He Who Is a Friend (Sadik Book 1)

by Love Belvin

  I backed up, ready to leave the butcher room. “You ain’t gone suit up before you handle that?” I asked, considering the suit and shoes he wore.

  I felt a tap on my shoulder. “Let me rap with you for a minute, son,” my father requested.

  He recognized what I should have right away. Iban was so far gone at this point, he didn’t hear me. Very few things could change the fate of the kid screaming for his life in that chair. I turned to leave and heard the beginnings of a man screaming from seeing the last seconds of his life.

  “Which body part’s ya favorite? I’ll leave it intact and that’ll be the one dropped off on ya granny’s porch in the morning,” Iban taunted what I believed were his plans.

  The door was closed behind us as we strolled down the hall, away from the sounds of the room.

  “This is joker number three,” my father began to muse. “This shit is almost six years old now. You said to wait, and here we are, all these years later, and no closer to the man who robbed me. What are your thoughts?”

  I stretched my forehead, then let out a cooling breath. “Let’s see. Joker number one, we just learned, is the Ab kid who’s about to be released. Joker number two, we killed without talking to—thanks to my capricious brother in there—which was a lost opportunity. Joker number three is in there, probably shitting on himself as he’s inching toward his last breath. Joker number four ran, and hasn’t been located yet.”

  He stepped in front of me, ending our stroll. “And joker number five?”

  “Damien.” I nodded, catching his drift. “We wait him out, too. It’ll all come together, I swear.”

  “Son, this wait and see method ain’t my groove, man,” he bit out.

  “I understand, sir.” I gave him a nod of respect. “I really do. Considering all the moving pieces, this isn’t a matter to address in haste. If it was Damien who stole from you, it will be Damien who will pay for it dearly. Remember, we’re dealing with low-level block huggers; not skilled and reputed killers. They got lucky killing your men at the old warehouse.”

  “Our men,” he corrected, grounding out. “Sadik, I don’t give a shit how much of your own man you are, you’re still my son. You’re still an heir to my fuckin’ throne.”

  I nodded amicably, but gave no verbal acquiesces or confirmations. Only patience. Simple patience.

  When the potential storm had rolled over, I continued. “Damien will pay. Okay? Of that, you have my word.”

  “When, Sadik? How?”

  “For starters, not allowing any body part of that kid in there being chopped up to appear anywhere. We don’t need anyone to know we snatched him up within hours of him coming back into town. We need to lay low. For all we know, the Derrick kid is behind him.”

  “And if he’s not?”

  “Then we always have the Ab kid. He’s still alive. We have eyes and hands on him in State Prison.”

  “And what about insurance?”

  I began nodding before he could finish his predictable question. “We’ve had intel on all of their families, which is how we knew this kid, Lenny, was back in town. The Ab kid has a sister working at a diner in Paterson—at least she was when the robbery happened. I’ll have my guys check on her status.”

  “Let’s get on it right away, son. I can’t have any of these niggas around here thinking there’re no repercussions to robbing me. The old Double E Bags would have had all their heads cut off and lined up on the corner of Broadway by White Castle so everybody could see the fools who tried me.”

  “I know. I swear, I understand.”

  “No, you don’t. This time, I left it to my sons, believing they were old enough to take over infractions like this. But now, I’m wondering who the real fool is.” His eyes narrowed.

  I snorted. “I’ll have someone on Michelle’s first thing tomorrow.”

  I felt my face fold, remembering her.

  “What is it?”

  “I was just there tonight.”

  A flash memory of the Halle Berry cut, high cheek bones, and cinnamon freckles zipped before my eyes.

  “Michelle’s and not Energy.” His lashes fluttered, eyes sweeping away.

  His gibe didn’t go unnoticed.

  “Yeah. Anyway…” I took a deep breath, ready to go. It had been a long ass day. “I’m on it. We’ll have Damien’s involvement in this in a few short months.”

  I offered my palm to end the conversation. My father obliged, pulling me into a hug.

