“Damn that’s a bad bitch.” Rome shook his head.
We followed behind Zell, and the entire crew, including our street team, was all standing around shooting the shit. But when they saw Zelly and the fact that her gunplay was on display, these niggas faces got tight, and those smiles instantly went away.
“Call ’em out, Rome!” she yelled.
“Drake!” he spat, and Zelly lifted her guns and walked up on Drake and put slug after slug in that nigga. When he hit the ground, she watched him until she was sure he was dead. These dudes tried they best to get out the way, but she wasted no time holding her guns out on them.
“Next!” she yelled with fire in her eyes.
“Rod!” He yelled and that nigga Rod tried to run, and she was sending shots in his back, one by muthafuckin one.
“Nex….” She tried to call out, but that nigga Cino put that shit together and knew he was next. He knew exactly who his partners in this shit was. So, he had his gun out and started letting off shots wild as fuck, hitting a couple of the guys, and that was fucked up because they lost their life for nothing. I pulled my gun out, and me and Zelly together ate that nigga Cino up.
“This is what a dangerous game to play with us looks like. If you ever get it in your mind to fuck with us, that’s where you will end up. Don’t ever think it’s okay to fuck with me because you think I’m soft. I will eat yo ass for dinner and then go see your bitch ass mother for dessert!” Zelly gritted and walked out the warehouse.
“Y’all know what it is and how we get down. We don’t ask questions, we don’t wanna hear an explanation. If we hear it and know it to be true, you will die!” I told them, and a dangerous silence fell between us. Because some of these niggas weren’t just random dudes on the team. Some had been around us for years. They knew we meant business, but there was always that few that will test you. They eat good with us; we go above and beyond for them. So, this shit was personal.
“You good?” I asked Z when I walked over to the car.
“I’m always good. I’ma go handle this nigga Zardo; he can’t breathe another night in the same city I take air from,” she said, applying lipstick to her lips as she looked in her compact mirror.
“Let’s ride,” was all I said, and we got into the car. Rome was behind us with a few of our security. Once we got on the highway, Rome’s truck jumped in front of us and led the way. Gizelle and I never allowed our people to handle this type of work because we wanted to make sure our problems were eliminated. When we pulled down the street from his crib, Rome pulled on the side of the road and gave us the run down.
“He has nobody guarding his house. We’ve been keeping an eye on him for about a week now. He just got home from the strip club, and one of our setup girls is with him now. The door is unlocked, and she’s given us the signal.”
Zelly didn’t have to hear no more because she walked off toward the house. She’d already switched out her guns and put the silencers on in the car, and I was right behind her. The gun switch was a thing we did when we dropped a body; we didn’tuse the same guns twice. We always switched them up. It was our thing, and it worked for us. Our gun collection was fye as fuck. We eased on the porch and entered the house. Thank God our girl killed the alarm. We eased up the staircase, then when we made it to the top, we could hear music playing softly, coming from the master bedroom. Zelly held her ear to the door, and I did the same.
“Come on, baby girl, and slide on this dick. Stop rubbing this muthafucka, I need some pussy,” he spoke.
Zelly opened the door and the girl jumped out the way. Zardo’s head shot up off the bed, and he glared at me and Z for a minute before he tried to go for his gun. Zelly had already let off three shots, the force was so hard it laid that nigga back on the pillow for an eternal sleep with the devil. When we killed somebody, it was always going to be straight to the point. We didn’t come to play with none of these niggas! We left the same way we came in, and left Rome to handle everything else.
“I’m staying at the house tonight. Unless you’re expecting company,” Zelly said, looking over at me.
“Girl, that doesn’t matter. That house is big enough, and your room is on the other side anyway,” I told her.
“Stop by Romi’s and pick up some takeout. I’m hungry. I’m glad they ass stay opened late.” She adjusted in her seat and called our food order in.
It took me about thirty minutes to make it across town, and Z went in to get the food. I sat in the car and laid my head back on the headrest because I was tired as hell. It’s been a long ass day. Shit, it’s been a month ever since I left that hotel in New York, and every day after that day, Ms. More had been on my damn mind daily too. It was crazy because I never got her first name.
Once Zelly came back to the car, we headed back to my house. As soon as we got inside, we both headed up to our rooms to take a shower. Z had a dope ass crib across the bridgein Jersey, but her ass was always here. I told her, I’ma start charging her rent. I took care of my hygiene and caught the elevator down to the first floor. Walking into the kitchen, I saw a stack of mail on the counter. I grabbed the food to warm it, and while it was warming, I was going through the mail that I’d been ignoring. It was a bunch of junk mail, but one was a letter addressed to me with no return address. That was odd because I never received mail like that before. I sat down at the island and opened the envelope, and it was a letter. Who the fuck would write me a letter?
Legacy,
I’m sure you don’t remember me and right now I’m not sure that I want you to.
First off, I want to apologize for overstepping your boundaries and invading your privacy like this. I tried to talk myself out of writing this letter to you a thousand times but each time, I still found myself needing to express my thoughts. So, you can throw this away or keep it. Whatever you choose.
Truth is, I think meeting you ruined the quiet little life that I convinced myself was enough. Not because you did anything extraordinary. You weren’t flashy. You didn’t flirt with every woman that crossed your path, like men normally do. You just looked at people. Really looked at them. Like they mattered. It didn’t matter if they were in your taxbracket or had your connections; they were human beings and that says a lot about you. Do you know how dangerous that is to someone like me?
I’m thirty years old and I’ve spent most of my life surviving instead of living. I wake up before sunrise and get my daughter dressed for school, I braid her hair while she complains about homework and other imaginary life struggles, then I go to work, where I sometimes work a double shift just to make ends meet. I come home exhausted. Repeat. Repeat again. Somewhere in between taking care of my daughter and paying bills, I forgot that women like me were still allowed to feel things. Then you showed up and looked at me like I was soft, instead of the worn-down woman I truly am.
I hated you for that at first. Hated the way your voice lingered in my mind. The way I caught myself checking my appearance before each of our unexpected encounters. The way I watched you silently and smiled. Please don’t think that I’m some crazy stalker. This is embarrassing enough. Like being sixteen years old again and being trapped inside a grown woman’s body.
But worse than all of that, is realizing that I’d never experienced intimacy before. Not REALintimacy. Yes, I’ve been touched before and probably even desired. But never SEEN. Never handled gently. Never spoken to in a way that made me feel human instead of temporary. And you did all of that without even trying.
You probably don’t even remember holding the door open for me. But something that small held SO much weight. Because it came so damn natural to you.
I know this letter is inappropriate and truthfully, it’s insane. A woman secretly getting your address to send a letter sounds like one of those cautionary tales that people laugh about online. Maybe after this, you’ll throw it away and maybe you should. But for once in my life, I wanted to be brave instead of careful. I wanted to tell someone that they changed something inside of me. Not in a dramatic way that songs describe love because I’m not claiming to know you. I’m not asking for forever or even for a response.
