I heard him moving around, putting the call on speaker.
“Yeah, I just sent it to you.”
I looked at my phone and sent that shit to my GPS.
“Good lookin’ out, nigga, I’m bout see what this nigga talkin’ about.”
“I feel you.” He paused for a second. “You need backup?”
I smirked to myself with a slight laugh, not because Keith was soft. My nigga was trained to go. But the thought of me needing backup for that clown ass nigga sounded crazy to me.
“You really think I need backup, nigga? You know that nigga ain’t got shit on me. My hands lethal, and my aim ain’t like no nigga in the A.”
Keith laughed. “Oh, shit, the monster is back! That’s my nigga.”
I laughed. “Nigga, I’ll see you later.”
I drove across my city, one hand on the wheel, eyes low while the morning traffic started to pick up around me. The city was starting to wake up. Niggas rushing to work with their bass thumping in passing, ladies fixing their makeup at each red light. Back in my day, when I was a YN, I would just be heading in after a long night on the block.
Meanwhile, I was on my way to hunt a nigga down before anybody was about to punch in.
I hit a few side streets to avoid some traffic and pulled up to the motel in no time.
That shit looked exactly how I expected it to. Run down. Cheap. The type of shit a nigga stay at when they were tryna stay low or was cracked out. I looked to my right and saw some niggas walking past my car, eyeing me hard.
As I watched them, I looked up at the motel sign. I chuckled to myself. That shit was half lit. The fucking blue neon light was flickering like a bitch.
“Man, I know that nigga getting bit up,” I muttered to myself.
I cut my shit off, hopped out of my Rover truck. Had to switch it up for this mission. I adjusted my orange, slick, short-sleeve shirt, black slacks, my Stacy Adams reflecting from the bright ass morning sun, along with my jewelry. I adjusted my Glock in the front of my pants as I made my way across the street, still keeping an eye on them goofy ass niggas. I walked around the side and up the stairs, looking at all the doors until I reached room 231.
I stopped in front of the door, staring at the bitch, and wasted no time. This nigga was fucking up the peace I created for myself and the peace I wanted Islah to have.
I raised my hand to knock and stopped just before my fist hit the door, and a grin came over my face. I stepped back slightly, one hand resting near my Glock while I looked down the walkway. An old head was smoking outside one of the rooms farther down, but the second our eyes met, he looked the fuck away quick.
Smart nigga.
I turned my attention back to the door and drove my foot into it as hard as hell.
BOOM!
The weak-ass lock gave out instantly, and the door flew back, slamming against the wall while I rushed in with my Glock out.
My eyes scanned the room fast.
Bed. Closet. Bathroom… The room was empty.
“Fuck!” I yelled out, noticing that nigga left in a hurry.
The room still smelled like smoke, and the bottle of Hennessy that was sitting on the dresser was still cold. I kept walking around the lil’ ass room, and when I saw it was something on the bed, I walked over, and I was red.
It was a picture of Islah and me from our Facebook post; that nigga had made the shit red.
That nigga knew I would be coming for his bitch ass.
A smart, dumb nigga…smart of him to run. Dumb of him to run from me.
I smirked to myself and nodded as I folded the picture and slid it in my pocket. Gio thought he was gonna run from me? In my city? He really didn’t know how I moved… I straightened my ways, but I was still a Zone 6 nigga at heart, and he was finna meet the old me.
