Togetha

Book 0: Pritty Novel

by Keith F. Miller, Jr.

Genres: YA Coming of Age; YA LGBT & Pride

Synopsis

Perfect for fans of Angie Thomas and Jason Reynolds, this highly anticipated sequel to Lambda Literary Award finalist Pritty finds Jay and Leroy togetha again as they fight to save not only their home but themselves from the powerful Bainbridge family’s treacherous endgame to retake Savannah for themselves, no matter the cost.

After finally reuniting, Jay and Leroy have never been in more danger. Caught in the crosshairs of the affluent Bainbridge family, who they’ve learned is determined to reshape Savannah in their own image, the duo has only just survived a series of near-death experiences before reaching the safety of the Black Diamonds. But the BDs’ ability to protect the Black neighborhoods of their city is slipping….

Missing the key piece of evidence that could have broken the Bainbridges’ hold over Savannah, everyone is scrambling for options. But when one of their own is kidnapped, Jay and Leroy realize they can’t rely on anyone but themselves to save them. Recruiting old friends, former enemies, and their most risky ally, Jay’s once-upon-a-time crush, Will, they set out to do the impossible: find the evidence they lost in order to finally expose the Bainbridges’ corruption to the world, by any means necessary.

But even as their plans bring them closer to revealing the Bainbridges’ treacherous endgame, Jay and Leroy’s own secrets from each other threaten to pull their love apart, just as old feelings between Jay and Will begin to blossom again. And as the battle for a brighter future boils over into the streets, to save their homes—and everyone they love—Jay, Leroy, and Will must decide: When the cost of justice might be each of their happiness, will they be able to make the sacrifice togetha? 

Release date: January 7, 2025

Publisher: HarperCollins

Print pages: 448

Sample

1

JAY

In the car on the way home from the hospital, I’m grateful to finally be leaving. In a couple of weeks, I should make a full recovery—at least that’s what they say—but everything still hurts. Every time I close my eyes, I see fire, I smell smoke, and I feel the heat as I choke. If I don’t remind myself of the truth—that we made it out, that I’m alive—I’m stuck in my memories on repeat.

The doctors gave me an inhaler to help with the symptoms from smoke inhalation, but what about the pain they can’t see, that only I can feel? I clutch the inhaler, more aware than ever of what it can’t do, and as our house comes into view, something catches my eye, a massive pot of flowers. We’ve received tons of them at the hospital, but this one is missing the “Get Well Soon” ribbon.

Momma pulls into the driveway, cautious. “Y’all stay in the car. I’ll be right back.”

“Huh? Ma . . . Ma?” Jacob asks as he opens his door. But when Momma threatens him with her eyes, my big brother, in all his muscular glory, stays seated, even though he refuses to close the door. “What’s wrong?”

Momma walks closer to the flowerpot, brown bleeding into blue. Its flowers, white upside-down trumpets, are beautiful, but she looks at them like they’re dangerous.

“They prolly from Jay’s doctor who couldn’t stop smilin’ at you,” Jacob says.

Momma takes the pastel yellow envelope from one of the stems and reads it with a blank face. Suddenly, she crumbles the card in her hand, then storms into the house.

She reappears, holding Dad’s hatchet, and lets loose a fury that levels the plant down to its jagged stems.

We stare at her, surprised.

When she’s done, heaving, she wipes her forehead and says, “Y’all come on out and head into the house. We’ll clean it up later.”

What just happened?

“What did the card say? Who is it from?” Jacob says just loud enough so Momma hears him from across the lawn as we walk over, but soft enough so she won’t think he’s yelling.

“Nothin’ and nobody.” Momma kicks one of the fallen trumpets. “Y’all wash up and get ready for dinner,” she says, walking into the house.

Before Jacob can say anything else, I gently steer him inside by the reins of his T-shirt. Out of Momma’s sight, we both hover just before the stairs, stealing a glance as we hear her throw the crumpled card into the kitchen trash.

“You think the flowers might be from Dad?” I ask as we climb.

“Doubt it.”

“Then who?” I follow Jacob into his room, pushing for any clues, and close the door behind me. “You think it could be someone we don’t know?”

Suddenly, the room spins, and it’s as if I’m back with Leroy, both of us trapped in the back office of Rissa’s diner, smoke filling the room. I try to close my eyes, anchor myself in the present, but it’s a trap—the darkness only makes it worse.

