A/N: Hey guys! It's been SIX MONTHS, and… I'm ashamed. I did have a joke about Tiger King up here, but now it's way waaaayyyy outdated lmfao. I meant to finish this a long time ago, but the Rona and life in general got in the way. I'm also working on two non-fanfiction writing projects IRL, so those have kind've had priority over my free time, unfortunately. I sincerely apologize to my lovely readers for the delay, and hope all of you are well and staying safe while the entire world is going to chaos. As always, shout out to the amazing: Bulmas Ego, Schweetpea1870, Paige1292, Blaq Don, Your Hitta, Hersheyyyy24, Guest, hjr, and RuffinNoRelation for your reviews on the previous chapter! You guys are awesome! Thank you SO MUCH for your support. Just a heads up: this chapter is rated M for zesty reasons. There may or may not also be more citrus-y content in the near future… but... I'm far too lazy to change the story's rating, so- *Kanye shrug*

*Extra loud shout out to the wonderful: TheMoonlighter01, taydo-the-potato and Schweetpea1870 for all of their support! Lately, they've been encouraging (forcing) me out of my comfort zone, and keeping me on my toes on the (many) days where I just don't feel like writing, and I'm very grateful. Love y'all!

Trigger warning: A portion of this chapter depicts a fictionalized portrayal of police brutality. If that is too much for you to handle right now, please feel free to take a break and revisit this chapter another time. I understand.


Chapter 8: Poetic Justice

"Obi-Wan Kenobi once said: 'Your eyes can deceive you, don't trust them.' Seems to be getting harder distinguishing reality from the illusions that people make for us, or from the ones that we make for ourselves. I don't know, maybe that's part of the plan. To make me think I'm crazy…

It's working."

-Huey Freeman; The Boondocks 1X08 (The Real)


Riley watched in disbelief as his older brother angrily stormed out of the Wuncler Community Fitness Center. Was this nigga dead ass? Riley sucked his teeth with a disappointed shake of his head, turning towards Caesar. Huey couldn't take a joke for nothing. "Can you believe this nigga?"

Caesar sighed. "I mean, that's Huey for you," he said with a shrug. He began gathering his belongings from the gym's filthy carpeted floors, heading towards the locker room.

Riley followed, falling in stride beside him. "Man, whatever. He tooooo sensitive for a wanna be hard ass nigga."

Caesar paused briefly, turning to give Riley a deadpan look. "Right, because Huey's the only sensitive one in the family."

"...Nigga, fuck you." Riley lightly shoved a now snickering Caesar into the open locker room door, taking slight pleasure in watching him stumble. He loved him like a brother, but the nigga was aggravating at times.

Caesar regained his footing swiftly, continuing on towards his locker. "Hey man, I didn't say any names. Your sensitive ass is the one who made that shoe fit, Cinderella." Caesar slowed to a stop in front of his locker, removing his gym bag from it and retrieving his clean clothes and a few toiletries.

"Your granny's sensitive, bitch." Riley spat back, stopping beside him and leaning his back against the adjoining lockers.

Caesar transferred his belongings to one hand, using his newly free hand to backhand Riley in the center of his chest. "Watch your mouth, fool! I'm telling her what you said too, and she's gonna whoop yo' ass."

Riley sucked his teeth, rubbing the sore spot on his chest. Normally, he would hit his ass back and think nothing of it. However he knew Caesar's grandmother very well, and he knew that she would in fact whoop him like a child if she ever found out what he said. "Chillllllllll, you ain't even gotta do all that. My fault, my fault."

Caesar playfully side eyed him as he headed towards the gym's showers, seemingly deciding to let the comment go for the time being. "Yeah, alright…" he said, before disappearing around the corner.

Riley remained leaning on the lockers momentarily after Caesar's departure before deciding it was probably a little suspect for him to just stand there, waiting for another man to come out of the shower. He exited the locker room, and began making his way to the parking lot of the gym. He found Caesar's truck quickly, hopping up to take a seat on the hood. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cellphone and his fresh pack of Newport 100s.

