“I’m here,” she said.
“Did you hear what I said?” he asked.
“What’s up, big guy?” I asked.
“I told her that Ceasar is behind all that bullshit that’s been going down. I got proof. Now that he feels like he’s losing control of me, that nigga is trying to take me out too.”
“Yeah, right. You been down with his shit the whole time. Now I’m supposed to trust you?” Carteay questioned.
“Check your text messages.” I watched as Carteay held the phone away from her ear and looked at the screen. “Bro, make sure y’all call me back after y’all watch those. I want this shit squashed once and for all.”
The phone beeped as Cyrus ended the call. Carteay pressed play on the video on the screen. The sound of a man’s voice made me frown.
“What the fuck? I think we need to call nine-one-one, Cease.”
“Nah, she’ll be all right. That’s a lil’ combo I had to give a lil’ bitch a while back.”
“You gave her something?”
“This bitch pop enough pills that she can tolerate a lil’ medication.”
“She’s pregnant, Ceasar! She doesn’t pop off no more,” Cyrus disclosed.
“I know that, nigga. Why the fuck you think I gave her that shit?”
“You trying to kill her?”
“I’m trying to get rid of this fucking baby neither one of you need,” Ceasar announced.
“Nigga, you for real?”
“I’m protecting my fucking investment. Rihanna ain’t dropped an album since she started having babies. Carteay ain’t nowhere near as big as her. She got four more years of hard labor before she can start fucking up her body. She can’t afford to get fat as hell right now.”
“Aye, man, I’m about to call an ambulance.”
Carteay’s mouth fell open when Ceasar put a gun to Cyrus’s head. “Help me put her on this fucking couch and get your ass the fuck out of here.”
“Cease, really, dude?” Cyrus quizzed.
The door opened, and the sound of somebody else coming into the room had me wishing he would move the phone. It only took a second for me to see that somebody else was escorting Cyrus out of the room.
I scoffed. “And that nigga got at least ten songs talking about blowing a nigga head off if they try him.”
Carteay played a second video where Cyrus was asking Ceasar about some discrepancies in some of his royalties and payout percentages. According to him, Ceasar owed him over six figures. The conversation got heated before Ceasar warned Cy about poisoning Carteay’s mind with that same bullshit.
“Kannon, this is crazy. What the hell have I gotten myself into?”
“Call him back.”
Carteay called Cyrus back on speaker and held the phone up to me. “Did you hear them? I got a couple more, but I figured that was enough. I’ve been building a case. The one where I was questioning him about the money was recorded the day before somebody shot at me. I didn’t put it together until you said it wasn’t you. This nigga was threatening to use the surveillance videos to expose Carteay for being on drugs. That muthafucka foul.”
“Meet me somewhere,” I suggested.
“I’m not with no bullshit, man.”
I sighed. This was the scariest gangster rapper I had ever met. “I’m not gon’ do nothing to you, at the request of my lady.”
“I hear you, but I’m letting you know right now, I’m bringing my people with me,” Cyrus cautioned.
