She rolled her eyes so hard. “Whatever. I wasn’t being sneaky. I can’t change what’s already done. But that’s fine. That’s exactly why my son won’t be going back over there.” Mesha sniffled, wiping her eyes.
Heavy shook his head. “Man, I know you better not cry. What happened anyway?”
“I guess Khysen’s mama got all the grandkids or something over the weekend and took them shopping and to the arcades and stuff. Mind you, no one reached out to me to get KJ. Cool. Whatever. I was gon’ brush it off because he is the youngest and needs a bit more attention, but then I get on Facebook and Khysen’s smut face ass cousins, sister, and her friends are talking about howthey wished baby KJ could come over, but his mama is an opp,” she mocked. “The same hoes who to this day be smiling in my face and who secretly want to fuck you.”
“Man, gon’ with all that.” Heavy wasn’t trying to hear that, but it was the truth, and he knew it.
These hoes had no loyalty, and he wouldn’t dare touch any of them. Knowing his sister wanted some words of advice and for him to let her know everything was going to be fine, Heavy sat down beside her. He hated to see her cry, no matter the circumstances.
Yes, neither she nor Khysen knew about the beef between Dre and Los, but that didn’t mean there had to be drama between them. At least not when it came to KJ. Heavy wasn’t a parent, but he understood on both ends. And like she said,hehad technically put her in this fucked-up position. It would’ve been a bad look no matter how the coin flipped.
“Look, man”—He sighed, more stressed than he’d been— “those girls are young. They gon’ talk and be messy. You know how that shit goes. As long as they’re not mistreating KJ, don’t hold that against the daddy.”
“And what about his annoying-ass mama? ‘Cause she sure hasn’t texted me back.”
Heavy grinned. “You cussed her out?”
“Like a dog. I don’t play about my kids. These hoes can do and say anything on them socials but come for mine, ‘cause I’m addressing every single person, directly.”
And that’s why he loved his sister. She didn’t play any games.
Heavy shook his head. “I’m already knowing. Address the shit like an adult and don’t hold your tongue. Get all the details first, a’ight. It’s gon’ always be some type of static on GP, but it doesn’t need to be. Especially with his mama. That lady is probably stressed out. She ain’t worried about you, man.”
“Nah. She needs to be ‘cause I promise you that being weird with my kids’ shit will never fly. Khysen is a good daddy. I’ll never take that from him, but that family of his... yeah, no. They really never have to worry about me if it’s gon’ always be an issue. They know how this street shit goes. Unfortunately, we got caught up in the mix.”
And unfortunate it was, because nothing was changing. At least not any time soon. Khysen may have checked his people about the slick comments, but Mesha wasn’t feeling them. It hadn’t even been a year since Dre or Los had been gone, and Heavy knew there’d be more drama. When his grandma used to say, “If it ain’t one thing, it’s another,” Heavy was sure this was the other thing she was talking about.
8
“The count is off.”
Heavy was hoping that when he answered Cole’s call, he’d be greeted in another manner. Stealing from him was a sure sign of disrespect, and an even surer sign to get cut the fuck off. The count being off was on him, though. Partially. He should’ve listened to his gut the week prior, when he stopped by Tish’s crib, but had ignored it.
“By how much?” Heavy asked, though it didn’t matter.
He didn’t care if it was ten dollars. If you owed him ten, he wasn’t accepting or settling for nine. It didn’t matter who you were.
“Three bands,” Cole shared.
Exhaling, Heavy quickly did the math in his head. The missing money wasn’t just random; it was linked to the pills Tish had been pushing through the club. Why she thought it was a good idea to try to play him, Heavy would never know, but he was about to find out.
Truthfully, he wasn’t even really mad about the money. It was the principle. The sneaky shit. The possibility of people around him getting too comfortable and thinking he was an easy lick.
“You ain’t count it before she left?” Heavy calmly asked.
“Nah, and that’s on me. I fucked up. She was rushing, saying she had to get to work. So, I let it slide,” Cole explained.
Heavy wasn’t trying to hear all that. The first rule was to count the money right then and there, once it was collected. He knew Cole knew that, so he didn’t understand why they were even having this conversation.
“Don’t let shit slide when it comes to my paper,” Heavy advised. “Until you get it, that bread is coming from your pockets.”
Three bandstechnicallyweren’t shit, given how much money they were bringing in, but it still needed to be accounted for.
“Yeah, I already know,” Cole answered. “I got you.”
Heavy ended the call on his burner phone and rubbed his temples. This was the part of the game he didn’t miss and was slowly but surely about to get away from. Letting Cole figure out the money situation was one task off his to-do list. The other was figuring out who the fuck Tish thought she could try to finesse. Heavy hoped like hell she wasn’t on any shiesty shit and this was all a big misunderstanding.
Heavy wasn’t waiting another few hours or days for some answers. Tish was about to let him know something tonight. Pulling up to Façade, he parked right out front, dapped up the valet, and slid him some cash. Even on a weekday, there were a good number of vehicles in the parking lot. The owners, Ramzi and Greyson, had expanded the building from just a club to a strip club years ago, and it had been the hottest spot since. Adjusting the navy-blue beanie covering his locs, Heavy approached the entrance.