He opened the pack, tossing the plastic wrappings onto the pavement below his feet. Swiftly, he flipped his lucky and placed one between his lips, lighting the end. He took a long pull from his cigarette, slowly dragging the smoke into his lungs. He instantly felt slightly more relaxed as he felt the burning sensation combined with the coolness of the menthol fill his chest. He exhaled with a sigh, still mildly irritated at his brother's dramatic exit. It wasn't his fault his brother was so in denial about Jazmine, or Caesar's for that matter. He didn't see what the big deal was anyway. You like a girl, you tell her what's up, and she either feels the same way or she doesn't. It ain't no thing. Rather, it shouldn't be. That was textbook Huey though, pretending he didn't have emotions.

Riley shook his head. Typically, he would recount a mishap such as that with his best friend so she could crack jokes and make him laugh it off… Only she still wasn't speaking to him. He took another pull of his cigarette, unlocking his phone and seeing that he had no new notifications. Not from anyone he actually wanted to talk to, anyway. He blew the smoke out of his mouth with a roll of his eyes, opening the text message thread between Cindy and himself.

Wyd today?

-Riley

Let's slide out somewhere

-Riley

You hungry or nah?

-Riley

C-Murph

-Riley

Come on, yo

-Riley

It's not that serious

-Riley

For real?

-Riley

Stop trippin all your life

-Riley

Are you deadass right now?

-Riley

Stop leavin me on fuckin read!

-Riley

YOOOOOOOOO

-Riley

I guess it's like that…

-Riley

Cindy.

-Riley

He had sent her a total of thirteen texts since the day she stormed out of his room, and she left each one of them on 'read.' Her lack of response was eating him up inside, if he was being honest. However, he didn't really understand what the fuss was about. The woman was talking about trading in her Jordans for Louboutins… permanently. If that didn't constitute as "selling out," he didn't know what did. Was she really that upset over what he said? He knew he could've probably worded things differently, but he also genuinely thought she would've been over it by now. He briefly thought about trying to get in contact with her again, before deciding against it. It wasn't like she'd text back either way. He sighed, placing his phone back in his pocket before finishing his cigarette and tossing the burnt filter into the parking lot.

"Reezy, get your musty, ashy buttcheeks off my hood!"

Riley glanced up and saw Caesar approaching, dressed once again in one of his usual hipster suits. This one consisted of tan dress slacks with matching loafers, a short sleeve white button up tucked into the waistband, and a loud ass pair of red Hawaiian "dad shirt" themed suspenders. The man stayed doing the absolute most with his outfits, but he couldn't say that his wardrobe game wasn't on point. "Man, shut ya ass up." Riley said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, yet complying with his friend's request and sliding down off of the hood of the G-Wagon.

Caesar ignored him, brushing past him to inspect the hood of his car. After a brief moment of inspection, he sucked his teeth. "Maaaaaan, you got your cancer ashes on my baby," Caesar said, shaking his head and causing his loose dreads to comically fly about.

"Ooooohhhhh my God," Riley said, throwing his arms up in exasperation. "I'll brush 'em off, it's not even that deep." He made a move to wipe the hood with the palm of his hand when Caesar stopped him.

"Aht! Aht!" Caesar held a hand out to stop him. "You've lost touching privileges." He shooed Riley into the passenger seat, while he grabbed a spray bottle and rag out of his trunk. He quickly polished the front of his car, before hopping in the passenger seat and pulling off.

Riding through town on their way back to Timid Deer Lane, Riley decided to make one last, borderline drastic effort to get in contact with Cindy. He pulled his phone out and composed a quick message to Jazmine.

Ayooo tell your friend to get out her damn feelings and hit a nigga back

-Riley

Along the way, Riley noticed that Caesar also kept checking his phone every chance he could. He was grinning and laughing to himself, and he appeared to be texting. Before Riley could say anything to him about it, Caesar beat him to it.

"What are you about to get into?" Caesar asked him suddenly, pulling up on the curb in front of the Freeman home.

Riley paused, frowning slightly. He had just sent the most recent issue of his hit comic series The Misadventures of Lamar Jackson off to his publisher, so he had no urgent work obligations. His brother had an attitude with him, and his best friend didn't want to be bothered with him… he actually had a whole lot of nothing to do. "Nothing much… Why, wassup?"

Caesar smirked knowingly. "You remember Brea?"

