“Aight. I’ll take this shit back and get my money for the other shit waiting inside that Jeep too.” He nudged her off his lap, but she stopped him.
“Wait, there’s more?”
“What you worried about it for? Only my girl gets this shit. You playing.”
Coast grabbed his face, reeling him in for a soft kiss that quickly turned into more when their tongues grazed. Mozzi’s arms slid around her, pulling her into a warm embrace. His big hands roamed her curves as they sucked on each other’s tongues. Coast was hot and ready when Mozzi cupped her chin and slowed down to catch his breath. He gently pecked her bottom lip, then her top, before pulling away and searching her soft features.
“Don’t get me used to a vibe you can’t keep up with, Moses.”
“Just tell me when I’m fucking up, Trouble. Don’t shut me out. I can’t take that shit.” He shook his head. “I got you, though. Whatever you want or need.”
He grabbed the bag from his seat and set it in her lap. Coast sat up and quickly reached inside to see what he bought. The camera she’d had her eye on was now in her possession. Her heart thudded with excitement as she brushed her hand over the antique leather case and peeked inside. It had a vintage smell to it that she inhaled as tears misted her eyes.
“How did you… Inari told you, didn’t she?”
“I take notes.” Mozzi grabbed her thigh. “And I want you to take some pictures.”
“I can’t have you just taking care of me. I have to have something of my own,” Coast argued.
“Okay, so right now do you know what that is? Or you need some time to figure that out?” he asked, sweeping some of her curls over her shoulder. “We got a baby coming too.”
“All the more reason for me to have something to fall back on.”
“That’s what school is for,” Mozzi reminded her. “Work on baking our baby girl and keeping that GPA up,” he assured her with a hand against her growing bump.
“How do you know it’s a girl? It’s like a little bean right now.” Coast simpered.
She’d been flighty her whole life, and people typically left her rather than sticking around. It was why she usually had the instinct to run herself. There was something so grounding about Mozzi, even though she assumed he was insane. His crazy ironically balanced hers.
“I just know. She gon’ be my little broke best friend too.”
“You’re nuts.” Coast laughed and studied the camera in her hand. “Well, I have to go and pick up my last paycheck fromComfort Kitchen, and I’m still going to find some kind of way to make some money.”
“That’s cool. Take the whip. Brim should be pulling up soon. He’s going to tail you,” Mozzi told her, watching Moose roll up on his motorcycle behind him and come to a stop. “Go pack some of your stuff.” Mozzi nodded to the keyring already in her lap. “Your key to the house is on there too.”
He pushed his door open, and Coast slipped out of the car as Moose placed his feet on the ground on either side of his bike and removed his helmet. He chucked his chin at Coast in greeting, and she sauntered toward the porch so she could let herself inside. Mozzi reached into his ashtray for a half rolled blunt he’d left in there and brought it to his lips. Locs swinging past his shoulders, Moose strolled toward him. He was walking around, looking like a true biker in denim jeans, a white t-shirt, and his Blackmoor Elite leather motorcycle vest.
“What’s the move?” Moose queried, leaning against the side of his brother’s car near his open door.
Mozzi turned, placing both of his black Nike Air Forces on the ground and taking a pull from the blunt between his fingers. Holding the smoke in his lungs, he finally exhaled after a few seconds and passed the blunt to Moose.
“Heading out to the farm. I’m running a trace on that phone number and had all the footage from outside the clinic sent to my network. Soon as I can put a face to this shit, I’mma blow that mothafucka off.”
“May God have mercy.” Moose brought the blunt to his lips and squinted while staring off ahead.
Mozzi knew from experience when he got all quiet and pensive, Moose had some heavy shit on his mind. He didn’t do a lot of talking. Of the three of them, he had it the worst growing up. Mozzi came from a young mother addicted to pills and men, but Moose had a mother who was on heroin and didn’t give adamn about shit. Not a clean house, a paid bill, or food to eat for him and his siblings. When he was seven, a fire broke out in their home when his mama fell asleep smoking a fucking Newport. Moose managed to escape, but his mama, little brother, and younger sister were all killed.
Some shit like that is bound to fuck up anybody. He grew up used to motherfuckers not sticking around and being treated bad if they did. If someone was nice, he was automatically skeptical and typically gave them a hard time. In the group home, the big kids were constantly picking on the younger ones, and when that happened, they were liable to end up with broken ribs or some more shit. Moose might have been small, but like Mozzi, he had heart. Him and Kong helped him scrap his way out of many situations, proving that there were a few motherfuckers left in the world who would have his back.
“What’s on your mind?”
Snapping out of his current thoughts, Moose swung his attention to his brother and released smoke through his lips.
“Ran into that bitch Tulla.”
Mozzi’s eyes doubled in size, and he propped an arm against his open door.
“Get the fuck out of here. I thought that bitch was in Ohio.”
