Page 63 of It’s The Dawg In Him For Me

I nodded. “Yeah, I needed to get something off you.”

“Okay…what is that?”

I looked around his place. “You know…”

He leaned toward me. “Huh?”

I repeated myself. “You know…”

Gary exhaled. “Mariah, it is too early for this shit. What do you want?”

“I need some powder.”

His eyes got big. “I thought you was off that.”

“I am,” I said low. “I was only on it when Rosama first left. I am good now.”

“Then why do you need it?” he asked.

“For somebody…a coworker.”

Gary stared at me for a second. “Fine, how much do you want?”

“Umm…an 8 ball.”

Gary looked at me crazy, but didn’t ask anything else as he went and got it. Once he came back with it and handed it to me, I Apple paid him the money and stuffed it in my purse.

“Thanks, brah.”

He walked me to the door. “Mhm, Mariah, be careful.”

I walked down his sidewalk, hopped in my car, and did the dash back to New York.

When I got back around there, I went by Nylah's house, and Rosama’s car was still parked in front.

I parked like two cars away and put my purse in my lap and took a deep breath.

“You can do it, Mariah. You can do it.”

I pulled the 8 ball out of my purse and stared at it, knowing what could happen if I did what I was about to do. I kissed it, leaving my red lipstick print on it, and got out of my car, leaving it running, and walked over to his car while unzipping my purse. I looked around once I reached his driver's side door and pulled on the handle.

It was unlocked.

As quick as I could, I pulled that 8 ball out of my purse, slung it under his seat, and fast-walked back to my car. Once I was in my driver's seat, I let out the breath that I was holding since I left my car.

After that, I waited, and that shit wasn’t fun. I messaged Shyheim back, letting him know I was okay and watched the news on my phone. I made a few appointments that I've been meaning to do online, then I thought about what they were probably doing inside and got pissed.

By the time her front door opened, it was seven thirty in the morning. She was wearing a hoodie of his that I bought him, smiling harder than before with her head all over her head.

“I’ma see you after you get off,” he yelled at her as he walked to his car. “Call me if you need me.”

She blew him a kiss, and he got in his car and pulled off.

“Hmm…that nigga won’t be seeing anybody,” I mumbled to myself as I pulled out my phone and made a call.

“Hello, 911. I just saw a drug exchange, and the guy pulled off in a BMW truck with license plate BKRO5.”

“Okay, ma’am,” the dispatcher said. “I will let an officer know.”