“minors Dni”….

“minors dni”….

BITCH YOU’RE WRITING ABOUT THE MINORS THOUGH, ???? 😭😭

❝ therefore i am ❞

A/N: if you want to know what's going on in my personal life, read my past couple posts. i'm not going to go to much into it but i'm back. unedited so ignore any mistakes. i hope yall enjoy. ★ ˙ᵕ˙ liv

─⋆♡ chapter summary: the president’s daughter deals with the aftermath of the club. michael becomes unrecognizable.

─⋆♡ main tropes: Michael B. Jordan x Fem!OC, Rome Flynn x Fem!OC, Damson Idris x Fem!OC. Bodyguard x Princess, Secret Service x First Kid, forced proximity, forbidden love, tolerated enemies to lovers, college romance.

─⋆♡ chapter warnings: angst, 18+ black!writer, language, torture, blood, hostages, fighting, threatening, weapons, physical descriptors (brief), characters affected by symptoms of anxiety or depression, lmk if i missed something.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ series masterlist ★ spotify playlist .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⋆ word count: 6.4k ⋆

I’m never drinking again.

The pounding in my head makes me feel like a military missel just rocketed itself into my temple. I groan, wincing slightly at the raw sensation in my throat. My eyes flutter open, adjusting to the soft light from the sunrise.

I look at the clock to the right of my nightstand and I am happy to see it’s only 4 a.m. I typically have weekends off from President’s Daughter duty, so I’m grateful for the extra time to sleep in.

I don’t even remember getting up here if I'm honest. Deciding to deal with it later, I slowly shift in the bed. I allow my eyes to close again, flipping to the other side. I sigh, trying to get comfortable when the nausea kicks in.

I inhale a sharp deep breath when I feel a warm hand creeping under my shirt. I moan and melt into the soft circles being rubbed into my back by the physical heating pad. Wait, did I go home with someone?

My body immediately fills with panic thinking about the possibility of a stranger being in my bed. I almost scream when I pry my eyes open and see a sleepy Meredith peering back at me.

My eyes widen and my breathing quickens. I mean, I’m into girls and guys, so it’s plausible we hooked up. “Did we?” I ask, nervous to lift the blankets to see the state of my clothing.

“No,” Meredith sighs, returning her hand to its place on my back.

I groan, shifting in Meredith's hold. “What the fuck happened?” I whisper, burrowing my face deeper into her armpit.

“That prick Teddy roofied you. Apparently, he and Vanessa had a bet. She’s definitely not hanging with us anymore. You don’t remember anything?” Meredith inquires, continuing to rub my back.

I inhale a sharp breath. “No, but I feel fine.” Then, I exhale, pushing on the mattress to sit up. I rub my eyes, attempting to clear the sleep out of them. “How did we get here?” I ask the blonde.

“Michael came to tell us you were leaving and I was ready to be done but Kendall wanted to go hook up with someone,” Meredith pauses and I grimace, attempting to shove the bile down my throat. “Vanessa wanted to stay so I left my guards with them, figuring Michael would keep the two of us safe,” she continues.

I pat the bed for my phone and sure enough, when I find it, it’s dead. “And then, get this. It’s the best part. He made me hold you in position while he shoved his fingers down your throat. You ate a lot tonight, girlie,” the events of the night flow into my eardrums through Meredith’s excellent storytelling.

“Wait,” I pause Meredith mid-story, “He didn’t tell you I was roofied until we were gone?” I ask, quite frankly confused as fuck.

I lift the blankets off of me, sliding out of the bed. Picking up my robe from the footboard bench, I shrug it onto my body. “Mmhm, said something about taking care of it himself,” I hear Meredith murmur.

When the words register, the blood drains from my body. “Oh, no. Mer,” I curse, quietly.

My body slowly turns around in an attempt to keep myself calm. “What?” Meredith tilts her head and asks.

I put my hands out on the duvet in front of me, leaning into the mattress. “Did you tell him about Vanessa and Teddy?” I ask Meredith. Hopefully, she didn’t and Michael is in the next room asleep. If she did, the worst-case scenario is he’s already killed them.

A puzzled look washes over Meredith's face and she looks up at the ceiling as if the answer is up there. “Yeah, he wouldn’t stop asking questions on the way back,” she tells me and my world shatters. “Do you know you snore?” she continues, unphased.

My dinner from last night threatens to come up as I think of what to do. Fuck, I don’t know what to do. What do you do when your Secret Service wants to rightfully kill someone who hurt you? “Mer, he’s an ex fucking mercenary assassin,” I snip.

Meredith's brows kit together and she licks her lips. “What’s that mean?” she wonders.

I look at Mer with a blank expression covering my face. I expected a billionaire's daughter to be a know-it-all. “Meredith, are you serious?” I grill.

Mer puts her hands up in defense. “What? I’m not in college,” she reminds me.

I nod, taking a deep breath and looking down at the crisp blue fabric. “A mercenary is someone paid to fight. Paid to kill,” I sigh.

“So?” I hear Meredith ask.

My hazel eyes connect with hers again. Meredith blinks rapidly, slightly leaning forward with intrigue. “You don’t give an addict the key to the drug lockbox,” I explain.

Mer's eyes squint and I can barely see the sea swimming around her pupils. “Wait you don’t think he’s…” she trails off.

My hand instinctively reaches out and wraps around Meredith's wrist as if she’s one of my little siblings. “Get up. We’re going to find him,” I demand, effectively dragging her out of bed.

Meredith stumbles a bit like a baby deer once her feet are placed on the floor and I start moving quickly, leaving dust in our trail. “Relax, Libby. He’s probably in his room,” she calls behind me.

I fling my bedroom door open, walking us out into the shared living room. “Mer, you gave the trained assassin whose only job is to protect me the coordinates to put a bullet through two people's heads,” I tell her over my shoulder before lifting my hand to knock on Michael’s door.

My knuckles rasp on the old oak wood before I press my ear to the door, listening for any movement. No shuffling is heard behind the door, so I try knocking once more. All I hear is my breathing bouncing off the solid material.

I turn around slowly, wide-eyed and fearful. Meredith seemingly reads my body language and her affect changes to match what I presume mine is. “Oh shit. I did didn’t I?” she asks for clarification.

Brushing past her, I grab my spare robe from the living room closet. “Yes. Now put this on,” I scoff, throwing it towards her chest.

Meredith cringes with shock washing over her face. She hurriedly puts her arms through the sleeves, pulling the fluffy garment on. “What are we going to do?” she panic shouts.

My hands begin to shake and I tuck them into my pockets. “I don’t know! Stop screaming! It’s 4 am!” I bellow.

Tears collect in Mer's eyes and threaten to spill over her lower lid. “You’re screaming back!” she screams.

“Because I’m stressed,” I explain, returning my voice to my normal level. I shut my eyes, taking slow soothing breaths that fill my lungs with the crisp winter air. “Okay, deep breaths. He couldn’t have found them, picked them up, and killed them in two hours,” I rant, trying to stay in my delusional world.

The sound of our bare feet scurrying towards the door echoes off the tile floor. “I think you’re underestimating your man,” I hear Meredith jest under her breath before I pull open my door.

When we exit the hall, the first person I see is a random security guard. He tilts his head and squints his eyes at us before reaching for the inner lining of his suit pocket. “Don’t you fucking dare,” I warn him causing him to freeze.

I slowly creep towards him until we’re standing toe to toe. “I’m just going to my sister's room. You don’t need to tell anyone. Understand?” I flirt, slowly reaching up to grab his hand that’s near his jacket.

His eyes widen and he turns a scarlet red. His palms begin perspiring, effectively moistening my hand. Seemingly speechless, he just nods before I watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly. Once his hand is placed back by his side, I release it now that my skin is covered in the man's sweat. Tipping my imaginary hat to him, I link my arm with Meredith who has been standing by, pulling her down the hall.

When we reach the door, I greet the secret service agent outside her door with a smile. Great, another fucking loophole. “Hey, is my sister in there?” I ask as sweetly as possible.

He doesn’t look down at me and Meredith. Instead, he keeps his head focused forward towards the rest of the corridor. “Yes,” the older man deadpans.

I roll my eyes, deciding to forego asking for permission. I’m already here, all I need to do is get into that room and talk to Agent Idris. “Great,” I brush past him, reaching for the door to her common living space.

It’s a lot different than my serene blue castle. The room is covered in a dark plum shade that matches beautifully with her skin tone. Although it may be depressing to look at during your first visit, the hue of the purple sparkles like a gem bringing light into the room.

My sister is a heavy sleeper, so I don’t worry that my knocking will wake her as my hand lifts. I bang on the door like a cop, pausing to listen for shuffling, but I hear nothing. “Agent Idris, are you in there?” I call through the door before reaching for the handle.

I slowly crack the door open in case he’s just sleeping. When I look in the dark and cold room, it’s empty. I swear under my breath, slowly shutting the door behind me. When I turn to face Meredith, she looks dejected.

I grab Meredith's hand pulling her out of the joint sitting room between the two rooms. “That was just our first stop. I figured he’d take him,” I encourage her.

We exit my sister's living area, shutting the large door behind us. “Have a good morning,” I bid the agent goodbye, hoping he won’t speak a word.

He quickly tilts his head down in a moment so quickly, I almost miss it. “You too, Ms. Washington,” he mutters.

My feet nearly stick to the group as we scurry to the next location, Huddy's room. When we get to the door, I repeat the same steps with his night door guard. “Is Hudson awake?” I ask kindly.

This time the man looks down at me and shakes his head. “No,” he answers.

I smile, pulling my lips between my teeth to look mischievous to the man in front of me. “Good. I need to prank him. Can I?” I ask with hope.

He pauses for a moment, looking at his watch before looking back up at me. He seems skeptical, but I’m hoping he buys it. After what feels like forever, he finally mutters, “Sure.”

I mutter a thank you in reply before entering my brother's living area. This time Meredith thinks she knows where she’s going, and she heads straight for the door on the right. I grab her arm, softly pulling her backward. The layout is flipped from both my sister's and mine, so I understand how confusing it could be. It’s covered in red, but none of the reds match. Some are faded while some are bold. It’s like a bachelor pad for a man who doesn’t get any pussy. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has navy sheets on his bed right now.

My hand lifts, repeatedly pounding on another agent's door. This time I’m surprised to see Agent Flynn’s face. “What are you doing here?” I ask him.

Agent Flynn leans against the door frame, sleepy wiping his eyes. “What are you doing here? It’s like 4 in the morning,” he grumbles.

Trying to save your friend from making a mistake that’ll land him another 4 years with another president’s bratty daughter. Without me. “I think something’s wrong with Michael,” I sigh.

He reaches in to flick the light on in his room. “What do you mean?” he yawns.

