Gianna's Grit | ✓

X: Permitted Grilling

GIANNA

I could barely sleep the entire night. After having a nightmare about going through a horrible pregnancy, I was afraid to fall asleep again.

Aunt Georgia came to wake me as normal, though I had previously asked her not to. She was surprised to see me already awake but said nothing about my obvious under-eye bags and groggy demeanor. I assisted her with Aunt Philly, who became weaker with each passing day. I knew she spent most of her time reliving her memories with Uncle Saul. She looked lost the rest of the time as if she was still searching for him.

I forced down breakfast and coffee as I watched Philly push around her food, I don't think I could ever give my heart to someone like that. The mere idea makes me want to hide forever.

I spent the rest of the morning on autopilot as those same questions wove me in and out of consciousness. Aunt Georgia scolded me for using too much hot water while barely showering, but I couldn't focus on what she said. I found myself in the bar parking lot and mentally scolded myself for phasing out while driving. I walked in and saw three Tags already waiting at the front door.

I furrowed my brow at the two new guys, "Who are you?"

"You told King you saw the guy, so now security has to step up," the original one spoke up as they all continued to smile. Assholes.

I unlocked it as he spoke and then ushered them inside the building, "that's great."

I hid myself away in the office, now secretly confident in the security, since there were three armed men along with the normally responsible staff to keep watch.

I later made my rounds to greet customers and steal a jar of maraschino cherries before returning to the office. I continued organizing the paperwork as I ate the sweet cherries, discarding the crimson stems onto a paper towel. I didn't realize I'd left the door cracked open until I was jumping a mile high.

A pair of familiar rough hands grasped my waist, startling me, "We need to talk, Gianna."

I recognized his voice immediately, gathered myself, and sat behind the desk as King stared me down, "What?"

"Ask me," he sat down across from me, "Ask me all your questions."

I peeped the Tags clearing out the bar before one of them shut the office door for privacy.

I sat back, staring at him as I tried to piece together a steady stream of coherent thoughts for the first time that day.

"Who was that guy from last night?" I asked first.

"He's the rival after Kamari."

"Then what's he want with me?" I shrugged.

"You're easily accessible leverage," he said crudely. "He knows where you spend a lot of your time now."

Though that didn't sit right with me at all, I continued asking questions, one of them being the name of the new mystery man I'd meant.

"He just goes by Red," The man across form he stated.

"Just like the way you go by King," I nodded.

"Everybody's got their name," he reminded me.

"What happened to make Kamari a target?" I asked. "I know it was more than a 'miscommunication', so tell me what really happened."

King narrowed his eyes, "Red needed drugs, and his guys took some while transporting it. They blamed us, and every leader wants to believe their group, so now he's after Kamari."

"You're using Kamari as a distributor?" I scoffed. "That's the last job you give your brother."

"He wanted to do it," King argued. "He didn't like running with me in your part of town. He wanted to walk in his own streets, Gianna."

"He was just trying to make a point—"

"Kamari is a grown man," King gritted out. "He can make decisions for himself."

"I know he can," I agreed, "but look where this decision has gotten him—"

"It wasn't his decision to steal from Red's delivery, it was their's," King stressed. "They couldn't keep their hands clean, and now they're trying to make my boy pay for it."

"No one's hands are ever clean when you're dealing drugs, King," I scowled. "That's why I wanted to keep you in the library and away from—"

"Away from what? My home?" He scoffed. "I was raised to do this. You think Saul didn't see this coming? He just continued the lessons!"

"Don't talk about him like that!" I exclaimed. "My uncle took all of us in when we had nobody!"

"He taught me how to kill."

"He taught us how to aim at beer bottles," I gritted.

He revealed his gun and held it carelessly, the weapon dangling from his hand as if it were merely a child's toy, "well I'm sure as hell not shooting bottles out in these streets."

"You can't keep blaming everyone else for the choices you made," I crossed my arms, still eyeing the gun as he put it away again.

"What choice was I ever given?" He scoffed.

"You could've went to school with me," I said shortly. "You were always Georgia's favorite and there was an all-boys school right across the street. You would've gotten a choice before anyone else, but you stayed where you were."

"I was twelve," he frowned.

"So was I," I stressed, "but somehow it's my fault that you turned into a gangbanger in the south side?"

He clenched his jaw and looked away from me, "ask your real question."

"What are you talking about?" I scoffed.

"The one that's making you so angry," he didn't hesitate. "Ask me."

I sighed and made sure to watch him closely as I broke the silence, "how many kids do you have?"

"None," he said.

I examined him for any signs that he was lying and found none, so I continued, "how many girlfriends do you have?"

"None," he said before he eyed me while leaning forward, "but I'm working on it."