descended into it, Milaysia watching my every fucking move.

"Regardless, I missed out on pay and my performance because of your wifey."

"Ain't no wifey. That's some play shit, this real shit. It's wife. And trust me, wasn't nobody there to see you. Muthfauckas ain't even notice ya absence, so you good." I opened the packet. "And you lost your categories, so again, you ain't even really have to be there."

"Fuck you. You think bec?—"

"I need you to sign this shit right here stating that not only will you not press charges, but you won't speak on Yolani or me any longer. Also, you must not address her at any events, work or leisure." I placed the papers on her lap and pulled a pen from my pocket.

"Why the hell would I sign this?" She laughed.

"Because if you don't, you won't ever sing another muthafuckin' note outside of ya living room." I laced my fingers.

"Are you threatening me?"

"Just telling you what's up. I know people, and it's nothing for me to have you behind a register somewhere instead of cutting albums, but it's all up to you." Sitting up, I said, "But in case you don't believe me, just know I got your manager, label head, producers, and features for ya album waiting to hear back from me about how to proceed with you. Gotta love having Khari for a brother." Sighing, I said, "Same time, I can murk you if that's what you'd prefer."

Her bottom lip trembled as she watched me, before picking up the pen and slowly scribbling her name and then the date. I picked up the top paper and pointed for her to sign the one under it as well, which she did.

Taking them, I inspected the shit then put it back up in the folder.

"What is the difference between Yolani and me? I know you don't care about her being the more successful one, so keep it real. Why her over me?"

"Because my wife is beautiful physically, mentally, spiritually, and emotionally. I'm attracted to her in all different forms. With you, though, everything about you is ugly except for ya face and that deep throat. I don't know if it's genetics, a lot of ho practice, or that multi-octave range, but that deep throat is yo' only good trait, and it ain't even that good. You ever stop singing, though, you may need to sell it." I started for the door.

"Want one for the road?"

"Threaten my relationship indirectly again, and they gon' have that defibrillator to ya chest watching the clock same night. Remember the contract, and don't open ya mouth up about or to me or us."

I didn't give her ass a chance to respond before I left the room, but from what I could tell, she didn't have shit to say anyway. It would stay that way, too, if she was smart.

I sat in the driver's seat of the unmarked Ford Taurus, feet planted in the dirt as I read the incoming text from Tilsa on my burner phone. I'd told the bitch that this was my other phone and that it was the only way we could talk without Yolani knowing.

A nigga was scared than a muthafucka texting this ho, because of my wife, but it was for a goal. Once Yolani let me know about Avery, since I guess the nigga hadn't been kicking it in his normal spots, I got active. It was difficult hunting people down when I was barely in LA and busy, but I got shit done when I could.

Yolani apologized for telling him I was looking for his ass, in so many words, but the shit wasn't necessary. The nigga was a lot of fucking things, but he wasn't no dummy. And there was no way the muthafucka thought after he and his crew fought my family, shit was gon' be Easy Street.

So now that his crew had been taken the fuck out, it was his time, and I figured out just the way to reach his funky ass.

No matter how much shit a lot of these niggas talked, majority of them fell victim to pussy, especially pussy they knew well. While Tilsa may have been downgraded to Avery's jump off, she still had access to his ass because he allowed it. And like I thought, when I came at her wanting her help taking him out, her stupid ass fell for it.

All I had to do was fake a fucking apology about the video, chalking the shit up to a pissing contest between Avery and me. She was foolish enough and lacked the perfect amount of self-esteem to accept the shit.

Tilsa: We're home.

Throwing my feet back into this tiny ass car, I sped off, headed out to Bellflower where Tilsa explained to me Avery had been laying low. She told all his fucking business about how he ain't leave the house, was paranoid like a muthafucka, and damn near stripped her naked at the door to be sure she wasn't wearing a wire as if I were the police. What he should've been checking was her phone at the door.

I wasn't worried about Tilsa flipping on me and setting me up because I knew females like her. They were so dick dizzy that they never thought further than what the fuck was in front of them. By saying that, she hadn't even fathomed the thought that I was using her and that she, too, would be dying tonight like her nigga.

I got to the townhome address she'd sent me about forty-five minutes later due to the freeways and streets being damn near deserted. I only had an allotted amount of time before Yolani woke up in the middle of the night either asking for a weird snack or some dick or both.

It wasn't that I wanted to keep shit from her, but to protect her, it was better she knew as little as fucking possible. She was my wife and sure enough couldn't testify against a nigga, but I didn't even want her wrapped up in the shit and dealing with the mental anguish that came with it, especially not while we had a living, breathing child to be looked after.

