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Friends.

Niggas I hadn’t seen since before I went away.

People Xay worked with.

People he gambled with.

People from the streets.

Half them motherfuckers probably hadn’t spoken to him in years but showed up crying like they’d talked yesterday.

I didn’t judge it.

Death did weird shit to people.

Sam barely left the kids’ side.

That was where she’d been since the day the detectives walked into that courthouse.

Zion understood enough to know his father was never coming home.

Amari understood death but kept asking questions nobody had answers for.

Michael would randomly ask where Daddy was and fuck the whole room up.

Serenity was to young to understand shit.

That might’ve been the worst part.

Carter and Collin would never know Xay either.

And Avery still had another one of his children growing inside her.

And the nigga was dead at thirty-four.

I sat back in the chair.

“Mr. Lawless?”

I looked across the table.

Detective Jones and detective Clean.

Same two detectives who had found Sam at court.

Except now they wanted to talk to me.

Again.

I had already answered basic shit after Xay died.

When was the last time I saw him?

What was our relationship like?

Did I know about his gambling?

Did I know who he owed?