Now I’m stuck, I can feel the heat seeping in from the other side of the locked door. There is no one to hear us but the crackling flames hissing and whoever started the fire.

I can’t breathe. I can’t see. I can’t feel Leroy. We’re going to die, if no one—

“You good?” Jacob says. I nod so I don’t have to lie, focusing on the sound of his voice.

Jacob stretches back across the bed, pulls me back with him to the present.

No more flames, no more smoke.

“You’re probably

thinkin’ the same thing I am,” he says, holding on to me.

“We need to get that card.” I finish his thought, safe.

“If you do the dishes, I can take out the trash and swipe it then.”

“Unh-unh,” I counter. “You can do the dishes, and I’ll take out the trash and swipe it then.”

We go back and forth until it erupts into a tickling contest Jacob inevitably wins. Soon the room is silent except for the purr of the box fan and the rhythmic rock of Jacob’s leg on the bed, lulling us to sleep despite the questions still echoing in the back of our minds.

Long before Momma has to, the aroma from the kitchen begins to call to me from downstairs. I slide from beneath Jacob’s arm, creeping toward the door to the hallway.

“Where you goin’?” Jacob says, as if he hadn’t fallen asleep in the first ten minutes. I freeze, caught. I turn around and shine the brightest smile.

I make a run for it.

Only one thing can create such a clash between brothers: Momma’s yock.

Pushing and shoving down the hall, I ignore the burning in my throat and chest, hold it in as much as I can. I don’t want to go back to how things were after the shooting last spring, where I felt like a burden to Jacob.

I want the invisible space between us to disappear. Maybe then he’ll tell me how he’s able to call Leroy “Lee,” and why Taj and Leroy call him “Jacobee.”

I bolt down the stairs, but Jacob jumps over the banister. He lands right in front of me and holds me at a distance as we barrel into the kitchen. I try to block the pot, staking my claim, and fight back a dry cough tickling the back of my throat. When I can’t talk, I shake my head, brave through it with a smile.

“Jacob, let Jay have first bowl—the chicken broth will do his throat some good,” Momma says. I smile, victorious, but it doesn’t last long.

As we both sit down with our plates, something feels off. The crumpled card may be in the trash and out of sight, but it’s not out of mind.

“How does your throat feel?” Momma sips, holding her sweating glass of red Kool-Aid with both hands.

“Good. The warm broth helps.”

“I put some extra yellow onions in there and boiled them down for you real good. That should help with any inflammation.”

I nod, look over at Jacob, to see if he senses the tension.

She sips again, longer this time, a breath before diving into the deep end. Under the table, Jacob reaches for my hand, holds it.

“Lin and I been talking, and after the shooting at Leroy and Taj’s house last spring, you being attacked by the DKs along with Will last summer, and now you and Leroy almost dying in the fire at Rissa’s diner,” Momma says, looking at me, “Jay, I think it’s best you move to New York and spend the rest of your senior year there.” She keeps talking, as if the world around us isn’t crumbling to dust.

This isn’t about

the card at all—it’s about me.

“I know this might be a lot to take in, and, Jacob, Lin said there’s room, if you’d like to come as well, but it’s just not safe here anymore, and I need to do everything I can to protect you. The arrangements should be made in the next couple of weeks.”

I don’t speak. I can’t even breathe. I just stare at the swollen spaghetti noodles and the barely eaten chicken drumstick now drowning in yock sauce, heartbroken.

Then I do the only thing I can and walk upstairs to my room to cry myself to sleep.

Fully dressed for school an hour early, I tiptoe down the stairs. The doctors gave me a note for the rest of the week, but I can’t spend another second in that room after last night, thinking about everything I’ll lose. I reach for the door and—

“Where you goin’ without breakfast?”

I turn around.

It’s Jacob, wearing Momma’s white apron with purple letters that say “Love.”

“Ma left early,” he announces, reading my mind like always.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

Jacob’s eyes pull me to the kitchen table, where he sets my food—a bowl of cinnamon banana oatmeal and blueberries for me and the works for him: pancakes, sausages, bacon, and fried eggs.

“Mission accomplished.” Jacob places the crumpled envelope and card on the table. My heart nearly leaps out of my chest. I was so thrown off by Momma’s news last night, I forgot I was supposed to get it while taking out the trash.

I quickly open it and read the message written in sloppy cursive:

Best of luck on the growth of your business

—Louis B.

