Butterfly 2

Prologue

The fog was dense as Messiah maneuvered his car through the state park. The sun had barely risen. Orange and purple painted the sky as life began to awaken. He gripped the steering wheel with one hand and kept his other on the pistol in his lap. He knew there was no point in carrying it. He wouldn’t use it. Not on this day. Not on this man. He had tried before to curl a trigger on this target but had failed. He wasn’t stupid enough to make the attempt again. He saw the red taillights to a silver F-150 and then saw Ethic as the driver’s door opened. Stern and moody, Ethic appeared as he always did. Intolerant. Intimidating. He went to the bed of the truck and released the gate. He began to unload buckets and fishing poles, and bait from the back.

This shit, man, Messiah mumbled as he pulled in behind the truck. Messiah knew better than to exit the car with his pistol. He stored it under his seat and climbed out, slamming the door.

It’s 6 a.m. man. We couldn’t do this at no better time? Messiah asked as he frowned.

Fish bite best at dawn, Ethic stated.

Messiah hated the skeptical eye Ethic looked at him with. It was a new light. Ethic had never looked at him with such mistrust two years ago. It made Messiah feel like he wore his betrayal on his forehead. A scarlet letter of disdain that he feared he would never be able to shake.

Grab that bait, Ethic instructed.

Messiah snatched up the bucket and followed Ethic down the dock to the boat that sat tied to the end.

You bought a boat? Messiah asked.

For Alani. She wanted one. Something to take the kids out on. She picked this mu’fucka out and it just sits, so I took up fishing to justify the expense, Ethic said as he climbed aboard. It was a beautiful vessel with a bar, two berths for sleeping, and living space beneath.

You’ll do anything for her, huh, O.G.? Messiah asked.

Whatever she asks, whenever she asks. That’s my job. To anticipate her needs before she even knows she needs something. I’m her man so that’s my role. She’ll never want for anything with me, not even attention, not even time. The money is cool but the things I can’t buy she appreciates most. It’s why I buy her everything else too, cuz she don’t give a fuck about it.

Messiah didn’t know what to say. He hoped to have something like that one day. Even his hope for it was progress because there was a time when Messiah didn’t want that type of connection with another human being at all. Now he craved it. Now he yearned for it. With Mo. Damn how Messiah Williams wanted to buy Morgan Atkins a boat.

Ethic got in the captain’s seat and the motor came alive, chopping up the water beneath them. They didn’t speak as Ethic sailed away from the shore. Messiah took a seat at the aft, leaning over onto his knees, hands rubbing as he held his head low. He was lost, completely drowned in his own thoughts. He didn’t even realize how far out they had gotten until he heard Ethic cut the engine.

He looked around as Ethic lowered the anchor.

You know why we came out here? Ethic asked.

Messiah bit into his bottom lip and nodded. You’re trying to decide if I’m going to stay out here, he answered. He had known the moment he had seen the boat. They could have fished from the bridge. Ethic had taken him out for tranquility. It was a perfect morning to commit a murder and the lake was a suitable resting place. Messiah was on thin ice. He knew it and still he willingly joined Ethic on this early morning boat ride. It would either be his funeral procession or his walk of redemption. Ethic would decide which. There was no avoiding it.

You’re well? You feeling a’ight? Ethic broke the silence as he turned his chair to face Messiah.

I’m breathing, Messiah answered. For now.

An awkward silence. Then a scoff of acknowledgment from Ethic and more silence as Ethic stood. He grabbed the poles and the bucket of bait before going to the edge of the boat. He sat, feet thrown casually over the side as he cast a reel into the dark waters below.

Grab a stick, let me teach you how to catch your meal, Messiah.

Messiah grabbed a fishing pole and sat beside Ethic about a yard away.

