Stepbrother Badass, the Complete Novel: A Street Romance by Jezzie May

Author:Jezzie May
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, urban fiction, Urban, United States, african american romance, African American, Genre Fiction, Literature & Fiction
Published: 2015-08-26T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

I desperately wanted Grady to come up with something that would get me out of this situation without anyone else getting hurt. I didn’t think he could, but I’d have given anything for it in that moment.

“What choices? Do it or end up a hole for Mickey B! Ain’t the greatest choices in the world.”

“You can kill this man. That’s one option. You can be Mickey’s bitch. Option number two.” Grady stroked my cheek. “You can catch the first bus, train, plane or taxi out of this burgh and never come back. Strong vote from me for option number three. I told you that before.”

The nurse that had been in earlier when Donnell and Mickey had been fighting came in with a new nurse, the one who’d be on overnight, and filled her in on all my vitals and the situation. Grady smiled at them both, and they nodded at him, and I found myself wondering what would have happened if he’d come in as Rainbow. The thought made me smile. Layvee was my night nurse, and she took my vitals and made chit-chat, and said to let her know if I needed anything. Before she left, she told Grady that visiting hours would be over in five minutes.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, pulling out the pocket watch and holding it up. “I’ve got one eye on the time.”

She nodded and left, then Grady popped the watch open and showed me the empty inside. “Just a prop,” he said, chuckling. “Look fancy, though, don’t it? Now, I have to go in just a few minutes, as Miss Busybody Nurse oh so helpfully pointed out. But I can’t leave until I know you thinking clearly.”

Grady held up his hand and ticked off his fingers. “One, kill a man. Two, fuck a man. Three, run like a man.” He snorted at his own joke. “Four, go to the police. Whoooo,” he said, laughing at yet another joke. Everybody knew that would do no good. Mickey probably owned most of them in the ‘hood. The ones he couldn’t buy probably didn’t give enough of a shit to do anything to help anyway.

“So pick one, two or three, and commit, baby. Commit. You already know where my vote go.”

“I can’t leave. Not without my father.”

“Convince him to go, then, if you feel that strongly about it. Get Donnell King to knock him on the head,” he said, slamming his arm down as if he were hammering somebody’s skull. “Stuff him in a car or a big suitcase or whatever, and take him witch you. Just . . . get outta here, honey. Ain’t nothing for you here, but pain and problems.”

He slipped a small piece of paper out of a pocket inside his vest. An address and phone number was written on it in an elegant, cursive handwriting. “And you write to Grady when you get where you going, so I can say I told you so.”

“I . . . I’ll think about it.

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