“I saw him.”
“Who? Kyree?”
“The nigga from New York. Marcus.”
“How you know it was him?” Jelani pressed, his voice serious now.
“Because he’s Jasmine’s ex,” I spat. My chest tightened just thinking about the way dude hugged up on her, undressing her with his eyes like I wasn’t there. Like she was still his.
“What?!” Jelani shouted.
“We were at Ms. Marlene’s, grabbing lunch. And this Hulk-looking motherfucker comes over to the table. As soon as she realized who it was, she was cheesing in his face like I wasn’t sitting right there.”
“But how you know for sure it’s the same dude we dealing with?”
“She told me her ex was doing a bid for a RICO. That lines up with what Nai told me about Kyree’s plug—also named Marcus. The nigga straight up said he was down here on business.”
Jelani whistled. “Damn. She was really standing there, choppin’ it up with him?”
“Catching up like old times,” I grumbled.
“She knows how we finna handle him?”
“Nah. But it’s whatever. I’m off her since she wanna tell people we just friends.” The words tasted bitter as they left my mouth.
“I mean…” Jelani trailed off.
“What?” I snapped, already knowing he was about to say some slick shit.
“Money, she’s not your girl. I know you feelin’ the nurse. But, bruh—I like Monica, and she's not my girl either.”
I clenched my jaw. “What’s your point?”
“Nothing,” he laughed. “Don’t get tight with me ‘cause her ex wanna spin the block. The game is the game.”
I hung up on him. I wasn’t trying to hear that shit.
The weight of the day settled on my shoulders as I pulled up to the farmhouse. Slim and Fontaine were posted outside, passing a blunt between them.
“Sup,” I greeted them.
“You straight?” Fontaine asked, dapping me up. Outside of Jelani, he was my closest friend—and he could read me like a book.
“Nah, but we're about to fix that.” I nodded toward the farmhouse.
The musty smell of mildew and rotting wood hit me as I entered the decrepit building. I hadn’t been out here in months. Most crews used warehouses, but I picked a farmhouse out in the country. It was in the middle of nowhere, and the closest neighbor was two miles away—I didn’t have to worry about people hearing screams or gunshots. We only came here when things were about to get messy, like today.
The eight men I’d called were scattered around the room in beat-up folding chairs, chopping it up in low voices.
Nairobi did the background checks before and made sure everyone was clean. Well… almost everyone. There was one loose end that I still needed to handle.
Jelani sat in an old leather recliner, scrolling through his phone, unbothered like he hadn’t clowned me on the ride over. Nairobi had switched it up—gone was the jet-black wig from Stilettos. Now, she rocked a sleek brown bob with oversized shades that covered her face. She was off in the cut, but I caught the tilt of her head. Even behind those sunglasses, I knew her eyes were trained on Fontaine who was posted up behind me.
How could I’ve missed that there was something going on between them?
The murmuring stopped as I stepped into the center of the room. All eyes were on me.
“If you’re here, it’s ‘cause you’ve been vetted,” I started, my voice hard. “But let me make one thing real fucking clear—if word of anything leaves this farm, I’ll end you, and make sure your families won’t have a pot to piss in.”
