Office Hours

56 | the f o r t u n e

| C A D E N |

     THE NEXT DAY, Caden was laid in bed. He was throwing a ball at the ceiling and catching it when his phone rang. Not recognizing the number, he planned on ignoring it but intuition urged him not to.

He answered the call and was surprised when Striker's voice came from the other end.

The fuck does he want?

"Kid?" Striker asked again.

"What?" Caden answered, wondering how Striker got his number.

"Damn. I'm in jail and yeen even gon act like you give a fuck?"

"Why should I?"

"Because I got rid of my lil problem."

"What problem?"

"I wiped that bitch nose."

Caden shot up, staring ahead of him in shock. "What?" he could barely find his voice to ask. "Why you telling me this?! Over the jail phone?!"

"These motherfuckers know I ain't got shit to hide. I came in this bitch with the biggest smile and laughed my ass off when a cop was crying like I killed Santa before that fat fuck could climb down her chimney," Striker said, laughing like he heard the funniest joke. When Caden didn't join in, he sighed. "Man, quit sweating, you know yo ass don't got nun to do with this."

Caden went grim before his curiosity got the best of him. "How. . ." Caden paused, not knowing how to ask the question without asking it. He released a quiet sigh when Striker understood him.

"Mm. . . like an hour or two ago. Took a while to find her house from last night's broadcast but I got shit done," Striker bragged. "Twelve not finna do they job right so I did that shit for em. Ima sleep good as fuck tonight knowing my sister got the justice she deserved."

"Delilah was pregnant!"

"Do it look like I give a fuck?" Striker asked before asking someone the same question, "Look at me and tell me if it look like I give a fuck. See, kid? They just shook they head. I got zero fucks to give when it come to that hoe who killed my sister. She and that demon spawn on they way to hell right now."

Caden released a long breath and rubbed at his temple.

"Anyway ion got much time left so this all I gotta say. . . My life's over now so as the future generation, I'm telling yo ass to do better. You the one with ambition and shit," Striker said.

"I never planned on ending up like you."

"I know. . . I know. You a good kid. With a good girl. She got a smart ass mouth but it'll take yo lil girlfriend pl-"

"Big girlfriend."

"Pshh. She really looked at a grown ass man and treated me like a pussy. She got some big ol lady balls, I gotta respect it."

"Why'd you waste your call on me? You should've called your lawyer," Caden said, ready to get off the phone because he didn't want to discuss Zoya at a time like this.

"It ain't no waste. This some real ass shit I'm saying to you," Striker said before his voice took a dark tone. "My black ass is lucky I made it alive to the station. People like you and me don't just kill no rich white lady and get away with it. I already accepted my faith but, say man. . . do me that favor and call my lawyer. Her number is 404-"

***

     ABOUT AN HOUR LATER, Caden was leaving the police station. He'd come to put in a request for a copy of his squeaky clean criminal record. He needed it for the summer job he'd apply to as soon as he graduated.