A fire stirred inside him. It spread so quickly that Indie didn’t have time for logic or common sense to douse the flames of anger. He didn’t even wait for the car to stop moving before he hopped out and approached the happy couple.
“Fuck is you doing? You got my daughter out here while you playing pretend with this nigga?” Indie asked heatedly as he accosted YaYa.
“Not the time or place, my G,” Ethic said.
“Fuck you say to me?”
YaYa’s mouth hung open. Here her shit was, out in the open, and she was terrified for the juggernaut-size egos of these men to clash.
“Daddy!” Skylar yelled as she ran up to him.
He tucked her behind him territorially.
Ethic stepped up, similarly tucking YaYa behind him as his own kids looked on curiously.
Ethic leaned in to whisper to YaYa, “Take the kids and go back inside.”
She looked at Indie and then at Ethic. She loved them both, but only one had hurt her. Indie had betrayed her. He had lied to her. He had put her out, and the vindictive side of her wanted him to see her happy as she adorned the arm of the next man, to see her living and thriving with another love, to see her making plans that didn’t involve him. That was called karma. But would it just be cruel? Even at his worst, when he hurt her beyond belief, when he lied, when he cheated, when he didn’t live up to the idea of the perfect man she had developed in her head, she still didn’t want to think about him giving what he gave her to Parker, or anyone else, for that matter. YaYa was in an impossible position. They both required her allegiance, but she couldn’t give her loyalty only to one. I have to go with the man who loves me more, she thought. That was the safest bet. Ethic didn’t talk, but proved how he felt with actions. Indie gave her that dangerous love. That excitement. With him it felt like she was living on the edge. With Ethic love was settled; it was secure and safe. He gave her a foundation. What was perfect for her years ago was no longer fitting. She had grown to crave something tamer, something she could depend on. Ethic. So YaYa reached for Skylar. “Come on, baby, let’s go inside and get some ice cream with Bella and Ezra, okay?”
“Love you, Daddy. Bye!” Skylar shouted, completely oblivious to the tension that was building between her father and the man that YaYa had introduced as “Mommy’s good friend.”
Indie reluctantly let his daughter go. His eyes met YaYa’s, and he could see the damage he had done to her reflected in her gaze. It matched his own. It was dumbfounding how two people who loved each other so deeply could cause each other so much sorrow. It was like they were in a competition to see who could hurt whom the most.
YaYa was rapt because she could see how sorry he was. She could tell that he was upset. His shoulders were hunched in that way that told her something had disrupted his entire day. It bothered her. She wanted to ask if he was okay, but her stubbornness wouldn’t dare allow it. YaYa had to keep reminding herself that he had chosen this. He put you out, she thought, trying to convince herself that he deserved none of her energy. She was mad, she was livid, in fact; she felt discarded like trash, replaceable by Parker, unwanted by the man who had promised to always be there. He had disregarded thick and thin. What happened to that? What happened to sticking it out? YaYa was tired of being the one willing to endure hard times. So instead of going to him, asking where King was, if anything was wrong, what had happened to cause the bent brow to appear on his troubled face, she broke their stare and ushered their daughter and Ethic’s children back inside the hotel.
“YaYa,” Indie called after her.
Ethic turned and waited to see how YaYa would respond as she held open the door to the hotel. She was hesitating. She was unsure. He could see it in her face. “You got business with him?” Ethic asked.
YaYa paused. Let him go, she thought. She shook her head before disappearing out of sight.
Indie started toward YaYa, but Ethic moved in his path.
“Nigga, I will lay you down where you stand out here,” Indie threatened. “The fuck you think you are? That’s me inside that hotel. As bad as you want it to be you, it’s gone forever be me. She will always belong to me. Everything you see in her that you want for yourself, I made. I raised that woman.”
Ethic stood his ground. “Look. My kids are in there. Your daughter is in there. We can play this how you want to play it.”
