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“Well, be careful.”

“No, you be careful yourself, and stop by the apartment later. I may make some peach cobbler if I have pie crust in the fridge, like I think I do.”

“My favorite, I’ll be there,” Michael replied, then looked past me, eyes bulging.

I didn’t have to turn around to see who it was, because the roaring of the truck flooded my ear loud enough that I knew.

“Damn, this nigga, again.”

Michael mumbled, and I walked back over to him.

“Michael, what business do you have with Duke Essex? Why is he always coming around now?”

“It is a long story, sis, but let me go talk to this nigga. I’ll be by your house later for that cobbler. I’ll bring the ice cream too.” He jogged towards Duke’s truck parked sideways across the faded parking slots.

I'm convinced more now than ever that Michael was in over his head with something involving Duke, I just don't know what it is.

Chapter 9

Duke

30 minutes later

After I got no new information about the niggas that shot Mirical, I asked Michael about that same fine shit he was talking to when I pulled up to his apartments that night. Michael had only given me a little information about her because his brother was her man, but I didn’t give a fuck. I asked him whether he was more scared of his brother or me, so he eventually told me more about her.

He said she didn’t have any kids, and that she was a good girl which is the opposite of anyone I ever dealt with before. Shit most of my bitches be hoes or I guess I turn them that way. After seeing her again. I just had to go and shoot my shot. I can't rest until I have what I want and this Toya bitch is exactly the kind of flavor I need on my tongue.

When the door at the hair store chimed, I was greeted.

“Welcome to Beauty Zone.”

I could tell it was her from the back even though she was bent over a box, filling up a shelf in front of her. She had on some hot pink tights and a jacket tied around her waist, but that wasn’t hiding what I knew was under it.

Once she finally turned around, I looked at her for a minute, staring into her eyes, admiring the fact that she didn’t have them long ass eyelashes hanging from her eyelids, or some strong ass eyebrows bitches love to put on their face. She was natural, with a few blemishes on her cheeks, but that didn’t take away how fine she was. I still wanted to hit.

“How can I help you?” Her eyes widened when she saw it was me.

“Yeah, uh. I came here for, uh.” I scanned the shelves beside her until I saw a jar of Blue Magic grease, so I grabbed that shit.

“I was actually coming in here for this.”

“Okay, well, I can check you out if you are ready.”

“After you.”

I could smell the mixture of some fruity scent on her. Something cheap that she probably had to spray once every ten minutes to make the scent last.

I followed her up to the overhead counter and she had to walk up a couple of steps to get to the register. One thing I know about Houston is that these Chinese and Arab niggas always putting a counter up high so they could watch the entire store for thieves because they didn’t trust our people. I always had a problem with them coming into our communities and taking shit over. I guess that’s an inherited belief I got from Pops. Shid, he’d opened the chicken spots years ago because he was tired of a Chinese nigga named Timmy Chan running the chicken game.

She opened a plastic shopping bag to put my item inside quickly like she was trying to rush a nigga out of here.

“Is there anything else that I can get for you?”

“From the store, nah, I’m good, but I would love to see you outside of your work clothes one day.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t understand en-”