Page 45

“Back room,” Quesha called again, still folding laundry on the floor, still not looking up. No greeting, no questions…just said it like she already knew who had walked in and why.

Aku adjusted her jacket and moved forward, boots clicking down the hallway. She passed a bathroom door left ajar, caught a glimpse of cracked tile, then turned the corner.

Pharoah sat in a black motorized wheelchair with a thin blanket draped over his lap.

His skin was rich, his eyes sharper than she expected, despite the weight they carried.

His hair was lined up, even if a little grown out.

A blunt peeked from behind his ear, and a small oxygen tank clung to the back of his chair, quiet and untouched for now.

He didn’t flinch or look surprised to see her.

“You… Malik… girl?” he asked, slurred but clear enough to understand. There was no pity in his tone, no performative warmth…just curiosity and calm.

Aku nodded and stepped closer. “I’m Aku.”

“I know who you are,” he said with a smirk. “That…nigga…talk about you…like you…part of… his…spine.”

Her lips twitched, but she kept her composure. She held out the envelope she brought. “This is for the sessions. Malik told me what happened. He wanted to make sure it was handled.”

Pharoah took it without hesitation, eyes still locked on her face. “You…prettier…than I expected.”

Aku raised a brow. “You expected ugly?”

“Nah,” he shrugged. “Just didn’t think a girl that fine would be ridin’ for Malik. Thought y’all went for safe and soft.”

“He ain’t either,” she said, sitting across from him. “But I’m not either.”

He chuckled. “He got him a firecracker.”

“I’m usually funnier.”

“That’s…what he said,” Pharaoh’s twisted smile made an appearance.

“I been off my game.”

“You… still got it.” Pharoah nodded like he’d just confirmed something. “You came...that says a lot.”

“I don’t do halfway, not with him.”

He leaned back in his chair, pulled the vape around his neck and took a slow hit. “You… ever been…paralyzed…before?”

Aku paused, brows pulling together. “No.”

“I don’t…mean…your legs. I mean…your life. Ever feel like everything you knew got snatched from you in one moment, and you ain’t had time to cry about it yet?”

She swallowed. “Yea.”

“Then you get it.”

The silence between them settled thick. Not uncomfortable—just full.

“I… used…to run,” he said, after a moment. “Fast, I was…good too. Scouts came…out for me. Thought…I’d go pro. Then…some bullets…stopped all that. Caught…tryna protect…something… that…didn’t even…protect itself.” He paused to catch his breath.

Aku studied him. There was pain behind his voice but no bitterness. He wasn’t defeated…just honest.

“He…said you…the one,” Pharoah added. “The one…who gon’ show…him a way…out…without …makin’ him…feel like…he losin’…himself.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “I’m tryin’. But it’s hard to hold up somebody who keeps pushin’ you off.”

“That’s what…we do. We…used to…bein’ disposable…So when…somebody stay? …We panic…Try to…leave first…so we don’t…feel left.” His words were clear, yet ragged and a little broken. They came out slow, but Aku ain’t have nowhere to be so she didn’t mind.

Aku blinked fast. “I don’t want to leave him.”

“Then don’t.”

She nodded slowly, lips tight. “Thank you…for this, for being real with me.”

Pharoah smiled. It was small, but it hit. “You got…somethin’ special…with that boy. I ain’t never…seen…him light up…the way…he do when he…talk…about you. And…I been around… that nigga through his…darkest nights.”

“I just want him to win.”

“Then…help him believe…he can.”

She nodded again and stood up. Before she could leave, Pharoah held out a fist. “You…met my… sister, Quesha?”

She bumped it gently, but her mind went to the name. It was the same one that flashed across his screen. Aku felt there was a piece of Malik’s story always missing and she’d just found it.

“I’d…stand up and…hug you,” he muttered, “but…that…shit…overrated.”

Aku laughed—really laughed this time. “I’mma come back for you next time, not just for him.”

“I’m here,” Pharoah said, “and…I’m watchin’.”

Aku stood and stepped into the hallway—only to see Quesha posted up by the laundry basket like she’d been listening the whole time.

“You drop the money off?” she asked, without emotion.

“Yea.”

“Then you can go.”

Aku’s jaw ticked. She stepped forward, slow and calm. “I don’t know what you think this is?—”

“It’s my house…that’s what it is.”

Aku chuckled. “Cute.”

Quesha rolled her neck. “You one of them bitches that think just ‘cause you fine and got a lil’ money, everybody supposed to bow.”

“I don’t need nobody to bow, especially not someone still livin’ in the past.”

Quesha stepped forward. “He killed for me.”

It was a death sentence dressed in pride.

Aku’s mouth twitched.

Low eyes, heat rising in her chest. “That’s what you brag about?” She stepped closer. “You think I’m gon’ back down? ’Cause you got history?”

Quesha squared up. “History got weight.”

“And I’m the future,” Aku snapped. Then she turned like it was over.

But Quesha ain’t let it go. She kept barking. “You just a pretty bitch with a slick mouth. You don’t know him like I do.”

Aku tried to be the bigger person and let it go. “Girl,” she waved her off.

“He killed for me!” Quesha yelled, her chest rising and falling never one to be undone.

Glaring down at her because she was taller, Aku scoffed. “But he gon’ live for me!” She popped Quesha in the mouth, splitting her lip on impact.

Quesha stumbled, wide-eyed, then lunged forward. They hit the wall, shoes scraping tile, nails flying, curses spilling like blood.

“Bitch!” Quesha yelled as they tumbled to the floor, going blow for blow. If she thought because Aku was a pretty girl from a rich family she didn’t know how to tussle, she had been mistaken.

“You don’t love him!” Quesha screamed, yanking at Aku’s collar. “You love the idea of him. You ain’t built for this shit.”

“I am this shit!” Aku shouted back, dragging Quesha down by her braids. “I bleed for him! You just made him bleed!”

Hands swinging, bodies rolling over each other on the floor, a chair knocked over. Then a picture frame hit the ground and cracked. Pharoah shouted, his voice barely cutting through the chaos.

“Hey!” he tried. “Yo—stop that shit!”

But they didn’t.

Quesha clawed at Aku’s arm. Aku shoved her knee into Quesha’s ribs. They rolled, wild, breathing hard, hair tangled, shirts half-ripped. The hallway felt too small, the house too silent beyond them.

Pride on full display, neither one of them backed down.

Finally, Quesha grunted, panting, her shirt torn. Aku’s lip was bleeding, but her eyes were wild and alive.

“You done?” Aku hissed.

Quesha spit on the floor. “You ain’t got what I had.”

Aku spun, fire in her eyes, and threw another punch—this time catching Quesha in the jaw hard enough to send her stumbling against the wall.

“No,” Aku panted. “I got what you never will, bitch.” She stood up, wiped her mouth and walked out with her head high, boots still on her feet ‘cause when her enemies watched, she stunted harder. And Aku knew Quesha had her eyes glued to her.

In the car, she pulled her phone out to call Malik but saw he’d texted her and told her, he was already on the plane. That was over an hour ago. Instead of crying like she wanted to do, for no reason other than being emotional in the moment, she pulled off.