Monty.
That name kept echoing in my head like my favorite rap song on repeat. That nigga kept texting my woman like he had a place in her life. Like he belonged there. Nigga was acting like I was a pussy ass nigga, allowing his bitch ass a spot in her life.
I shook my head and pulled my phone out.
“Yeah,” I muttered to myself. “We gone fix this tonight.”
I texted Hussle and told him to get ready. Then I started my car and pulled off toward his place.
When I pulled up outside his house, Hussle was already stepping out the front door like he knew I was coming. Same as always, this nigga looked like he had just rolled out the bed ready for whatever.
He had on baggy jeans with a Versace white tee that matched his Versace belt. Hussle was iced with his chains, rings and watch. He pulled a blunt from behind his ear and sparked it before opening my car door.
Soon as he got in the car he rubbed his hands together like Birdman and grinned.
“What niggas getting into tonight, cuzzo?” he asked. “You know I can’t chase no females with you, but a nigga always down for the turn up.”
Hussle passed me his blunt, I exhaled smoke slowly before answering.
“Nah,” I said calmly. “This ain’t no turn up.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I’m about to handle some personal business.” I stated, clenching my jaw.
He leaned back in the seat, studying my face for a second.
“Personal business?” he repeated. “What kinda business?”
I glanced over at him.
“The kinda business where I gotta remind a nigga to stay in his lane.”
That made Hussle sit up a straight.
“Ahhh,” he said, nodding slowly. “So, this about a female.”
I didn’t answer right away, instead I asked him…
“You strapped?”
He looked at me like I had just asked the dumbest question in the world.
“Nigga… what kinda question is that?” he said. “You shoulda told me we were running down on somebody. Got me out here smelling good in Versace and shit.”
He brushed imaginary dust off his shirt like he was offended. I smirked slightly.
“You ain’t gotta get dirty,” I told him. “Just watch my back.”
Hussle shrugged.
“Say less.”
Soon as the words left his mouth, I received a text from Rellianah. It was Monty’s address along with her sending dollar emojis. I put his address in my Gps and sped off from in front of Hussle’s house.
Neither of us spoke during the drive after that. The music filled the car while my mind replayed the image of Layloni smiling at her phone. When we finally pulled up to the quiet neighborhood, Hussle looked around slowly.
“This that niggas house?” he asked.
