“What up nigga. I see you with your good hair, Michael Jackson shit today.”
They laughed at the way my curls were hanging down over my head.
“Laugh it up nigga. Just don’t be confused when your wife has a baby with these same curls. You will know exactly where they came from because they are going to flow just like these.” Everyone in the room caught onto my joke laughed even harder than before, including Scotty. At first, these niggas weren’t too happy about having a Quatar nigga around, but after a while, I showed them I was a real nigga. I wasn’t necessarily trying to prove anything, just being me and letting the rest of the shit fall into place.
“You want in, pretty boy?”
“Nah, I was just stopping by here to check with Elijah to see if he heard from that connect at Ruckers yet?”
Elijah was so focused on his hand of dominoes that it took him a minute to answer me.
“Uh, yeah, yeah, my auntie sent the nigga a message to get in contact with me and gave him my contact information. He should be getting back with me soon.”
“Bet,” I replied, jumping up on the counter, getting an aerial view of these niggas’ dominoes game. They had money stacked up on the table, gambling, and shit like money was just a game and not needed for survival. But shit, I say that like I didn’t just give millions of dollars to charity. But I didn’t work for that money, Mecca did, and I didn’t want shit from him. I want to carry on the Quatar name with my own legacy. Pass down moneyto my future kids that I had a hand in making. Handouts never sat right with me because I never got them. The only thing that I got handed to me was pussy, and hard work.
Once I was over watching these niggas argue and slam dominoes onto the card table, I dapped them all up and left out of the stash house door. When I got in my car, I turned on the engine and sat for a minute, trying to decide who to call back first. I had another missed call from Delilah and calling her back didn’t sound like the move because I would have to have an excuse ready.
After setting my phone down, I got another call from a female who I was fuckin in the past. She'd called multiple times which got my attention and because of the dynamics of our situation, I figured this might actually be important.
“Hello.”
“Finally, you answer. I called you earlier when I was out, and my mama had the kids.”
“Oh, I was busy, what’s up though?”
“Nothing anymore. I’m at home now. But I don’t know where my husband is or when he’s coming home, so I need to stay put. We missed our window to see each other.”
“I don’t think your husband is coming home for a good minute now. He’s caught up, gambling and playing dominoes.” I glanced at the stash house where Scotty was inside, wrapped up in the game in front of him. I know it was fucked up that I was smashing Kim while she was married, but that was before I got on good terms with her husband. I wasn’t being sarcastic when I told him his children might have hair like mine one day. Out of all the kids she’s had recently, I’ve been nervous every time that one of them might be mine. Because for over six years, I was fuckin his wife and getting information that I needed from herabout the Crew. She’d told me where Crew’s spot was, info on the time and place of Hov’s party, and anything I ever needed to know when I was playing on the other team.
Did I regret all that shit? Hell yeah, a hundred percent, and now I’m stuck with the plague of knowing there is a snake in the camp but not knowing how to tell these niggas. I know there is a chance this shit can end badly, and I need to dead this shit before it does.
“So, do you want me to sneak off? I can have my mama come from upstairs and watch them for an hour. It's been way too long Amir, and you blowing me off is getting really old.”
“Nah, I’m good on meeting up. I been telling you that the past couple of years Kim. A friendship is all we can have. All this calling me and shit has to end one day, and that should be today.”
“Are you serious right now, Amir?”
“Dead ass. Take care, Kim.”
I hung up the phone before she could say another word. Hopefully, it really does end here, and she can move on from this situation completely like I plan to.
A war within the same camp that I am in ended in tragedy the last go round, and this time would most likely be way more deadlier than the first.
Chapter 7
Jasmine
The next day
“Nigga, move the fuck out the way before I use you as a fuckin’ speed bump! We cannot lose this reservation!” Pernelle leaned on the horn while pedestrians crossed the street, balancing to-go plates in their hands.
My brother swore she didn’t need a car last year because she couldn’t drive. Now that he “taught” her, I wasn’t convinced he actually did much teaching. P drove like a pissed-off taxi driver, who was late home for dinner on a fuckin weekday.
P and I had decided we were hungry and took the kids to her mama so that we could go have brunch at a spot one of my friends had posted on her Instagram story. I had thrown on a long sleeved blouse, some leggings, and some shoes that P had in her closet, and she did the same. Thank God we were about the same size because I never thought to bring clothes to their house when I crashed over there.
“Girl, it’s taking us forever to get there. We should’ve gone to the brunch spot that we went to up the street from your house.”
“No fuckin thank you. That food tastes like air up in there. Like they season it with thoughts.” Pernelle griped.