Riley openly stared at him with a blank expression. Of course he remembered that light skinned hoe. He remembered the countless times Caesar used him as an alibi when lying to his wife about why he didn't come home at night… Brea was one of Caesar's sidechicks. The ugliest and thirstiest one, in his humble opinion. "Man, yeah I remember that hoe. Do you remember Melody? Short, chocolate, thiiiiiiicc-"

"Here you go." Caesar said, cutting him off and sucking his teeth. "I told you about calling my wife 'thicc,' watch your damn mouth."

Riley shook his head, holding his palms up in defense. "I'm just sayin', man." He didn't like cheating. Hated it, actually. He didn't understand the concept. How can someone claim to 'love' somebody else so much they choose to marry them, and then fuck hoes behind their back? Why not just be single? And if they do decide to mess around, shouldn't it be with somebody badder? Brea was an ostrich compared to Melody. Shit, Brea was a damn ostrich even compared to Caesar's other sidechicks.

It was hard to believe considering Caesar's goofy, nice-guy persona, but it was common knowledge among the men in their crew that Caesar was not the faithful type; he'd been cheating on his high school sweetheart since they got together ten years ago. Everyone else could turn a blind eye to the bullshit if they wanted to, but Riley at least tried to talk sense into his friend whenever he saw an opportunity. "No disrespect, but Mel is fine as hell. She could have anybody, and she chose yo' ass... What'chu doing still messing around with these hoes?"

Caesar rolled his eyes, not even looking up at Riley as his thumbs typed away on his phone screen. "Thanks for yet another riveting morality lesson, Dr. Phil." He said dryly. "But what I was gonna say was: Brea's back in town for a few days, and she brought a friend with her this time... She asked if I knew someone who could entertain her, and I was trying to put you on, if I could reach you all the way up there on your high horse."

Riley raised his brows in surprise. It was no secret to everyone who knew him that he only ever had eyes for one woman. However, until she stopped playing games and finally decided to give him a chance, he saw no problem with having his share of guilt-free, single fun. He swallowed his disapproval for Caesar and his questionable life choices to ask: "What she look like?"

Caesar smirked, pulling up Instagram on his phone and handing it to Riley. "See for yourself."

Riley gave Caesar a quick side eye before scrolling the mystery hoe's Instagram feed. From what he could tell from her social media, her name was "Onyx" and she was bad. She was a cute Italian girl with dark eyes, long, dark hair and a nice little slim-thick hourglass frame. From her many provocative selfies, Riley just knew in his gut that she was a freak. She was no Cynthia McPhearson, but he could still 'entertain' her just fine. He nodded in approval before passing the phone back to Caesar. "A'ight, so what's the look?"

Caesar smiled widely, reaching across the car to dap Riley up. "Okay, here's the plan..."


A few hours later

Riley leaned back on the tattered, red couch of Onyx's motel room, closing his eyes. Everything around him was moving in slow motion through his cloudy vision, and he needed to center himself before he passed out. He was fried; he had just finished passing the third blunt in rotation back to Onyx, who was sitting beside him on his left. Caesar was seated on his right, Brea sitting upon his lap as if it were her place to. He couldn't remember the last time he smoked this much weed, and he'd be a liar if he said his tolerance was as high as it used to be. He refused to go out like a bitch though, he'd continue smoking until somebody else gave up first. Luckily, the blunt made its last rounds through Onyx, Brea and then finally Caesar, who put it out on the ashtray that was sitting on the coffee table in front of them.

After Caesar disclosed the plan for the evening, Riley quickly showered, put on some light wash jeans with a Kobe jersey and a matching pair of yellow and purple Jordans, and the two headed to the Woodcrest Inn to link with the girls. The group ended up listening to music, taking a few tequila shots, and blowing down a few Ls in between small talk. The overall vibe was actually pretty chill, if he didn't think about the whole "my friend is cheating on my other friend" thing too hard.

He heard the upbeat tune of Jack Harlow's "I Wanna See Some Ass" begin playing on the bluetooth speaker, and he began bobbing his head along with the beat. His vibe was killed instantly by Brea's intoxicated ass jumping up off of Caesar's lap and loudly proclaiming that this was her song. His eyes snapped open, watching her sloppily twerk her cereal box shaped buns all over Caesar's groin. She didn't even seem to care that her mini skirt was riding up, and she was showing her red, lacy panties to everyone in the room.

"I WANNA SEE SOME ASS!" Brea sing-shouted along in her annoying voice, popping her long back in all directions while Caesar stared in amusement. "I WANNA SEE SOME AAAASSS!"

