He turned to see Relic already on the go, swiping up a duffel to hook onto his shoulder. Relic grabbed the second bag and tossed it to Los, who caught it with his eyes glued to the threesafes half of Relic’s height taking up the small space in the, otherwise, empty cellar.
“It’s money in them,” Relic answered the question on his folk’s mind. “Millions.”
“How many?” Los interrogated, unzipping the duffel he was holding.
The white bricks filling the bag confirmed the amount he was calculating from the size of the safes. When he was hustling with Relic, they weren’t moving brick loads over a million, and he was certain Relic started moving his load every other week.
“My guess is about ten mill, give or take. I lost count a while ago. I figured it was time to show you how to get to it in case something happens to me.”
Relic neglected to mention he’d stashed another five in an undisclosed location, and thirty more was banked in the offshore account he had checked on while on vacation. That didn’t include his passive income from the property there, or the business he was a silent partner in. He didn’t want his eggs in one basket. A silence rifted between him and Los, exposing the reason he had kept those things to himself for years.
Los nodded, processing the money Relic accumulated in a game they’d both started to feed their family. They’d jumped off the porch together, grinded together, and took too many losses and wins together to count. Somehow, his cousin had lapped him—left him behind and took off into the high million-dollar bracket when Los had barely made two when he’d bowed out after getting shot. He’d opened a business, helped his father with his, and then stowed the rest of his bread away for a rainy day, while Relic had the kind of money that rainy days didn’t exist with. It fucked with Los, but he didn’t address it.
“So, this is where you keep your work? P said you’d put it in the restaurant, but I knew that had to be a lie,” he stated instead.
“Nah, that was a one-time thing.”
Relic withheld that it was the first time he’d thought eyes were on him, so he hid the product there in case of an emergency. Shabu would’ve been in for a surprise, finding out he’d have to get those bricks off for Relic to keep good standing with the connect. Fortunately for Relic, that was one less issue he had to stress over since the Feds dragged their feet long enough for him to exit the game first.
“Zero, eight. Zero one. Zero five. That’s the passcode to the safes,” he told Los, turning the light back off before trekking past his folks to climb up the stairs.
He knew unlike everyone else; Los wouldn’t pry for more information than given. Like Relic figured, his folks remained silent and followed his lead, moving aside as he shut his hatch door and concealed it with the fridge. Once he ensured the cabin was straight, and he’d turned off the lights, they exited before he caught Los by the arm when the nigga tried to head to the cab.
“How the fuck do you expect to get in without access to the door? Lock your print in.”
“Man, give me a fucking key!”
“You see a goddamn keyhole anywhere? Don’t even worry about it. Break in if you need to,” he snapped, and Los laughed before pressing his prints to the screen once Relic pulled up the system settings. “Don’t tell anyone—”
“Nigga, who you talking to?” Los interjected, grilling him. “You forgot who you were doing this shit with from day one?”
“If I did, you wouldn’t know shit about my bread, the cabin, or where I’m about to take you.”
“Damn, I can’t go home yet,” Los complained as they strode to the cab.
They hopped inside, and Relic shook his head while clambering behind the seats where the twin-sized bed was located. He popped off the plastic wall frame to set on the mattress and then unzipped his bag to start unloading the bricksto seal into the semi-cab wall. Los passed his bag to Relic with a bob of his head.
“So, this is how you’re moving work so fast? Selling it across the whole state.”
“What’d you think I was doing? Slanging on a damn corner or waiting for the gang to bring me back that little slice of money? I front them a brick or two to keep ‘em fed and loyal for protection, but the bulk is moved out. Every weekend, like clockwork, I pick it up and then get it on the road Tuesday nights.”
“So, you’re the distro?”
“Can’t be shit else after all this time. Anything else is working backwards, folks. I got my hands dirty to where I earned it.”
Relic pushed the wall back in place and moved to the front, taking his seat before he buckled up and pulled off without preamble. He was ready to get the hell home and end his night in some pussy he’d left on simmer too damn long. He’d been running for weeks, leaving Kennedy with too much idle time, which he realized was the reason that damn prepaid phone got more attention than him.
“When did that start?” Los said as Relic reversed and whipped the semi-cab around to peel off. His cousin cut a side eye at him at clarified “Being the distro.”
“Not too long after you got shot. I had to find a way to move out of sight since it was just me, and the shit kind of fell in my lap. I ran into the man who owns this truck. Back then, he had one box truck and had used his savings to buy it. His wife was pissed he did that shit after losing his job. We started talking at a bar, and I suggested a deal that could benefit us both. I became a silent partner to help him start a trucking company, and he gave me a means to move weight. When I presented our arrangement to the supplier, he went for it.”
“And you didn’t think to do it while I was in the field with you?”
“No, because that was my alternative to doing the shit without you. Don’t come at me like I cut you off, Los. You bowed out.”
“So, it was just fuck me? After all the grinding we did together, you couldn’t run the idea by me? That was some shit I could’ve done and still been out of the way with my family. That ain’t cross your mind?”
Relic scoffed. “Do you think I was worried about you when I was trying to figure out how I was gon’ do this shit alone? How I couldn’t stop like you because I had mouths to feed and no fucking parents to fall back on. You left me out to dry, nigga! Shabu got shot, and he ain’t fold. Pierre went to jail plenty of times, and he ain’t fold. Bet he didn’t tell you how much I kicked off each time either. I got shot, and that shit ain’t stop me. You bitched up, Los! What the fuck do I owe you?”