I flinch slightly and my pupils adjust to the change of ambiance. “After the dinner, we went out to the club and I got roofied tonight by some rich kids at the club. He asked Meredith for all their info while I was passed out then dropped us here before taking off with Agent Idris,” I try my best to cover all the information tonight.

His eyes widen, seemingly registering what I’ve said. “Shit,” he swears, turning away from the door to enter the brightly lit room. It’s nice compared to my brother's decor. At least someone has taste. “Shit, why don’t they tell me anything?” he asks, grabbing his phone from his bedside table.

Meredith and I survery the room with curiosity, but neither of us dare to cross the threshold into the space. My attention turns back to Agent Flynn, whose fingers quickly tap the screen before he lifts it to his ear. “Who are you calling?” I question him.

“Damson. Mike’s not answering,” Agent Flynn responds.

My heart quickens and my stomach fills with demonic butterflies. Don’t throw up, Lib. Don’t throw up, Lib. Don’t throw up, Lib. “Do you think they’re,” I prompt Agent Flynn to answer.

Agent Flynn's body tenses, instantly giving his answer away. He looks like he needs a hug. “Yes. You better pray your little friend didn’t just nail a coffin,” he snips.

My stomach continuously bubbles and I scratch my hand with furor. The fuck are we going to do? “Two,” Meredith chirps behind us, correcting the man.

My face mirrors Agent Flynn’s, twisting in confusion. When I turn around, Meredith is standing there unphased by the word she just uttered. “Mer, that’s a little insensitive,” I point out.

Her cheeks turn maroon and she looks down at the floor beneath her. “Sorry, but they deserve it,” she grumbles.

Agent Flynn snickers and I whip my head towards him. He puts his hands up in defense when I narrow my eyes at him. “What? I like her,” he smirks.

I stuff the urge to hit him down into the pits of hell, refocusing on the task at hand. “So where are we going first?” I ask Agent Flynn.

He raises an eyebrow at me. “We?” he asks.

I nod furiously. “Yes, we. How can I trust you’re not going to just let them kill them anyway?” I chastise.

He crosses his arms, standing firmly in place like a statue. “Because, unlike Dammy and Mike, I despise killing people,” he counters.

We stare each other down until a few moments pass. The silence is uncomfortable and it makes me want to squirm, but I won’t be the one to give in. Just when I’m about to say fuck it and go back to bed, Agent Idris groans, “Fine. I don’t have time for this. Let’s go,” he commands me and Meredith to follow him.

We exit Hudson's apartment and into the grand hallway. As we walk by guards, Agent Flynn friendly tips his head up to each of them.“Where are we going?” I ask, barely keeping up after his long stride.

“To find them,” he grumbles, taking a right towards the stairwell.

Meredith increases her pace, able to keep up with Agent Flynn’s due to the length of her legs. “Don’t I need actual shoes?” I ask him, putting my hand on the cool banister as we rush down the first level of stairs.

Agent Flynn looks up at me and his amber-colored eyes sparkle in the dim light. “No, we’re just going downstairs,” he informs us.

We get to my parent’s living area and before opening the door Agent Flynn turns around. He puts his finger up to his lips, motioning for us to be quiet. He quietly turns the nob, opens the door, and sticks his head out before entering the area. Once he’s determined the close is clear, he motions for us to follow him down the next set of steps.

I hold my breath and pray that my clumsy nature doesn’t make an appearance. All that’s heard in the small stairwell is the sound of our feet connecting with the stone steps. Once we get to the entrance hall, Agent Flynn silently greets his coworkers, refusing to haul his quick pace.

Although we’re bolting, I feel like I can breathe. There are only two more flights to go and we haven’t been stopped yet.

We make our way towards the next staircase when Mer asks, “There’s a basement?”

“Yes but,” I begin speaking before realizing, I’m also confused about the concept of the basement. I knew about the Navy Resteraunt and the Secret Service headquarters, but not about anything else that happened down there. And since I’m sure no one else will tell me, Agent Flynn is the perfect person to explain. “Agent Flynn, wait,” I call after him.

“We don’t have time,” he grits between his teeth.

I scurry in front of him, stopping him from walking any further on the ground floor. “Agent Flynn, you will stop right now and explain!” I shout like a baby, crossing my arms and stomping for effect.

He looks down at me and smirks. “Rome,” he states.

My brows furrow and I know I’m going to have wrinkles when I’m 50. “What?” I ask.

He steps around me, heading towards the last staircase. “My name is Rome. If you’re going to yell at me, use my first name. Although I rather you be yelling under different circumstances,” he taunts, jogging down leaving Mer and me in his dust.

Mer looks at me and shrugs before following him. Rolling my eyes, I trail after them. “Michael’s gonna kill you when he hears you said that,” I call down the staircase towards Rome.

“Not when he sees you down there. Then, I’ll be dead,” he corrects.

When we reach the bottom floor, I flinch feeling the cool concrete floor beneath my feet. Rome opens the door for us, motioning for us to walk ahead of him. I’ve never been on this side of the basement. The windowless grey space sucks any life out of the area, as opposed to its warm and wood counterpart.

Meredith and I come to a halt and turn around to face Rome, unsure of where to go. He allows the heavy metal door to shut behind us before he clears his throat. “This is the side of the basement is.. How do you say it?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck.

“A torture house?” Meredith squeaks.

Rome clicks his teeth, pointing at the blonde. “Bingo. Used by the highest clearance. Us, the military,” he elaborates.

“Highest clearance including my mom?” I ask, and Rome’s hazel eyes soften with a nod. “Has she used it yet?” I press on, curious about the state of virginity in the space after the election. I purse my lips, accepting his answer.

“I’m not answering that question,” Rome grumbles before turning his back to us. He leads us down a hall I’ve never been down before. The tight space surrounding us heightens my claustrophobia. My heart starts pounding, so I reach out and grab Mer’s hand for some sort of stability. “You alright?” she asks.

We pass various doors that I don’t dare to ask what’s behind. “Yeah, ’m fine. Just don’t like small spaces,” I confess before we take a right.

At the end of the hall, a huge metal door stands between us and something I’m not sure I’m ready to see. My feet drag while Rome quickly walks the rest of the way, unlocking the door before turning around to face me. “Are you sure you want to go in?”

I lightly throw my hand up in exhaustion. “Yes, Rome. Her friend is in there, for fucks sake,” I point out, gesturing towards Mer.

“Former friend,” Meredith squeaks out before I lightly squeeze her hand. “I mean, best friend,” she attempts to clear up.

Rome looks back and forth at us before clearing his throat. “Libby,” he starts, putting his hand on my shoulder and separating Meredith from me. “When Mike gets like this, he’s like a robot. He turns off his humanity to get to his goal and he only listens to the people he cares about. I’m not sure how he’ll react when he sees you,” he warns.

The ice in my toes spreads throughout my body, creating icicles on my nose. He’s warning you because he could see you, and he could kill you. No, Lib, he wouldn’t do that. I wipe my nose with the sleeve of my robe, pulling it tighter around me. “I’m going to choose to have faith on this one. Now open the door,” I demand, looking up at the towering goofball.

He puts his hands up in surrender before turning and pulling the door open. The room is empty, similar to the rest of the hallway. It lacks anything but a metal chair. I rush forward into the space and just when I think I’ve got the wrong room, I look to my right and gasp.

Agent Idris is leaning against an oak table on one side of the room with his arms crossed. Behind the table sits a sobbing Vanessa. Her black mascara stains her cheeks and she’s practically bursting out of her dress.

She flinches and I turn my head, curious to see what she’s looking at. My jaw drops as I watch Michael land another blow to the brunette man’s face. What was once pristine is now dripping with blood. His hands and feet are tied to a chair and he wiggles, attempting to squirm away from Michael’s fist.

I’ve never seen such vitriol and it’s displayed every time Michael flexes his back muscles to swing. The sight is gruesome, and I close my mouth, attempting not to vomit.

“Oh my god,” I hear Meredith say behind me. The sight is gruesome, and I close my mouth, attempting not to vomit. “I can’t watch,” I hear her add before she shuffles out of the room.

“I’m going to go with her. Make sure she’s alright,” I hear Rome say and I nod before the door closes moments later.

I wave at Vanessa, testing if it’s a two-way mirror. My theory is correct and she doesn’t move a muscle. My attention returns to Michael, who’s now kneeling in front of the man, nodding as the man spits out a few words. He’s interrogating him, but there’s got to be a better way to do this. Especially when the kid’s dad is a billionaire.

There’s a button with what looks like a speaker on top of it on the wall. I let my fingers trail over the cool metal before pressing down on the circle.

Vanessa’s sobs fill the space, flowing through the impossibly small device. There’s a gasp before I look up. A sinister grin takes over Michael’s face as he stalks over to his weapons, covered in blood. Michael has decided to move on to the next best thing, a bat. He grabs the wooden spear from the wall, allowing the tip of it to drag on the floor as he walks back over to my perpetrator.

Time slows as I watch him lift the bat, positioning it to rest on his shoulder. He squares his feet firmly in place; I know now is the time. If I don’t stop him now, he’s going to kill him. “Michael,” I utter and he freezes in place. “It’s me,” I choke out the best I can, but it feels like my throat is on fire.

His eyes squint toward the glass as he lowers his arm, walking closer in my direction. “Lib?” he questions with confusion.

His face twists as if he’s on some faraway planet and my voice is his only map to earth. Tears collect in my eyes, threatening to spill over my bottom lid. “Yes. I’m okay. You can stop,” I try to convince him that the route he’s taking isn’t the best.

His once-focused face turns vacant and he begins shaking his head slowly. The pace of his head increases until he’s shaking it rapidly. “No, no, no,” he murmurs as he begins to pace. “Libby wouldn’t be here. She-she’s asleep,” he stutters, talking to himself.

My head nods, even though subconsciously I know he can’t see me. “I am here, Michael,” I emphasize, trying to find the crack in his brain. “Can I come in?” I ask.

His right hand begins beating the outside of his thigh and I know there will be a bruise tomorrow. It’s almost as if he’s trying to pull himself back into his body. “No, you shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have done this here. You shouldn’t be down here. You shouldn’t see–”

“Michael,” I cut his disorganized ranting off. He stops pacing, turning to face the glass. “You’re my guard, my secret service, mine. Whatever you do I do too, remember?” I emphasize.

We made a deal. If we’re in this shit situation for 4 years, we’re in it together. Meaning, no making things harder on the other person. And this is the definition of making things harder.

Michael’s face begins to soften and my heart slows. I found him, he’s coming back. “No, you don’t understand,” he murmurs, seemingly ashamed of his actions.

I swallow thickly before saying, “I’m coming in,” as a warning before releasing the metal button.

Michael’s muted pleas fall on deaf ears as I move quickly to my left, pulling open the heavy door to the torture chamber. He’s in front of me in seconds, and the sight of his blood-stained front makes me nauseous.

