Nobody's Son by Zaria Garrison Read Free Book Online Page A

expected. “Just tell me what happened with this guy,” he asked.
    â€œI thought Gwen already told you.”
    â€œShe didn’t give me any details. She felt that you should do that. Now, whether you like it or not, I’m here, and I’m waiting for you to talk. Take all the time you need, I’m not going anywhere.” Rip got up from the table and went to the refrigerator. “You got any red Kool-Aid?” he asked while peering inside.
    â€œIt’s on the second shelf,” Semaj answered. “If you haven’t eaten you can go ahead and fix yourself a plate too.”
    Rip fixed himself a large plate of chicken and green beans but declined the potatoes. In the past two years he’d dropped 190 pounds, and he tried his best to avoid eating too many carbs. He knew it was bad enough that he was drinking something as syrupy sweet as red Kool-Aid, so he wasn’t about to backslide too far by adding on the potatoes.
    He and Semaj sat at the table and ate the same as they did when they were both young boys growing up in the area. Semaj lived in the old wooden three-bedroom house with his grandparents while Rip lived down the street with his aunt who was the sister of Semaj’s grandfather. Neither of the boys grew up with their fathers in their lives for different reasons, which caused them to have a kinship that was even tighter than their blood relation.
    After they finished eating, Rip realized his cousin needed more time, so instead of pressing him about his father, they spent the rest of the evening reminiscing about all of the fun they had playing tag football in the field down the street. They laughed out loud about the day Rip wrecked his bicycle while riding down the stretch of road that they all called thrill hill. He skinned both knees, his elbow, and even loosened a tooth, but he got back on and they kept on riding.
    That type of tenacity was a quality that Rip had never lost over the years. He’d moved to Atlanta in his early twenties and in a few short years he’d become one of the most successful drug dealers in the entire city. At one time he lived in and ruled over Sand Poole Manor as their unofficial king. The residents feared and revered him because of his ruthlessness that had earned him his nickname, which spelled out “rest in peace”; the eventual fate of anyone who dared cross him. During those years, he kept in contact with his best friend and cousin from childhood even though they both lived vastly different lives on opposite sides of the law.
    â€œDo you want to spend the night here?” Semaj asked. They had just finished watching a movie on cable and it was almost eleven at night.
    â€œSure, why not? I’ll stop by the house and see Aunt Jen before we leave tomorrow.” He looked intently at his cousin. “We are leaving tomorrow, aren’t we?”
    Semaj nodded his head, then silently walked down the hallway to his bedroom.
    Rip went to the hall closet and pulled out a blanket, impressed that things at the house had hardly changed at all since the two of them were young boys. Semaj had purchased some new furniture and a flat-screen TV for the den. He’d also upgraded his bedroom from the bunk beds he’d slept in as a kid to a queen-sized sleigh bed. He’d painted the outside, had new shingles put on the roof, and replaced the air-conditioning unit. However, the majority of the house remained exactly as his grandparents had left it on the day they’d died. The hall closet still contained big fluffy quilts that Semaj’s grandma Nettie sewed with her quilting group.
    Rip settled comfortably under a quilt on the den couch; then he took out his phone and called Ellen. She didn’t pick up so he left her a simple message. “I found Semaj. He’s fine, and he’ll call you tomorrow,” he said. He felt tired from the long drive, and it only took a few moments for him to drift off to sleep