“Let’s fight, nigga. I’m gon let you get yo’ one wit’ me,” I told him.
His eyes bugged in disbelief. I moved a chair out of the way to give him some space and opportunity. His eyes darted from me to Marco and slowly back over to me.
“You don’t have a choice. We gon fight regardless. Like a predator, I circled him. “You look pussy, but maybe there’s more to you than I think. Come whoop my ass, nigga,” I taunted, knowing damn well I was about to beat the fuck out of him. I was gon crush some bones in the process.
Delion swung at me, a wild and desperate attempt to land a hit. I dodged that shit easily, my reflexes quick. I countered with a jab to his ribs, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone beneath my knuckles.
He grunted out in pain, leaning over and holding his side, coughing. Thinking I was the next Karate Kid, I kicked him dead in his face, and he went flying backward.
“Fuuuck!” Marco dragged loudly. “Damn, nigga!”
“Get up!” I barked. “We ain’t done.”
Delion slowly shook his headno.
Huffing, I lunged at him, my fist flying in a fury of punches, and I wasn’t letting up. I hit that nigga in the face, the stomach, the chest, and his ribs again. I didn’t stop until Marco yelled out, “That nigga peeing on himself, Zyro!”
I reached my hand out, and he placed the cold steel in my hand.
“Please n?—”
Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!
I emptied my clip in that nigga, riddling his body with bullets. Delion’s body jerked and twisted as his eyes popped out of their sockets. It was a gruesome sight to see.
Standing over his lifeless body, the echoes of the gunshots were still ringing in my ears. His eyes were wide with terror, frozen in a final moment of horror. I smirked at the sight. The room was filled with the acrid smell of gunpowder and the metallic tang of blood. Each bullet I had released, found its mark with ruthless precision, and I hoped I would never have to get out body again like this, but behind my family, my girl, and her boy…I would.
With that, I turned and started for the door.
“Burn this shit up,” I told Marco. “To the muhfuckin’ ground.”
I was at Eriss’ home in thirty-five minutes, sitting outside on her porch, smoking. The front door opened after I had sat out there for five minutes.
“I saw you pull up,” she said. “Thought you might need some space since you didn’t come in right away.” Her face was filled with a look of concern and curiosity. “Everything…okay?” she asked. I was taking my final pill from my blunt. I didn’t respond just yet, and she sat next to me, her gaze soft as she tugged my head to face her by the hair on my chin.
I finally asked, “Eriss, I don’t ever need space from you. You aight?”
“Are you?” she shot back. “Why is your fist bruised like that?”
“Don’t ask shit you don’t want to know, baby. How is your pain?”
She exhaled. “On a scale from zero to ten, a three, but I’m managing.”
“Do you need to see a doctor? Let me know what I can do to help you.”
“Help me by grabbing a pair of scissors and cutting these tracks out of my head. Mahlia had to work over,” she responded, standing. “C’mon.”
I grabbed the ashed blunt ‘cause I made sure not to leave even the roaches where her son might play. Standing to my feet with my bag I had brought with me, I grabbed Eriss back to me.
“I ain’t even get my kiss.”
Standing on her toes, she poked her lips out. That ain’t what I wanted. I wanted to explore her mouth and let her suck on my bottom like she did.
I pecked her lips and then snaked my tongue inside while gripping her ass, pushing her up against me so she could feel how hard she had me.
“Is my son asleep?” I asked.
Eriss giggled. “Your son?”
