“Four up in each ride. We’ll hit them harder than ever. The first car shoots first. When they think it’s over and lower their guard, the second car rides up and attacks and then the third car. Get as many as you can, if not them all. You know the drill.”
“Everyone armed?” Jermaine grunts.
They all nod. Pulling Tariq aside before we get into the car, I ask, “Your girl ain’t gonna be a problem, is she?”
“Nah, I told her to relax and that this won’t take long.”
He doesn’t fill me with much hope. He climbs in the back, and I take the seat up front.
“Ready?” Jermaine asks.
Digging my gun out of my holster, I hold it in my lap.
“Fuck yeah.”
Sat in my car, waiting on a delivery of guns to replenish our stash after hitting the 2-Guns twice, my thumb hovers Amelia’s name on my phone. She’s been burning up my phone for the last month. The calls are coming in less, but her texts still come every day. Coming out of my contacts and into my messages, I open her thread.
Call me.
I don’t understand why you’re ignoring me.
Please, just call me.
Fuck you, you’re a liar.
Her messages are now angrier and that’s good. It means she should give up soon. Closing the thread, I turn my phone off and slide it into my pocket.
I can’t let her into my head, not when I have to deal with a paranoid psycho selling enough weapons to put him away for life if caught.
“He’s late,” I mutter.
“He’ll be here, he’s probably circling the block making sure no one’s following him,” Jermaine explains but I already know it.
It’s always the same.
“You need to chill, this ain’t nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Who said I ain’t chill?”
“Me. Ever since you sent Amelia away, you’ve been on edge and it’s making everyone uneasy.”
Fuck everyone else. I’m not on edge. I’m pissed. She was the one thing in my life that was for me. I finally felt like I could have everything I’ve held back from. She knew exactly who I was and didn’t ask me to change. Sure she pulled back a few times but she always came back. When she looked at me, she wanted me, needed me, all over her. For some strange reason she saw past the gang colors and still wanted me.
Every night since the shooting, I’ve woken drenched in sweat from nightmares. Some nights she gets shot and bleeds out in my arms, other nights she’s shot in the head and just stands there staring at me with a trickle of blood running down her nose.
It’s a fear I can’t shake no matter how hard I try. I hit the weed harder and drink extra beers before bed, but it doesn’t help.
“If you want her, have her. I don’t see what the problem is? You’ve had girlfriends before, and it’s not bothered you when shit’s going down.”
“They weren’t her.”
“Fuck,” he drawls. “Do you love her?”
Thankfully a set of headlights shine over us, and I climb out of the car.
Paranoid Psycho Pete jumps down from his van and slams the door after him.
Jermaine follows me over to the back doors and as usual, Pete has eyes everywhere as he drags the three holdalls toward us. Jermaine unzips each of them and checks the contents before giving me the nod.