Alani is my meal. She fills me, nourishes me. I had to hunt her because a real woman knows how to evade you. They know how to maintain some control in their lives. It’s a must they retain some governance over themselves. So, I had to figure out how to get her to think that submitting to me was a choice and not dominance. If she thought I was trying to conquer her she would buck. She would go against what I wanted and the role I needed her to fill. So I hunted that. I caught that. Her heart you know? Hit every target with precision. Her heart. Her body. Her mind. Showed her a nigga could be her suitor. I proved to her over and over again that I could keep her safe, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. By the time she even realized the game she was mine. Now she can’t live without a nigga, can’t breathe without me, don’t sleep right without me, body don’t react to nobody but me. I caught my meal. She fed me. Put everything in my belly that was needed to make me feel like a man and that pussy my nigga… Ethic shook his head and Messiah snickered. Ethic didn’t share details like that and Messiah hiked his brows in surprise.

Word? Messiah asked.

Messiah was surprised when he saw a coy grin pull at the corners of Ethic’s lips. He nodded. I’ma lucky man, young.

I never would have fucking thought.

You never will think about that. I’ll pluck the sense from your fucking head before I ever let you look at her and think anything of the fucking sorts, Ethic snickered.

Messiah grinned.

You got to lay bait for Mo that’s so tempting she can’t do shit else but bite, Ethic said. You got to feel good to her Messiah. You got to feel safe for her. You got to look nourishing. You want her to submit and open every part of her. You got to secure her. Throw out your bait to catch a queen. A queen is gon’ pick the safest kingdom. Your bait is the kingdom you build. The last name you’re offering. The history behind it…

Messiah’s chest locked. It protested inside him.

I can’t help who I am. She’ll never want that. Blood to the nigga that rocked her entire world. She won’t love that. She don’t want no parts of me. Mizan…

Wasn’t your brother, Ethic interrupted.

Messiah’s heart stilled. All his waters ran dry. His throat closed, his blood thickened, his stomach hollowed. Ethic’s words attacked him, exploding in his mind like a mental bomb. The headache and heartache they caused felt cruel because no way could the words be true.

I wish that was bond, O.G. but…

When have you ever known me to say anything just to say it? He’s not your blood. He was Bookie’s lover maybe. I don’t know man. The shit is so fucking twisted. Your father had some preferences, some demons. Ethic paused, trying to choose his words carefully for Messiah’s sake because while Mizan was no longer attached to Messiah, Bookie was. Bookie had changed him, had hurt him.

Don’t call that nigga my daddy. He ain’t that. He didn’t raise shit. I see how you are with Eazy. How you guide him, teach him, even when he do something wrong and you got to get in his ass you’re stern but you easy with homie too. You walk real light on his heart even when you got to be the bad guy. I see that between you and him. That’s fatherhood. That’s the only way of being a father I will ever acknowledge. What he did … who he was … that shit ain’t… Messiah stopped speaking and lowered his head, shaking it in shame.

Some niggas just got the devil in ’em. What he did to you and young boys before you. I’m sorry about that. I know it turned you cold. You never really had a chance Messiah, and if I had known earlier … if you had told me. I mean if I had even the smallest clue of what was happening, I would have eliminated that nigga. I would have hit him in the middle and bled that nigga slow. Ethic said the words so casually that they sent chills down Messiah’s spine. He knew it wasn’t an empty threat. There was no need to be loud when you meant what you said. Messiah was surprised Ethic had spoken the words at all. So often a threat was eliminated without warning because Ethic didn’t grandstand. He was a murderer. Plain and simple.

I couldn’t tell nobody that, Messiah stated. Not even you. Especially not you.

I believe he did the same to Mizan, but the abuse turned into something else. Something sick. Some fucking Stockholm shit that I don’t think anyone can ever understand because the only people who can explain it are no longer breathing. They were twisted but I have proof that Mizan was not your blood. You’re not related to the man that ruined Mo’s childhood and it don’t matter that Bookie was yours biologically. I chose you a long time ago Messiah. I don’t know if you’re like my son or my brother or a little bit of both but you’re mine. The shit you did cut deep. I ain’t slept right since the night you told me who you were. Ain’t breathed right. I lost something that day. Mo lost everything that day but you not being Mizan’s brother. That’ll mean something to her. It’ll give you a chance. You only gon’ get one shot with her though. I won’t let you mess her over again. You got to come right. You got to have your shit together Messiah, none of that half-assed little boy shit you carrying around on the inside. You couldn’t help your past. Couldn’t control it. Couldn’t do anything to stop the chaos. You can control what happens next though. You’re not that little boy anymore. You understand?