“I don’t want you seeing this,” he coldly grits through his teeth. His body tenses, shielding me from the sight behind me.

Those weren’t the terms of our deal, fucker. “Oh, so you were bold enough to do it but not in front of me?” I grill.

He inhales a sharp breath, bringing his nondominant hand up to scratch his scruff. “That’s not what I mean. You just got drugged and no girl should see this,” he explains before his eyes wander down to my feet. “Damn it, Lib. You don’t have any shoes on and you’re fucking naked,” he snips.

My hands go down to my robe, gathering the fabric and adjusting it. “I’m not naked and I’m fine. Best sleep of my life,” I express, crossing my arms in from of my chest and attempting to shield my undoubtedly hard nipples from him.

He rolls his eyes, stepping out of the way to bring Damson and Vanessa into view. “Did you guys get what you needed?” I ask the guard.

He nods, standing from his relaxed position on the table. “They sang like a canary in the first 5 minutes. Trying to get some pictures of you in a compromising position to sell to the blogs,” he recalls.

I raise my eyebrow at the man. “So you let Michael beat this man within an inch of his life?” I question him, voice laced with annoyance.

Damson shrugs, unphased. “What? It was fun,” he chuckles.

Rome enters the room, startling me a bit before I return my focus to Damson. Shaking my head at his antics, I open my mouth to scold him when Vanessa cuts in, “I’m sorry, Libby. I–”

“Shut the fuck up,” I spit in her face, effectively shutting her up. I bend down slightly so we’re on the same level. I want to make sure she understands every word I’m saying. “You don’t get to call me that. Matter of fact, don’t even speak. You’re not in the position to,” I fume in her direction.

Rome whistles before murmuring, “Damn.”

Vanessa sniffs, unable to wipe the snot since she’s bound to the chair. I revel in her this way. Thinking she could fuck me over. Karma is a bitch. “Stupid cunt,” I grumble.

I turn around to face the three men, deciding it’s best to pretend she’s not there so I don’t get worked up. Michael silently surveys my face and my brows knit on my forehead. Why is he looking at me like that?

Rome clears his throat before asking, “What do you want to do?”

What do I want to do? It’s not like killing them would go off without a hitch. Both of their parents are very prominent figures. The best thing to do now is to use them as an example.

Hell, Teddy’s almost dead and I’ll just act like I don’t know her when people ask. She’ll fade to black and I’m sure the message will be well received all over the city. “Let them go,” I command.

Damson kisses his teeth and his upper body curls. He looks dejected that he couldn’t press on. “But we were just getting to the good part,” he groans.

You’ve got to be kidding me. Is he complaining about not being about to kill someone? “And you’ll get your good part if they ever try this again,” I placate.

I nod at Rome, signaling for him to untie Vanessa. I watch as he swiftly unties each notch in the knot. Each rope falls to the ground one by one until she’s standing from her prison. “Thank you so much, Liberty. I’m really sorry, again,” she professes.

I scoff at her fakeness. She’s never liked me and she's only pretending to for her mortality. “I’m only letting you go because I’m not a woman hater. Take this as a warning. You tried, but you failed. Try again, I won’t stop them next time. I will let them kill you, Vanessa,” I promise her.

She nods before slipping back on her club heels. She looks at me, awaiting her next instructions. “Meredith can probably take you home. You have to talk to her now too,” I gesture towards the door, beckoning her to leave.

She nods, allowing her gaze to fall to the floor before she scurries out of the room. I reach into my robe pocket, quickly texting Meredith an update so she has a full grasp on the situation, although she’s probably standing right behind the glass pane.

I’m highly aware that this is a strange place to start a friendship, but maybe it’s the start of something long-lasting. “What about him?” Rome asks, pointing to the barely human face crumpled over in the metal chair.

“Call clean up and have them take care of it. It’s almost 6,” Michael instructs before grabbing the bottom of his blood-soaked shirt. He seamlessly lifts it over his head, showing his perfectly sculpted physique. His abs could easily handle a week's worth of my laundry, irritating the stains from the fabric.

He pulls the top from his body, allowing it to fall to the floor. I’m rendered speechless, feeling it inappropriate to drool in a situation like this. Damson seemingly notices me staring and he clears his throat, causing my eyes to shoot up to the light in the ceiling.

I spin on my heels, unsure of what to do. Once we leave this room, we’re not going to be able to discuss this. There are mics and cameras in every room but the bathroom. I know some camera angles have changed to give me some privacy, but every entrance and exit is being recorded. No one moves in The White House without the Secret Service knowing.

I almost jump when I feel a hand on the small of my back, being brought back to reality. My eyes connect with Michael’s when I lower my head and his once black irises have returned to brown. “You need more sleep,” he simply states.

I nod, unsure of what to say to the boys. A cheery goodbye doesn’t necessarily mesh well with social norms. Michael doesn’t allow me to deliberate, lightly pushing me forward towards the door.

I conceded, turning the need to think off by following his lead. He opens the door for us, ushering us through the entryway. As we walk through the empty viewing room, I look to the left one last time at the scarlet scene. My stomach gurgles, and I snap my eyes to the floor. “You sure you okay?” Michael asks, opening the next door for me.

In the grand scheme of things, I feel fine. But if I say that after being through a traumatic situation, he’s going to lock me up and throw away the key. “I’m more concerned about you,” I disclose genuinely as we walk down the hall.

He shrugs, seemingly unaffected by his actions. “I’m fine. This is what I do,” he grumbles.

“Used to do,” I correct.

“It’s my job,” he argues and I remind him why I hate him sometimes. It’s like talking to a child.

“I don’t think revenge killing was in the position description,”

The walk back up to our apartment feels like it takes forever. The winding staircases and onlookers dare to swallow me whole. I’m not sure a barefoot and clotheless president's daughter with her shirtless Secret Service agent paints the best picture.

My endless suggestions that Michael at least be checked out by the nurse fall on deaf ears. So when we enter the living room of the apartment, I point at the couch commanding him, “Sit.”

He raises his eyebrow at me but doesn’t make any moves to put his bottom on the cushion. “If you’re not going to let me take you to the infirmary, you’re going to let me clean you up,” I explain.

His eyes search mine for deception and I sigh, annoyed with the consistency of this game. “Fine,” he finally gives in, moving to take a seat on the couch.

I leave the room to retrieve the first aid kit from the bathroom, filling a cup by the sink with warm water so I can rinse his hands. When I get back, Michael is patiently waiting for my return, anxiously flexing both his hands.

Taking a seat next to him, I bring his hand into my lap to calm his fidgeting. “Stop doing that. You’ll keep opening and breaking the skin,” I worry.

“I was trying to see if it was broken,” he counters and suddenly I feel like an idiot.

“Oh,” I mumble, twisting his wrist to examine his hand. “Is it?” I ask.

He shakes his head, slinking down into the couch cushions with a sigh. He looks exhausted. Large brown circles darken the spot beneath his eye and I feel a pang in my chest. “No, probably a hairline fracture,” he speculates and I can tell he’s trying to ease my anxiety.

I pick up the washcloth, dipping it into the cup of water. We sit in silence for a few moments until he winces. Something’s wrong with his hand and he fucked it up because of me.

I quickly clean the rest of his hand, eager to rid the thick sexual tension between us. This is the longest he’s ever touched me and it intensifies the fire in between my thighs. Not right now, Libby. You’re bandaging his hand. “You’ll see the doctor when we wake up,” I demand once we’re finished.

Snapping the first aid kit shut, I scoop the remnants of the bandage wrappers up with my hand. “We?” I hear Michael's question.

I nod, having already made my decision. I just need to stick to it. “Yes, we. You haven’t slept in like 24 hours,” I point out before standing from the couch.

I toss the trash into the pale blue bin on the other side of the room. “I’m fine,” Michael reassures.

“Yeah right,” I scoff before going into the bathroom. Closing the door behind me, I make sure to wash my hands before relieving myself one last time for the night. Once my hands are scrubbed once more, I apply some vanilla lotion to keep them from drying out.

When I exit the bathroom, Michael hasn’t moved from the couch. He watches me cross the room over to my door with laser focus. “Come on,” I beckon him to join me.

He shakes his head and his body becomes cement. “I’m not sleeping in the bed with you,” he objects.

I roll my eyes at his combativeness and part my lips to say, “I’m not asking you to sleep. But I can’t trust that you won't just leave again.” and kill someone.

He shakes his head but he still doesn’t make a move. Fuck, what do I have to do to get you in my bed? It shouldn’t be this hard. “I wouldn’t,” he reiterates.

“Then come, for me. Call it suicide watch,” I rephrase, hoping it’ll do the trick.

The tick of the clock fills the room and several seconds go by before a glimmer of interest sparkles in his eyes. “Fine,” he concedes, standing from the couch.

He crosses the living area until he’s standing just inside my bedroom door. I shut the door behind us, locking the door just in case Jo didn’t get the memo to not wake me up early this morning.

In the soft light of the early morning room, I shed my robe and Michael sheds his pants. Grabbing a scrunchy from my vanity, I attempt to tie my unruly hair back up underneath my bonnet. When I turn around, Michael stands by the side of my bed patiently waiting for me. He holds the corner of the duvet up for me to climb in.

Once I’m hugged by my warm vanilla fragrance, I watch as he walks over to the other side of the bed, replacing Meredith for the night.

My eyes blink rapidly at him, trying to adjust through the night. “Go to sleep, my lady,” he chides.

Not having any energy to argue, I sigh, turning my body away from him and allowing myself to get comfortable in my bed. As soon as I’m settled, my body begins to give in to the exhaustion of the night’s activities.

I begin to doze off before I feel Michael’s hand snake up my side. I hum at his warm touch, scooting back into his body. “Stay, please,” I request in a daze.

“Okay,” I hear him husk before sleep envelopes me.

Taglist: @cherrellek feedback

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kurahji

1 year ago

i see a lot of men talk about sexy red, meg, cardi - whoever and they’re music is all about sex. “nasty” “not setting a good look for black women” and all i can think is why do black women always get bashed for having fun ? we can’t twerk to hellcats srt without being told it’s a bad look, and quite frankly it’s tiring that we always have to - in the men’s eyes be “lady like” to be attractive, or not talk over sexual, when the male artists sing/ rap about the same shit the women do. but if we bring that up it’s wrapped back to us being laddies.