  “You know I’m proud of you. Right?” he grumbled in my ear, holding me tightly. “You’re my last son, but my first and last hope.”

  I understood his feelings on that, too. My father had made clear his wishes for my future long ago. He hadn’t been happy with my take on them and actions against them. However, there was still a mutual respect between us we couldn’t deny. He was formidable, feared, respected, and proven. I was smart, driven, promising, calculating, and—to his frustration—independent and unpredictable.

  In his embrace, though taller than him by mere inches, I whispered, “I’m working to make good on that hope every day, sir.”

  “Try harder,” he retorted as we pulled away.

  Trying to manage my smug grin, I dropped my eyes to my feet. “How am I not, Pops?”

  “You know how!” he growled. “You know what I want of you—need of you!” His hands opened and he turned, gesturing to the grim walls of his warehouse. “This, son. I want you to take over everything.”

  “We’ve discussed this.”

  “And we’ll continue to until I get through that thick skull of yours that I adore and loathe at the same damn time. I mean…” He switched stances, widening his arms in the air. “You’re breaking my heart here, youngin’. It was one thing, you telling me just before leaving for college you didn’t want to be a part of my business. But then…in your late-thirties you surprise me with a baby by a damn Rizzo?”

  Inhaling deeply through my nostrils, that shit hurt. My lids fluttered just a bit before I rebounded. There was no way in hell I’d let him see me affected by any deliberate decision I may or may not have made.

  I snorted and smiled softly. “Good night, old man.” I gripped and squeezed his shoulder. “Kiss my queen goodnight for me.” I winked before taking off.

  A few feet into my journey, I heard him. “Sadik!”

  I turned to face him. “What were you doing in Paterson? The diner?”

  I snorted, eyes averting as I swiped my nose. “Lia wanted sweet potato pie.”

  When I was just about to continue my exit, I caught his grimace, then he grumbled incoherent words. I didn’t have to know what they were to know what he felt. Finally, I left for good.

  ∞3∞

  The door swung open to her glowing caramel skin, voluptuous figure swathed in a red silk robe tied at her waist. Her natural hair coiled in big loose curls, stopping at the neckline, exposing a distinct tattoo of butterfly wings on her soft flesh.

  I twisted the small cupcake box in the air. “Happy third anniversary, Energy,” I murmured with my face toward the floor, wearing a cheesy ass smirk.

  “I said I could come to your place.” Her eyes were deadpan. Full, red satin lips slightly pouted.

  I knew the underscoring message in that reminder.

  Snorting, my eyes fell below to her coral-painted toes before roving back to her pretty face. “No need. I was in the area.”

  She turned to rest her back on the doorjamb, her arms crossed. “Your father showed up to Energy last night.”

  I went to rub my tight eyes. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yup. Him and his women. He’s traveling with both now, I see.”

  Tired as a motherfucker, I didn’t want to travel down that road of discussion.

  I cocked my head to the side and stretched my brows. “You want this cake or not?”

  Tiffany’s smoky eyes brushed down my frame. My dick twitched to life when she wet her bottom lip. Then when her sultry gaze met mine again, she informed h
uskily, “I’ll have that cake for breakfast. Right now, you’ll have mine.”

  Her compelling strut into her dark apartment was my command.

  A cold shiver coursed my spine as I turned down the dark alley on the side of my house. Up until this point, the streets in my neighborhood were well lit. I whistled in the bleak cool air as I approached the opening of the gate leading into my backyard.

  “Dog,” I called out at a moderate volume, considering the hour.

  Unhinging the metal latch, I took gingerly steps inside the yard. I’d have to walk a couple of yards before the sensor light clicked on.

  Another whistle trickled from my chords. “Dog!”

  Then I caught his fierce growl. My head whipped to the left. Good. He was in his little kennel. At least he wouldn’t attack me as he nearly did in the past, not realizing who I was coming back here. I continued to whistle as I toed to the back of the house. I just needed the light to catch, so I could see. My heart beat fiercely against the wall of my chest, and my frame vibrated with familiar fear.

