Chapter 2
“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” Keem informed us, adding dramatic flair that he was known for. I watched him rub his hands together as if this was going to be easy money. By the multiple hoots in the room, I was the only one who knew he was forgetting the most important detail of it all.
I huffed out a breath and shook my head, thinking about what it would take for us to win that pot of money. “Calm your happy ass down. You’re forgetting we don’t have a female to enter the race.” My voice was stern and even as it cut through the excitement like a sharp blade.
The rules for the race were very specific because them FBA niggas who started the pot knew for a fact we didn’t have someone to put up against them.
In any other race, we were smoking them niggas and collecting their bread on a weekly basis like clockwork.
A strictly female race was the only way for them to have one up on us because, otherwise, we were undefeated in the street racing scene.
I wasn’t the kind of leader to sacrifice my people for the hell of it.
When it came to the Carolina Cutthroat Boyz, I vetted everyone personally to the point where I knew their strengths and weaknesses on and off the bike.
All members were cutthroat in the area I needed them to be, which was why our family ran like a well-oiled machine.
Among the few members we had, there was no one I’d choose to race on our behalf with full confidence.
The room fell into an eerie silence as the truth settled in.
“I mean, for two hundred thousand, I’ll do it, big bro,” Laprada, my sister and sergeant in arms, said from where she was leaning against the wall.
My sister was a damn good rider, but even I knew she couldn’t handle La Muerte.
It didn’t get that name for nothing; that curve was deadly.
Had already claimed the lives of hundreds of riders.
I wasn’t that thirsty for the bread to offer up my sister like that.
“No disrespect to your skills, sis, but your lack of control is a risk.” For emphasis, I paused and added, “And I’m not just talking about riding.”
Every member of the leadership board in the room knew exactly what I meant.
Prada was not to be fucked with on any day of the week, if you wanted to live to talk about it.
I’d seen her bring more men to their knees in tears than a little, which was why she was the only person I trusted to be the enforcer for CCB.
She ran a tight ship but lacked the discipline and control needed to successfully win that race.
She huffed with a shrug. “True.” One of our members, Teddy, chuckled from where he sat. Prada leaned off the wall with a frown. “Something funny, nigga?” she asked with the same ice I usually spoke with.
“N-nah.” He stuttered like a pussy.
In a quick motion, she closed the distance between them and gripped the back of his neck. Before anyone could blink, she slammed his face into the table, then returned to her position on the wall. “That’s what I thought.”
This time, I was the one laughing because she’d just proven my point.
She had not an ounce of control in her body.
There was no way she was getting us that money.
Well, fuck the money. I wanted the glory.
The respect. The bragging rights. Winning the pot would be a bonus.
I was just looking forward to spitting in them niggas’ faces when we proved, yet again, why we were the best.
Leaning back in my seat, I tapped the arm of my chair, trying to plot on our next move. Before I got the chance to speak, the incessant vibrating of a phone cut me off. I glanced toward the end of the table where my OG Quick sat fumbling with his device.
Quick only stepped down as CCB president a year ago because his reign had come to an end.
He was very wise and had seen a lot. I was not too proud to seek counsel when required, so he was still allowed to attend church.
Not to mention, the man had practically raised me after my father was gunned down.
He always said that Keem and I reminded him of him and my father when they were younger.
I never knew if that was a good or bad thing because I knew they raised hell.
“Shit, my bad. It’s Lee. She keeps calling for some reason.
I’m going to step out to take this,” he informed me before shooting to his feet and rushing through the back door.
Hakeem tensed in his seat, watching the door his father had just disappeared out of.
I’d known this nigga for most of my life and knew he always sat up a little straighter when one of his sisters were mentioned.
“You’re excused, Keem,” I said in case he wanted to step out too.
He shook his head, sitting back in his seat. “Nah, I’m sure it’s cool.”
The room fell silent once again apart from the grunt of the springs on someone’s chair as they pressed their weight deeper into it.
I ran a hand down my face and sighed. “Alright, well give me some time to figure out how we can bring that pot of money home for the La Muerte race. In the meantime, Drez, give the info on the next ride-out.”