Riley watched in silence and disgust as Caesar slapped her rear end, and grabbed half a handful of air in his palm. Did he think he was grabbing her ass? There was nothing there to grab, what was he doing? He shook his head in disappointment. He used to really fuck with that song, but now it was effectively ruined for him. Brea kept on gyrating her body in the worst of ways the entire duration of the song, much to Riley's chagrin. When the song was over, Brea reached down to grab Caesar's hands and pull him up off of the couch. She lead him across the floor, and the two disappeared out of the room, probably to go fuck, Riley figured, leaving him and Onyx alone.

Before he could say anything to her, or even turn his head to look at the girl, she was on her knees in front of him, unbuttoning his pants. He frowned down at her, placing a hand over hers to stop her. "Whooooaaaa, what'chu doing, girl?"

She looked up at him through her long, false lashes, frowning back at him as if he were an alien. "Um, giving you head? Do you not want it or somethin'?"

Riley stared at her incredulously. Were these girls really that damn easy? There were several things he wanted to say, but he instead decided to just lean back and let her do her thing. Who was he to turn down some head? He removed his hand from hers with a light shrug, leaning his head back against the couch as she undid his pants. In no time, she freed his member from his boxers and began stroking it in her hands until he was rock solid. He glanced down at her, and found her looking up at him seductively before she expertly took all of him between her unnaturally full lips and down her throat.

"Shhhiiiiiit." He sighed, watching her head bob up and down on him as she stared directly into his eyes. The shit was sexy as hell, and felt incredible. He placed one hand on the back of her head, guiding her rhythm. She closed her eyes with a moan, allowing him to choose her pace. After about a solid ten minutes of deep throating, Onyx shook his hand off of her head, and began swirling her tongue in a circular motion up and down his shaft as she sucked him off, letting a sloppy trail of saliva drip down out of her mouth. He leaned his head back once more, closing his eyes and enjoying the sensation for a few minutes more, until he could stand it no longer. Right as he let go and let God all inside of her mouth, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

He opened his eyes and glanced down at Onyx, who nodded that it was okay for him to check it. She didn't stop, emptying every last drop out of him as he fished his phone out of his pocket to check his most recent notification. His heart nearly jumped into his stomach as he read the text message flashing across the screen.

Hey… can you come over?

-Cindy

He grew flaccid in an instant, nearly knocking Onyx over as he pulled himself out of her mouth and stood up from the couch to fix his pants. He didn't acknowledge her as he made his way over to the exit of the hotel room.

"Hey!" Onyx shouted, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "Where are you going?!"

"Uhhh…" Riley hesitated in the open doorway, trying to think of an excuse to give her before realizing he didn't owe her one. "I gotta go. I'll hit you on IG or somethin.'" He said, exiting the room and letting the door slam behind him. He lightly jogged down the motel's steps into the parking lot, before he remembered that he didn't drive there and he was high as hell. He deliberated his next moves for a moment before he thought: fuck it, I'll walk. He'd been waiting days to hear from her and now that he finally had, nothing would stop him from seeing her, if that was what she wanted... Especially not head from a random broad with a stripper name.

Even if it was some bomb head.


"Another round?" Cindy asked, wiggling her perfectly arched, taupe brows at her friends and smirking mischievously.

"Hellllls yeah!" Melody said, her L's slurring a bit. She tipped her flute towards Cindy, who topped the glass off with another champagne and orange juice mixture.

Jazmine hesitated, thinking it over. The morning following her lunch with Huey, she decided it was time for her to pull her weight in Operation: Sabotage. She sent out a group text to her two closest friends, Cindy and Melody, with not-so-subtle hints at missing them terribly. Cindy took the bait first; she was elated at an opportunity for all three of them to catch up in person after a few weeks of Melody being so swamped with other obligations, and suggested they all play hooky from work for the day in exchange for a Girl's Day filled with mimosas and brunch at her mansion. The girls were looking fierce, too. Cindy was sporting an all black Givenchy jumpsuit with matching sneakers and a high messy bun. Jazmine had on dark wash skinny jeans, original Ugg boots, and an off shoulder white blouse. Her hair was straightened and parted down the middle, forming a honey curtain around her shoulders. And Melody was rocking a form-fitting gray sweater dress with black, thigh high stiletto boots, her dark, natural curls flowing down her back and parted to the side. A few Instastory posts, empty glasses and plates of delicious food later, and the trio sat at Cindy's island countertop having a blast. Jazmine herself was only slightly drunk, she swore it. Nonetheless, she shook her head in decline. "I… think I'm good, Cin, thanks."