  The light appeared, shining narrowly into my haggard yard. When I turned, I saw the dog shoot off in my direction.

  “Whoa!” I yelped, panicking.

  He stopped inches away and began to growl again. That’s when my shaky hands went to my tote and pulled out a plastic bag.

  “I’ve brought you dinner.” I swallowed hard and unexpectedly; so scared. After opening the Styrofoam container, the pit bull began to whimper. “Yeah. You know what this is.”

  I tossed out scraps of chicken and beef I’d been having the waiters pack up for me each night to feed him. The dog went to town on the meat right away. That gave me time to grab the hose and fill his bowl with water. Having a dog these past few months had been challenging. Sometimes, it was worth the peace of mind it brought and other times, it wasn’t. I hadn’t even named him; just called him Dog.

  One of the cooks at the diner recommended I get one when I’d mentioned feeling like I was being watched a year ago. It took months of heavy consideration, but after feeling so vulnerable living in this house alone, I conceded. Unless there was extreme weather, I kept him outside. When I felt extra afraid, I’d bring Dog inside and put him in a metal cage that cost more than him.

  As he chowed down, I let myself inside the house by way of the back door. The alarm system was disarmed with the punch of four numbers. The irony in this daily action was, while the system was functional in terms of scaring off an intruder, it wasn’t connected to a service that could call for help. It hadn’t been in over ten years.

  I dropped my bag in a kitchen chair and succumbed to an unforeseen yawn. It had been a long day, and I was actually tired. I should have been; it was close to three in the morning. Such was the life of a baker in a diner opened twenty-three hours a day. Retrieving my phone from my bag, I shuffled to the back of the house, clicking on light switches along the way. I tried fighting the fear of being alone and possibly attacked tonight. That was the benefit of being exhausted.

  After a hot shower, I tossed on an old t-shirt and a pair of my father’s old boxers. My stomach growled, leading me back to the kitchen, where I left my small container of sweet potato pie. I’d taken a slice of Maria’s last attempt. Pedro couldn’t do another. He got stuck on garbage duties. I forked a piece as I swept across the corridor floor in my slippers.

  “Mmmmmm…” It was pretty tasty.

  She’d nailed it. I dropped onto my bed, thinking how I’d tell her tomorrow when my phone rang. My forehead wrinkled. Not that I didn’t get calls at this hour, because anyone in touch with me knew I’d likely be up, but I’d grown to be aflutter in my own childhood home.

  I saw the name flashing across the screen and answered quickly to get back to the pie.

  “Hey, Jason.” I chewed away.

  “Hi, my Somali sister.”

  “So, you’re Somali today?” I cracked.

  “You know what I mean. I’m just leaving campus and wanted to know what time you’ll be making it in today.”

  I dropped the phone from my ear to put him on speaker and check my calendar.

  “Looks like I’ll be checking in no later than one. I have to finish those calls for surveys.” I rolled my eyes. “That’ll take me well into the evening.”

  “I’ll meet you there around that time. I need your help with the fall’s course scheduling. I told Langston that’s a faculty role, and his response was to work with you and it’ll get done.”

  I rolled my eyes again, sighing. I placed the container on my nightstand and lay back on my pillows.

  “Yeah…”

  “Question.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you dating anyone?”

  And there was the eye roll thing happening again.

  My eyes flew open when I realized the phone buzzing wasn’t a part of my dream. I turned to the nightstand and lifted the wrong one at first. When I made it to the second, I felt her warm body shift underneath me.

  “Yeah…” A hand reached up and stroked the bare skin of my head.

  “Damn,” she droned. “You still sleep?” My assistant was a sharp four-foot-eleven alpha, but annoying as fuck first thing in the morning.

  “The hell is it, Rory?” I rubbed my eyes.

  “Deek, Palmer just called. Apparently, the Lopezes wanna meet at two o’clock.”

  Lopezes?

  I pulled the phone from my ear for the time.