“Louis Bainbridge?” I look up at Jacob in shock. “Why would he send Momma flowers?” This isn’t anything but a threat to say, I’m watching you.

“Well, it can’t be to actually wish Ma luck wit her business,” Jacob answers.

I stare at the envelope. Whatever Louis B is up to, we’ve sent him our own message.

Since discovering the Bainbridge family’s plan to get rid of the Black Diamonds so they can push our and the rest of the Black neighborhoods out of K-Town and redevelop and extend downtown Savannah, it’s been nonstop drama and danger.

Louis B won’t stop, but neither will we, especially now that Leroy and I cracked the code to the jump drive containing the research Louis B sent hired guns like Frank and Myrrh to kill Faa over. It’s his kryptonite: a donation list with names of everyone in his pockets,

from politicians to community leaders.

We’re getting close, and Louis B knows it—he’s scared. But before I can tell Jacob so, there’s a melodic knock at the front door.

“It’s for you,” Jacob says as a pancake and three sausage links disappear into his mouth in a matter of seconds.

I look at him, confused, and go to the door to open it. On the other side, Princeton stands in a black-and-white flannel shirt, white pants, and all-black Timberland boots.

Princeton hugs me before I can get a word out, smelling of Big Red gum and Old Spice. “You got it?” he calls out to Jacob.

“Yup.” Jacob brings him a paper plate covered with aluminum foil, filled with strips of bacon and cheesy eggs.

How did Princeton know I was going to school today? I didn’t even know until 2:00 a.m., after coughing and crying all night. A car beeps locked behind him, and me and Jacob almost lose our minds. That’s because it’s not just any car, it’s an all-black everything 2005 BMW 3 Series.

“Nice lookin’ out.” Princeton peels a part of the foil back, then folds multiple strips of bacon into his mouth. “If I ain’t get Jacob’s text last night, I woulda neva thought to bring my whip so I could scoop you.”

I glare at Jacob, who loudly crunches bacon bits while locking eyes with Princeton.

“Don’t get mad, now,” Jacob says to me before leaning on the doorframe to get a better look at the BMW.

“Wait, when did you get a car?” I ask, half-dumbfounded, half-impressed.

“I always had one, just neva used it since I always walk to school witchu.”

“Why bring it today, then?”

“’Cuz I ain’t want you walkin’ with . . . you know . . .” Princeton tries to check with Jacob, but I lean to block his line of sight, so he stuffs his mouth and pleads the Fifth.

As we head out, as

usual, Jacob guilts me into kissing him on the cheek. But things get hilarious when Princeton pretends to do the same, and Jacob nearly chases him around his car.

Soon enough, Princeton is whipping the car into the school parking lot. He turns off the engine but doesn’t move to get out. I try to, but then he gently pulls me back.

“You mad at me?” Princeton looks as if my words could break him.

The question throws me. Mad? At Princeton? He’s been the best friend I could ever hope for. “No, why would I be mad?”

“Then why you ain’t call me?”

Oh, right. “At the hospital, I had a lot—”

“Nah, not then. Last night. Why Jacob have to be the one to tell me you plannin’ on coming back to school today?”

I don’t know what to say to make him feel better. If I tell him about Momma sending me to New York in a couple of weeks, it could—

“I thought we were boys. I mean, iono how you feel, but to me, you my best friend. I cried when I found out you was in the hospital. I thought you might . . .” He shakes his head, then reaches for something out of his bag in the back—a thermos. “Here, I had my moms make it.”

“Thanks,” I hold the thermos, as if it’s a precious gift. “What is it?”

“Slippery elm tea. Helped back when I had strep throat.” He reaches for his binder, then holds out his hand for mine.

Normally, I would resist, but I hand it over and watch as he stacks it on top of his own, silently proud. When he reaches for his door, I say what I’ve always felt, even if the words don’t feel easy coming from my lips.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like we weren’t close. It’s just that this is all so new.” I feel for the heat of the thermos in my palms, play with the top to steady my hands, my heart. “For so long, I’ve only had Jacob. I’ve never had a best friend before, so I’m sorry if I kinda suck at it. I don’t mean to. I just want you to know, I care about you, too.”

“We official, then? Best friends?” He steals a glance at me and grins. “That’ll make the surprise even better.”

“What?” I wait for him to explain, nervous all over again.

Princeton gets out of the car, gestures for me to follow him, draping his arm around my shoulders as we walk toward the double doors.

