Chapter 8
CHAPTER
EIGHT
MIAMI
With both hands folded in front of me with my fingers gripping my pistol, I maintained my stance.
Back against the wall. Eyes surveying the area.
A sweep every few seconds. Bundles of cocaine sat before me, piled toward the ceiling of the warehouse.
There was so much snow that it could sheet the city of Miami and chill it for six months straight.
“Purest you’ll ever find in the state, Flocco,” Hugo promised, piercing the bag with his pinky nail.
It was longer than the others, a sign that he was getting high on his own supply. It was one of the first rules of the game and he’d broken it.
“You’re wasting precious breath trying to dump pointless product on me. I don’t sell cocaine, Hugo. This is no secret. I sell weed and you’re the connection between me and the best smoke on my side of the States.”
“Just try i–”
“Insult me again and this meeting will end,” I warned.
“Ah. A virgin nose.”
“And it’ll still be a virgin when I leave this bitch.”
“No fun. This is where the money is.”
“Uninterested.”
“Understood. Here–”
He waved over the man just a few feet away who seemed to only be three feet from the floor. He lowered the tray he’d been holding. In front of me were four strands of beautiful buds. I reached over, picking up the first nugget and rolling it between my index finger and thumb.
“Bag it up, Hugo. I’ll make my decision by Saturday night.”
“Sounds good, Brother.”
I tightened my grip on my gun, keeping it trained in front of me as I pressed my back against the wall again.
“Flocco, my man,” Hugo chuckled. “So tense. Lighten up.”
I flexed my shoulders. The tension caused pain. I made a mental note to have Trouble put those pretty hands to work. The manicure and pedicure I’d sent her to get to keep busy for a few hours while I ran the city making plays would come in handy.
“It’s a hundred niggas and a hundred guns in this bitch, Hugo. Ain’t shit light right now.”
“A soldier,” Hugo confirmed, turning to another man on his team. “I love him. Reminds me of my younger self. Whatever he chooses, put something extra on top for traveling all this way just to tell me he doesn’t want my cocaine.”
Quietly, I nodded.
“Good day now, Flocco. Enjoy my city. Any problems–call me. I know everyone. Everywhere.”
Four small bags were stuffed inside of a pouch and handed to me. I accepted it, placing it between my chest and underarm. Slowly, I trekked toward the exit, completely aware of my surroundings. Once in the truck, I didn’t hesitate to start the engine and smash the gas, burning rubber off the lot.
I emerged from the shadows, surrounded by docks and boats that belonged to the motherfuckers who’d already made it to where I was trying to go. Staying just under the speed limit after entering the freeway, I obliterated the distance between Trouble and I.
The urgency to hear her voice led me to my contacts. I scoffed after entering her name in the search bar. It dawned on me that she still hadn’t shared those digits.
Stubborn ass girl.
Needless to say, I was smitten with the rebellious kitten who played by her own rules and axed you from her life if you didn’t play by them as well. Hyph was a different breed. My kind of breed. Just my speed.
Niggas wouldn’t know what to do with baby girl if she came wrapped in a fucking bow with an instruction manual.
Every day she proved I was the only motherfucker for her.
Niggas would gladly give her back if they had the chance with her.
Fuck a handful. Baby required your hands, pockets, head, and everything else you had to offer.
Thirty-five minutes later and the hotel key was against the card reader. I pushed the door open, heart beating wildly with anticipation. Hyph was becoming someone I needed in my life. She was no longer someone I wanted.
“Trouble, get dressed, Momma. We–”
The room was eerily quiet. The bed was made. The television was powered off.
Baffled, I rushed into the bathroom. Hyphen was nowhere to be found. Unknowingly, I began pacing the floor, mind racing a mile a second.
The sound of the door handle turning startled me from the trenches Hyphen’s absence had dumped me in. She appeared, looking nothing like the woman I’d left twiddling her thumbs. In her hand was a black deposit pouch. She tossed it on the round table, and extended her fingers.
“French tips on the hands and toes.”
