Hopping out the car, Biggie held his gun at his side, but then he tucked it back into the waistband of his pants. There were too many witnesses, and he couldn’t move recklessly like that anymore. His mind raced as he thought of how to isolate Antonio from everyone so he could kill him without implicating himself. The issue with that was if all these niggas, especially the ones on Antonio’s side, saw him dragging Antonio out of there and he popped up dead, everyone would be able to put two and two together, fingering him.
As he thought and made his way toward Antonio, dodging niggas throwing fists and some even using knives, he realized time was of the essence. As his young boy said, it was only a matter of time before guns were drawn and bullets, flying.
A sharp pain in Biggie’s side caused him to stop. His hand quickly found his side, as he felt warm blood ooze from a wound that hadn’t been there a second ago. His scowl found a lil’ nigga shaking in his wheat colored boots, looking like he realized who he’d just stabbed. Biggie wanted to shoot the nigga or grab him by the neck and squeeze the life out of him. The pain in his side was minimal compared to his rage, but Wallis flashed through his mind, and it halted his movements. When Tuesday’s smile filtered through his thoughts, he knew he needed to chill. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, but instead of taking his gun out kill him, Biggie threw a brutal punch to the nigga’s temple, dropping him instantly.
Two more niggas came at him, throwing fists, and Biggie knew he was being tested. He gritted his teeth and ate the hits before throwing a series of his own. Before he could really get busy, and before he could get to Antonio, gun shots rang out.
Everyone scattered like roaches or hit the floor. Biggie stayed standing and looked around before his eyes landed on Demo, who had his gun pointing in the air.
“Let’s go, nigga!”
Biggie looked around for Antonio, but he didn’t see him, which enraged him.
“Come on, man. Now ain’t the time. You hurt,” Demo choked out.
Biggie looked down at his side and felt his temple throbbing as he moved. Realizing Demo was right, he quickly walked back over to his homie’s truck and hopped in the passenger’s seat; the full scale of his injuries hitting him. It hurt to move, and he was losing blood fast.
“You good, bro? We need to get a doctor?” Demo asked as he got into the truck and sped off just as someone shot at them.
“Just take me home,” Biggie said through gritted teeth.
Demo glanced at him concerned, but he didn’t argue. He knew Biggie didn’t like doctors to be in his business, but he worried this was more serious than Biggie’s stubbornness.
“Man, you sure? You need some help?—”
“I’ll have my baby mama stitch me up. Just take me home.” Biggie breathed slowly, trying to work through the pain as thoughts of killing Antonio fueled his need for survival.
“Oh my God,” Tuesday cried out. “What the hell happened?”
“He got stabbed and a few hits to his head,” Demo explained as he made his way into Biggie’s house, helping his friend onto the couch; Biggie’s arm was loosely around his neck.
“What the hell?—”
“Where’s my son?” Biggie asked through gritted teeth.
“He’s asleep. Biggie, what the hell?” Tuesday said, fully panicking by now.
“I need you to go into my bathroom and grab the first aid kit. It should have everything you need to stitch me up.”
“Stitch you up? Are you insane? I’m not a doctor, Biggie. We need to go to the hospital.”
“Aye, ma, you have to do us this solid before he bleeds out. He’s already lost a lot of blood,” Demo said.
“Nigga, why can’t you do it?” she shot back.
“Cut out all that arguing and shit and quiet down before you wake my son up,” Biggie said before wincing in pain. “Go get the first aid kit, Tuesday. This nigga will faint if he has to stitch me up. I need you right now, ma.”
Tuesday stared at him for a few seconds before stomping off toward the stairs.
Demo took a seat in the chair across the room, as far away from Biggie as he could get. He had killed a few niggas before for sure, but blood definitely made him queasy when it was up close and personal.
When Tuesday came back down, she had a determined but pissed off look on her face as she kneeled beside Biggie and cut his shirt off. “Damnit, Biggie.”
The wound wasn’t long, but it was deep. She didn’t know the first thing about stitching something up like this, but she couldn’t allow her stubborn baby daddy to die on her watch.
First, she cleaned around the wound as best she could before pouring alcohol on it. Biggie grunted in pain, but she stayed focused. When she pulled out the thread and needle, she gulped and prayed she didn’t get too freaked out to finish the job.
With steady hands, she did the first stitch; Biggie grunted, cussing from the pain the entire time, but Tuesday kept going. Several minutes later, when she was done, she stood and left the mess she made right where it was as she pointed a finger at Biggie. “I amnotmaking this a habit. Let this be the first and last time I have to do some shit like this. I’m not one of those down ass bitches you find around the way. Get your shit together, Wallis.” She pointed a finger at Demo. “You better stay here and make sure he has everything he needs. I’m taking my son and going home.”
