Captain Shad

You can find anything about anyone on the internet as a regular peon. So imagine what me, a muthafucka who learned to type before he learned to write, can find out.

When the sweetest girl I know comes to me in tears, talking about a nigga disrespected her, it makes it real hard to keep up the facade of normalcy I show her.

Because my sweet girl doesn't bother anybody. She has a compliment for even the devil, and a smile for the most rotten mothafucka. She’s my own personal sun.

Her and my daughter.

But her and my therapist and everyone else have me under a microscope. Looking for any and all signs that I’m letting my monster run free.

I kept it cool last night, though. I held her, and we watched Dreamgirls–the original and the remake–and let her sleep while I tended to Sadé. I didn’t show any signs of malice. I didn’t zone out. I didn’t even look at my phone while she was awake. 

I can’t speak for when she fell asleep.

I can’t confirm nor deny that Sadé was in her harness, sucking on her paci while I found everything I could about that nigga, syncing his accounts to my phone, transferring the deed of his house to one of my aliases, and reading his emails and browsing history.

The shit he looks up to jack off to… even if he didn’t hurt my Ace I’d get her away from him.

She didn’t buy my good boy act this morning when she went for work, but she wasn’t going to stay home. Not when I reminded her they’re having a taco party today.

An hour after everyone else leaves I pack up Sadé and make my way to the Birch. I ring the special doorbell and a minute later Ms. Katrina answers with a wry grin on her face. She blows a kiss at Sadé before letting me inside, and I see Reem on the couch with Angel.

Reem looks up and his eyes soften at my baby girl.

“The fuck you doing here?”

“Playdate, nigga. You’re predictable; family time is always Friday mornings before pickup.”

Ms. Katrina lifts Sadé out of her harness and goes to put her in Angel’s playpen. I set Sadé’s bag down on the table and sit.

“What you gotta do that you bringing her here?”

When I shrug, he grins at me. “Aw shit. I told her not to tell yo ass.”

Ms. Katrina sucks her teeth, and when I look at her, she’s tapping her foot.

You need to stay out of trouble, Shaddy, she signs to us, making me grin.

“I will. I’ll even take Reem with me so I have a chaperone.”

Reem shakes his head before kissing Angel on hers and setting her on the floor. Her busybody self gets up and waddles to her grandmother, who scoops her up and kisses her.

“C’mon nigga. You can take me to Ty after.”

We dip out and make our way to an office building down the block from Brina’s. That’s probably how my Ace met this clown.

She swears I’m a disrespectful dog. And maybe I am a dog, but disrespectful? I’m not. Getting in women’s faces? Calling them out their names? Not if they don’t deserve it.

And my sweet girl don’t deserve that shit.

“Yo bitch know you out here defending other females?” Reem asks as I park illegally on the curb.

“One: I don’t have a bitch, and a bitch don’t have me. And two: she’s no regular female, and I’ll be damned if a nigga even breathes at her or Sadé wrong. Are you waiting in the car?”

He waves me off. “Yeah. Don’t kill the nigga, Shaddy.”

It’s my turn to wave him off as I bounce out.

I enter the lobby and smirk. The receptionist is young, Black, and attractive, and when we lock eyes, I know she knows who I am.

She squeals as I lean on the desk and lick my lips. “Good morning, beautiful.”

“Oh. My. GOD. Shotta! Can I take a picture with you?”

“Of course. Before you do, can you call a Brandon Farlane here?”

“Hell yea!” She dials an extension and relays the message before getting her cell phone and leaning close to me. We flick up, and I even wrap my arm around her neck like I know her and let her record a video. But I stop at singing. I don’t do that shit for free for nobody.

Brandon’s bitch ass gets off the elevator looking every bit a Poindexter.

“Mona, you called for me?”

“Nah, I called for you,” I say as I stand straight. His eyes expand, and he grins nervously.

“Uh, how–”

I forget to pull my punch as my knuckles meet the side of his face, and poor lil Brandon drops like a sack of shit.

The entire lobby freezes as I chuckle. This nigga doesn’t even deserve to live on the same planet as my Ace.

I grab the half-empty bottle of water on the receptionist’s desk and pour it on Brandon’s face, startling him back awake. When I crouch down, I try to look away from the blood leaking from his nose. Twenty-six and I’m still queasy around blood, but whatever. I’m still a real nigga.

“This is a preview of the rest of your short, miserable life,” I say so only he can hear. “For every tear that rolled down baby girl’s cheeks, something in your life will go wrong, until you wish I ended you today instead of just knocking yo weak ass out, pussy ass nigga.”

I stand straight, looking dead at the camera nestled between the wall and ceiling. When I walk away, I wink at the receptionist, and her freak ass simpers.

When I get back in the car, I check my program on my phone to make sure the cameras in their lobby and outside have been erased for the last thirty minutes. When I’m satisfied, I pull off toward Storyville, where I know for sure Ty is.

“Feel better?” Reem asks, sparking up.

“Meh,” I shrug. My phone pings and I check it at a red light.

Mace: Can we watch Sparkle tonight? I'll get you Soul Food Spot ;)

Musicals are her comfort, which means she’s still sad. I drain Brandon’s savings and reroute it through several shell companies and accounts to the one I set up for Sadé, then go back to our text thread.

Me: Anything u want, shorty. I’ll get the food 2.

Mace: Youre the best Shaddy :*

I shake my head to hide my smile and put my phone away before grabbing the blunt from Reem. “Yeah, I feel better.”