Stepping out of the whip with shoe covers on to cloak my prints, I did my best to play it cool. I wasn't the smallest muthafucka, but there were taller niggas who didn't know the first thing about hooping, so I wasn't too worried.

Creeping up on the side, I used my gloved hand to type in the code to the access gate and made my way to Avery's door, hood pulled down enough to conceal my face. I checked under the potted plant for the key Tilsa had left, shaking my head internally at the fact that she would give a nigga up that she'd been fucking for years, on the promise of some NBA dick. Like I said, some of these females were worse than niggas.

Entering, I listened intently, shutting the door as carefully as possible as I twisted on the silencer to my heat. I could faintly hear Tilsa's giggles, and a man's voice talking that shit to her. I moved slowly and finally made it to the bedroom with the cracked door.

"The fuck!" Avery hollered upon seeing me but couldn't pull his dick out of Tilsa quickly enough before I put a bullet in his fucking head, sending him flying back with such velocity that he cracked his skull on the headboard.

"Damn, you could've warned me of how this was gonna go down." Tilsa frowned, getting out of the doggy-style position.

Without saying anything, I put a bullet in her head, too, enjoying the way her eyes widened in shock when she realized the shit was now pointed in her direction.

I went to stand over the bodies to be sure they were both dead, took her phone to destroy later, then left the townhome as smoothly as I had come in that bitch.

ONE WEEK LATER…

I sat down across from my brother, smirking at his busy ass as he organized the paperwork he needed me to sign and go over.

"Aight." He shuffled some. "Judge Carroll Morton tried to offer to step down in order to keep his name in good standing, his pension, benefits, and all. But I told him no because we want that investigation on him opened, which we got, so you can get paid and have all these documents and shit reversed. The nigga is done though."

The paternity tests showing neither Callen nor Blakely were mine was all the evidence we needed to convict the judge of misconduct; however, Bashar went the extra mile, having his team investigate every damn body surrounding the paternity cases and found out that Morton's assistant had the results falsified, per his orders, before placing them in the folder he'd had in court those days. He was also able to subpoena Rosette's phone records to show she and Morton had been dating since a couple months before the suits were filed.

He'd paid her ass handsomely to keep his name out of the ordeal, but when Bashar threatened to make sure she was prosecuted for her crimes, she sang like a fucking canary.

Judge Morton was from a different side of the tracks than Avery, but they still fucked themselves over, all for pussy.

"Perfect."

Bashar shook his head with a smirk, knowing exactly what I meant and that was that it was time for the judge to go meet his fucking maker. I didn't want his ass to die before he was removed from his position, investigated, and forced to reverse the paternity cases though. Rosette had already gone missing however.

"Yeah, so do you. Uh, go ahead and sign here to say you accept this amount to be returned to you for the child support." Bashar set the papers in front me, and I inscribed my signature. "Then this one to agree that you are suing for this amount in damages."

I did as he told me to.

"Now what? I'm ready to be done with this shit," I said.

"I feel you. All we have to do now is work to get the twenty million you want for damages, and then you good. It's an open and shut case because of the severity of the situation and evidence. We explained that your character was stained due to the backlash Solene caused, your money, your time, and most importantly, as you pointed out, your attachment to the kids. Shit, our attachment to 'em. Ma is pissed too."

"Exactly." I nodded, thinking about the shit all over again. To say I didn't miss Callen and Blakely would be a fucking lie.

However, setting up the accounts for them both to have when they turned twenty-one made a nigga feel a little better. It was the least I could do since I couldn't be around no fucking more and since I would be responsible, partially, for them not having parents. As far as their fathers, no one knew who the fuck them niggas actually were with the way Ananda and Solene got around. And now that Ananda was dead, it would be harder to figure the shit out as far as Blakely.

"I think that's it. I should have some news for you by next week." Bashar nodded, putting everything neatly into a folder.

"You know I told Yolani that I admired you most out of everybody," I revealed, making Bashar's head pop up.

We shared a chuckle.

"You?"

"Yeah me, nigga. I made her promise to keep that shit a secret, but she told me to give you yo' flowers and shit, whatever the fuck that mean."

"I think we all admire each other for different reasons."

"Think so," I stated.

"I do," he replied, even though it wasn't a question. "As crazy as you are, I wish I could go through life and not give a fuck about what people thought of me and shit. I don't know how you do it, but it's admirable."

"Until Yolani."

"Yeah, but that's some different shit. You 'posed to care about what yo' lady think."

"You right about that shit." I nodded, thinking.

"I love you, crazy nigga." He reached to slap my hand as he ascended.

"I love you too. Big brain ass nigga." I stood at the same time, hugging him across the desk before dipping.