“Welcome back, Jay!”

“Hey, Jay!”

“Whaddup, Jay?”

Different people call out as we pass them in the halls. I don’t know who is prouder to hear the words, me or Princeton, as he smiles wider, watching my face. He stops in front of the announcement bulletin board.

In big bubble letters, it lists the names of everyone nominated for homecoming king and queen. Under queen is Christina’s name and another name I don’t recognize. And under king are a few familiar names. I keep reading until I see it—my name is in the center. I look at Princeton, half-confused, half-scared. It can’t be real, can it?

“Why? How?” Is this a prank?

“You sure you okay?” Princeton places the back of his hand on my forehead. “Maybe you got a fever.”

“I’m fine.” I roll my eyes at his dramatic response, hiding the warmth growing in my chest. “It’s just kind of hard to believe.”

Princeton nudges me, arm still on my shoulders. “I thought you’d be happier.”

“I am, I really am,” I say, but the happiness hurts. This is supposed to be one of the best years of high school, but I’m not going to be here to enjoy it.

“Christina said we gotta meet her out back near the bleachers in front of the football field when the bell rings—homecoming business. So, you might wanna give Leroy a heads-up, since I know he gon’ be waitin’.” He shoulder-bumps me, grins.

I try to play it off because if I think about Leroy, everything we’ve been through and the fact that now I have to leave him behind, I’ll probably start crying again.

On the football field in the back of the school, Christina body-rolls and shines with the majorettes in a green halter top and white short shorts. It’s been fifteen minutes after the last bell rung, but I look around and still don’t see Princeton anywhere.

“Whaddup, Skatedown,” a voice says behind me.

I bro-nod, not sure how else to respond. I’d forgotten all about being named skatedown king with Jacob and Leroy. After the fire at the diner, nothing else seemed to matter. For a second, I can almost hear the cheers, see the dancing, feel Leroy’s hands around my waist.

“Jay, wait up,” Princeton calls from behind, jogging so fast that he’s standing next to me by the time I turn toward the sound of his voice. “Ready?” He’s not even winded.

“For what?”

“Hey, y’all!” Christina smiles and glistens. The other majorettes grin at us as she meets us halfway, then latches her elbows around ours.

“I just choreographed the best homecoming routine ever, but it’s going to take all of us to pull it off.”

“Routine?” we say in unison. I hope she’s joking—not hope, pray with all my heart that she isn’t serious.

“Yup, something people will never forget.”

It doesn’t take long for Christina to blow our minds with her plans for this year’s homecoming performance, then a different noise catches everybody’s attention.

Four cars—three Cadillacs and a Suburban—with rattling trunks vibrate and shake egos when they stop on the side of the football field. When everyone gets out, even the air blows in accordance to their will, sending a mixture of sweet smoke from a wine-flavored Black & Mild, cinnamon, and Egyptian musk, with a hint of peppermint and Cool Water cologne.

In Timberland boots, jeans, Dickie suits, and oversized plaid shirts and jackets, swagger is the armor of the Black Diamonds, the silent protectors of K-Town’s Black neighborhoods from abuses of power and oppression, as well as the keepers of the peace, since most of the gangs are unified under them and adhere to a truce. They stand tall, for themselves and all they represent, pride shimmering in the sunlight.

Me, Princeton, and Christina walk over as Taj steps out of his Cadillac and sings, “Whaddup, Tina, baby?”

Leroy doesn’t wait for me to get to him. He gets out of the car and walks toward us, winks at Christina, then swallows me in a bear hug.

“Let him breathe, Lee,” Taj cackles as Christina hugs him.

Princeton and Leroy bro-hug, and I try to hide what feels like a body-sized blush, fully shaken. Outside of Leroy visiting each day while I was in the hospital, I haven’t seen him in a couple of days. I forgot

what it feels like to be touched by him.

As we walk back over to Taj, Leroy’s arms wrap around my waist as he waddles behind me in large steps. I’ve never felt so embarrassed—and so safe.

“Whaddup, Jay? Lemme get some love.” Taj wraps his arms around me, and I’m blushing even more.

It’s my first time being hugged by Taj—and now that I have, suddenly I get why Jacob fell for him and why Leroy emulates his older brother, down to wearing the same cologne. Just standing next to him, you can feel his strength; he’s only one person but feels like the unstoppable force of many.