Messiah nodded and sniffed away the overwhelming emotion that watered his eyes. He flicked his nose than squeezed the bridge of it.

Ethic stared out at the water as Messiah tried to control the onslaught of trauma that plagued him.

You cross me again and I won’t hesitate, Ethic stated. You even breathe wrong and…

Messiah’s grief was palpable, and Ethic stopped the threat because he realized Messiah knew what was at stake. He put a hand on Messiah’s shoulder. He gave it a hard squeeze and then handed him the fishing pole.

Fuck I’m supposed to do with this, big homie? Wifey done turned you into an old ass man, Messiah said.

Ethic chuckled and nodded as he reached into a jacket pocket retrieving an expertly rolled blunt. Old as fuck and she probably gon’ bitch up a storm when she smells this shit on me, but the least I can do is blow one with you.

I mean, she can make an exception considering I got cancer and all, Messiah said as Ethic sparked the blunt.

That might be the only thing that stop her from putting me on the couch, Ethic snickered.

Messiah watched Ethic pull the smoke into his lungs, cheeks puffing, and then he blew it into the air. He passed the blunt.

Shit must be nice, Messiah said as he hit the weed. I want that. With Mo. Shorty Doo Wop could put me on the couch every night as long as she let me come home.

I need you to keep your distance Messiah. You can’t pop up on her without warning. I need to talk to her first. Mo’s fragile. She can’t take a lot. You focus on getting you together and I’ll figure out how to let her know you’re back. Hell, that you’re alive at all. She went through a hard time when you left. You’ve got to be careful with the way you come back into her life.

I just want to be here man. Whatever it takes.

Messiah passed the blunt back to Ethic and Ethic nodded as if he were settling things in his head.

I love you kid. No more fuck ups, Ethic stated.

Messiah’s eyes burned. To have forgiveness and love after what he’d done. He hadn’t expected to receive that much. It was a gift he had never received. A gift he didn’t deserve. He couldn’t even respond with words because he was afraid he would lose it. The sudden tug on his line startled him, distracting him. A friendly shift of focus from God right when it was needed … right when the vulnerability was making two of His most difficult children uncomfortable. A fish had taken the bait.

Oh, shit what I do? Messiah asked.

Start reeling, Ethic said. Messiah stood, slightly panicked as he pulled in the fish.

Yo’ this mu’fucka ain’t coming up! Messiah shouted. It was one of very few times in his life that felt carefree. It felt easy. Like nothing outside of this interaction mattered. Like Ethic was indeed his father and as long as he had him, he knew he would be okay. Ethic would never know how much he meant to Messiah because Messiah would never tell him. Messiah whirled the fishing pole until a small fish came flopping out of the water.

Yo’ this little mu’fucka got heart, Messiah said, holding up the end of the line.

Ethic hollered as he stood to his feet.

Throw it back, man. Sometimes you catch something just to let it go. When it’s for you, you’ll know it. That ain’t our catch.

1

Ahmeek sat in the car listening to the hum of his engine as it ticked to a stop. Crickets serenaded the night air. The green numbers on his console read 11:24 p.m. It had taken him two hours to get to her and he had been sitting there, engrossed in thought, for half an hour longer. He knew she was waiting but his conscience had him glued to his seat. His heart thundered in his chest as he finessed his beard, mind zoned out as his thoughts swarmed him. He rested against the head rest. He had to take a beat. He had to pause. To think. He was in deep. He was drowning in Morgan Atkins and neither of them wanted to be saved. They hadn’t even taken a moment to come up for air. What they were doing was reckless. His heart was involved. Hers had been from the start and he didn’t want to fumble, his or hers. He didn’t want to ugly up something that had been beautiful thus far. He felt like turning around because once he got out the car he would have to take it all the way. She had called him. Requested his presence in the middle of the night. There was only one thing she could have wanted, but now he questioned if he should oblige. Conflict swirled in his chest. He saw her legs first as she descended the steps. Heels at midnight, silk boy shorts, and the tiniest silk spaghetti strap negligee. The color was the same as her skin. He could barely tell that she had anything on at all.