“I know we can, nigga,” Indie said, cutting him off. Indie was so furious that all he could see was red. He had a thirst for blood, and only Ethic’s would quench it. “This ain’t the Midwest. You’re in my city. You stepping to me talking on her behalf like I won’t light yo’ ass up. I’m prepared to die for mine. Are you? You ready to die over her?”
“I’m ready for whatever. I don’t bring my kids anywhere unprotected,” Ethic said arrogantly. There wasn’t an ounce of fear in him even though he knew dealing with a married woman made him the target for another man’s hate. He hadn’t come to town alone, however. Ethic saw his young goon Messiah walk up discreetly behind Indie.
Indie never saw it coming. The normally strategic hustler was caught off guard when he felt the nose of Messiah’s pistol jam into his side.
“You want me to take this nigga for a walk?” Messiah asked. He reached inside Indie’s waistline and relieved him of his pistol.
“Nah, let him breathe,” Ethic said. Ethic knew he couldn’t be the one responsible for Indie’s execution. YaYa would never forgive him. “When you ready to talk like a man, we can chop it up. I’mma be here as long as she want me here. We can take it to the max, but this the last pass I’m going to give you. Last time I went to war with a nigga, innocent people got hurt. The woman I loved got hurt. I’m not about the games. Won’t be no back-and-forth. Either you lose your life or I lose mine, but I’m not letting this shit simmer.”
Embarrassment filled Indie, not because Ethic had gotten the better of him—every man had an off day. It was part of the game. Men had to collect the L’s the same way they clocked the wins. He was lucky that Ethic had given him the opportunity to live to see the next bout. But he was humiliated because he had lost a good woman. YaYa had wasted no time moving on, and Indie hated himself for giving her reason to leave him.
“You got it,” Indie said, conceding for the moment. He was outgunned and he stepped off, climbing inside the chauffeured car, leaving Ethic with his temporary victory.
“You should have taken care of that right here and now. I’ve done my homework on that nigga. He’s official. This ain’t over. He gone come for your head,” Messiah stated.
“I know,” Ethic said. He looked back at YaYa, who had emerged from the hotel with a worried expression on her face.
“No disrespect, Shorty bad, but is she worth all this?” Messiah asked.
“She is,” Ethic confirmed. He locked hands with Messiah. “Stay ready.”
“Every day, all day, you know how I get down, O.G.,” Messiah replied before stepping off.
Ethic walked to YaYa’s side. He could tell she was rattled, not out of fear of Indie, but of fear for the choice she had just made. She knew that if things weren’t already bad before, they definitely were now.
“I don’t want anyone getting hurt over me. Maybe we should slow things up,” YaYa said.
“We can go at whatever pace you want,” Ethic said reassuringly. He kissed her forehead and reached in his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. “I was going to surprise you later, but I want you to know that I’m all in. These are keys to my house in Flint. There is a home waiting for you there when you’re ready.”
“Ethic … I—”
He silenced her with a kiss. “I’m just letting you know where I stand,” he said.
She rested her head on his shoulder as they walked side by side, returning to their children. If only she could keep her mind off Indie, she could make this work with Ethic. She had left Indie with the intention of finding herself, but Ethic made her feel too good to avoid. When he had called her and heard the distress in
her voice, he had come to town immediately, this time with his children in tow because he didn’t know how long she would need him to stay. Now the choice was hers, to leave town with him or to stay. Even now, in the midst of a new beginning, she was considering how her actions affected Indie. She hated that she cared so much. Wasn’t Indie’s karma supposed to be watching her love someone else? Why was moving on so hard for her as well? She didn’t know if it was the fact that she found comfort in the routine she had developed with Indie or if she truly couldn’t live without him, but there was a pit in the bottom of her stomach. If she were making the right decision, it wouldn’t feel like this.
Don’t talk yourself out of this. Ethic is a good man, and he loves you, YaYa thought.
Together with their children, YaYa and Ethic resembled a perfect family. She wouldn’t mess it up this time. Not for Indie or anyone else. It’s just going to take some time for me to get him out of my system. We need more than love to make things work. We need trust, and that is something you just can’t get back, she thought.