Everyone’s attention shifted to my road captain.
After he filled us in on when and where we’d be meeting, I adjourned church for the night.
I went hard on my workout earlier and was feeling a little stiff.
I was going to call up my favorite masseuse to work out the kinks before she let me shoot a load off down her throat.
We all looked up as Quick came barreling back into the room. I could immediately tell he was on ten. That was my superpower, reading people. He found Keem and said, “We gotta go.”
Hakeem shot to his feet without question. Like I said, he was always on go when it came to his sisters. “What is it?”
“That bitch ass governor nigga has been beating on Harlo.”
Keem’s face turned into a deep scowl. “The fuck,” he spat in disbelief, ready to roll out with his father.
It was crazy how the mere mention of her name could send my heart into a sprint.
Yet, hearing that square she married was putting his hands on her made my blood boil.
Everything within me was playing a game of tug of war, but that was the norm when it came to Harlo Ransom, my best friend’s younger sister whom I hadn’t thought about in a little minute.
She’d ghosted everybody, the last I’d heard, and while Keem wanted to press her about it, Quick told him to let her breathe.
“Our LoLo? Oh, hell nah. That bitch ass nigga has the game fucked up. We out,” Laprada said with the nastiest scowl on her face. She cracked her knuckles and hopped in place like a lunatic. “Shit, I haven’t rearranged a nigga’s face in a minute. I been waiting on this.”
Because my sister was rolling, and it involved Harlo, I was tagging along too.
I could admit I was a little curious about my little baby suddenly reappearing.
Quick mentioned a time or two over the last few months that he was worried about her, but he wanted to give her space.
Something about our lifestyle being too much for her to handle.
I never pried into his personal life, because it wasn’t my business. However, if there was one thing I did know about Quick it was that he didn’t play about his children. He was a very active father to this day, and they were all grown as fuck.
“Y’all pussies rolling too?” Prada asked, turning toward my other best friend, Mosiah, and Drez, who were the only ones left after church was adjourned.
Mo cut his eyes at my sister. With his arms folded over his chest, he said, “Don’t fucking play with me, P,” he warned her. “I done told you ’bout that shit.”
Laprada loved to challenge everyone’s masculinity for the hell of it, but she especially loved to fuck with Mosiah.
Mainly because he was quiet and kept to himself, so she was convinced he was a serial killer.
She alleged she saw him skin a cat alive once.
It was never proven, but then again, it was Prada, and you damn near couldn’t believe a motherfucking thing she said anyway.
That just seemed like too crazy of a story to pull out of her ass, but stranger things had happened before, so only God knew the truth.
She held her hands up in mock surrender. “My bad, big daddy.” We all fell over laughing because why would she say that with her gay ass. For a moment there, she made us forget about the fucking bat signal we’d gotten.
“Yeah, I’m rollin’,” Mo finally replied.
“Me too,” Drez said because he was always looking for trouble. Being raised by gorillas would do that to you, though.
Since it was settled that we were all going, we were six deep peeling out from the clubhouse, following Quick as he led the way.
We ended up at a brownstone on the West Side that was only twenty minutes from the clubhouse on Chesterfield.
Prada hung back to surveil the area first before we all marched to the porch.
Keem banged on the front door like the damn police. It was snatched open a second later to reveal Lee’s crazy ass. Her eyes bounced from face to face, seeing us all standing there. “Damn, I didn’t think you were going to bring the whole calvary.”
“You call, you know we come runnin’, baby mama,” my gay ass sister said from behind me. I shook my head and ignored the blush on Lee’s face. They were a mess, because Lee couldn’t decide if she wanted to be fully gay or not. Those were her words, not mine.
“Where is she?” Quick asked, getting right to business which was something I always liked about him.
Her expression turned serious when she stepped back to allow us access inside. “In the living room with Angel.”
Quick didn’t waste a second before he took off inside. Keem was on his heels, and I was right behind him, with Mo, Drez, and Prada taking up the rear. I figured they’d been here before because they knew how to get to the living room without direction.