Damn, he whispered. Morgan Atkins was beautiful. Ass for days, thighs that trembled, and full breasts that bounced with every step. Flashes of his lips around her areola as he palmed them entered his mind. They had just done this. She had just called him for rescue days before and he had dropped everything, to get to her, to save her. He had explored her depths just hours ago, not even a full day had passed and already she needed him again. It scared him. This was becoming a need. It was becoming serious and his heart pounded. He had witnessed this pull. He had seen Messiah get lost in it. Like a black hole Morgan had sucked him in. Now he understood. Now, that it was him, now that his mind was telling him to cut the shit off, but his heart was laughing at the request, he got it. She was irresistible. He was gangster, but she was godly. She called the shots. She was the coach and she was making him put up a thousand shots. Ahmeek was a fucking shooter. Three points, all net. Her franchise player. His dick jumped. Ahmeek couldn’t do anything but shake his head and appreciate the sight as she folded her arms across her chest, forcing the mounds of her flesh to peak as she walked to his side of the car. She pulled open the door.

Are you going to sit out here all night?

He switched off the ignition and turned sideways, placing his feet to the concrete and leaning elbows to knees. He snapped his eyes closed. Air filled his lungs. One hand against his strong thigh he braced himself before looking up. He knew when he looked at her she would hypnotize him. Morgan Atkins stood in front of him.

Did they give you a hard time at the gate? she asked. She was fucking phenomenal. Long hair curly and slightly damp from the shower she’d taken, face bare, eyes as dark as night.

Nah, they didn’t, he answered.

Are you giving yourself a hard time? she asked. He bit his bottom lip and nodded, hanging his head. His turmoil hung on his shoulders. The guilt of his attraction to her weighed on him, but she had called and when the queen summoned, you answered.

You’re fucking me up, Mo. I’m trying here. Morgan placed a hand on the top of his head and he placed a hand to her stomach, fingers balling the fabric of her tiny camisole in his hands as she traced the pattern of his waves. You know where you’re going to end up, so let’s just stop feeling guilty about it, she whispered.

You got to understand love… he pushed and shook his head. The shit I wanna do…

We’ve already done, she reminded.

Nah, love. New shit. More shit. Meek shit.

Morgan’s entire body came alive. Her face turned red. She had heard the stories. Him fucking bitches until they lost their minds. That stalk a nigga dick. That bust his windows out his car dick. That put his tags in your name dick. That let him flip your income tax return dick. She wanted it, wanted it so bad that her nipples tightened, screaming for attention. Mo grabbed one hand with both of hers and pulled him to his feet, backpedaling until he stood and followed her. His stomach hollowed. His head was all over the place. Morgan and Ahmeek. Nobody could have predicted this. If anyone had ever suggested it he would have smacked the shit out niggas, but here he was. Here they were, and it was more than sex. It was more than physical.

You have to be careful with that girl, Meekie. It’s not right. It’s not wrong either. It just is. The two of you are in denial if you think this is friendship. This is love and the stakes are high. You be extremely careful with how you handle this with her. She’s been broken before. Women don’t come back the same and someone’s going to end up hurt.

His mother’s words rang in his mind. It was the warning that made him think maybe, just maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.

I don’t plan on doing no hurting Ma, he had said.

You need to worry about her hurting you. She’s not one of them little jump-offs you used to running around here with. She got the leverage son. She’s going to eat you alive.

They were both silent as he followed her up the stairs. The way her body reacted to movement was incredible. Little Morgan wasn’t quite little Morgan anymore. She had filled out, mentally and physically and she had ordered him up like she was picking up the phone to request a meal. She wanted dick, extra-large, with a side of finesse. Morgan was amazing. She took all of him. She didn’t run. Women ran from him, when he hit the bottom they bolted. Morgan took it and called his name. Her sultry voice, screaming that shit like she was in another world. He shook his head. Maybe his mother was right. She was going to eat him alive because he couldn’t get her off his mind. The sway of her hips led him to her door. Candles lit. Vanilla scent. They filled the