Page 22 of Before I Say I Don’t

Chapter Eleven

ROMAN

I cruised through the familiar streets of my old neighborhood that still knew my name. It was the kind of place that raised you tough but would rob you blind if you looked too comfortable. I wasn’t above it, but I wasn’t dumb either.

Before I hit the block, I took a moment to prepare myself.

I checked my piece, slid the mag in, and racked it once.

It wasn’t a matter of paranoia; more like insurance.

I was in a matte black Maybach—fresh tint, rims that kissed the sunlight.

On that side of town, the wrong shine could get you checked.

As I rolled up to the address Viangelo had sent me, I immediately noticed him lounging casually in his ride with the engine idling, the music low, and one arm hanging lazily out the window.

I shifted into park, cut my engine, slid my phone open, and tapped record—out of habit, not hesitation. A good lawyer doesn’t just listen; he—or she—builds a record. And if Viangelo slipped and gave me something worth filing, I needed to be ready to capture it.

Before exiting my whip, I took a moment to survey my surroundings.

In the distance, I saw two kids tossing a ball.

Nearby, an elderly man sat firmly planted on his creaky stoop, seemingly oblivious to the world around him, his gaze fixed on the street with a blend of nostalgia and weariness.

Over by the corner store, a pair of vultures circled lazily—same old soundtrack.

I stepped out and slid into Viangelo’s car, the door closing us in tight.

“What’s good, my boy?” he grinned, hand out.

I met his palm with a quick slap, the familiar dap that brought back memories of our carefree days hanging out together.

“I was starting to think you were going to bail on me,” he said, looking relieved.

“Nigga, you’re cutting into my gym time, so yeah— almost ,” I told him, then leaned back casually. “But what’s good? And why yo’ ass ain’t at work?” I asked as if I didn’t already know.

He smirked. “Shid, some of the homies treating me to a little last minute getaway; you know I wasn’t gon’ turn that down.

I would’ve invited you, but hell, you’re already on vacation, and the last thing you probably want is another trip.

So I figured you’d turn it down, especially since you hate doing shit last minute…

with your non spontaneous ass.” He chuckled.

“Only when the moment calls for it.” I winked.

“Shid, the invitation is still open.”

“Nah, it’s cool. I already got plans anyway.”

“Oh, yeah?” Viangelo adjusted his cap. “I meant to ask you yesterday… what’s your relationship status looking like these days? You got a lil’ shorty or some?”

I smirked. “Something like that.”

Viangelo leaned in, grinning. “Y’all serious?”

“Getting there.”

“Well damn, bring her to the wedding so I can meet her.”

Oh, she’ll be there. Front row, center stage… hell, she’ll even be wearing the bride’s dress.

My thoughts drifted to a more vivid image: Kamira gliding down the aisle, glowing, eyes steady, veil floating. Yet, she wouldn’t be walking towards him. Nah… she would be headed straight for me.

The whole scene almost made me laugh out loud at how twisted the universe could get.

That fool Viangelo probably thought I was talking about some random chick; the whole time, the woman he thought was ‘made for him’ was the same one I couldn’t stop imagining saying “I do… or don’t” with her focus locked on me.

The corners of my mouth curled into a smirk that was tight enough to keep my thoughts hidden.

With a casual tone, I asked, “So, what was it you wanted to discuss?”

Viangelo glanced to the side, his eyes flitting around as if searching for the right words.

When he finally turned back to face me, his expression had transformed dramatically. The usual charm and playful grin had vanished, replaced by a tense seriousness that signaled he was about to say something he swore he’d never tell a soul.

“Look… you’re one of the more leveled dudes in the crew who isn’t into running his mouth like the rest, so I feel comfortable sharing this with you.”

I raised an eyebrow, signaling for him to continue. “Shoot.”

He took a deep breath, clearly gathering his thoughts. “I haven’t been completely faithful in my relationship with Kam.”

I leaned back slowly in my seat, processing his admission. “How unfaithful are we talkin’?”

