No! Why? “Twenty eight thousand,” I murmur sheepishly.
“That’s some bread for a kid. What did he do for a living?”
The first tear slips. I feel shame like never before. I’m embarrassed by my former life. But I didn’t know any better. I was young and that was my environment. I knew nothing else.
“Sold crack,” my voice trembles.
Azmir doesn’t speak. He withdraws from me. Again. How can I blame him? I’ve just dropped another bomb about my less than stellar past. I feel classless. Grimy. No better than the monster O was when he slang his powder to my mother behind my back. However, no amount of abasement can make me forget the promising world I’ve created. I took charge and changed my environment, my course. My life. For Christ’s sake, I just got married. I’m no longer that misguided teen who was scared and abandoned. I’m strong and formidable.
“Azmir, say something,” I beg, barely able to speak.
“What do you want me to say?” his voice is calm. I feel no emotion in it, and that concerns me.
I pivot in my seat towards him. “Tell me how you feel having learned something like this about your wife? What is this new piece of information going to do to us?”
He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move. His eyes don’t roam. Typical A.D. equanimity at play. It’s long minutes before he murmurs, “It’s not news, Rayna.”
“W-what?” In all honesty, I gave up on hearing back from him so I don’t trust my ears. “I didn’t hear that.”
He turns to me. His eyes fill with something even in the darkness of the truck, only extraneous lights glaring into his face. “The murder, O, J-Boog…not news to me.”
I don’t understand. I’m thrown. He knows about my past? How could this be possible?
“How is that possible? I’ve never shared this with anyone, but Michelle,” I ask, feeling like the carpet is being pulled from underneath me.
We pull into the marina and Azmir still hasn’t answered me.
Manny receives us in the side lobby and I quickly wish he were a less jovial Roberto. Manny’s extremely loquacious and dotes heavily on Azmir. He always has questions, forcing your attention elsewhere. Tonight, he’s no different. He greets gleefully and chews on the weather, latest game scores, and his usual inquiries about Azmir’s businesses. I manage a polite smile, Azmir a tad more, though it’s clear he isn’t in chatty mood.
When we make it up to the apartment, Azna comes running to me. I drop to my knees to greet him. Azmir heads straight into his office with purposeful strides. I rise to my feet, prepared to continue with my query. But before I make it to his door, he comes back out with a file and drops it in my hands. I look up to read his expression, but he gives nothing away. Without thinking, I open the folder.
Within seconds, my back hits the wall as I cover my mouth.
“Where did you get this from?” I probe on a shaky breath.
“I have a team of investigators. A man in my line of work—”
“WHERE DID YOU GET THIS FROM?” I scream, anger bursting in my belly.
“I have a team of investigators, Rayna. You know this,” his voice is even, but I know he’s brewing himself.
I don’t care; he’s breached my privacy. I go back to the file and note pictures of Akeem and O—mug shots specifically. Police reports and news articles of the arrests, the little girl’s funeral images, and statements dated that July night long ago.
“Is this even legal?” I yell. “Because it sure as hell isn’t moral. Azmir, you have no right to this information. None of it concerns you.”
“You concern me!” he roars. “And since you’ve mentioned morality, where does that put you on the curve when you can’t even tell me outright about this ordeal from your past?”
“How am I supposed to tell you something horrific, huhn? When is the appropriate time to have you reply that I’m not the type of baggage you want to take on?”
“You should have told me, Rayna!”
“When? On the bleachers at she Staples Center? Before or after I’d hung up with Michelle, letting her know that I was still alive?” This is all pouring with sarcasm. I hope I won’t regret using when he claims to have fallen in love with me in a form of mockery in a fight.
“Don’t give me that shit! You’ve had plenty of time to share this pertinent information!”
“When?” I snap. I toss the file down the hallway. “When did I have a chance? You just kept coming back...you wouldn’t stop! When I ran, you kept chasing me. And then I fell into the possibility of putting all of...” I wave to the pile of disrupted papers scattered across the floor. “...that behind me. Why would I tell you? You saw the horror. You’ve obviously acquainted yourself with my mess—”