Chapter 6 #4
“What me and Minx are don’t have a definition.
We are what we are. I can’t even explain that shit.
She’s the better parts of me. That’s it.
She’s the reason a nigga thinks before taking chances.
No matter where she is or where I am… all she has to do is call, and I’ll come.
She knows this. She’s home,” Rose described.
The answer shocked Finn. He knew that they felt something for one another, but he wasn’t aware of how deep that ran until that very moment.
Rose wasn’t one for expressing himself to begin with, so the fact that he was exposing that part of himself was a step forward.
He didn’t know where the hell that step was leading him.
“Before I left… some shit happened. We kissed,” Rose confessed, and Finn passed the blunt back to him with both brows lifted in surprise. That was news to him.
“And?” Finn waited for him to continue. “The fuck happened? You still left.”
“It was like some goodbye shit. That’s my ace.
What the hell we look like fucking around after all these years?
” Rose asked. “And after that shit happened, I had to leave. She wanted some shit I can’t give her.
I told her I would love her ’til the day I died, but we couldn’t be more than what we are. This is Minx.”
“Yeah, I know, nigga, and it’s always been something between y’all. Anybody can see that. And it’s heavy,” Finn noted.
“Trust me… we both too fucking hotheaded. Can you see me and Minx together? She’s hardheaded as fuck, and she think she knows every-fucking-thing. Her ass can’t be tamed, bruh,” Rose vented, shaking his head.
“She might be all that, but ain’t another chick out here like Minx,” Finn declared.
“She’s loyal. She comes from a breed that’s rare.
She’s strong and she knows her place. Max and Mila gamed her up, and she’s been through a lot.
She wears her heart on her sleeve, which can be a good and bad thing.
Her heart is big, bruh. She’s back there right now dealing with a young girl that was just violated in one of the worst ways.
Minx got a way with mothafuckas. You find yourself opening up when you don’t even realize it. She’s simple yet complicated.”
“Nigga, you sound like you feeling her.” Rose cut his eyes at him.
Finn snickered as they neared the block.
“And you sound jealous, my nigga. So tell me the truth. You don’t feel shit for Minx like that? You don’t sit and think sometimes what could be with y’all?” Finn questioned as they rounded the corner of Trenton.
There was a crowd of young niggas posted and laughing it up near a small convenience store.
“You see how we live, Finn? I been in this shit since I was ten years old with you. You really think we should have a woman and family ties when we out here moving like this? What kind of life is that?” Rose pondered, shaking his head.
Finn’s thoughts drifted to Luna. Overnight, she turned into a factor for him.
She was the air a nigga didn’t even know he needed to breathe.
Waking up to her was the first time he felt okay in a long time.
She eased his aches that she didn’t even know were there.
Luna wasn’t like other girls. She didn’t bend for Finn, until last night.
She challenged him at every corner and always had.
He always played games with her, but he knew he always liked her.
The truth was, he wasn’t ready for anything serious or committed.
He thought that up until he woke up beside Luna that morning.
He was watching her sleep before he crashed the night before, and something clicked.
“I don’t know. If you had asked me that a few days ago… I would have agreed with you,” Finn said. “But sometimes shit can happen.” He started thinking about and replaying what it felt like being with Luna.
Finn had his share of pussy—old, young, black, and white. But it was something else to be inside a woman and feel her on a deeper level. He didn’t know pussy could be that good when you actually gave a damn about what came after the sex. Rose side-eyed him.
“Yeah. So you finally hit Luna and you think it’s some meant-to-be shit?” Rose teased as Finn pulled up on the block and parked.
He saw the attention his car drew. Niggas became more alert and stuck their chests out when his presence was made known.
Real recognized real, and two of the city’s finest had hit the block.
Ambrose tugged on the last of the blunt and exhaled.
He tossed the rest of it into the ashtray and glanced at Finn.
His eyes narrowed into slits taking in the boys on the block.
“This used to be us,” Finn acknowledged.
“Different era, Finn. These young niggas today ain’t got nobody like your pops or Max guiding them like we did.
These niggas are stone-cold killers. They come out the house ready for gunplay every fucking day.