Cindy sucked her teeth, rolling her blue eyes to the ceiling and back again. "Booooooo." She said, reaching across the counter to pick up Jazmine's champagne flute and pour her another mimosa before she could object any further. She playfully shoved the glass into Jazmine's hand, forcibly closing her fingers around the stem, earning a giggle from Melody. "Bottoms up, bitch."

Jazmine grimaced, swirling the contents around her glass slowly. "Thanks…" she said, taking a small, obligatory sip before placing it back down on the smooth, granite surface.

Suddenly, Melody's phone went off with a notification, and her face lit up with glee. "Eeeeeee! You guys!" she squealed in excitement. She practically slammed her phone down on the counter so her friends could see what she was looking at. "Riley just emailed me more sketches of the urban collab! Look!"

Jazmine and Cindy smiled, leaning in to take a good look at Melody's phone screen. She scrolled through several sketches of streetwear, including joggers with graffiti designs, distressed jeans with all kinds of chains and other accessories, graphic tees, and more. As she continued scrolling, Melody explained that she had commissioned Riley to come up with innovative urban men's designs for her new collection. Jazmine listened in awe, as she thought about how far her friend has come in her career. What started off as a small, in-house Instagram boutique back in college became dozens of brick and mortar clothing stores spanning across the east coast. Jazmine was extremely proud of her for all she had accomplished thus far, and couldn't wait to see her and Riley's collaboration come to life.

"Wow… Mel…" Jazmine said, smiling brightly at her dear friend. "These are amazing!"

"Straight fire." Cindy agreed, nodding her head in approval. "You said Reezy designed these?"

"Sure did." Melody said, still smiling down at her phone. "He killed it!"

"Oh, yeah!" Jazmine's face lit up, turning to Cindy. "Did you talk to him yet?" She asked, referencing to the day prior when she informed Cindy of Riley's uncouth request to speak to her.

A light blush formed on Cindy's cheeks as she turned her head to look away. "Who?"

Jazmine narrowed her light brows at the suspicious behavior. "Riley, of course."

Cindy looked down at her long, intricately detailed stiletto nails, examining them although they were already perfect. "Yeah… he came over last night."

"Wait," Melody responded before Jazmine could bombard the blonde with a series of follow-up questions. "He did?" Melody asked, shocked.

"Yeah…" Cindy trailed off, seemingly caught off guard by Melody's reaction.

"Really?" Melody sighed deeply, closing her eyes momentarily. "Caez said he went out with him last night… he didn't come home 'til about four in the morning."

Cindy raised her brows in surprise, looking at Melody with worry. "Definitely not, boo. Reezy left outta here not too long before y'all pulled up."

"Huh." Melody said with a huff, staring back at Cindy with a blank expression. "Interesting… Excuse me for a second, y'all." She grabbed her phone off of the countertop, aggressively tapping away at the screen as she disappeared out of the kitchen and around the corner.

Jazmine and Cindy exchanged a look of shock, before glancing back at the doorway waiting for their friend to return and confirm that everything was okay. When Melody didn't return after a few moments, Jazmine attempted to fill the awkward silence. "So Riley was here all night, huh?"

"Hmm?" Cindy asked, focussing her attention on her Mimosa and bringing it to her mouth in a large gulp.

"Cindyyyyy!" Jazmine whined, giggling and smacking her best friend on the arm playfully. "What happened? Tell me everything!"

Cindy sighed, rolling her eyes. "Well after you told me what he said, I asked him to come over. So we could talk, y'know?"

"And then…" Jazmine urged her to continue, her eyes wide with anticipation.

"Where the fuck were you at last night?!" They heard Melody shout from the other room.

They exchanged worried glances, before Cindy attempted to continue her story. "...When he got here, he, uh-"

"That's a fuckin' lie, Michael! All niggas do is LIE!" They heard Melody yell. It was apparent who she was talking to, and what about.

Cindy sighed, giving up on telling her story. "Man, here they go again," she complained.

