Ah Zone 6 Nigga
Ithought I had calmed down a lot. But with Islah, that girl…she was making the Zone 6 nigga in me show its rare form.
From what she told me, that nigga was a clown, an average street nigga that still has the mud on his shoes cause he ain’t out of it yet.
I didn’t like that my girl didn’t feel safe; watching her toss and turn in her sleep, screaming for that nigga to leave her alone, did something to me.
We left the house that night with whatever she needed and went back to my house, where the guns are at.
The next day, after I dropped her off at work, I called some of my staff to her house with a moving truck, had them pack up everything she needed and take it to my house, and gave the rest to charity.
After all that was handled, I went to work. My store manager, Keith, was talking to a few customers. I nodded at him, let them handle business, and walked into my office, looking at some sketches I was working on, and checked on Islah at the same time.
Once I knew she was straight and put in her lunch order, I got to work on some new jewelry. Not only was I a cold ass nigga, butI was also a cold ass jewelry designer. I turned on some music, lit a blunt, and started to work on things I could sell in the store when Islah sent me a picture of her at work, and my focus shifted to her—her soft eyes, her slight smile, her hand, and her finger that was gonna get an upgrade sooner than she knew.
I put what I was working on to the side and started to draw up something I wanted to see on her finger when Keith knocked on my door before walking in and taking a seat in the chair in front of me.
Keith was not only my store manager, but he’s been my nigga since we used to run the blocks together, getting in trouble. The difference between us was that jail one time was enough for me to find a different route to make money, and he didn’t stop going to jail until I gave him a job.
I’m glad we had both calmed down, but we both knew how to get back to the action like it was nothing and move smarter.
“Wussup, nigga? You sounded stressed this morning when you asked me to open.”
I nodded, dropping my pencil on the desk.
“Not stressed, annoyed. My girl got an issue that’s fuckin’ with her mental.”
Keith raised an eyebrow. “What the hell is going on?”
I paused for a second, thinking about how I wanted to go about solving my issue.
“I need you to take it back—way back, and find a nigga for me.”
Keith smirked, nodding his head slowly.
“Tell me more nigga, you know I’m always with it.”
I chuckled. “My girl’s ex, she moved here to get away from the nigga. Her mama called her the other night, telling her he knows that she’s in the A.”
“What information do you want?” Keith asked.
“Everything,” I said quick. “His name is Gio, Gio Cannon. I need to know everything about this nigga.”
Keith nodded as he stood up. “I’ll get on it.”
He walked out, and I got back to work.
Or at least tried to.
My pencil was moving, but my mind wasn’t on any designs. Every line I put down kept turning into something else.
I leaned back in my chair, relit my blunt, watching the smoke curl up to the ceiling slow while I stared at my sketch. When I got a text from Islah.
Islah:Today is going by so slow, and my feet hurt.
I hopped up, grabbed the things I needed, and walked out of my office.
“Aye,” I said, shouting for Keith. He peeked his head out of his office and gave me a slight nod. “You can hold shit down today?”