“You okay?” Ethic asked.
YaYa was rattled out of her thoughts as she looked at Ethic distractedly. “Huh?”
“Are you okay?” he repeated.
She put on a smile, masking her uncertainty as she nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I’m fine,” she answered.
Ethic only half believed her. He was aware of the sensitive nature of her relationship with Indie. Loving YaYa would be an uphill climb because she had been groomed for another man. She was programmed to Indie. The way she dressed, the way she wore her hair, even the way she spoke was all catered to his liking. Ethic would be patient as they delved into this new experience with one another. He didn’t want to mold her to his whim, but to her own potential. He was almost certain that YaYa had no idea just how special she was. Most men would have walked away, but Ethic wasn’t easily intimidated. He was willing to fight for what he wanted. Problem was, so was Indie.
21
The bottle of aged scotch burned slow as it warmed a path down Indie’s throat, settling in his empty stomach as he sat inside the apartment. The quiet bothered him. It was worse than the jail cell at Rikers because in there he expected to be alone. His home was supposed to be filled with love, with the sweet laughter of his kids, and the awaiting arms of his wife. Instead, it was just Indie and the bottle he nursed.
The choices he had made had brought him to this point. Most men who betrayed their wives did so because they forgot what they had. They took it for granted and forgot that the woman they had married was once the woman every man wanted. Acquiring the prize made a man forget to value it. That wasn’t the case with Indie. He knew exactly how lucky he had been to have YaYa. Somehow he had still fucked it up. A part of him wanted to let her go. Indie’s trial was beginning soon, and there was no telling how things would shake out. Maybe letting her go now would be easier than holding on through a bid. I can’t put her through that. She should move on with her life with a nigga that can take care of her, Indie thought. He would never admit it aloud, but he knew that Ethic was the better man. Indie meant well but didn’t always do right. If he was measured on his intent, he would win every time, but he was flawed, and unfortunately that had led to the destruction of his bond with YaYa. They were so far off track that Indie didn’t know how to get right. Hatred dwelled in his heart for Ethic, and all Indie could think of was revenge. Indie had murdered men for a lot less. A man sleeping with his wife had to be reason enough to justify the pulling of a trigger. Right now his strife was justifying his emptying the bottle of liquor. It dulled the loss. It made him forget his worries. He didn’t think about his son, or his trial, or his daughter, and as he kept drinking, thoughts of YaYa dulled as well. He kicked himself for letting his anger get the best of him. He had put her out. He had given her this building and then taken it away. It was exactly what she feared, and he had proven her correct. He should have left to cool his head before approaching her about the bank account. He had handled things badly and had pushed her directly into the arms of someone else.
Indie’s pride was injured and it would be most difficult to repair. Despite the fact that he had done it to himself, he still needed someone else to blame. If he had to admit that he had lost everything on his own, he would need more than a bottle of brown to cope. As he looked around the apartment, he grew disgusted. That nigga probably bought all this shit in here, Indie thought. He finished his drink in one long, deadly swig and then threw the bottle at the designer mirror hanging on the wall. It shattered, sending shards of glass crashing to the floor. Jealousy, regret, rage—there was a category-five hurricane of emotions brewing inside of him. He sat down on the couch as the room swayed. The effects of his drinking were beginning to hinder him. He wasn’t a man that overindulged in anything. This was uncharacteristic of him, and as he planted his face in his hands, he felt the libations threaten to come back up. Indie wasn’t in his right frame of mind, but he would rather deal with the hangover to come then the symptoms of a broken heart. He knew how to treat one of them; he had no idea how he would survive the latter.
* * *
There was a ringing in his head. Or was it the door? As Indie pulled himself off the couch, gravity weighed him down. The loud sound of the security buzzer rang out again, making him wince. His head was pounding, and somehow he was bleeding. He looked at the large gash on the palm of his hand. He couldn’t remember how it had gotten there, but as his feet crunched over the mess of the broken mirror, he began to put the pieces together. Damn, he thought as he made his way to the intercom.