540 notes View Post

kurahji

2 years ago

pairing — tariq st. patrick x female! original character

series summary — . ･｡ﾟ☆ in which jaszlyn-hennessy sabrino grew up in a dysfunctional home where she was raised by her siblings more than she was raised by a parental figure. her mother, a recovering alcoholic, wasn't the most reliable, and when her oldest brother d'eonte was old enough to leave and get his own place, he made sure that jas, blu, and the youngest stela-artois were taken care of. when jas gets wrapped up in the world of drug dealers and dope slinging it sends her down the exact path her siblings didn't want her on. a path that would end with her being just like her parents. when close friends from college convince her to go to the club to celebrate her 18th birthday, jas finds herself in the middle of one of the biggest murder cases in new york, the death of james st. patrick. what starts as an innocent conversation with a boy in the club turns to a race to prove her own innocence in a murder when the murderer in question, tariq st. patrick, uses her as his alibi.۪۫ ༊*·˚

series warnings — omg... read these carefully and buckle up. murder ( depictions + descriptions of killings ) , violence, language, abuse, mentions of s.a., drug dealing, kidnapping, stealing, descriptions of nudity, gang affiliation, DP, jumping, fist fights, depictions of torture, drug dealing, love squares ( this nigga tariq is a WHORE ), slut shaming, there's racist undertones with certain characters, snitching ( big NO NO ), smut? maybe... there's sex but i don't know if it'll be detailed quite yet.

inspiration — "you know what I'm thinkin', see it in your eyes, you hate that you want me, hate it when you cry. it ain't workin', 'cause you're perfect, and i know you deserve it. i can't walk away." ...this song is consistently in rotation LMFAOO... a little note about me, my favorite show of all time is POWER, but specifically the spin off GHOST. i have been a fan of michael rainey jr since 2015... like that 'my man, my man, my man' was slick about me cause i LOVE ME SOME 22. like that's my man. i started a tariq fic back in 2021, but it was on wattpad, and fuck that app so i deleted it like a fool. anyways, we back like that never happened and i created this idea.

wrd. count? 8.9k

requested?: no, but it dedicate it to the 22 brigade : @shurismainbxtch MAIYA, ugh you’ve literally been such a humongous help. you were the first person to lay eyes on this chapter and you spoke so much life into this fic and into me as an author — i literally admire you so deeply and i cant express how grateful i am for your friendship, like i feel like i sound like a broken ass record lmfaoo —

@shurislover vee baby! ugh i love you so bad but I’m so pissed we only just started talking omg. you never even seen power and still reached out to help me & i am soooooo grateful. you were such an encouragement to me today omg! love you bad!

@shinsousliya my liya! you’re so special & i adore n appreciate you. you deserve nothing but the best in the world, i keep on reading over the message you sent after you read this chapter... and i literally cannot explain how much it meant and gave me the push to finally finally publish the first chapter of this. i appreciate the way you’re so freaking gentle with my writing omg! ily so bad this would not be happening without you.

@cosmicmoonie at this point i'm calling you the captain of the fandom. i LOVED answering those asks yesterday because i really don't have a whole lot of mutuals / friends up here that watch power... it was so nice to talk to you and get your own insight on certain things. i can't wait for you to publish your fic... imma be sat!

@saturnville .... once again your fics get me through. love the story of tariq & imani ... i can't wait to read more about them, they are so precious, and their story really pushed me to finally write for riq myself!

they still don't watch power BUT... i always tag my loves so i ain't stopping now ( like just ignore this ) if they have a fanclub, i'm the president. @inmyheadimobsessed , @verachii , @dejaonline , @marsolgy , @vixentheplanet , @vampzxi , @pinkwright , @6-noir , @quintessencewrites , @shurislover , @oceean

“I don’t understand why we gotta sneak into some bougie ass club just to do some shit we could do at my ma’s crib.” Jas’ eyes are rolling and she’s rocking from side to side as she tries not to look like a minor sneaking into a club. To her left was her big cousin, Aneesa, the one who had the grand idea to sneak her into Truth of all places.

“Because you eighteen now.” the twenty-three year old deadpans, a small smirk etched on her face. “So?” Jas’ eyebrows furrow in disinterest. She didn’t exactly understand the hype about ‘eighteen’, in fact, it actually felt a whole lot like seventeen with extra pressure attached. Now she was an “adult’, everyone expected so much of her suddenly.

As if that number magically helped her figure out her life.

Jas can’t slight Aneesa though, her big cousin always looked out for her, and was one of the only people she kicked it with in the city. “And life’s all about experiences.” Aneesa continues like the know-it-all she was. She had all the potential to go to an Ivy League herself, she was smarter than anyone Jas knew, but her life was harder.

She had six siblings counting on her, her father was sick, and her mother worked two jobs. Aneesa was the oldest, it only made sense that she made sacrifices to alleviate some of that burden.

On the other side of Aneesa is her nigga, Jordan.

Jas didn’t have much issue with him. He looked out for her, stepped into the ‘Big cuz’ role with ease. Most of the family liked Jordan, he was street, but not a criminal. “Besides, if we ain’t do something nice for you, you know damn well we’d never hear the end of it.” he jumps into the conversation, despite the fact that he had just been talking to his other friends. “I turned eighteen and Jo and Neesie ain’t do shit for me.” he mimics Jas’ voice, tone growing nasally and pitched.

“Fuck you nigga, I don’t even talk like that.” Jas huffs.

“Yeah, she don’t even talk like that, nigga.” Aneesa plays it up for Jas’ own sake, she’s sure. “Aight, whatever. The point is, you deserve a fun night.” Jordan deadpans as he looks down at the shorter teenager. “Feliz Cumpleaños, motherfucker.” he trills and Jas snorts. “Gracias, puta.” Jas quips, and it earns her a wink from the older guy before he’s back in the mix.

“You see, we all want you to have a good time.” Aneesa says with a small grin. “Did you really have to bring the whole block though? These niggas got no fucking sense or decorum.” Jas’ eyes cut to the ‘odd squad’ as she had not so politely dubbed them. Just because Jordan wasn’t a criminal, didn’t mean he wasn’t affiliated with them. Most of them were corner boys, guys that were older than her, they hit licks, and sold drugs for whatever gang they all rode for.

“As soon as we inside them niggas gonna break for the easiest pussy in the joint.” She reminds Jas who snorts, head nodding in agreement. “Word to.” Jas responds quietly as Aneesa chuckles. “It’s just for the night. I know this ain’t your usual scene, but please try and have fun.” she begs.

“You can only get so many experiences up at that fancy school.” she explains. “I never got to really congratulate you on that by the way. Stansfield, an Ivy fucking League.” Aneesa throws an arm around you. “My little cousin in college.” she squeals.“I’m proud of you, Jay.” she adds and Jaszlyn can’t not smile. “Thanks Neesie.” Jas mutters and Aneesa grins, just as the line finally begins to move.

“Look, we sneak some of the younger cats into clubs all the time. Just don’t make it obvious you don’t belong.” Aneesa whispers and Jas nods stiffly, hands reaching for the fake ID that was resting in her wallet. She grabs it, and the way that Aneesa seems to practically buzz with excitement, puts her in a better mindset about this coup of the century.

At least her picture was bomb.

“Next.” The bouncer was brolic, standing at 6’7, he was a giant. Jas’ eyes skim over the group of guys already sloppily jumping to whatever song was currently blasting out the speakers of the club. Aneesa steps forward with Jordan, and then Jas is alone. The bouncer waves them through with a tired glance, and Aneesa spares a glance back at Jas with a wink, a silent ‘good luck’.

Once she’s pulled in by the swelling bass of the music Jas is completely alone.

“ID?” the guard croons, voice deep and stereotypically accurate for a man with his job. Jas still hands it over without much thought, foot tapping impatiently. “Is this a joke?” he asks as his eyebrow raises. Jas was good at spitting bullshit, she’d heard it all her life. “Is what bullshit?” she asks as the guard looks her over.

“You’re not 21.” he says matter-of-factly. “Can you prove that?” Jas clasps her hands together. “Well-” his faltering gives Jas the opening to strike. “Better question: do you harass every baby faced girl in her twenties with your accusations? Or is it just my lucky day?” she plays it up, and it garners attention. “Cause I for one, don’t appreciate being called a criminal.” she adds gruffly.

“I didn’t say you were a criminal.” the guard is quick to correct

“And yet I’m the first person you stopped, you’ve got the proof that I’m old enough to get into this club right there in your hands, and instead of doing your job and letting me through, you’re accusing me of using a fraudulent ID to get in.” Jas continues dramatically. “Wasn’t your boss, the owner of this club, once accused of doing something he didn’t do?” She didn’t know much about James St. Patrick, she’d seen him once on the news though.

“And here you are pushing that same bullshit on me.” Jas proceeds. “Let her in, man.” someone calls from behind her. “Don’t be a dickhead, she gave you her ID. What more do you want?” another exclaims. Jas’ smirk is hard to hide, and she can see the anger on the guard’s face as he scoffs. He slaps the card in her hand. “One slip up and you’re out on your ass.” he barks and Jas puckers her lips sarcastically, an audible smack sound accompanying .

“Can’t wait.” She puts the fake card back in her wallet before she sidesteps the guard and heads inside. Her grin has made its way across her entire face, stretching wide as she scans the large club for anyone she knew and came inside with. She comes up short. The dance floor is full of bodies, a sea of pale rhythmless gyrating individuals who she was certain had never heard the name ‘Jay-Z’ outside of the Solange elevator incident.

Jas’ eyes take another quick scan of the place, it was far from lowkey, No, lowkey and Truth nightclub could never be used together. “You made it in.” Aneesa seems to appear from nowhere, the older girl stalking towards her gracefully, hips swishing as she grins. “I told you it wouldn’t be an issue.” she lowers her voice, beaming even brighter. “Yeah, you sure told me.” Jas agrees sarcastically, head nodding.

“That security guard was on my tip, heavy.” Jas grunts and Aneesa snorts. “That’s just cause he wanna hit.” she deadpans as Jas’ nose curls in disgust. “Not even if I was drugged up.” she denies as Aneesa chuckles loudly. “You want a drink? I heard this spot was dope with drinks.” she declares.

“You heard? What, Neese? I thought you’d been here before.” Jas grumbles. “What? Jordan’s been here before, and he’s my nigga, which means we’re basically the same person.” Aneesa offers as Jas scoffs out a dry laugh. “Nah, nigga. It don’t work that way.” her head shakes as Aneesa chuckles. “Okay, so maybe this is my first time here too.” the older girl rubs at her arm sheepishly.

“Jordan hasn’t stopped talking about it.” Aneesa explains, and Jas thinks it’s cute how geeked Neesie stayed over her nigga, she had never felt such a way about a person, but it was nice that Neesie did, plus Jordan treated her good. He was a catch in a sea full of shiesty motherfuckers.

“So go chill with your nigga.” Jas instructs plainly. Aneesa’s nose curls, face contorting. “You think I’m just about to leave you alone in this big ass club?” she scoffs, and it’s dramatic, exactly what her big cousin was known for. “How I’m supposed to find a nigga of my own if you all up on me. I thought you said this life shit was about experiences.” Jas is being facetious, truthfully, she didn’t want to be alone, but she was always good at keeping a cold poker face.