  “That’s an hour and a half from now. What that got to do with me?”

  “He wants you to lead it.”

  My face turned to stone. I could tell her to call back and decline. I could actually call my father, myself, and ask why the fuck was he trying me. But I knew none of those actions would address the reason he was demanding my participation. It was his leash. This game we’d been playing for months now had to end. I couldn’t live my life this way.

  I took a deep breath, mentally resigning to awakening and beginning my day. It was just fucked up my agenda was made for me. I had other shit to do. Legit shit to conquer. But as he knew, I would acquiesce to this. There was no need to ask where. I knew the location.

  “A’ight.” I swiped my nose.

  Sitting up, I swung my feet onto the floor. My eyes strained against the morning light. That’s when I realized Tiff never closed the curtains last night. I rubbed my eyes, taking in a deep breath.

  Her hand was at my back. “Mmmmmm…” She hummed. “I thought we could catch brunch at that restaurant on the water.”

  “Duty calls.” I stood to my feet, stretching my arms out.

  Padding into the bathroom where I relieved myself, I began to get upset all over again. Even while washing my face and brushing my damn teeth, I battled with defiance over loyalty. When I returned to her bedroom, Tiff was still in bed, engaged in her cell phone.

  “Did I hear correctly that Earl’s calling you to duty?”

  “Yup.” I strained pushing into my shirt.

  “Is it family business or family business?”

  “I don’t know.” I lied. “Won’t know until I get there.”

  “Have you changed your mind about taking over?”

  I didn’t answer. It wasn’t a discussion I’d take on with Tiffany right now. I took to the task of attaching the invisible buttons on my shirt as I gazed blindly out the window. I had a meeting with my trucking staff that would have to be pushed back now. The thought to hit up Rory with that request came to mind, though she likely handled it the moment we hung up. I’d have just enough time to shoot to my place, shower, dress, eat, and head over to my father’s warehouse for this meeting.

  Should I reschedule the walkthrough at the port until next—

  “Sadik…”

  “Hmm?” My head didn’t come up from the task in front of me.

  “Last night, at Energy, Earl asked if I could live with you having a baby with someone else.”

  Finally, I turned to her. Tiffany rested on one elbow tensely, her right bre
ast half covered and the left fully exposed, peaking at its apex. Facing forward again, I snorted, reminded of just how much my father had been struggling with Lia’s pregnancy. I could never admit the guilt I carried from it. At this point, my hands were tied. I gaited over to the chair to grab my socks and shoes.

  “Aren’t you going to ask what my answer was?”

  I gazed over my shoulder again to her bare face. Rarely did I see the young Tiffany I grew up with. The little girl, who was known to mostly rock the two big ponytails on either side because that was the only hairstyle her widower father knew how to do, and she would never let his women lay a finger in her thick mane. Tiff had always been a force to be reckoned with.

  The hardened, self-contained, super-confident millennial woman was nowhere to be found in this moment. Right here was the presence of your typical wistful girl with dreams of being swept off her feet by Prince Charming and promised to be protected, loved, and cherished forever. All the things every woman who desired them should have. The only problem with it was I wasn’t that guy.

  Tiffany was gorgeous as hell, bordering plus size, shapely, confident, one of the smartest women I knew, and an astute entrepreneur.

  I may not have known the exact words she used to answer my father, but damn sure didn’t have to ask her. I knew. It was why I didn’t fuck her at my place, and rarely here at hers. It was why I waited until she was thirty-years-old to lay a hand on her, believing it to be a safer time for her mentally. It was why I never formally labeled what we had between us. It was why people could only speculate. It was precisely why her voice was an octave and a half above its normal pitch as she approached this topic.

  Impatient with the delay in my response, Tiffany rolled over and licked her swollen lips as she sat up in the bed.

  “I told him having children with someone, for a man like you, isn’t the same as a partner.” She dipped her chin. “Partners know the game. They understand the sacrifice. Know the lifestyle.” Her eyes rolled away. “I get it. All of it. I was built for it.”