“A couple of side bitches. But… I fucked around and got one of ’em pregnant. I have a two month old daughter,” he confessed.

Damn. So Dre wasn’t lying. Not that I doubted him—he said it with too much conviction for it to just be barbershop gossip.

Still, I gave him nothing—no shock, no congratulations. Just a slow nod. “Damn.”

“I know, right.”

“How else knows?”

“None of the other niggas know. You’re the first one I told… and probably the only.”

“Why me?” I asked out of curiosity.

“‘Cause you’re not messy like their asses. You think before you talk and I can’t have this shit gettin’ out the wrong way. If she finds out…” He shook his head hard, jaw tight. “I already know it’s over. I love her. I’m not trying to lose that.”

I inclined slightly. “You love her, but you got a whole kid she don’t know about. That ain’t love, Angelo; that’s lying with better clothes on, nigga.”

“It was a one-night thing,” he rushed out. “I didn’t even know she was pregnant ‘til she hit me after the baby was born. We did the test. She’s mine. I send money… but I don’t know how to tell Kamira without it blowing everything up.”

“You just do it,” I advised with a shrug. “Keep it simple. Be direct. No sugar, no cute build-up. If you want to keep pretending like there’s not a ticking time bomb under your feet, that’s on you. But when it blows, it’s gonna be a lot louder.”

His expression shifted, eyes narrowing as he processed my words. “Are you suggesting I should drop this on her right before the wedding?”

“I’m saying, if you've been hiding something this major in your closet, it’s far wiser to swing the door open yourself than to let someone else barge in and pull the skeleton out,” I replied firmly.

Viangelo smirked like he was testing if I was fishing.

“This has to stay just between us, man. You feel me? I can’t have her hearing this from someone else.”

I looked him dead in the eye, my seriousness matching the weight of our conversation.

“Look, I don’t run to women with stories.”

Kamira was an exception.

“But you? You better figure out how to stop leading a double life, because the longer you wait, the harder it’s gonna be for both of y’all. And one of ’em’s gonna get you buried.”

Viangelo rubbed the back of his neck, then shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

I shook my head, a hint of frustration creeping into my tone.

“No, it’s really quite simple. There’s a child involved; focus on that. As for what happens with you and Kamira afterward? That’s the consequence of your own choices and the part you earned.”

He exhaled, like the weight was still there but heavier now. “You ever… messed up like this?”

A faint smile played at my lips, the kind that tasted like victory before the fight even started.

“You mean, got a baby on somebody I love ? Hell nah! I don’t make promises I can’t keep. And I don’t hand people ammo, then get mad when they shoot.”

His posture shifted as he leaned back, studying me intently, silently weighing the balance between whether it was safe to trust me or if I was the wrong one to cross.

I opened the car door. “You asked for straightforward advice… I’ve laid it out for you. Now what you choose to do with it… that’s on you.”

Viangelo nodded, thoughtfully. “Preciate it, homie.”

With one foot firm on the pavement, he called out, “We good, right?”

I glanced back. “Why wouldn’t we be? As long as you remember I’m not one of your boys who’ll clap for anything you do; I’m just the one who sees it all. I’ll holla at you later. Enjoy yo’ trip.”

Viangelo had just handed me the smoking gun and didn’t even know it.

As I headed to the crib, I let the silence stretch, giving myself space to think.

Kamira’s reaction crossed my mind. Although she was the one who suggested I go meet up with Viangelo, I still wondered if she would truly thank me or would she cut me out for being the one to break her world open with the information I had?

That was the gamble. All I knew was that timing mattered.

If I dropped it too soon, it would look like sabotage—like I purposely came back into her life to wedge myself between them.

If I held on to that info too long, it would appear as betrayal—like I sat on the truth while she continued planning her vows.

Either way, one thing was clear. Viangelo was already guilty; all I had to do was wait for the right time to read the verdict out loud… which would probably be that day.