Motorcycles. That was all she could see. Dozens of motorcycles sat out front on the immaculate lawn. A few men were joking around on the steps of the mansion, but they stopped when they spotted Glimmer practically crawling at this point toward the home.
“Yo, you good?” one of them asked as they rushed toward her.
Pain seemed to explode from every fiber of her being, and she knew she couldn’t go on any longer. She stopped crawling,frustration overtaking her as her manicured nails clawed at the dirt beneath her.
“Haze. I need . . . Haze,” she managed to say before she collapsed on the grass and succumbed to her exhaustion and pain.
Whenever Gideon laughed,it was always from the soul. He had the kind of laugh that infected anyone that could hear it. Even the most thug nigga couldn’t help but crack a smile at the very least when Gideon laughed. There was just something about seeing a big ass six-foot, eight-inch nigga laugh straight from his belly.
The entire store was in an uproar because of Gideon. Niggas laughed with tears in their eyes by the deli, and kids giggled uncontrollably in the snack aisles.
“Nigga, you play too fuckin’ much,” Gideon said to Habib in between laughs.
Habib owned the corner store. NellanNem’s corner store and deli had been a staple in the hood of Desmore Bay for decades.Habib came from Palestine when he was in his teens. With a lot of hard work and hustling on the block, he was able to open a corner store by the time he was twenty. Thirty years later, and he was still going strong, and the hood appreciated him for that. There was nowhere else any hood nigga, around the way bitch, or little kid would rather get their snacks, drinks, and don’t get started on the deli. Habib made the best chopped cheese and fried fish sandwiches. He had employees to do all that now, of course, but if someone bribed him with cash, he would get behind the counter and hook a nigga up. Hadn’t shit changed about Habib. He was still a hustler at heart and the hoodest Arab nigga to walk to the Earth.
“Aye, I’m just sayin’, man. You a big ol’ dumb ass man, and you look crazy sippin’ on that juice box.” Habib shook his head like he was disappointed in how corny Gideon looked at the moment, but the crinkle at the corner of his eyes and the way his lips tugged up let everyone know it was all jokes.
Gideon stuck his middle finger up at Habib, who sat back behind the bulletproof glass by the cash register with his feet kicked up while his employees worked around him.
“You know I can’t come here and not get right,” Gideon said as he finished off the juice box and crushed it in his baseball glove sized hand.
“Been like that since you was young, boy.” Habib agreed as he nodded his head slowly with a glint in his eyes.
Gideon looked at the ground for a second in remembrance. There had been a time before he met Haze that he would wander around Desmore Bay to avoid going home. He was just a kid who looked like a damn teenager because of his height. He stumbled upon NellanNem’s one day, and a bond was formed between him and Habib. Gideon could come and eat whatever he liked, in exchange for work. Habib would have him stock shelves, break down boxes, and clean up. Gideon happily did it because it kepthim from his grandma, who didn’t really care what he did with his time, as long as he stayed out of trouble and out of her face.
Even after he was welcomed into the Laurent family, he would still come by the store to help out, simply because he was loyal like that. He would even drag Haze along, who hated the shit back then. Now, Haze appreciated Habib for everything he did for the community and for teaching his hardheaded ass some work ethic back when he was young.
Haze, who had been getting a turkey sub made at the deli, walked up to the cash register and tilted his chin up at Habib. “I’ma grab a bag of chips on the way out, too, playa.”
“Fo’sho,” Habib said in his thick accent as he nodded at his employee to ring Haze up.
Haze turned to Gideon. “It’s a situation back at the compound.”
“What kind of situation?” Gideon asked as he looked at the kids in line behind him. They had to be no older than ten, with armfuls of candy, chips, and drinks. He could tell they were trying to figure out how they were going to pay for all their items. Discreetly, Gideon reached into the pocket of his joggers and grabbed a bill. After confirming it was a hundred, he handed it back to the kids without looking at them.
He could feel their hesitance, and his full lips turned up into a grin. He waited patiently until he felt a little hand slide the bill from his hand. A giggle erupted from behind him as a little voice whispered, “Thank you.”
Gideon grinned, and without looking back at them, he whispered back, “Welcome.”
Haze turned after paying for his things and walked toward the door.
“Y’all be good,” Habib said in his thick ass accent laced with hood pretenses.
“See ya, old man.” Gideon saluted Habib and ducked his head as he walked out the door of the corner store.
Haze was already on his black and green motorcycle. It was one of many bikes Haze owned. The nigga had always been a fanatic over motorcycles, so when he was old enough, his dad bought him one. That specific bike stayed at the compound, and it was rare he took it out to ride. Those were always emotional rides.
Gideon got on his all-black bike that was custom made for him. He was too big for a regular bike. The shit looked goofy as hell when he rode something regular.
Gideon noted that Haze looked irritated, and he chuckled. “Mad you can’t eat ya sandwich fresh?”
He knew his friend well. Haze loved the deli at NellanNem’s, and he preferred to eat that shit right there in the store. Haze’s dark eyes found Gideon, and the small tattoos on his face wrinkled as he mugged his face up. “You know I hate that shit, man. They talkin’ ’bout some chick ran up to the compound and passed out on the damn lawn. She asked for me or somethin’ before she passed out.”
Gideon frowned. “Man, what woman you done mishandled this time?”
“Don’t know.” Haze put on his helmet and flipped the visor up. “Guess we ’bout to find out.”
Gideon put his helmet up, and they revved up their bikes. It took a long time for Gideon to stop being so timid around motorcycles. He wasn’t too fond of loud noises. His hearing was ten times better than other people’s. It always had been, so loud noises always irritated him. He learned to deal with bikes, though, because he loved riding motorcycles. Big Henry used to ride as a hobby, and he taught Haze and Gideon when they were teenagers. When he passed when they were eighteen, Haze turned his grief into rage first. They got heavy in the streetsand built an empire. When Haze realized his father wouldn’t necessarily be proud of the moves he made, he decided to do something to honor him.