“A-are you sure?” Aneesa’s eyebrows furrow. “Yeah, I got this ID. That dance floor looks pretty…” Jas trails off as her eyes fall on the group of moving bodies. “White.” Aneesa finishes and Jas laughs, “Just how I like it.” is her sarcastic remark. “I’ll do a lap and catch up with you in half an hour?” Aneesa offers as Jas smiles faintly. “Sure, Neese.” Jas agrees with a nod. “You’re the best, little cuz.” Aneesa grins widely,

“Yeah, that’s what I’m known for.” Jas calls back, and with that the two cousins part ways. Aneesa, like a kid in a candy store, on a mission to find Jordan, who was cool as ice, leant up against the bar with a drink in his hand. When Jas is alone she grabs her mango freeze pen bringing it up to her lips and takes a pull, the smoke from the vape dances and blends in with the fog billowing throughout the large club.

Blinding Lights by The Weeknd begins bursting through the speaker and Jas hates the way her body immediately reacts, surprise filling her, and more than likely clear all across her face. She eyes the dance floor warily, the men in suits and ties looking right on the verge of mosh pitting, a disaster for any bystander. It seemed most guys didn’t know any other dance moves at the club. Even still, there’s a group of pretty girls that are smoking and dancing, and it’d be easier to approach them than to stand around like an idiot.

So taking another hit from her vape she takes tentative steps towards the dance floor. It was clear the club was split in two, with the majority of the dance floor being filled with black people, while white folks surrounded the outer sections of the club. She’s immediately welcomed into the growing pit of dancers, pretty girls offering Jas compliments on her shoes, $1800 Jimmy Choo chandelier snake beaded crystal heels.

They had been a birthday present from her best friend, Gia. Gianna Weston had been Jas’ best friend since the fourth grade. When Jas had officially been taken out of the care of her mother and placed under the care of her grandmother, Claire, she’d been taken out of public school, and enrolled in Academics West, the most expensive private elementary school in New York.

One of the only black kids wandering the halls. She’d met Gia due to an altercation on her first day, she’d punched a little girl in the face, because she’d been bothering Gianna nonstop.

It was safe to say, Gia knew Jas had her back to this day.

“That nigga is giving you the eyes.” one of the girls Jas had found company with whispers as the song shifts into ‘Big Poppa’, Jas’ entire face lighting up at the familiar tune. Jas follows the gaze of the girl, finding herself under the scrutiny of a boy , better classified as a man, across the club. He’s clearly and visibly older than Jas, but he’s staring her down.

He’s surrounded by guys that Jas just knew were hyping his head up. He’s wearing a cuban link chain with a jesus piece, he’s clearly strapped, gun probably sitting in the waistband of his jeans. He couldn’t be more than twenty-five, which was more than fine in Jas’ eyes. She was a legal adult now, thank God, long gone were the days of ‘no face-no case’, she could go home with any guy in the club, and it’d be nobody's business but her own.

As this thought crosses her mind her eyes fall on a wrinkly older man and her disgust is immediately clear. She shudders at the prospect of stumbling behind him out the club. Maybe she couldn’t go home with any guy in the club. She did have fucking standards. To all the ladies in the place with style and grace allow me to lace these lyrical douches in your bushes. Biggie’s voice comes swinging through the speakers.

Jas takes note of the whiter audience, how it seemed only people that looked like her appreciated this switch in the playlist. Her eyes are back on the guy, and she’s slowly but surely loosening up. She brings the vape up to her lips again, taking a longer pull before she exhales deeply, smoke billowing out in front and around her. Who rock grooves and make moves with all the mamis? The back of the club, sippin' Moët is where you'll find me. Biggie’s words proceed.

Jas’ body begins to sway in time to the beat, the more she smoked, the looser she felt. The guy, he’s still watching her, even as girls crowd around him and start to dance, each one vying for the chance to dance on him. He’s looking her way, drawing her in, and calling her towards him. “The back of the club, mackin' hoes, my crew's behind me. Mad question askin', blunt passin', music blastin', but I just can't quit.” Jas' fingers make guns, long acrylics extended out.

“Because one of these honeys Biggie got to creep with.” Jas’ grin is wide as she finally raps along to the classic, it gains her a smirk from the guy, and that seems to give her the courage to finally approach. She didn’t give a damn about any of the girls in his face, he was checking for her, and that was more than apparent. “You don’t look old enough to be in here.” it’s a guy’s voice, and that realization makes Jas’ eyes roll harshly. “Did that fucking useless doorman send you to harrass me?” she barks, eyes not on her new company.

“No. But, he ain’t really have to.” the guy proceeds. “You looked like a kid from the moment you walked in.” he says and Jas finally turns to glare at this guy. Though when her eyes fall on him she stops short. He’s tall, 5’10, and he’s fine as hell.

“Well that’s where you’re wrong.” she corrects sourly. “I’m not a kid.” she tells him bluntly. “That still doesn’t make you twenty one.” he counters and Jas’ scowl makes him smirk. She digs around for the fake ID card, fishing it out and flashing it at him. “This says otherwise.” she tells him crossly. The guy, too tall for his own good, takes in the card, eyes jumping from one corner to the other.

“It’s a fake.” he concludes as Jas blinks, eyes falling on the card herself. Was there something that gave it away? “How could you possibly know that?” she demands, and the guy, she really needed to learn his name, shrugs. “You can just tell,” he says. “Nah, nigga that’s bullshit.” Jas quips. “How’d I get in here then?” she questions. “The bouncer’s a fucking idiot.” he says and Jas scrutinizes him harder.

“Well you don’t look like you’re twenty-one either, since you tryna check me.” she raises a pointed eyebrow, eyes narrowing just slightly. “That’s true.” he grabs hold of his left wrist with his right hand, arms hanging, hands clasped, and resting in front of his crotch. “But, I’m also not the one pretending to be.” he quips and it shuts Jas right up. He’s got you there, is her obnoxious inner monologue. “What are you? A fucking narc?” she demands and he scoffs.

“No, I ain’t a fucking narc.” he denies, and he says it like he’s offended. “Just a concerned citizen. You know drugs and alcohol are doing a number on our community.” he says, and it’s clear he’s joking. “Oh, a concerned citizen?” she mimics him, eyes rolling. “Yeah, underage drinking is a real pandemic.” he mutters and Jas laughs.

“Aight, you made your point.” she mumbles. “Lucky for you I ain’t show up to drink.” she adds and he nods slightly, he gives her a clear once over, in turn she does the same. “Crisis averted then.” he mutters with a grin. “Corny ass nigga.” Jas laughs and the sight is pretty to her companion. She finds her eyes moving to look across the club again, finding the guy she’d formerly been eyeing, dancing with some redhead.

Typical.

“Damn.” she mutters and the youngin’ raises an eyebrow. “What's wrong?” he asks. “While you was so concerned about my wellbeing the nigga I was tryna go home with found somebody else.” Jas’ eyes are drawn back to the younger guy, He clocks the guy and scoffs, head shaking as he offers Jas an unfazed glance. “You waiting for a sorry?” he asks.

“That wouldn’t hurt the situation.” she replies. He only smacks his teeth. “You wasn’t really studdin’ that nigga anyway.” Tariq deadpans. “And how would you know that?” Jas asks. “You can just tell.” he repeats his earlier remark. “What you psychic or some shit?” Jas teases. “You sitting here talking to me.” he deadpans. “So?” Jas’ hand drops to her hip.

I love it when you call me Big Poppa. Throw your hands in the air if you's a true player. I love it when you call me Big Poppa to the honeys gettin' money, playin' niggas like dummies. Biggie’s words are enticing to Jas, there was no way, no world that existed where she wouldn’t dance, where she wouldn’t enjoy his rhymes. “So, if you was really feeling him, you would’ve curved my ass, and went on about your business.” he tells her. Jas’ eyebrow raises again,

“Oh yeah?” she cocks her head to the side slightly. “Personally, if I’m feeling a girl, I ain’t letting nobody get in the way of me getting to them,” he says. “Especially not a “narc”” he does air quotes around the world and Jas snorts. “Okay, that’s fair.” Jas laughs faintly, head nodding. “What’s your name?” she finally questions, “Tariq.” he answers. “Tariq.” she tries his name on her tongue, and hums. “Do I get to know your name now?” he questions and Jas’ head cocks to the side.

Tariq had lots on his mind, but there was something about Jas that made him stutter step.

“J.” Jas answers and Tariq raises an eyebrow. “Your mama named you J?” he asks. “Yo’ mama named you Tariq?” She mimics him and he laughs. “There ain’t nothing wrong with that, I just ain’t ever met a girl named J before.” he explains, “It’s just a nickname.” She corrects him. “I ain’t in the business of giving out my government to niggas I don’t know. What if you’re a serial killer or some shit?” she explains.

“How do I know you’re not the killer?” he rerouted and Jas’ eyes seemed to twinkle. “You don’t.” she answers bluntly. “It sounds to me like we both taking a chance with this conversation, I could be a killer, you could be a killer. Isn’t it fair to even the odds? I mean… you know my name.” Tariq says and Jas huffs, because he had to have known what he was doing.

“Jas-Hennessy.” she offers and Tariq blinks. “Jas-Hennessy?” he repeats. “Now you see why I go by J, nigga?” Jas asks and Tariq chuckles. “It’s different,” he agrees. “But it ain’t bad, it fits you.” he says and Jas smiles faintly. “I guess your name alright too.” she mutters coyly and he laughs. Laughter, something so simple had been evading him recently.

These days it felt like life had only one goal; stealing all the brief moments of peace, and replacing them with more bullshit, more trauma he’d never have time to unpack. Despite how brief this conversation with Jas was, he appreciated how easily she managed to make him feel like a kid again. He’d hold on to it for as long as he could.

“Do you wanna sit? Talk some?” she asks, head nodding towards the row of lounge seats off to the side. Tariq’s eyes flit to the second story of the club, where his father was, where he needed to be. When his eyes find Jas again, he nods. “Yeah, sure, let’s talk some.” he agrees, and Jas looks relieved, eyes lighting up, Tariq smiles right back, and it’s a pretty sight.

Jas leads the way to the lounge seats, still taking in more of the club, Biggie’s on his way off, the DJ already starting to mix in another song with the tail endings of ‘Big Poppa’, a moment passes before ‘Sorry’ by Justin Bieber starts, Jas wonders hard who could have such an eclectic mix, but the interest on the dance floor changes drastically. Tariq is right on Jas’ heels, head shaking at the song choice too.