Jazmine grimaced, letting Cindy off the hook to discuss the more pressing matter. Melody and Caesar fought like cats and dogs, long before they were married. Their friend group bore witness to countless rounds of break-up-make-up between the two over the years. In the end, they always found their way back to each other, but if infidelity was the issue this time… Jazmine feared for what the outcome might be. "You don't think Caesar would… you know?"

Cindy raised her brows in surprise. "Caesar? Nah." She scoffed, taking another sip of her drink. "Riley, maybe." She muttered into her glass.

Jazmine huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "What happened between you guys?" she asked. Cindy and Riley were the closest of friends since childhood, and they hardly ever had real fights. They were so close that plenty of people, Jazmine included, often suspected they would end up together… eventually. The allusion to a rift between them, of all people, concerned Jazmine tremendously. When Cindy didn't respond, she continued. "He said you stopped talking to him?"

"Uggggghhhhhhh!" Cindy groaned dramatically, rolling her eyes in the process. "A'ight, damn." Cindy took a deep breath, taking a seat on the stool beside Jazmine. She spent the next few minutes getting Jazmine up to speed on her current dilemma with her job, her conversation with Riley, and the unfavorable outcome.

"Geeeeeez…" Jazmine said, shaking her head in disappointment. She felt an ache in her chest at the news of Cindy possibly moving away, however she pushed that aside for the moment to comfort her friend instead. "Aw, man… I'm really sorry he said that. That must've been hurtful."

Cindy shrugged lightly, looking away with a slight smirk on her face. "It's all good… we hashed it out last night."

"Allllll night, apparently." Jazmine teased, remembering that Cindy mentioned that he just left her house prior to their arrival. "What happened last night?"

"Oh my God, you're so aggy!" Cindy said, her pale cheeks burning a bright red. "Okay, so-"

"I'm sorry y'all." Melody said, reentering the kitchen in a brisk walk, a livid look on her face. "I have to go."

Jazmine grimaced, rising from her stool to walk over to her. "Is everything okay? Are you okay?"

Melody sighed, tears welling in her eyes. "He's cheating on me... that bastard is really cheating on me."

"Aww, honey…" Jazmine said, pulling her dear friend in a tight embrace. Cindy made her way over to them, joining in on the hug in silent support.

"Aht aht, don't do that." Melody said, shrugging off their hugs. She wiped her fallen tears with the pads of her fingertips, a sly smirk replacing her forlorn look. "Don't worry about me. Two can play at this game."

"Oh?" Cindy asked, raising her brows in surprise.

"What do you mean?" Jazmine chimed in, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

Melody chuckled, making her way towards the front door with her friends following closely behind her. "I know niggas who would kill to keep me out all night."

Cindy snickered, high-fiving Melody in approval, while Jazmine gasped in surprise. "Mel…" Jazmine said, disappointment dripping in her tone.

Melody paused, now at the entryway, turning her head to look Jazmine in the eye. "Jaz," she countered, waiting for her impending judgment.

Jazmine frowned, meeting her friend's brown eyes. She made a mental note of how Melody's usually soft brown eyes now stared back at her with an ignited flame within them. The unbridled rage of a woman scorned, Jazmine figured. The entire situation was so… wrong. Marriage was supposed to be a sacred union between two people. It was supposed to be the ultimate devotion of love, respect, and commitment. It was supposed to… Wait, she thought, her mind branching out to a different direction. Marriage… wedding… her wedding… Operation: Sabotage. Oh, yeah! she thought.

Jazmine cleared her throat, Melody and now Cindy looking at her expectantly. "Did… either of you happen to send Huey an invite to my wedding?"

"What?" Melody exclaimed, clearly expecting to be chastised for her decision to revenge cheat on her husband.

"I'm sorry, that was insensitive," Jazmine added apologetically. She briefly explained that she didn't invite him herself, and that they were trying to figure out who did and why.

"It wasn't me, love, I'm sorry." Melody said sympathetically.

Jazmine noddeed, looking to Cindy for her response… who was looking away suspiciously. "Cindy?" she prodded.

Cindy sighed, throwing her head back in defeat. "A'ight so, I didn't invite him. But…"

"But?" Jazmine urged her to continue, afraid of what she might say.

"Maybe that night at the club last weekend was a lil… planned."


