Ike took a step forward.
“Yeah that’s on me. I killed that motherfucker with my bare hands in front of his mama and his girl. I went to prison for seven years and left my family. I own that. But I did it for your brother. I did it for the North River Boys. I did it for you. I did it because nobody else would. I cared more about my clique than I did my woman and my son. I gotta own that, too. But I know if things had been the other way around and I had been the one to get my head blown off in a trick’s bed that was running with the Rolling 80s, your brother would have done the same thing for me. That’s what Luther was about. You saying things got complicated. But you won the war. You retired the Rolling 80s. Moved your mama and your whole crew out the trailer park and up into Carytown. When y’all was popping bottles and making it rain, I was shanking motherfuckers. When you was fucking strippers and video models, I was listening to that revolutionary bullshit from the Black God Coalition so I’d have somebody to watch my back. When you was drinking Cristal I was drinking toilet wine. I got out and I never came looking for you. I let it go that you had my wife wiping people’s asses and had my son wearing hand-me-downs. I made a promise to them that I would not be the person I used to be. But now I’m here and I’m asking … nah, I’m telling you: you owe me. You owe my wife. I’d say you owe my son but he’s dead. And you protecting the one person that might be able to help me find out who did it.” Ike paused. “What you think Luther would say right now?”
Slice stood up and walked over to where Ike was standing. Ike towered over him but Slice didn’t seem to notice. Ike dropped his hands to his sides and spread his feet. He made a mental note of where the monster in the room was standing in relation to him and Slice. He tensed his shoulders and waited for Slice to make a move.
“He might have been your friend but he was my brother. I know what you did for us. For him. But you ain’t gonna stand there and rub it in my fucking face,” Slice said.
“I’m not. I’m just stating the facts. I’ve never asked y’all for nothing. Ever. But this one thing … Lance, he knows where this girl is that knows who killed my boy. They shot him six times. Lit him and his friend up. Then they stood over them and put two right in they face. I couldn’t even recognize my son. I didn’t know who he was. My son, Lance,” Ike said. Was he crying? He didn’t know and he didn’t care. He was tired of hiding how much it hurt to lose Isiah. If Slice and his behemoth wanted to call him a bitch, let them. Trying to hold all this agony and grief inside was like wrestling a bag of pythons. The grief was choking the life out of him.
Slice turned his gaze to the wall.
“You ain’t planning on putting paws on Tariq are you?” he asked. Ike blinked his eyes hard.
“No. He knows this girl named Tangerine. I think she knows who killed Isiah and Derek,” Ike said. He paused. He’d called Derek Isiah’s friend. That was wrong. He was his husband. He was Isiah’s husband. Ike tried to say it but his mouth just didn’t seem to be able to form the words.
“Tangerine.” Slice chuckled.
“You know her?” Ike asked.
“Nah, but with a name like that, I bet she wear clear heels,” Slice said.
“I just want to talk to her. Tariq can make that happen,” Ike said.
“Let me ask you this. If she tell you what you wanna know, then what?” Slice asked. He seemed genuinely curious.
“What you mean ‘then what’？” Ike said.
“I just don’t see you being ’bout it like that, Ike,” Slice said. Ike stepped closer to Slice, crowding his personal space.
“Then you done forgot who the fuck I am,” Ike said. Slice turned his gaze back to Ike and smiled.
“There he is. There’s the one-man Riot,” Slice said. He turned his back to Ike.
“Come back in an hour. I’ll have Tariq here,” Slice said.
“Thank you,” Ike said.
Slice walked over to his recliner and sat down. “Don’t thank me. We even now, Ike,” he said. Ike picked up the implied threat. He turned to leave. Slice’s man handed him back the knife.
“You know, I used to be jealous of you and Luther. He used to act like you was more his brother than I was. When you put that 187 on Romello, it made me hate you a little bit,” Slice said.
“You never had to be jealous of me. Luther told me to always look out for you,” Ike said. Slice laughed. It was a hollow sound.