As he lets Jas lead him his previous promise to leave girls alone is forgotten. Effie might’ve fucked his head up, bad, but Jas seemed harmless. She sits first, and Tariq follows, their height difference hardly changes at all, and that makes him chuckle slightly. “So Tariq.” she begins, hands moving to rest on her knees as she gives him her fullest attention.

“You enjoying it?” Tariq motions around and Jas’ eyes finally take in the entirety of the club. It was nice, incredibly nice, she could completely understand why New York had been raving about it, even still, it wasn’t particularly her scene. It was usually in the over saturated spots that shit went left and hit the fan. “It’s straight.” she answers with a shrug. “This ain’t really your thing, huh?” Tariq inquires as Jas smiles sheepishly. “Is it that obvious?” she asks.

Tariq pretends to think it over, it results in both he and Jas chuckling. “I can’t lie you was looking mad uncomfortable, you and your little vape pen.” he says through his chuckles. Jas snorts at this, pulling the small item out. “Take this shit everywhere.” she admits and she takes another drag, exhaling the smoke before she addresses Tariq again. “Do you smoke?” she asks and Tariq’s hands jump up. “It’s not really my thing.” he admits as Jas nods in understanding.

“That’s a good thing, you shouldn’t start.” she tells him quietly. “Break the cycle. Rise above.” she teases and he laughs again, head shaking. “You stupid.” he teases and Jas’ eyes crinkle with how hard she’s grinning over at him.

“So how old are you really? Since you’re clearly not twenty one?” Jas leans forward, hand resting against her cheek, elbow on her knee. “I’m seventeen.” he explains, “But, I’ll be eighteen in a few weeks.” he answers truthfully. “Oh, so you’re still a baby.” she says and Tariq’s eyes roll, despite his grin, hand moving to wave her off. “I ain’t a baby.” he denies, and he sits up a bit straighter. “I’m a grown man.” he adds a second after, it earns him another laugh from Jas.

“Oh okay.” she mumbles sarcastically. “Well how old are you, miss fake twenty-one.” he says and Jas snorts. “I never admitted that my ID was fake.” she says and Tariq nods along, “You didn’t have to.” he says, He raises his eyebrows, and it’s a challenge. One Jas refuses to accept so she only sighs out in defeat.

“As of two days ago, I’m eighteen.” she answers honestly. Tariq gasps, “Happy belated birthday.” he says politely and Jas smiles faintly. “Thank you, Tariq.” she had been spouting a lot of thank yous in the past few days, nothing about eighteen felt really special. She didn’t mind sitting here with Tariq though. “Hang on, hang on. You barely legal, and you called me the baby?” he demands as Jas chuckles.

“Anybody younger than me is a baby, doesn’t matter how close your birthday is.” she proceeds. “So now what? You gonna turn me in?” she asks and Tariq shakes his head, “I ain’t no snitch.” he denies. “A solid rule to live by.” Jas agrees. Tariq makes a mental note of this, there was much more to Jas than what met the eye.

“What’s it feel like?” Tariq asks and Jas turns to him in confusion. “What does what feel like?” she asks. “Adulthood?” Tariq clarifies, and his eyes are back on the second story. His dad was somewhere up there, his mother was somewhere else planning to enact a move that could never be undone. He might’ve by standard of the government still been a child, a kid, but life had forced him to grow up.

“Eighteen don’t make you an adult.” she tells him plainly. “You seem to have shit together though.” he retorts and Jas hums, “Looks can be deceiving, most times they are.” she explains. “Heard that.” Tariq’s agreement makes Jas look over at him. “So if you didn’t sneak in, and we’ve established you’re underage, how’d you get inside?” Jas questions conversationally.

“Perks of being the owner’s son I guess.” Tariq replies, but he doesn’t sound proud in the slightest. “Hang on?” Jas holds a hand out, eyes widening. “Your dad is James St. Patrick?” Tariq mistakes her surprise for excitement. “What? You a fan or some shit?” he sneers as Jas scoffs. “No offense, but all I know about him is that he supposedly killed some cop and was still able to get off for that shit.” she says and Tariq relaxes.

“It is kinda cool though, it must be.” Jas looks around. “Y’all like the Queens’ Huxtables.” she jokes as Tariq snorts. “Yeah, we nothing like that.” he denies. Jas can tell there’s more to that than he’s letting on, so she pivots. Or at least she tries to pivot the conversation. Before either of them can say anything more, the music is skipping, or better explained, the DJ was changing the song once again.

“Yo, what’s up with this DJ?” Jas asks and Tariq shakes his head. “I’m usually not here for these things, I don’t know what that nigga got going on, he don’t know his audience at all.” Tariq denies and Jas agrees. Girl it’s your birthday in here tonight. Chris Brown’s voice blares through the speakers, catching both Jas and Tariq off guard.

"Oh, I know damn well." Jas mutters under her breath. One of her least favorite things about her family was how over-the-top they could be at times. She knew that somewhere behind this was Aneesa, who loved showering Jas in attention, no matter how hard Jas tried to protest it. Go, go, go, shawty it's your bday. The song proceeds and an array of bottle girls begin strutting their way towards where Jas and Tariq are sitting.

“Oh, shit.” Tariq mutters as Jas’ crumbles in embarrassment. There’s at least three bottles on every serving tray. Following the bottle girls are Aneesa and Jordan who are surrounded by about thirty individuals, each one with phones and flashes beaming. Phones pointed right at Jas. “Happy Birthday Jazi Jas.” Aneesa exclaims.

“Thank you, thank you.” Jas clasps her hands together. The moment of celebrating her drags far too long for her own liking, the DJ’s even taken to beaming a spotlight in her general vicinity. The theatrics are hysterical, but overall humiliating. "Oh? Who's this, Jazi? He cute!" Aneesa's stumbling over herself as she approaches closer, fingers like claws as they point towards Tariq, who's looking amused at the ordeal.

"Uh, Neese... this is... Tariq." Jas motions to him sheepishly, and Tariq grins wryly, offering a slight wave. "Tariq? Oh, that's cute!" Aneesa exclaims, and Jas watches as Jordan begins to move in closer. "You guys should come dance." Aneesa demands and Jas blinks. "We good, Neese." she denies politely. "Just one dance? For Instagram." Aneesa whines, and it's clear she's drunk.

"Isn't she pretty, Tariq?" Aneese motions to Jas who's unsure she can be anymore embarrassed. "Yeah, she's bad for sure." Tariq's smirk makes Jas' humiliation even worse, he's so smug, and she hates it. "So don't you wanna dance with her? Just one dance?" Aneesa's not taking no for an answer as she plucks Jas up by her wrist.

"Neesie!" Jas groans as Aneesa smacks her teeth. "But you think he's cute!" Aneesa stumbles slightly, and Jas eyes Jordan for help. "Aight, baby, let's let 'em dance." he mutters. The rest of the group is a conglomerate of noise that's becoming too much for Jas right now. Aneesa narrows her eyes at both Jas and Tariq.

"Y'all betta' dance." she demands and Tariq stands up as a sign of good faith. "We going right now." he promises and Aneesa smiles with all her teeth on display, curling into the embrace of Jordan. "See, I like him, Jazi. Keep him." she nods her head assuredly, Jordan turns to Tariq and Jas with an apologetic glance. "Sorry 'bout that." he's addressing Jas, but she clocked the way that he gave Tariq a once over. "I'mma get her to sit down." he says before he begins to lead.

"What you apologizing for? Jazi likes him, look at her face." Aneesa exclaims and Jordan is tugging her a bit faster. When Tariq laughs, Jas turns to him with knit eyebrows. "Ain't nothing funny." she tells him and he shakes his head. "Look at your face, you like me." he mimics and Jas rolls her eyes. "Aneesa's a drunk." she mutters as he laughs. "I don't know, your smile's a little-" he cuts himself off as he points at her face, Jas hates the way the smile blooms all the more.

"You're stupid." she mutters before she eyes the dance floor wearily. "We don't really gotta dance." she says and Tariq waves her off. "Nah, let's do it. I'm tryna see how the birthday girl get down." he says and Jas is unsure, mostly because she didn't have the greatest track record with guys, or anyone really. "Only if you down." Tariq adds a moment after, and he looks so good in his suit, and it can't hurt.

She was previously about to do the same thing with someone else. "Okay." she agrees, and her head nods slightly. Tariq relaxes slightly, and extends a hand for Jas to take. When she does she notes how nice his hands were, which was good, he took care of himself. He's also not overly aggressive, he lets her take the lead, feet marching back towards the dance floor. Despite how quickly he offers the reigns over to her, it's still very clear that he could lead too.

Jas stops, and she's turned so now she and Tariq are staring each other down. The DJ's tracks change again, Leave 'em alone by Layton Greene beginning as Jas' nerves spike. It's a little awkward and they both know that, Tariq wasn't a dancer, and Jas wasn't high enough to not be self conscious. Jas is still leading, Tariq was only gonna go as far as she let him. Her hands leading his to rest on her hips as she starts to rock to the music, trying to shake away her fear.

Tariq's got rhythm, which is good, because they fall into one with one another rather quickly, Jas' musical instincts impossible to hide as she grins up at him. "Keep talking to me." she says and Tariq's head tilts slightly, a nod following right after. "Your crew rolling deep tonight?” he asks and Jas snorts. “Yeah, the screaming shawty with the locs is my big cousin, Aneesa.” Jas shakes her own head.

“She did all this for me.” Jas turns her body now, hand back on Tariq's to guide it to rest on her hips as she backs up until she's pressed against him. “Bitches got too much money for their own good.” she huffs, but she is grateful, deep down. Aneesa was important to her, and this was important to Aneesa so she could swallow her discomfort. Tariq's dancing respectfully behind her, and she likes that. The fact he's not so eager to get in her pants, but he's taking all his cues from her. It's a nice but welcomes change.

“Yeah, that was a lot of bottles.” Tariq agrees and Jas snorts. “Ion even drink like that.” she adds after a moment. “They just tryna celebrate you.” Tariq reminds her and she nods. “Yeah, you right. Family is important.” she says this more to herself. “Everyone’s all bent out of shape, cause I’m in college now." she explains. "College?" Tariq adds and Jas can hear Aneesa's whoops of approval from across the club. She was a mess when she was drunk.

"Yeah, I go to Stansfield." Jas explains and she looks over her shoulder at Tariq, hips still twirling in time to Layton's vocals. I can't leave 'em alone. Try to change my ways, but the dope boy turnin' me on. Trap niggas know what I want. So caught up that I can't leave 'em alone "That's a big accomplishment, you should be proud." Tariq tells her, and he sounds genuine, immediately scolding himself.

"I am." Jas says quietly, head nodding again. "They just think I’m too good for my family in the city.” she admits, and it’s weird to be saying all this to a stranger. “Nah, I understand that.” Tariq says with pursed lips. “Everybody but Neesie.” Jas smiled faintly. “That’s my bitch. She’s my cousin, and she’s older, but she’s like my best friend.” Jas turns back around, hands moving to wrap around Tariq's neck.