Huey had been sitting at a table outside of the Meadowlark strip's vegan restaurant for hours, the meal he ordered earlier that day still sitting untouched on the surface. He really shouldn't have ordered anything in the first place, considering his trepidation abolished his appetite since the evening prior. It was almost time for open mic night, where he was expected to recite his poem, and he found himself wondering why the hell he even decided to show up for it. He'd even bothered to show up dressed a little more nicely than the previous times he went. He had on tan Khaki pants, a white collar shirt, and fresh white Jordan Maxins.

He glanced down at his wristwatch, the numbers on its face informing him it was time to get up and head across the street to the Renaissance. He genuinely couldn't believe he was actually excited for this moment less than twenty four hours ago. Now, all he felt was dread, regret, and a mild to moderate urge to flee. With a sigh, he pushed away from the table, picked up his uneaten food, and tossed it into the trash can on the corner. As ready as he could ever be for such a thing, he made the short walk across the street and entered the alley way leading to the speakeasy.

He was a few steps into the alley when he noticed that something was… off. He slowed his steps, taking a moment to survey his surroundings. The alley was always dim, but that night it was dark, devoid of hardly any artificial light whatsoever. About halfway down the alley he stopped completely, pulling his cellphone out of his pant's pocket to use the flashlight feature and take a better look. He observed that he was alone, save for what he assumed to be a homeless person sitting on the ground beside the door, their back resting against the brick wall. That struck him as odd, considering there were typically a few stragglers and small groups of patrons entering and exiting the speakeasy around that time.

His pulse quickened and he could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he was hit with the overwhelming sense that something wasn't right.

Cautiously, the revolutionary continued forward until he reached the door. He glanced down to his left at the homeless person, a disheveled dark skinned man, and thought of asking him if he knew what was going on. That idea was stopped in its tracks, however, when he saw that the man was sleeping, a ratty old bookbag sitting in his lap. Feeling empathy for the man, Huey pulled a few bills out of his wallet and gently placed them in the side pocket of the man's bookbag. He quickly turned his attention back to the door, examining it. The usual "KEEP OUT" sign was gone, replaced with a "NO TRESPASSING" sign, which he found strange. Stranger still, he also couldn't hear any music at all playing from within the building, not even faintly. He reached out and attempted to open the door, finding it locked.

What the hell? He thought. At that point, Huey knew that something definitely wasn't right. With a deep breath, he took a few steps back, bracing himself for what he was about to do. He then ran forward and extended his leg, kicking the reinforced door open. He didn't know what he expected to find within, but nothing could have prepared him for what he found.

As he crossed the threshold that night, there was no euphoric feeling of stepping through time into another era. There was no antique bar, no round tables, no string lights strewn around the room or 1920s themed decorations. And there were no people… at all. Huey walked further into the room, using the flashlight on his phone to illuminate the otherwise complete darkness. All he saw was an old, abandoned building, that appeared as if it hadn't been inhabited in decades. The brick walls were bare and the entire large room was nearly empty. There was dust everywhere causing his eyes to water, and the few items that were in the room were covered with dingy white sheets.

How was that possible? What happened to the Renaissance? How did they get everything cleared out so quickly? Why did it look like no one even stepped foot in the place in years? Growing lightheaded, Huey stopped walking around the room and looked down at his phone in his hand. He decided he'd call Nina, and maybe she could explain what was going on. He opened his contacts, scrolled down to her name, and placed the call. Placing his phone against his ear, he stood in the center of the room and waited for it to ring. Only, it didn't ring… instead, he heard an automated operator inform him that his call could not be completed as dialed. He tried again, and again, and again, all attempts yielding the same result. Huey's eyes widened. How? It had been less than a week since she gave it to him. Granted, he hadn't ever used it until that very moment.

He frowned, taking a moment to really think about her. Every time he met up with her, it was never the result of a phone call or text message. He always just happened to see her around town, or at the speakeasy. She always seemed to vanish and appeared at random, and she was so damn mysterious. He almost wanted to laugh, because the more he thought about her in that moment, the more she reminded him of the White Shadow from his childhood…

Only, he was pretty sure the White Shadow didn't exist.

Suddenly, Huey staggered backwards a few steps, a harsh reality setting in. The White Shadow was merely a figment of his overactive imagination, sprinkled with paranoia. Which begged the question: did Nina exist? Did any of this exist? Was the Renaissance merely a figment of his imagination? Did he really imagine everything that went on there for nearly an entire week? Was he losing his goddamn mind?

