Another Man's Treasure (Joey Bada$$ Story)

Part Ventinove

Latara could barely breathe with how hard she was bawling, and neither could I. My breathing wasn’t restricted because of bawling, though. The reason was something I couldn’t quite describe in formal words, something that couldn’t be named but was familiar nonetheless. I felt a gnawing inside me, a burning anxiety for answers. I wanted - needed - to know why they shot him and why they were here and if he would be okay. Not only was I anxious for answers, but every few seconds or so I would get a sample feeling of what I would feel like if we found out that he didn’t make it. The sample, as it came and left, was the worst feeling I’ve ever experienced. It was like being pushed off of the roof of a five-hundred story building and then stopping in mid-air, realizing there was a string keeping you tied to the top.

Sole could no nothing to comfort me.

“We can leave here, you know.” He said. We were stooped down on our knees in the garbage alley of a dentist’s office. The bags of garbage reeked worse than ever, and I couldn’t imagine what kind of garbage a dentist’s office would have that could smell so horribly. Latara continued to bawl and no one even glanced into the alley. It was rare that someone passed on this block, and whoever did was either too involved or just too scared of what the possibilities of looking were.

I couldn’t imagine what could be in the garbage, because I couldn’t think about anything other than Darius. If he died, part of me would. I had a lot to live for, of course, but suicide would be something to consider. Still, I’d only let a fraction of me go. I’d feel too guilty; I would regret too intensely my constant dismissive attitude toward him. He really, really loved me, and I treated him like all he wanted was to get in my pants. He’d proven to me that it wasn’t his goal. He proved it when he had me in his home and didn’t even make a move on me, but instead made me a poem. He proved it to me when he had his hand on my behind and didn’t go too far, didn’t take me for his own. He had so many opportunities, but he respected me. I didn’t do the same for him. Knowing this, and knowing that I didn’t get to apologize to him and show him the respect that was due before he died, would make it impossible for me to remain whole.

“There’s nowhere else to go.” I replied to Sole after what felt like a few minutes but might have just been a few seconds.

“That’s not true. It doesn’t matter where we go, I can just call the guys and tell them that we’re there.” He pulled out his phone as if for proof.

“Call them, then.”

So he did. He dialed Joey’s number and waited. No answer. He dialed CJ - no answer. He did the same for a few other phone numbers, as he’d done so many times since we left them, and reached not one of them. This was about our fifth time trying to reach them. He’d probably called more often than that, just behind my back so I wouldn’t get more worried when they didn’t pick up.

“Don’t get all pessimistic, now.” Sole told me when he saw the look I probably had on my face - an utter loss of hope, complete annoyance with how Latara was quietly sobbing and then would break into a loud cry and repeat, the inability to cry anymore.

“I have every right to be,” I said. “A group of boys ran up on the people who are keeping me alive, shot at them, and then got shot by them. That’s already a lot to register. On top of that, one of them gets shot. We split up, and now I have no idea where they are or what they’re doing. And I still don’t know why the first set of boys shot at them. Oh, and my baby won’t stop crying. I have every single right to be pessimistic right now.”

Sole noded. “Okay. That’s fair.”

“What isn’t fair is that after I told you all of this, you still won’t explain to me why Cheddy’s boys were after you.”