She liked seeing his face, his reactions whenever she spoke.

“That’s why I go through with shit like this. Being uncomfortable, because it makes her happy.” Tariq's getting the hang of this, he didn't have a lot of experience with dancing with girls, but Jas was a good partner, she made this more enjoyable than it looked. Do you come to all of your dad’s events?” Tariq immediately shakes his head. “I’m actually supposed to be meeting up with him.” Tariq admits.

“Oh? Am I holding you up?” Jas questions as Tariq purses his lips together. “I’m where I wanna be.” he deadpans,

“That nigga will be alright.” At this remark, it’s more than apparent that Tariq and his father don’t get along. She related, she and her mother hadn’t seen eye to eye in a very long time. His phone goes off, buzzing harshly in his pocket. “Is that your dad?” Jas questions, and Tariq sighs as he pulls out his phone. “Yeah.” he answers once he sees the incoming text.

“You should go see about that.”

“What? You tired of me already or something?” Tariq raises an eyebrow. “Not at all, but dads can be hardcore.” she says and Tariq nods in agreement. “Yeah, that's true." he mutters quietly. "Thanks for the dance, Tariq." Jas reluctantly peels away, hands falling limp at her side as the song begins to end. "Yeah, I actually had a really good time." he says and Jas buzzes at the compliment.

"Me too." she answers immediately.

“Uh, can I get your number before you go?” Tariq asks and Jas is surprised. “Just in case I don’t see you after?” he nods his head towards the second floor. “You gon’ use it?” Jas questions and Tariq rolls his eyes. “Do you think I’d be asking if I wasn’t planning on using it?” he asks and Jas shrugs. “You can never really tell with New York niggas.” she mutters. Even still, she pulls out her phone and hands it off to Tariq, who in return, hands her his phone.

Once they’ve exchanged phones again, Jas smiles slightly. “It was nice to meet you Jaszlyn.” Tariq beams.

“It was nice to meet you too, Tariq.” Jas says and she takes a tentative step towards him, bringing him into a hug. The action surprises both of them, but Tariq is quick to reciprocate, and it lasts a little too long for both of them to be in such a rush. Jas steps back first, and Tariq isn’t sure what it is about her that’s so comforting and familiar, but there’s something. She was special, a standout.

“Bye, Riq.” she waves, and she scans the dance floor, eyes locking on her group, and she walks towards them. “Bye Jas.” he faintly replies, standing there still, basking in the fenty perfume that she smelled like. It stuck to his suit, and made his head swim, in the best way. He looks at the time on his phone and he inhales, sliding it into the pocket of his suit jacket before he finally heads for the steps to meet with his father. His mother’s plan for the night rings heavy on his mind.

Now though, this plan to kill his father shares space, and lots of it with Jas-Hennessy.

Whether that was a good or bad thing, he’d yet to find out.

/̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿

“I honestly don’t know how I feel right now.” Tariq’s become a good liar, that much is apparent. Sitting across from Cooper Saxe, he plays the role of a grieving son well, and maybe deep down he is grieving. His dad- Ghost, might’ve been a monster, but in the end, he was still his dad. “Numb I guess.” he offers an elaboration, not a lie, but certainly not the entire truth.

“You know, my baby sister, I don’t know how much of my dad or-or Raina she’ll remember.” Yasmin, a top priority for Tariq, she always had been, but especially now. “Can you think of anyone who might want your father dead?” Saxe questions, and Tariq’s immediate reaction is hard to mask. Everyone that he knew had some sort of vendetta against his dad, against Ghost. He wasn’t the upstanding guy he claimed to be.

“A lot of people had a lot of reasons to want my father dead, but the only person that could’ve done this was Andre Coleman. He wanted my father dead.” Tariq recites the premeditated lie. “Uncle Tommy told me he was gonna go try to stop him, but I guess he was just too late.” Tariq shrugs absently. Saxe offers him a dry chuckle, head shaking in disbelief. “I have a hard time believing Andre Coleman would try to kill Ghost. It’s too big a risk.” Saxe deadpans.

“Andre doesn’t let fear or logic get in front of what he wants to do, he’s just gonna do it.” Tariq manages to squeeze a few tears out, they slip down his cheeks, and he wonders if he’ll ever be the same kid he once was, probably not. “Well that’s true.” Cooper speaks from experience. “So I think you should arrest Dre and let me and my mother go.” Tariq offers shakily as Saxe scoffs lowly. “See, there’s just one problem.” he begins, finger wiggling slightly in Tariq’s face.

“You were on the scene, Tariq. You were right there.” Saxe exclaims. “I told you I went to the party, and I left to meet with my Uncle Tommy.” Tariq reiterates. “When I came back my dad was already…” he trails off, hand covering his face as he plays up the sadness. “He was already gone.” he finishes with a shuddered breath. “Wow.” Saxe says, head bobbing. “That’s convenient, just like blaming Dre for the murder.” he proceeds. “I don’t know, Tariq. See, I don’t buy it. I don’t buy it. I think you know more than you’re telling me.” Saxe proceeds.

“How could I possibly know anything, I wasn’t there.” Tariq insists. “Can you prove that?” Saxe asks, and it’s a dumb idea, probably the dumbest he’s ever had, but he’s desperate. Desperation always bred stupidity. “Yes.” Tariq nods stiffly and Saxe stops short, eyebrows raising up. “How?” he questions. “L-Last night, I was with a girl.” Tariq mutters and Saxe’s entire demeanor changes.

“A girl?” he repeats, dry and unconvinced. “Y-Yes. After I left from meeting with my Uncle Tommy, I met up with a girl.” Tariq digs his heels into the lie.

“And does this girl know you met up with her?” Saxe is still unconvinced. “Of course she does.” Tariq speaks defensively. “Okay, then you won’t mind if I confirm your story with her?” Saxe asks. “Not at all.” Tariq answers, poker face well in place.

“Why didn’t you mention her before?” Saxe asks, playing a new angle. “Ever since I got kicked out of Choate my mother has been a lot more strict on allowing me to hang out with people she doesn't know. I didn’t want her to know and be upset, especially now that this has happened.” Tariq’s unsure if he should be scared or proud of the way he spins this story. It’s almost believable.

“What’s her name?” Saxe questions and he’s got his notepad out. “J-Jaszlyn-Hennessy.” Tariq spits her name out, and hopes his voice doesn’t tremble.

“Got it, we’ll get right on that.”

/̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿

“Good morning, we’re sorry to bother you.” Jas hears an unfamiliar voice from the living room. “Is this the residence of Jaszlyn-Hennessy Sabrino?” the woman’s voice proceeds. It’s very nasally, hard to ignore, and would probably live in Jas’ mind for a while. She’s currently hunched over suitcases tossing in all the new clothes, shoes, and jewelry she’d received over the weekend.

Her ride back to Stansfield would be there to pick her up within the hour, she needed to be done packing soon. Whoever this new audience was needed to get gone quickly. “I’m sorry, who wants to know?” her mother’s tone is clipped, uneasy as hell. “Pardon the intrusion ma’am, my name is Sergeant Blanca Rodriguez. This is my associate, AUSA Cooper Saxe.” the unfamiliar voice proceeds.

“How do you do?” your mother’s voice is devoid of all hospitality. “Is Jaszlyn here?” “Cooper” speaks up, impatiently. Jas steps out of her bedroom, walking the extended hallway to reach the living room. Her mother was standing at the door, screen door still closed as she looked out at two suits. “I’m Jaszlyn.” she speaks up, and three sets of eyes fall on her.

“H-Hi, Jaszlyn, I’m Sergeant-” Jas cuts her off instantly. “I heard you the first time.” she takes a tentative step forward, eyebrows raising. “And it’s Jas, we ain’t family. I don’t need suits spitting my government like we kin.” she says and Blanca blinks in surprise. “Jas, forgive me.” she tries. “Right. What do you want?” Jas demands, it earns her a tiny smirk from Blanca. “We just need you to come down to the precinct with us and answer a few questions.” Blanca explains.

The precinct was the last place Jas was ever going willingly.

“Hell no. She’s not going anywhere with you.” Janelle denies firmly, this forces Saxe to speak up, “No disrespect, Ms. Sabrino, but Jaszlyn is eighteen. We don’t need your permission to take her anywhere.” he deadpans, and it shuts Janelle up. “Can’t I just answer your questions from right here?” Jas asks and Saxe moves to reject this option.

“Sure.” Blanca speaks before he can, and the look he shoots her lets Jas know there’s a history there. “Can we at least come in?” Saxe asks and Janelle scoffs. “Do I really have a choice?” she grumbles before she cuts her eyes at Jas. “Come on in.” She addresses the two pushing the screen door forward. Blanca steps in first with Saxe on her heels.

“Now, what exactly is the business that you have with my daughter?” Janelle asks and Jas tunes in for the answer. She wasn’t wrapped up in anything illegal. “Jas, do you know Tariq St. Patrick?” Blanca questions. “Tariq? Is he alright?” she feels the daggers her mother is staring into the side of her face. “He’s fine.” Saxe waves Jas off impatiently.

“We’re in the process of investigating the murder of his father James St. Patrick.” Jas notes the way her mother tenses, a quiet gasp escaping her. Neither Saxe nor Blanca seem to pick up on it, but Jas does, she always does. “We’re not at liberty to discuss the case, but Jas' name was dropped as a person of interest.” Blanca looks at Janelle.

“Person of interest? You think that I killed him?” Jas’ surprise is evident, as is her disbelief, and annoyance. “No, nothing like that.” Blanca denies, head shaking. “But Tariq did mention that he was with you last night.” Blanca scrutinizes Jas closely, looking for any facial or bodily reactions that would crack Tariq’s story.

Before Jas can respond, her phone is buzzing incessantly in her pocket. “Uh, I’m sorry… I need to take this, it’s my ride back to school.” a lie, and a bold faced one. Her walk back to her bedroom is rushed, and she shuts the door behind her before she finally takes in the text messages.

riq💰 jas. look, this is gonna sound insane, but i need a solid from you.

jazi 💎 tariq what the fuck did you get me into? the fucking feds are at my ma’s crib

riq💰 shit. can i call you?

He doesn’t wait for an answer, and moments after Jas’ phone is ringing. She answers immediately, and her aggravation is palpable. “Jas?” Tariq’s voice ignites a collection of emotions inside her. 55% positive, with the other 45% being the appropriate negative emotions. “Tariq.” she repeats his name with some venom, eyes squinted and head shaking as she immediately begins to pace throughout her bedroom.