“Blame Lee for us bein late. He wouldn’t quit changin his clothes.”

“Taj,” Leroy grumbles, blushing.

“Don’t Taj me, I’m tellin him so he don’t get it twisted. I’m punctual.”

“Did you hear the news?” Christina grins, changing the topic.

Suddenly I want to press another button and disappear before she says it. When she explains that I’ve been nominated for homecoming king, I can barely hear her because Taj and Leroy are bear-hugging me at the same time, whooping and hollering like their favorite football team scored a goal.

Christina didn’t just tell them to brag; she told them so they’ll make sure everybody they know will show up early at the game because she has a surprise for them, featuring me.

After more jokes and rabble-rousing, Christina and Princeton head back and Taj gives me and Leroy the rundown—we get an hour to hang, but we can’t lose our BD escort. Taj barely finishes his sentence before Leroy grabs my hand and pulls me toward his car.

Once we’re inside, he reaches for my hand and kisses the back of it. He holds it until we arrive, and I have to cross my legs to try and bury the heat causing parts of my body to rise.

“Somethin I wanna show you,” Leroy says, pulling up to the steepleless church with the biggest smile on his face. He reaches for my hand, holds it as we walk through the field until I see a mini rock garden, a bench, and a porch swing. There are flower beds on each side, ranging from bright blue cornflowers to red, orange, and yellow chrysanthemums; it looks beautiful and enchanted.

“Did you do this?” I stop, blown away.

“Issa secret, you like it?” He walks behind me, wraps his arms around my waist, and leans in close. My heart races when he kisses the back of my neck and blows the wetness from his lips cool.

Leroy walks me backward to the swing, sits down, and then tries to lower me so I straddle him, sitting on top.

I pull back—I can’t. I want to, but the memory of the shooting that happened the first time we got close stops me. And now it’s only been a couple of days since both of us nearly died, again. I just want to be sure that there’s no one else trying to end our lives. With Louis B’s floral taunt arriving yesterday, we’re hardly safer than

we were the first time.

Then I see it: a flash of hurt and surprise in Leroy’s eyes, before he can hide it.

“My bad . . .” He gets up, strokes his waves. “I thought . . .” His voice trails off, and all I can think about is that I don’t want to lose him.

I pull him close, bury my head in the sweet spot between his chest and neck. “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just scared,” I whisper, caring more that the words make it to his heart than his ears.

“Of me?”

“No. That because of me, because of us, you’ll get hurt again. It’s like we’re cursed.” Every time we touch, something bad happens, and I don’t know if it’s a sign that we shouldn’t or a reason we should keep going. But even if we do get to that point, will it be enough? Will I be enough?

“It’s okay.” Leroy kisses me on the forehead, then on my lips. “I aint goin nowhere. You worth the wait. Imma show you we blessed, not cursed.”

We hold each other until we get to catch up on the little things—what happened last night, how I’d been feeling, his recovery as well. Eventually, I tell him about Louis B’s flowers, but I can’t bring myself to mention my mom sending me to New York.

Not now, maybe later.

“You don’t have to worry bout none of that,” Leroy says as we walk back to the car. He signals to the Suburban for us to take ten more minutes. “Me, Taj, Auntie Rissa, Lady Tee, and the Black Diamonds can—”

“No.” The word comes out stronger, more forceful than I mean for it to, but I try to explain why. “I can’t go through that again: you trying to carry everything on your shoulders, making all the decisions, thinking you have to protect me.”

“But ion want nothin bad to happen to you.”

“And I don’t want anything to happen to you either. Our fight with the Bainbridges, protecting the BDs, keeping our home safe, it involves me and my family, too. All I’m saying is don’t do anything for me, let’s do it together.” He looks away, and suddenly, I’m no longer scared or shy. I turn his chin toward me. “Promise me you won’t hide anything from me. That you’ll tell me so we can figure it out together.”

“Baby, iono if I can . . .” He catches me smiling. “What?”

“What did you call me?”

He remembers, then grins, looks down. “I mean . . . it’s how I feel. I like you a lot.”

“Hmm, is that so?” We sit in silence, allow his words to work on us.

“I promise. No mo secrets. But I got somethin else I need to ask you,” Leroy says. “It’s important.” I freeze. Does he already know?

“Can I be yo boyfriend?”

“Huh?” I say, confused. Then I realize we never got to make it official back in the diner. I read his love letter, then everything else happened

with Brown Brown’s betrayal, unlocking the USB flash drive, and the fire. My smile melts the fear away.

