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I smiled.

Maybe I’d let that fine motherfucker take me home.

Maybe I wouldn’t.

Either way⁠—

I was finally done waiting to be chosen.

LEVIN

Four months later, nobody had been arrested for killing my brother.

And according to the lawyer I paid entirely too much fucking money to, nobody was particularly close either.

The detectives hadn’t called me in weeks.

That was progress.

Apparently, after digging through Xay’s life, phone records, finances and whatever the fuck else they had gotten their hands on, they kept circling back to the same thing.

Gambling.

More specifically, the tens of thousands of dollars Xay owed some niggas running underground games out of Newark.

My lawyer said that was where most of the attention had shifted.

Didn’t mean I was cleared.

Didn’t mean they couldn’t pop back up tomorrow asking me another hundred questions about fucking my dead brother’s wife.

Just meant I wasn’t their favorite nigga anymore.

I’d take it.

“You gonna eat that?”

I looked across the island.

Henry was staring at the last wing on my plate.

“Nigga, you got eight wings in front of you.”

“And?”

“And leave my shit alone.”

“You not eating it.”

“How the fuck you know?”

“Because you’ve been staring at your phone for five minutes.”

I looked down.

Sam had texted me.

You still coming tonight?