“You said the feds are at your spot?” he asks and Jas rolls her eyes. “Yeah, some bitch named Blanca and-” she’s cut off, “Saxe, yeah.” Tariq completes and she nods her head despite the fact he can’t see her currently. “They said your dad’s dead, he was killed.” she recites and Tariq grimaces. “Yeah, yeah he is.” he replies and Jas feels remorse blooming in her chest.

“Did you…” she shuts herself up. “Why are they here? Did you give the feds my fucking name?” Jas hisses and Tariq exhales audibly. “I didn’t do shit.” Tariq denies. “I didn’t do anything.” he emphasizes a moment later, hoping it sticks in her mind. “They said that you told them you were with me last night, that sounds like a fucking alibi.” Jas corrects him.

“Niggas don’t just get alibis for nothing, I ain’t new to this shit.” Jas’ disdain is evident, but Tariq’s surprised at the admission. “You’re right.” Tariq admits. “Alibis aren’t for nothing, but these feds, they’d do anything to tear the rest of my family apart,” he explains. “They’re not looking for the truth, they just want someone to take the fall for all the bad things my father did.” he adds and Jas seems to falter slightly.

“Don’t you get that?” he questions.

“But why lie, Tariq?” Jas demands. “What were you doing that you need me to cover for you?” she questions. “Jas.” Tariq’s voice is sharp, stern. “You know I can’t share any explicit shit with you over the phone.” he says and Jas inhales sharply. “I’m not a killer, Jas.” he promises and she lets her head shake in disbelief. Her luck was clearly shit.

“Look, I-I could pay you.” Tariq offers, and it’s frantic, he needs somebody to be on his side. He needs Jas to come through. “50k? D-does that sound fair?” he asks and Jas scoffs. “Tariq-” she begins, only to be cut off instantly. “Jas, please.” he begs and she huffs. “I don’t even fucking know you.” She reminds him crossly. “I know that. Fuck, I know that. I just need you to do this for me. I’ll pay you and then we’ll never have to see each other again, alright?” he rambles.

“You and I, we’ll be square. You can go back to your life, and I’ll go back to mine. But, I really need you to do this for me, Jas. Tell them that we were together.” Tariq speaks and Jas mulls it over. It wasn’t like she’d never given an alibi for, only difference was, these individuals were at least people she had history with. She didn’t know Tariq from anywhere. Even still, he wasn’t a monster, at least not that she could tell.

Prison would eat him alive.

So she relents, and somehow she knows she’ll regret that choice. “Fine.” she huffs. “But you fucking owe me.” she reminds him dryly. “Yeah, whatever you need, I got you.” he promises. “Don’t just say that shit.” Jas barks. “Nah, Jas, hear me good, if you do this shit for me, you got me.” Tariq promises. “Whatever you need, doesn’t matter, you got it.” he insists.

“Okay, I’ll hold you to that.” Jas voices. “W-What exactly are you gonna tell ‘em?” Tariq questions, and his clear anxiety makes Jas huff. “Look, we’re both teenagers.” Jas begins and it’s Tariq’s turn to nod. “I’ll just spin some bullshit about us coming back and getting active.” Jas says plainly. “Oh? You thinking about getting active with me?” Tariq’s smug voice makes Jas’ eyes roll, in the same token it earns him a grin that she’s glad he can’t see.

“Shut up, nigga.” she mutters as he laughs. “My ma wasn’t around last night so she can’t deny shit. We’ll figure everything else out together.” Jas mutters. “I’ll text you later ‘bout a spot we can meet up at. I’ll be expecting my 50k then.” she says and Tariq hums in acknowledgment. “I go back to Stansfield tonight, but I can get back to the city sometime before classes start Monday.” Jas mumbles. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” This earned him an eyeroll.

“Yeah, whatever. When I hit you, just make sure you pick up the phone, nigga.” with that she hangs up the device before huffing aloud. She’d get enough of dumb decisions soon enough. Her trek back to the living room is methodical, her poker face set and tested through time. “Important call?” Saxe questions, it’s obvious both he and Blanca are suspicious, only difference was that Blanca was much better at hiding that.

“Very.” Jas answers blandly. “That was my ride. They’ll be here soon, and I still have to pack, so if we could get to the point of this.” Jas cues the ‘wrap it up’ gesture with her hands before she looks between the two feds pointedly. “School?” Saxe repeats, eyebrow raised in disagreement. “Shouldn’t you have graduated already?” he sneers and Janelle scoffs.

“She did, she was Summa Cum Laude.” Janelle mutters and Jas holds a hand out. “Ion need your help.” Janelle scoffs outwardly, turning her body away from the other occupants of the room as she bites back her retort. Jas then turns to Saxe. “Ain’t you lawyer niggas supposed to be smart or some shit. Y’all found where I lived, you telling me you couldn’t see that I had a full ride to Stansfield University, with recommendations by several boosters and alums?” Jas’ tone was clipped, but equal parts mocking.

“Aren’t.” Saxe mumbles. “What?” Jas’ eyebrows furrow. “The correct word is' aren't. You said ain’t.” he corrects as Jas chuckles dryly. “That law school degree is really doing a number for you, huh?” Jas’ retorts makes Saxe’s face sour. “Does it get you off tryna correct me on an actual dialect? I know how I should say it, but I said it the way I did, because I can.” Jas lectures.

“She’s got you there.” Blanca mutters and Cooper rolls his eyes. “Tariq.” Blanca takes over while Saxe coddles his internal burn. “Can you confirm that he was with you last night?” she questions. “She knows better than to bring some boy up into my house.” Janelle’s stern glare is stuck on Jas, who’s already prepared herself for the lecture of a lifetime. “He was with me.” She lies coolly. “Can you prove that?” Saxe questions.

“Can you prove that he wasn’t?” Jas shoots back, and she knows her smart mouth could fuck her over one day. Today wasn’t that day though. “We ain’t got cameras outside of this house, but please be my guest and head three blocks over to see if you can get anything off those traffic cameras.” her smirk makes Blanca’s disappear. Who in the hell were they actually dealing with? “That won’t be necessary. We just wanted to verify Tariq’s story.” she hums.

“He was with me.” Jas reiterates. “And was this before or after he met up with his Uncle?” Saxe asks and Blanca cuts her eyes over at him. “After.” Jas replies instantly. “We met up at his father’s club, Tariq left to meet his Uncle, came back and was with me. By the time he headed back to that side of the city, his dad was gone.” Jas is unsure when she got so good at lying, it’s a bit scary how unbothered the consequences make her. “That actually… that checks out.” Saxe mutters.

“Maybe ‘cause it’s the truth.” Jas sasses and Saxe huffs through his nose, head nodding slightly. “Anything else?” Jas asks and Blanca still holds a look of disbelief, but says nothing about her hunch. “No, I think we’ve got everything we need. We’ll be in touch.” she offers. “As if I wanna make this a habit.” Jas denies instantly. “You don’t have much of a choice.” Saxe rebuttals. “Yeah, we’ll see how long you wanna make that your stance.” Jas says bluntly. Saxe moves to say something else but is stopped.

“We’ll get out of your hair, it’s a bit of a drive back to Stansfield.” Blanca mutters. “Thank you for your cooperation.” Saxe’s look of disbelief is amusing to Jas, making a fool out of him proved to be so incredibly easy. Once the door is shut behind them, Janelle turns to Jas in disbelief. “Do you know the consequences of lying to the police?” she demands.

“I’m not lying.” Jas denies it, but Janelle doesn’t buy it. "Where'd you even meet this St. Patrick boy?” she demands as Jas sighs. “While I was out.” Jas says vaguely. “That ain’t enough.” Janelle snaps. “Do you know James St. Patrick?” Jas reroutes, and she sees the moment when recognition flickers in her mother’s eyes.

Despite this, she still lies.

“No.” Janelle’s head shakes in time with her remark and Jas scoffs. “Yeah, right.” she mutters dryly. “What if they call you to testify, you going to stand before a Judge and a jury and lie to protect some boy?”

Jas groans audibly. “That’s what you do, right? Lie to protect whatever guy’s up in your face for the month. You’re not exactly what I’m looking for when it comes to a role model, I don’t want your advice.” Jas dismisses. “Don’t start this foolishness tonight, Jaszlyn. “I understand you’ve got some anger towards me.” Janelle calls. Some was an understatement. “But, I’m still your mother, and you are gonna respect me.” she proceeds.

“I do respect you.” Jas begins, and Janelle is shocked. “I respect you enough not to crap on your mothering skills to your face.” Jas says in the midst of folding shirts and neatly packing them up. “Excuse me?” Janelle exclaims. “You’re a hypocrite. You get on me about lying to the police, when you just lied about knowing that St. Patrick nigga.” Jas mutters. “I didn’t lie about shit.” Janelle denies.

“Neither did I.” Jas shoots back and Janelle sighs through her nose, it’s audible, and is excruciatingly overstimulating right now for Jas.

“I gotta pack.” is all Jas says next, hands moving for clothes faster than before. “Yeah, you do that.” Janelle mumbles.

“I know you and Neesie were talking about hanging on weekends when you came to the city, but this weekend’s no good. Donnie is taking me out.” Donnie was Janelle’s much too young boyfriend. Jas assumed she’d found him to make her feel alive again.

Whatever the reason, Jas couldn’t stand him. He swore he was entitled to Jas’ space, and walked around like he deserved props, like he was her fucking dad, the head of the house. But he wasn’t. He was a man that would quickly be replaced when her mother grew bored.

“You don’t gotta worry about that, I wasn’t planning on coming back here.” the sound of a suitcase zipping echoes in Janelle’s ears, and she hates the way her nose starts to sting with the need to shed tears. “Right of course.” she mutters. Jas’ phone buzzes with a text from her ride and she sighs in relief, stuffing the last of her things up as she stands on her feet.

“My ride bout to pull up. Thanks for letting me crash, it wont happen again. It was just short notice.” a low blow, but a true and deserved one. Despite how hard Jas’ siblings fought for a relationship with Janelle, Jas did not see a need. She’d never tried to be a real mother to any of them. Family was more than blood, it was relational, and if she didn’t have a real relationship with Janelle there was no reason to have her sitting on some pedestal.

“Of course.” Janelle nods slowly, and she’s lingering. Jas knows this, she always did. Her mother craved her approval, craved her validation. She wouldn’t give it to her. She silently starts wheeling her luggage towards the front, brushing past Janelle wordlessly. When her ride pulls up she walks outside with nothing else to say. Janelle follows, body pressed in between the screen door, keeping the door cracked open slightly. “I-I love you Jas.” she calls.

When Jas hops in the car without a word or glance tossed her mother’s way, it’s an easy choice. A deliberate one that she knows will hurt her mother deeply.

But her mind wasn’t on being sappy and sentimental with her mother. No, her mind was on her money, the 50k waiting on her in the arms of Tariq.

Her priorities, at least they were in order.

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