The line went silent. “Fuck you, nigga, catch me!”
He hung up the phone, and I looked at Keith laughing while responding to a text from my son.
“Mannn, we bout to make a game outta this shit. Tell the streets each time they spot him and send me a picture, I’ll add fifty to the money on his head. The money goes to the nigga that gives me the drop, and I do that nigga in!”
Keith nodded. “You’re a crazy ass nigga!”
“It’s not the return of the Mac, baby! It’s the return of Lo!”
Chapter 3
First Quarter
“FUCK!” I yelled as I hung up the phone hard as hell and slammed it against the motel bed before pacing across the room. My chest was rising fast, anger eating at me so bad my fucking hands were shaking, ready to do something.
That nigga thought this shit was funny. He thought because he had the money, owned a business, and had my girl in a fucking penthouse, that he won.
But the nigga ain’t win shit.
Islah was still mine. She just needed to realize what used to be is not what it’s gonna be.
I punched the wall hard enough to crack the weak-ass plaster, breathing hard while pain shot through my knuckles. I didn’t even care. My whole fucking body felt hot, tight. Like I was seconds away from crashing out completely.
Love was a fuck nigga! That nigga tried to talk to me like I was some bum-ass nigga, like I didn’t build Islah into the bitch that she was. Like I wasn’t the nigga who took care of her before Atlanta, before him.
I knew her favorite food.
Knew how she looked when I made her upset, and she wanted to cry but didn’t.
Knew what type of music she liked when she was cleaning up.
Knew when she made that four with her legs in bed she was bout to be knocked.
I knew how she looked first thing in the fucking morning when the sun came through the window and hit her with that glow.
That girl sat in the trap house with me and for me! Bagged my work, held guns for me, cried for me each time I went to jail.
I built that bitch from the ground up.
That was my girl and was never gonna be his, and I put that on my mom’s grave.
I grabbed the bottle of Henny off the dresser and took a long swallow straight from it, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand as I set it back down on the table. The liquor burned going down, but it ain’t do shit to calm me down.
Nothing could calm me down… That nigga said he was gonna put a baby in MY WOMAN.
My stomach twisted violently just thinking about that shit.
“She wouldn’t do that shit,” I muttered to myself. “She wouldn’t cross me like that.”
I walked over to the window and peeked through the blinds for at least the third time since I had been in this new room. I wasn’t on edge, I was just tryna stay ready.
I was alone in a city that was put against me, and my niggas wouldn’t take my calls.
That shit was irritating my soul.
Not because I needed saving. I ain’t ever been a helpless ass nigga. But because I knew what it meant when the street niggas started creating distance. They thought I was losing it, and that was never the case.
I sucked my teeth and let the blinds fall back into place before grabbing my burner off the bed and scrolling through the recent calls, giving Bully another call.
