Me, Yummi, and Mula stood on one side with some dirty-lookin’ Los Angeles niggas on the other. They were jittery. Their eyes were darting, and the energy was off. Mula clocked it first and adjusted the Glock in his waistband. He had that cool, unbothered look on his face like always, but I was watching Yummi.
She had on all black with her hair pulled back and thick gold hoops swinging as she shifted her weight. She looked too good to be out here on business, but that was Yummi. She had a soft life vibe on the surface, but she’d bat a bitch or blow a nigga head off if you crossed her.
The bag was at her feet, heavy with product. We’d done this dance a million times. Get the money first, then give them the product. Coast taught us all how to handle drops like this, but now he was gone. It had been six months since we had been doing this without Coast, and a lot had already changed. Nothing felt right, either.
One of the niggas stepped forward, talking fast. “We’re short this time, but we’ll make it up next?—”
Mula didn’t even let him finish. “Short?” He scoffed. “The fuck you mean short? That wasn’t the agreement.”
The energy cracked, and the tension snapped in the air like a whip. That’s when the nigga made his move; fast and sloppy. He went for the bag in front of Yummi like he wasn’t surrounded by killers.
I went for my piece, but Yummi moved first. Her gun was out, aimed, and before I could blink, the shot rang out.
The dude hit the sand, and dark blood spilled against the waves.
“Fuck!” His boys scrambled, but we had them covered. They backed down quickly with their hands up. The fear in their eyes was sharp.
Yummi stood there, breathing heavily, gun still aimed andsteady. This wasn’t her first body. I’d seen her take a female out before. It was the way she stood over him like she was some kinda queen of the sand and the surf with blood on her hands but no fucks left to give. That’s when I knew she was spiraling. Coast was gone; there was no leash, no rules... she was letting the power go to her head.
Mula stared at the body, then at her. He didn’t say shit. He nodded like he expected it, but I felt something different.
We murked the rest of the niggas because the deal was canceled. Afterward, I helped clean the scene, making sure the bodies got dragged into the water. We wiped down our prints and secured the bag we were now taking from them. The whole time, I was watching Yummi. She wiped the blood off her hand like it was nothing. The way she smirked when one of the other dudes started crying. The way shelooked at me and Mula, like she didn’t even need us anymore.
That’s when it hit me.This is my chance.Yeah, she was powerful butbroken underneath, and I could mold that.
She ain’t know it yet, but she needed me.
$$$$$
That night, I took her back to our spot. We drank. We smoked. Ispiked her drink, just a little—enough to loosen her up. I saw it take effect by the way her pupils dilated.
“You do your shit out in the field, but you don’t gotta carry this, Yummi,” I whispered to her while R&B music hummed low in the background, while the city lights blinked far away.
She was lying back on the couch, eyes half-lidded, skin glowing in the low light, still fresh from the kill, and I could see it—the crack in her armor.
“You don’t need that life. You don’t need to do runs with Mula. You don’t need him. You need me. He’s talking about retiring the water anyway.”
Her head lolled to the side as her lips parted like she wanted to argue, but the words got stuck somewhere in her throat. I leaned in close enough that my breath touched her ear.
“Let me save you, Yumila. I’m the only one who can.”
And right then, I knew she was mine. I saw it in her eyes—half-glazed, half-lost, that war going on inside her. All of it ate her alive.
I leaned in closer, my voice low like a secret. “You don’t need to carry that weight... You don’t need to be out here killing niggas. That’s not you. That’s not what Coast wanted for you.”
Her eyes fluttered, mouth parting like she wanted to protest, but I watched it—the way the fight drained out of her. The alcohol, the drug I slipped into her drink, the grief, all mixed together, which left hersoftandpliable.
She exhaled a slow, shaky breath.
“I just... I don’t know what I’m doin’ no more, Hurricane. Feels like I’m drowning. Coast is gone. Mula don’t... he doesn’t get it. And I’m so fucking tired of acting strong all the time. Like I gotta hold this shit down for everybody.” Her voice cracked, and I had her.
I reached over, brushed a finger down her cheek, and caught the tear that slipped out.
“I get it, Yummi. I see you. Ain’t nobody else gon’ take care of you like me.”
She stared at me for a beat, long and searching. Then, almost like she was giving in, she nodded once, slowly.
“Okay. Okay.”