“Yes, but only if you let me be yours.” I kiss him with no fear, no doubt. I know it won’t always feel this certain, but I mean it.

I promise myself to tell him the truth—soon.

 

2

Leroy

“The USB drive was damaged in the fire and much of the information is unretrievable,” Lady Tee announces.

Her laptop got the USB flash drive plugged in, facin us. The folders still there, but when you click on em, especially the one wit the donor list me and Jay cracked the passcode fuh, nothin happens.

“How we get it back?” Ion care how desperate I sound.

“We can’t. It’s too damaged.”

“But that’s our key to takin down the Bainbridges! We had their network—errthang was right there! Jay and me nearly died gettin it fuh the BDs.” What we gon do if errthang gone? Especially wit Louis B sendin flower pots threatenin Jay and his fam. This can’t be happenin. I put my head in my hands, tryna think of somethin, anythin.

“Any leads on anythin else we could use?” Taj asks.

Auntie Rissa sighs. “Not yet. Right now, the binder that Brown Brown took has us doin all kinds of damage control.”

“What was in it?” Lady Tee squints, the gears in her mind already workin.

“Normally, just some contacts and phone numbers of neighborhood leaders who work wit the BDs—nothin don’t nobody already know.”

“But we just had a meetin earlier that day wit Miss Rosalind, thinkin through how we could run interference at the upcomin city council meetin set to do some fucked-up redistrictin,” Taj says, shakin his head. “The mayor in Louis B’s pocket, but we had contact info of some of the heads of the crews and some names Miss Rosalind mentioned. City officials and allies willin to flip on the Bainbridges—and under what terms.”

“We neva list names, only codes. But if Louis B is as diligent as we think he is, it won’t take long,” Auntie Rissa adds as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Sorry, Auntie,” Taj says, smotherin his head in his hands. “I aint—”

“It’s okay, Bittersweet. Aint nothin we can do bout it now.”

“You find Brown Brown yet, Taj?” Iono if I wanna know the answer, but I’m askin cuz aint nobody heard nothin from him or PYT.

“Nah, but best believe, when I do—”

“One thing at a time,” Auntie Rissa says. Taj grumbles but leaves it at that.

“Let’s assume the Bainbridges know everything, all our current strategies to destroy their hold over Savannah. It’s the only way to prepare for any and all contingencies.” Lady Tee looks at me. “Leroy, Rissa and Taj mentioned you know who’s behind Brown Brown’s betrayal.”

“Yeah, Lyric. Based on what I heard and what Jay saw.”

“As in Lyric Bryson at Providence Prep?”

“Yeah, he a Bainbridge. Louis B supposedly his pops, but don’t nobody really know, and Louis B tryna keep it that way while he got Lyric doin all his dirty work.”

“Have you shared this information with anyone else?” Her eyes sharpen.

“Aside from the people who told me. Nah, nobody.”

“Good, it means we still have the element of surprise. When’s the next time you all speak with Rosalind?”

“We got a meetin wit her lata today.” Taj smooths ova his legs but keeps rockin em to settle his nerves. “But if Lyric flipped Brown Brown, it mean Frank and Myrrh the ones who set the fire. And if we right bout Louis B, he don’t like failure. Maybe if we keep an eye out, we’ll see what happens between Lyric and Frank and Myrrh. If they beefin, we might even be able to use it to our advantage.”

“Taj, you think yall can keep an eye on that, and I’ll make some calls to the OGs and some of the people on our list, so they kept in the loop,” Auntie Rissa says.

Taj nods. “I’ll let you know if I hear bout Brown Brown or PYT, too.”

I can still rememba PYT’s voice, his screams, befo the line went dead, back when

I was pissed bout Lyric pullin the wool ova our eyes and tryna make Rouk his scapegoat.

Wait, Rouk—we still got Rouk.

“If Rouk mailed the drive to Lady Tee, what if me and him searched Faa’s room to see if he left somethin behind? You knew Faa betta than errbody,” I say, lookin at Taj, “and he aint eva had only one source. Rememba them notebooks he stayed writin in? What if one of em got clues bout what was on the flash drive or who he got it from?”

“That might work, but you sho you can do it wit Rouk?” Taj says. “I can—”

“It gotta be me. We still aint had a chance to come to peace wit errthang that happened. ...