“Malcolm, call me! I need you to check the trust accounts. I think… I think something is wrong.” She cracked.
“Are you okay?” Prischa sat down beside Heavy.
His grandfather was being released today, and he made sure he was the one who took him home. Knuckles battered and bruised, he stroked his beard and nodded with his eyes straight ahead.
“Straight.”
“Heavy—”
“Pri, I said I’m good. What you doing here?” Brows knitted with his face balled up, he looked her over.
“It’s all over the news,” she whispered. “Two men found on the riverbank, execution style.”
“What that got to do with me?” Heavy swung his head in her direction.
“I’m just trying to make sure you’re good and don’t do anything that you’ll regret,” Prischa stated before looking around.
For the most part, she had her good girl persona to protect around Southwick. Heavy tainted that in a major way. It didn’t matter how bad she wanted to be with him, in the same token, he was bad for her image. Yet she couldn’t figure out how to break away from him because, at the end of the day, he had never done her dirty, and she still wished the best for him.
“Everybody is already speculating that this was you.”
“Muhfuckas speculate about any and everything around here, Pri.”
“They’re scared of you!” she hissed.
“Good.” Heavy turned, his warm hazel eyes suddenly hardened. “Maybe they’ll think twice before touching my blood again.”
There was no bragging or need for some drawn out explanation. He’d seen it in the city the past few days. It was all in a motherfuckers’ tone and posture when he stepped into the room. The cops didn’t press hard, little YNs wasn’t alive to speak on it, and everyone else looked on in weary pride. The message was clear. Heavy enforced a code a lot of people weren’t used to.
“Heavy.” Prischa released a weighted sigh. “What is going on? Do I need to be worried about me and P?”
“Nah. You know I won’t let nothing touch you.” He reached out and rested a hand on her knee.
“Yeah, you didn’t mean for anything to touch Horace either, but it did.” She scoffed. “It’s not just about me. I have Pierre to think about.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Heavy sneered.
“I think until now, I haven’t had to worry about you or the shit you’re into. I can’t ignore it. This is the same shit that took Big P from us in the first place.”
“Ain’t none of this shit got a guaranteed stamp on it, Pri. This ain’t nothing new.” Heavy gestured with his hands. “You decide what you want at the end of the day, though. I ain’t outhere hustling in vain and moving sloppy like Pierre. Yeah, that was the homie, but I tried to tell him all the time that how he was moving was gon’ get him fucked off. Since he was older, he thought he knew better. I learned then that I wasn’t in the position to be making choices for anybody, you feel me?”
“Yeah.” She nodded and stood. “I think I need a minute.”
“What was that about?” Henna asked, emerging from inside Horace’s hospital room.
Prischa had already disappeared, but she caught the backside of her.
“Nothing. Is he ready?” Heavy jumped to his feet.
“Just about. He’s fussing about making sure we taking everything the hospital provided. Down to the towels.”
Chuckling, Heavy shook his head and dropped his arm across her shoulders.
“We almost lost him, Heav,” she whispered.
“But we didn’t,” he reminded her, pecking her forehead. “So, don’t even think about that. I’m tightening security, and it’s already been made known how we deal with a threat.”
“You always make sure we’re good.” Henna rested a hand against his chest. “I just don’t want you to do anything that will take you away. Like Daddy.”
