Chapter 3 #3
“I lost my appetite,” Lethal responded making Block laugh again.
With a kiss of his teeth, Lethal glowered at his brother.
“I’m glad it’s funny. Childish ass. Most days you’re like the Grinch that stole Christmas.
No one can pay you to smile but today, you turn into tickle me Elmo and shit. Giggling ass nigga.”
Block’s laughter intensified as he stuck his middle finger up at his brother. “And it brings me great joy to be able to do something that I rarely do at your expense. Fuck nigga.”
With his elbows resting on his knees, Lethal leaned forward and rubbed his silky waves.
Block’s prediction had him more stressed than he wanted to be.
He was closer to thirty than he was to twenty.
Money was something he didn’t have to worry about and though he was single, all of the women he’d entertained were cool.
He didn’t want to create broken homes, but he’d never be with a woman just because she got pregnant.
Out of all the women he’d slept with, none of them really seemed like bad candidates to have his child, but that wasn’t where his mental was at the moment.
Lethal had grown up with a father. Even when Tech went to prison, he called his sons weekly.
He made sure they had everything they needed and whether on the phone or in person, he always dropped jewels on them and gave them game in every conversation.
Tech was the reason that Lethal had so much discipline and structure.
Even though he’d been a drug dealer, Tech was smart.
He had a routine, and he took life seriously.
He told his sons he didn’t give a shit what their profession was.
Without discipline, an intense work ethic, and the determination to succeed, they wouldn’t excel.
Lethal had a great example, and he knew what it took to be a good father, but he wasn’t ready for all that. His head lifted, and he watched his brother shovel fried rice into his mouth. “Maybe I can eat if I smoke,” he mumbled.
Lethal didn’t smoke often. He didn’t have any fights coming up immediately.
Once he left Miami, he planned to rest for a week or so and then get back to it.
He would train for about six weeks. By then, anything that he smoked would be out of his system.
Of course, he could be randomly asked to take a drug test with no kind of notice, but that hadn’t happened yet.
He didn’t even have to take a test before each fight.
He’d found that the sport of boxing was a little more lenient than other sports when it came to drug testing. At least that had been his experience.
“What theme baby shower you want?”
“You really starting to piss me off.”
Block shrugged passively. “I’m trying to help you.”
Lethal didn’t smoke enough to have weed in his possession but Block did.
Standing to his feet, Lethal entered the bedroom that Block was occupying and searched for his weed stash.
The pricy Airbnb was technically no smoking, but Block had paid a pretty penny for three nights in the condo.
He’d stayed in the same exact unit before and knew that as long as he left the place clean and smoked out on the balcony, so the condo wouldn’t smell like weed and no neighbors complained, the owner didn’t trip about him smoking.
During his last stay, Block had seen an NFL player in the elevator and a rapper in the lobby.
His ‘type’ was common in the building, so no one really tripped too much when he ambled into the lobby smelling like a pound of skunk.
When Lethal was done rolling the blunt, he lit it causing Block to frown.
“You went in my shit without asking permission, rolled a blunt, and now you’re about to smoke in my face.” He shook his head at his brother’s audacity. “In a no smoking unit.”
“You act like you can’t hit the blunt.”
“I don’t smoke while I’m eating,” Block’s glower deepened. “That shit tastes nasty as hell when I’m eating.”
Lethal’s shoulders hiked into a passive shrug. “I probably won’t smoke the whole thing anyway. I’ll put it out when I’m done, and you can smoke the rest. I just want an appetite.”
Block didn’t respond. He finished his food while his brother smoked out on the balcony.
By the time Block was done eating, Lethal’s eyes were damn near closed, and he had put the blunt out.
Block downed a bottle of water, picked the blunt up from the ashtray, and walked out onto the balcony.
The weed had done its’ job because he heard the microwave humming as Lethal warmed up some of the food that was left in the kitchen.
Drowning out the sounds of the microwave, Block sucked smoke into his lungs as he stared out at the city.
He loved the view and would never grow tired of looking at it.
One thing Block knew for certain was that there were plenty of drug dealers in the world.
But not all of them lived like him. Not everyone excelled in the art of hustling.
He was blessed beyond measure, and he didn’t take it for granted.
Block had spent so much time in go mode that he hadn’t slowed down to think about the fact that in the next year, his father would be home.
Block was looking forward to being relieved of his duties as the responsible one.
The one to go to when you had a problem or when you needed anything from money to emotional support.
Over the years, being everything to everybody had taken its’ toll on Block.
He was ready to be carefree and only worried about himself.
He wanted the next twelve months to go by smoothly and as uneventful as possible.
As Block’s body loosened from the high the weed brought, he was still sane enough to know that was wishful thinking.