I'll Be Down for You: A Bay Area Saga Read Online Free Page A

the road. She said that when she saw what was happening, she slowed to a safe speed and dialed 9-1-1. According to the witness, the assailants were on motorcycles. We’ve already asked your aunt, but since you’re here, do you know of anyone who might want to bring harm to your uncle?”
    I sprang from my place on the sofa. “What do you mean ran him off the road ?!” I charged, ignoring his question.
    “Your uncle was run off the road . . . after his vehicle was shot into. He had several bullet holes in his vehicle, and, uhhh . . .” he sighed. “He, himself, had multiple gunshot wounds; but we won’t have all of the details until we get the medical examiner’s full autopsy report.”
    “So somebody murdered him?! You said it was a car accident!” I yelled. “Oh my God! So they shot him! Oh my God!” I hollered.
    I began to pace the full length of the living room. I found my way near the ceiling to floor window that overlooked our outdoor pool. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It wasn’t just an accident. Somebody deliberately killed him! Murdered him! Wanted him dead! I’d never see him again! I shook my head before leaning it against the glass where I finally just sank to the floor from mental exhaust. I couldn’t take it. It was too much.
    I turned toward the other side of the room where they all stood watching me. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why the fuckin’ police were still there when they should’ve been somewhere doing their damn jobs to find whoever did this.
    “Why didn’t you call me, Eva?! When did this happen?” I asked, standing from my spot on the floor, and walking back to the sofas.
    “It happened tonight,” Eva offered. “Derrick was coming back from Oakland, but he was taking a while to get here and I’d tried calling him several times to see where he was and when he’d be home. I even called Khalil who hadn’t spoken to him either. After a series of frantic phone calls, these officers showed up with the news. I’m surprised I’m holding up so well,” she admitted. “Because God knows I want to break into a million pieces. I just don’t know how I’ll—”
    Then while she was talking, a thought hit me that I was hoping with everything in me was misplaced. “From Oakland…” I interrupted. “You said that he was coming from Oakland? Where was this accident?!”
    “Not far from the house. Near the Eleventh Street exit.”
    As I was engaging in my own interrogation, the younger officer redirected a question at me. “Ma’am, I hate to ask you this again. But, do you know anyone who might want to bring harm to your uncle?”
    Instinctively, I shot that fool a daggered stare that would’ve had him deaded him on the spot, if looks could kill; but then I just exploded. “Are you serious?! Look around! Look what my uncle has! What he built! Of course, basic, broke ass niggas will want to bring my uncle harm! That’s who you’re looking for! Broke . . . basic . . . do-nothin’ ass niggas ! Look around!” I was irate and angry and hurt! And in the middle of my outburst, something hit me. When I say it felt like somebody kicked me hard enough to knock the wind from me, that’s just what it felt like. “Wait…! Wait…! Not far from here! I think I just drove past it! I was right behind the coroner’s truck! Nooo! Eva, nooo ! Oh God, no! Please!”

3
    2005

Jazzmina
     
     
    I stood in the bathroom mirror staring back at myself. I loved the dark brown of my skin because it matched everything about me—from my full lips to the structure of my cheekbones, and the mahogany-chestnut brown of my hair. I looked at my eyes and how bright and pretty they were. They were like a golden brown color—kinda like honey; they earned me the nickname, “Honey”, because of it. I didn’t mind, especially because the person that gave me that name was my uncle DJ. It was a nickname that I only let him call me.
    I didn’t get to see him that much, but I knew he