Page 4 of Ony If It’s You

Zoey didn’t work. She collected a check from the state and her ass was on meds.

I’d always wondered what it was for exactly and was shocked to learn that she had some mental shit going on due to whatever childhood shit she had gone through.

She never went into full detail and I never asked her to.

I didn’t give a damn though as long as nothing was physically wrong with her and she took her meds.

She got into that depressed shit sometimes, and most of the time I didn’t really have the time to deal with it, but I always made sure to show her extra attention.

“If I work, I won’t have time for you.”

That’s the goal.

“Yeah, well, we will cross that bridge when we get to it. I have to get ready for this event, so I’ll hit you back later.”

“Okay, I love you, JV.”

“Yep,” was all I replied before disconnecting the call.

Zoey was fine as shit, and a really sweet girl, but she was a handful.

She was the epitome of the emotional shit that my father had warned me about, but out of fear of me cutting her ass off, she kept it in check most of the time.

Part of me always felt a little fucked up for even fucking with her this long, but hell we were already over a year in when I’d learned that she struggled with the shit.

I figured that it would do her more harm than good if I just dropped her.

Now that they were seemingly forcing my hand with this relationship shit, I may not have a choice.

Before leaving the room to find my uncle and cousin, I scrolled to Kecia’s name and tapped her number to call her. I was almost one hundred percent sure her ass was out somewhere with her ratchet ass sister.

“Hey, baby,” she crooned as soon as the call connected.

“Fuck you at, Kecia?” I asked, making sure that she could hear the frown in my voice.

“Eww, what’s with the attitude?”

“Answer the question, man.” I sighed running my hand down my face. Not only had I come out here to handle business, but I’d also come to decompress. Decompressing shouldn’t involve me worrying about what neither Kecia nor Zoey were doing.

“I came to get my nails done with Kacie,” she answered validating my earlier thoughts of her being out with her ghetto ass sister.

“Why didn’t you at least let Zoey go with you?”

“Because she was moping around. I told her yesterday that I was having a self-care day and told her to come with me, but I’m not going to beg her.”

I knew she wasn’t lying. She typically tried to include Zoey in everything, but Zoey being Zoey kept her introverted ass in the house.

“I’m about to make her Uber to you, which one you at?”

“I’ll send you the address. I’ll wait for her to get here.”

“Bet.”

Not too long after we disconnected the call a message came through containing the address that Kecia was at. Copying it, I went to the text thread between Zoey and I and pasted it.

Order an Uber and meet Kecia there, she’s waiting for you. I’m going to CashApp you some bread to cover the cost of your stuff.

I normally didn’t spend money on any female that I dealt with, but I needed to get Zoey’s ass out of the house so that she wasn’t sitting around bothering me all night.

Thank you, baby.

Don’t mention it. I’ll send money for the club and shit tonight too. Don’t sit in the house the entire time I’m gone, Zoey.

I won’t. Thank you again.

I breathed a little easier knowing that she was going to get out and not be sitting there depressed all day. Contrary to what everyone seemed to think of me, a nigga did have a heart.

After sending the money I joined my uncle and cousin in the living room area where they were seated on the couch watching SportsCenter. Of course, because of who the main event of tomorrow’s fight was, my name was being mentioned.

“Isn’t it ironic, Dave, that tomorrow Chris Gambrell will be fighting for the same title as he did a few months ago when he was beat almost to a bloody pulp in this very venue?”

My chest tightened thinking back to that night.

Shit was going smooth for me, but my pops came over with his bullshit per usual.

He was ranting and raving about me not finishing the match this early.

Gambrell was an easy opponent, too easy if I was being honest, but he was in my weight class and I never let my head get too big to where I thought that an opponent couldn’t luck up and beat me.

That night though, my dad was going on and on about money as he always did and I tweaked out.

I didn’t give a fuck about making more money by making the fight longer.

Part of me also wanted him to be proud of what I did for a change as opposed to the amount of money that I could make us.

With all of that in mind, I snapped. I had so much built-up frustration that I just… snapped.

“Very, Kat,” Dave answered. “And we’ve received word that JV Goldsmith is here to attend the fight tomorrow.”

“Well, we, along with Gambrell, can only hope that he doesn’t have flashbacks to that night and try to finish the job, huh?” the reporter joked, but I found no humor in the shit.

For months they’d made a mockery of me online and on TV. I was the butt of all the jokes and painted to be a fucking monster. I was officially tired of the shit. What ol’ Dave better hope was that I didn’t break my foot off in his ass when I saw him.

My uncle grabbed the remote and turned the TV off because he knew if they continued to egg me on, I would get their location and pull up to see just what was so fucking funny.

“Don’t even sweat that shit, cuz,” Dominique said as he looked on with the same sympathy that his father was watching me with.

“Not sweating it,” I lied. I was extremely bothered, but it was what it was.

“Nephew—”

I cut him off. “We going out or what? Because I don’t give a fuck about that.”

“Alright then,” my uncle finally said after eyeing me.

“Bet. I’m going to get ready then.”

I stood and went to my room to do just that. There was no point in dwelling on any of that shit because people’s opinions were their own and they were entitled to feel how they did. All I could do was pray this image lady knew what she was doing.