Chapter Two

Kicking my shoes off in the living room of my small condo, I go put a frozen macaroni and cheese in the microwave. Sitting on the sofa in front of the television, I turn it on the news channel and grab the book off the end table. Just as I am about to dive into the part where she gets caught cheating my phone rings. I pick it out of my jeans' pocket and it is an unfamiliar number.

I answer it anyway and it's an automated voice, "You are receiving a call from an inmate at Riker's Island, to accept press one."

I press one. "You have only thirty minutes for this call."

The phone rings once and Mossi's husky voice comes through the speaker, "Hey, baby."

"Hey." I squeal excited to hear from him.

"How is my baby doing?"

"I am doing just fine. What about you? How are you holding up?" I set my book down and curl up on the sofa. The microwave beeps and I huff. I get up and get my food.

"It's hell in here, baby. Niggas be fighting for no reason and shit. Sometimes over fucking honey-buns. Makes no sense." He huffs in the phone.

"Aww." I coo, "Sounds stressful."

"It is. How come I am just now talking to you? Where you been at?" The aggravation is clear.

Mossi Jones has been my boyfriend for 4 years now. He is in the drug game and have been since he was 13 years old. Right now, he is locked up for drug smuggling and a robbery which could end in a homicide if the two victims do not pull through. Already having found him guilty on July 5th, he is in jail awaiting his sentencing.

"They have me working all kinds of shifts at Wal-mart and the bank called me for an interview. So, I have kind of been running around trying to hold the fort down for you." I explain to him.

I have been through a lot of drug dealing boys since I left my parent's house. With my first drug dealing boyfriend who went by Tug, he showed me a life of high living and fast money. That's when I became addicted to the life style and what they gave me or could get me. Best believe, I never had to put out for them and if they asked me to put out or try to manipulate me, I would move on to the next boy.

I also never had to spend my own money on anything, like this condo. Mossi bought this for me when he realized I was still staying at my best friend's house. When we made it to a year, he was fed up with the fact that I was 23 years old and had a curfew, so, he made the arrangements to where I would stay. He said all I had to do was work and study in college, he would take care of all the bills. And that's how it has been for three years now almost four, with the occasional splurging of gifts and the new car that sits outside. To be honest, I wouldn't have it any other way.

"Well, you are my babygirl and I love that you do your own thing. But, you know you don't have to work..."

The doorbell rings interrupting him.

"Hold on, Mossi. Someone is at the door." I amble to the door and peek through the peephole. There are two cops standing on the other side.

What the hell? With Mossi still on the phone, I open the door and the officers are staring at me. I lean on the door frame, "How can I help you two?"

They flash me their badges while the male officer whose name tag reads Reilly states, "We are from the NYPD and we have a few questions for you."

"Questions? About what?"

"May we come in?" Reilly ignores my question.

I hesitantly look back at my decently clean condo space, "Sure." I open the door and they step in and look around. I close the door and walk them into the living room. "Would you two like something drink or eat?"

"No thank you, ma'am."

I offer for them to sit and they do. I take the recliner that faces the sofa. "So, what's this about?"

The female officer whose name tag reads Abbott says, "We want to know where you were on September 15, 2014 around," she slips through a small notepad she pulled from her shirt pocket. "eight in the morning."

What the hell is this shit? "I was at work from 8:30am to 5:30pm. I work at Wal-mart. What in the entire fuck is going on here?"

"Do you have anyone who can corroborate that, ma'am?" Abbott presses as she jots down what I said.

"I do actually. Now," I look from Abbott to Reilly. "answer my question, please. What the fuck is going on here?"

"We got a tip from someone that you were in that robbery with your boyfriend that day." Officer Reilly explains the situation me.

"That is absurd," I say unbelieving this. "Who could possibly name me in something..." My mind trails off knowing exactly who could have done it. I look at my cell phone and Mossi is still on the line. He heard everything that was said. I hang up the phone in anger. That bastard. "You can ask my manager and track me on the cameras. At eight in the morning, I left here to go to work and you can ask my neighbors."

They stand up.

Abbott says, "Well, if you have any more information." she hands me her card. "Keep in touch."

I take the card, look over it, and nod. They thank me for my time and leave. I lean with my back against the door and slide down to the floor as my heart beats rapidly against my chest and I begin to shake. There are no words to describe the disloyalty which I am feeling at this moment.