I looked over at the guy who’d been my best friend since elementary school. He always had my back, and now he had me damn near in tears. I swallowed hard, trying not to show the emotions I was feeling.
Denny walked over and dapped me up. My voice cracked as I said, “Thanks, bro. I love you, man.”
“I love too, bro.”
Rio
25
“Okay, Rio, you can do this.” I told myself as I popped a Xanax, which the doctor had prescribed for anxiety. What I really needed was a line of coke. “You can do this. You’re a Duncan.”
My ribs were healing and my bruises were fading, but inside, I was terrified. Every time I heard a male voice, I would jump, scared that I was about to get beat down again. I couldn’t keep living like this—hence, the reason I was parked outside a house in City Island, trying to gather my nerve. I’d been staring at the house for the past ten minutes. No one had gone in or out, and the only light came from the first-floor front windows.
I reached for the door handle, preparing to step out of the car, but I felt my heart rate instantly increase. “Man up, Rio. You know you wanna do this,” I scolded myself. I’d been thinking about doing this ever since I got home from the hospital a week earlier.
Grabbing a black bag from the passenger’s seat, I riffled through the array of weapons—knives, nunchucks, pepper spray, a small baton, taser, handcuffs, and a gun. I opted for the gun, which I slipped under the back of my shirt. Gathering my courage, I finally got out of the car and crossed the street.
“Who is it?” a female voice yelled over the blaring TV when I banged on the screen door.
“Uber Eats,” I said, praying that they even delivered in this area.
She snatched the door open. “I didn’t order no—”
I grabbed her by the hair and pushed my way inside, whipping out my gun.
“Who the fuck is it?” a man yelled.
I turned to see a guy hopping into the living room on his one good foot. The other foot was in a cast, and he was holding a crutch. One of his arms was in a sling. Dude was fucked up—and from the look on his face, he was pretty shocked to find me standing in the living room.
“Get your hands up.” I pointed the gun at him.
“Man, just shoot me, ’cause there ain’t no way you gonna get me to raise my hands as much pain as I’m in,” he said.
“We don’t want no fuckin’ trouble,” the woman announced when I let go of her hair and shoved her toward the hop-a-long dude.
“A little late for that. Do you know who I am?” I asked hoppy.
“Yeah, you that crazy lady’s son. Rio.”
“Exactly. Now, where the hell is Vaughn?”
He pointed to the room he’d hobbled out of, and I motioned with my gun for them to move. I followed them into the kitchen where there was, believe it or not, a hospital bed and an even more fucked up man. He had two broken arms, and his leg was in a cast, propped up in the air. The cervical collar around his neck made it impossible for him to turn his head and look at me, so I walked around the table into his line of sight. His face was so fucked up it looked like something out of a horror movie.
“I came here to fuck you up, but it don’t look like you can get anymore fucked up unless I break your other leg,” I said, making sure he could see my gun.
“Wh th hl . . . gth fck uh!” The man sounded like he was speaking gibberish.
I playfully hit his leg with my pistol, and surprisingly, the girl came running to his side. She stopped abruptly, though, when I pointed my gun at her.
“Leave him alone! They wired his jaw shut!”
“I ain’t gonna touch his ass,” I told her with a smirk. “Like I said, I came here to fuck him up, but now I almost feel sorry for him. Karma really is a bitch, huh? She always comes to collect what’s owed when you least expect it. And if she won’t, my momma sure as hell will.” I laughed for the first time since they’d put me in the hospital—maybe because I now had visual proof of how much my family really loved me. I didn’t have to be worried about anything because they always had my back. God, I loved being a Duncan.
“So, who exactly is this guy Roman, and where can I find him?” I asked.
I was really curious about the guy who supposedly looked so much like me that I got my ass beat over his drama. And let’s not forget the fact that I’d found out a few days ago that someone who looked like me ran up a $5,000 tab at my favorite South Beach hotel. I had some questions for this motherfucker, whoever he was.
Vaughn looked at his girl, then at the other guy, who was leaning against the doorway.
“Let’s not everyone speak up at the same time!” I pressed down on Vaughn’s chest bandage.
“Aahhhrrrgh!” He growled through clenched teeth.
“Damn, you see that nigga can’t talk!” hop-a-long yelled.
I raised my gun. “Then somebody better talk for his ass, or you’ll be sipping a juice box for six months right alongside him.”
“All I know is he used to live over there by Yankee Stadium with his momma. They stayed in this orange brick townhouse with a big-ass mural of all the New York rappers on the side of it, but he been moved out from there.”
“His mother still live there?” I asked.
“I guess. Me and him ain’t been cool since we played ball back in high school.”
“If you really wanna find him, find that bitch Kandace. She can tell you all about him,” the girl