Before he had a chance to fully process his possible psychosis, bright lights flashing and a loud commotion outside pulled him back to reality. He rose to his feet, making his way back towards the door. He froze in the entryway when he noticed the five police cars, all with their sirens blaring, in and around the alley. About twelve police officers were standing in a semicircle, all of them with their guns drawn on the homeless man, who was now standing with his arms raised in the air above his head.

"Hey, afro! Hands in the air!" one of the officers screamed at Huey, noticing his appearance in the doorway. Half of the officers glanced in his direction at the verbal command of their comrade, drawing their weapons on Huey as well.

Damn! Huey thought. He must have triggered a silent alarm when he kicked down the door. Nonetheless, he complied, slowly raising his hands in the air, palms forward, above his head. He completely understood the gravity of the situation. One false move, and he could very easily end up dead. He cleared his throat before speaking again, choosing each word carefully. "Officers," he called out. "Please, lower your weapons. This is all a big misunderstanding. I'm an attorney-"

"An attorney?" the same officer scoffed at him, snorting out a cruel laugh. "Yeah fucking right."

So he was dealing with a racist dickhead, fantastic. Huey clenched his jaw, closing his eyes. It was imperative that he remain calm… his life depended on it. He took a deep breath, opening his eyes again. "I can prove it, if you'll just allow me to get my wallet from my pocket and show you my I.D."

In his peripheral vision, Huey saw the homeless man beside him turn his body towards him, lowering his arms slightly. The movement was small, but fast, unapproved and unexpected by the officers. At that moment, time seemed to decelerate, the next series of events seeming to happen in slow motion.

"NO!" Huey shouted, frozen in place. His eyes widened and his mouth gaped open as he watched the officers with their guns pointed at him turn their weapons back to the homeless man, and all of the officers fire several rounds of bullets into the man's abdomen, arms, and shoulders. When they ceased fire, the homeless man's body dropped to the concrete below, his eyes still open and blood quickly pooling around him from his mouth and his open wounds.

Huey dropped to his knees beside the man, tears welling in his eyes and feeling sick to his stomach. He ignored many commands from the officers telling him not to move, and crawled over to the man. He knew what ignoring their commands meant, he knew that he very well could've been their next victim. At that moment, he didn't care. All he cared about was the innocent black man beside him, who was shot way too many times and losing way too much blood. Huey's hands were shaking as he checked the man's pulse, only to have his worst fear confirmed… the man was dead.

"No…" he said quietly, tears now silently falling down his cheeks. He pulled his fingers, stained in blood that was not his own, away from the homeless man's neck in an attempt to find a driver's license or identification card; something with at least his name on it. He felt responsible for his death. Had he not been there that night, had he not entered that building by force, the police would've never showed up… and he'd still be alive. The shit was wrong. The shit was wronger than wrong, the shit was pure evil.

He heard footsteps of the officers approaching him quickly, so he knew he had to move fast. A moment later, his clothes now drenched in the fallen man's blood, he found a wallet in the man's backpack. He flipped it open, finding his identification card almost right away. The man's name was Richard Walker and he was only fifty three years old. Huey used the remaining time he had left before the officers reached him to study Richard's clean-cut photo. He was rail thin, dark skinned, and dressed like an original member of the rat pack with a black and white pinstripe suit… guilt, sorrow and confusion washed over Huey as he realized that he recognized that man. Richard Walker was Ricky, the emcee of the Renaissance that he only formally met just the night before.

Huey felt the body weight of two men as the officers tackled him to the ground, his ribs and head slapping harshly against the pavement. He said nothing as he felt his arms being drawn behind his back and the cold metal of handcuffs being secured too tightly on his wrists. He didn't know how long he laid there on his stomach in Ricky's blood, eye level with his lifeless eyes, with an officer's knee pressing into his back with far too much force. He didn't know how much of the Renaissance was real, if any of it was real at all.

But what he did know was that he was about to raise absolute Hell in Woodcrest in the name of justice.


A/N: Please note that this has been my plan for Huey's journey since the beginning. Recent events in the US have simply motivated me to actually get this story finished sooner rather than later. This isn't a new fight, but I'm elated it's finally happening. Let the fucking world burn in the name of justice.

Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you think in a review.

And stay safe out there!