“Who is it?” he barked in irritation.
“It’s Einstein. Let me up.”
Indie felt like death, but he buzzed Einstein in and prayed like crazy that his headache and nausea would subside long enough for him to meet with his attorney.
He didn’t bother cleaning up. He simply waited for Einstein to come up the elevator. At this point, perception didn’t matter. He had nothing, and for the first time in his life he felt like he was worth nothing. Being down was not new to Indie. As a kid, he had come up rough. He wasn’t a stranger to piss-scented project hallways and syrup sandwiches, but even back then he had held his head high. Indie had always felt like his come-up was right around the corner. He always maintained his pride and his word. They were the two things that he never lost. The type of defeat he felt now was crippling. He didn’t care about the money. He knew how to flip a dollar. He could always bounce back from financial devastation. But he had broken his own code as a man. He hadn’t taken care of his family, and his freedom was in jeopardy so he didn’t know if he should even fight to get them back. What good was he to them? He felt selfish for wanting them back because deep down he knew that he was incapable of taking care of them, at least for the moment. He had to slip out of the noose that the state had around his neck before he could go back for them.
“You look like shit,” Einstein said as he stepped into the apartment.
“Long night,” Indie said as he went into the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of water out of the refrigerator. He tossed one to Einstein. “I take it you have something important for me?”
“A plea deal from the district attorney,” Einstein informed him. “He’s offering ten years.”
The number may as well have been a death sentence. It would be a decade of his life taken away. His children would be foreign to him by the time he surfaced. King would be a grown man, and Skylar would be a teenager. His YaYa, his precious love, would be long gone. The depressing thoughts choked him up. He was a man deserted out on the island he had made.
“What are my chances with a jury?” Indie asked.
“Jury trials are unpredictable. I can argue their case down, but at the end of the day it’s about whether they like you or not, whether they can relate to you or not.” Einstein paused. “I’m going to propose something, and you tell me if I’m out of bounds or not. I will stop talking if this isn’t even an option, but if you cooperate�
��”
“Stop talking,” Indie interrupted. “You know better.”
“I’m not speaking on the obvious. Don’t give them who they really want. Give them who they think they want. Every king has pawns. Sometimes a sacrifice is necessary in order to survive. It’s better than the alternative,” Einstein advised. “I will prepare for trial unless you tell me otherwise.”
Indie watched him go and then pulled out another bottle. He didn’t know how things could get any worse. He had no game plan, no trick bag. His life was on a downward spiral, and he had no idea how to stop the madness. He didn’t have a pawn to give up. He had dismantled his entire team. It was just me and Zya and … he took pause before completing his thought: Ethic. That had been the play. Zya had put the two men together one to work Vartex from the inside, and the other on the outside for distribution. Indie’s mind spun as the thought of giving Ethic up to the D.A. crossed his mind. Zya would be in the clear, and Ethic would be indicted instead. It was a dirty move, but the streets didn’t play fair. The moment Ethic slept with Indie’s wife, they had become enemies. Did Indie really owe it to Ethic to keep it G? All code between them was lost, muddied up by disloyalty and disrespect. He just might be my ace in the hole, Indie thought. Suddenly freedom didn’t seem so unreasonable. I can kill two birds with one stone. He snaked me first when he went after my wife. Nothing beats a cross like a double cross. I can get him out the way of my family and make this case go away.
* * *
YaYa awoke to the sound of laughter, and she slid out of bed, walking into the living room of her hotel penthouse suite. She and Ethic had adjoining rooms. To avoid springing their relationship on their children too fast, they decided to sleep apart, but Bella and Skylar had become fast friends. Skylar sat in between Bella’s legs while Bella played big sister and combed Sky’s hair. Skylar didn’t complain or cry the way she did when YaYa attempted the same task. Instead she had her eyes glued to the television as Saturday-morning cartoons entertained her.
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