Straight purge shit around here,” he conveyed.
“Rape, murder, robbery. They don’t have shit to live for. ”
Finn had to agree. Some motherfuckers were fucked off in the head.
Too many of these kids out here were raised by the lowest of the low, so they already came up empty with the morality.
Rose slipped out of his seat, nine millimeter tucked in his waistband and the AR-15 at his side.
Finn joined him on the sidewalk, toting his weapon as well.
Every young black man in the vicinity became alert.
Montrez was the leader of this particular pack.
It was obvious when he stepped between his crew, cocky as hell, with his locs swinging.
At twenty years old he was already a savage.
Rose hadn’t been too far gone that he hadn’t kept up with who was doing what in his city.
“Now what can I help you two with?” Montrez asked, gold grill gleaming as he ran his tongue over it.
Everything he wore was flashy, making him stand out. He threw his hands up because he knew the stories of the two men in front of him and how they got down. He eyed the personal toys in each of their hands.
“I don’t want no problems. So what’s the issue?” He tucked his arms across his bird chest.
Rose glared past him, taking in his crew.
Some of them stared back, curious about what was going on.
There were three in the back holding court amongst themselves and trying to ignore what was going on.
Rose squinted, studying them. Tension clipped the air and they cut their eyes toward them when they thought Rose and Finn weren’t looking.
“We need to holla at a few niggas in your crew.” Finn eyed the trio in back.
“Yeah? About what?” Montrez queried, glancing over his shoulder.
“About some shit that jumped off today. We need answers,” Finn articulated.
Rose wasn’t intimidated by Trez’s young ass or none of those little motherfuckers. He stepped past him, leaving the scent of weed and cologne behind him. Pausing in front of the three young boys, Rose searched their faces, and they all perked up.
“What’s your name?” he asked the pretty nigga in front.
With a perfectly lined taper cut, he favored the singer, Chris Brown with wide eyes and full pink lips. Little nigga had the audacity to laugh at Rose and shake his head before flicking the tip of his nose and going toe to toe with him.
“Who the fuck wants to know?” the little nigga asked with some heart.
Rose thought the shit was cute and a half smirk filled his face. Inching forward, he immediately brought his hand to the nigga’s throat. Gently lifting him off his feet, he pressed his back into the brick wall.
“They call me Rose because I make mothafuckas see red.” Ambrose introduced himself through gritted teeth.
The young boy’s eyes bulged. He saw the pool of darkness that took over Rose’s glare, and it shook him.
“Don’t make me ask you again,” Rose declared.
“I’m Vice! Damn, ease up OG,” he choked out.
“What you know about Brenyn Carmichael?” Rose demanded while Finn came up behind him.
Every one of them tightened up. Rose caught them side-eyeing one another.
“I can’t fucking hear you,” Rose urged, shoving him again roughly.
“What about that little stuck-up bitch?” Vice shouted.
Rose’s eyes bounced around, anger fleeting through the darkness swirling.
“That little stuck-up bitch is somebody’s child, and she’s been hurt.” Finn stepped up.
“That ain’t got shit to do with me,” Vice countered.
“Oh yeah? You think so, huh?” Rose released him and took a step back. “Then you won’t mind taking a ride with me then, will you?”
“Fuck you! I ain’t going nowhere,” Vice spat, trying to get buck with Rose.
“You ain’t got a choice, my nigga.” Rose yanked him off the wall and shoved him down the sidewalk.
Montrez dug his cell phone out of his pocket while Finn rounded up the other two. They were all shaken up.
“Yo, where you taking them?” Montrez questioned.
“Don’t worry about it. You might want to start looking for new crew members though,” Finn worded, walking behind the young men toward his car.
Rose opened his car door, and Finn made the other two get in back on his side.
Rose climbed into the rear, allowing Vice to position himself shotgun.
These cats were young, at least nineteen, maybe younger given how scared they all seemed.
Once they were loaded up, Finn shifted his car into drive, maneuvering it from the curb.
The minute they cleared the block and Finn’s engine roared, Montrez was on his cell.
“Big homie, we got a situation over here,” he relayed into the phone.