Page 136 of Rah

“I’m going to make you eat your words, Moses,” he taunted me.

“Yeah, a’ight.”

“You better get in the lab and get some songs ready for this album.”

I shook my head. This motherfucker was talking crazy. But I just told him. “Yeah, a’ight. I gotta go.”

“Get a manager, Moses!” he got in before I ended the call.

“Whatever,” I spat before I hung up.

Kahlani laughed and shook her head as she slipped on the pants to her uniform. “Y’all are funny.”

“No,heis funny.”

“He is convinced that you are going to blow up.”

“Yeah. Rah was too.”

Just as I started to admire Kahlani’s titties sitting up nice and perky in the bra she had put on, the doorbell rang.

We both glanced questionably at each other. It was only ten in the morning. We weren’t expecting anyone.

“I got it,” I told her as I got out of bed.

On my way out of the room, I grabbed a T-shirt from the floor and threw it on.

“You good, lil’ man?” I asked Trenton once I got into the living room. He was sitting fully dressed on the couch watching cartoons and waiting for his mama to drop him off at day care on her way to the gig.

“Yep,” was all he said without looking away from SpongeBob.

The doorbell rang again, so I hit a light jog to the door and looked through the peephole.

I damn near shitted bricks when I saw who was on the other side. They hadn’t even said who they were, but I knew detectives when I saw them.

“Shit,” I cursed under my breath.

I was spooked. I contemplated between opening the door or running out the back door. I didn’t know what they wanted, but I knew that detectives didn’t come to nobody’s door without a damn good reason.

They started to beat on the door.

“Moses, get the door! What are you doin’?” I could hear Kahlani fussing.

I was still thinking about running. I looked back at Trenton and decided against it. Running would only give me more time for whatever these motherfuckers were here to charge me with. As I opened the door, I ran over in my mind all I had done to bring these motherfuckers to my doorstep. I had been involved with so much shit that there was no way to guess.

“May I help you?” I tried to look as calm as possible as Istared at the two Black detectives standing on the other side of the door.

“Are you Moses?” one of them asked.

“Yes.”

“I’m Detective Strong,” he told me. “And this is Detective Jackson. Can we come in?”

“What’s this about?” I asked, still standing in the doorway.

When Detective Strong said, “Carlos Santiago,” I felt like I was about to shit on myself, real talk.

Fuck!