“Fuck you been, Hyph?” I questioned, staring at the deposit pouch. The contents spilled, revealing what I was slightly curious about.
“And where you get them bands from?”
She pulled in a deep breath before sighing.
“Until you show your appreciation for my nails, we’re not moving on to the next subject.”
I glanced, acknowledging her nails.
“They good. Now, where that money come from?”
“And my toes?” She asked, lifting her feet in the high-heeled sandals.
“They good, too, Hyph quit fucking playing with me.”
“I was bored, Flocco. Instead of sitting here watching the clock on the wall for hours, I went outside.”
“For what?”
“Niggas like toes,” she laughed with a shrug. “What can I say?”
“What niggas? And you talking about the toes I just paid to get done?”
“They are profitable,” she explained, blowing a bubble with the gum I hadn’t noticed in the beginning.
“Explain and stop being short with a nigga.”
“When you left, I figured I’d hit up this freaky ass nigga that pays me to send him feet pictures every week. He lives here. And, promised me fifteen bands the day I let him put his tongue through my toes.”
Heat rose in my chest as I tried to comprehend what Hyphen was telling me.
“And you met up with the nigga.”
“Let him run his tongue right between my toes. Banked an extra twenty-five hundred to let him put them in his mouth.”
Flabbergasted, I snatched her purse from her arm and began raking through it. Standing behind me, Hyphen remained calm. Too calm for my liking.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for that shit to take that polish off your fucking toes. If you ain’t got none in this bag, we’re going to get some.”
Chuckling, she sat down on the bed, spreading her hands out and laying backward. She was blowing me.
Unbothered.
Unfazed.
Un-fucking-believably beautiful.
I hated that shit.
I also hated the way she had me wrapped around her finger.
It was partially pathetic.
I stood over her, staring down at her. Those lids were sealed, but still, she was so pretty. So poised. So perfect. So mine.
“Stop fucking playin’ on my top, Hyph.”
“If you think I let that motherfucker run his tongue across my fresh pedicure then you’re more foolish than I thought.”
My chest deflated. I decreased my volume and stepped back, putting distance between us.
“He shouldn’t be putting his tongue through them at all.”
“For fifteen thousand dollars, Flocco, I’m afraid he can. He could, at least. I’ll never see that man again.”
“You like running a nigga’s blood pressure up or some shit, Hyphen?”
She lifted up from the sheets.
“You’re acting like he put his tongue in my ass.”
I stared at her. Her face was unchanging. Baby girl was serious. Visions of me bloodying those big lips of hers played on loop in my head. However, I could never bring myself to lay a hand on Trouble.
“Get fucked up, Hyph. Get fucked up.”
“You into running red lights, huh?”
“I’m not running shit, tonight. You don’t deserve no dick.”
“But, lesson numb–”
“Here’s your next lesson… Your body belongs to me. Toes and all. The next nigga come close to them motherfuckers and I’m breaking their shit.”
“I–”
“Shut up and get ready. We’re leaving at seven-thirty.”
The smile on Hyphen’s face should’ve been my warning sign. Instead, it was the greenest light I’d ever witnessed.
“If I find that nigga, I’m shooting him twice. Once for having your number and again for being a weird ass nigga.”
The late evening air was so much different in Miami. Felt different. Smelled different. Blew differently. Sounded differently. Howled differently.
The sun was settling in the distance, giving Hyphen an ambery glow. Dark hues rested on her back. Golden ones on her ass.
Solitude was her safe space. It was becoming more obvious. She felt safest in her own company. While I understood, it gripped at my heartstrings because it could only mean two things.
She trusted no one like she trusted herself.
She was more like me than I thought.
I wanted to trust her just as much as I wanted her to trust me. I wanted us to trust each other. We had to, to make this thing work. And I was convinced it would.
I wasn’t bothered by Hyphen’s denial. It only delayed our union. It didn’t destroy the idea of it. With time, she’d let that guard down. And, I’d be right there to pick up the pieces other motherfuckers left behind. She deserved to be her wholest and healthiest self with me.
This is life.
The brokenhearted girl laid out on the deck reminded me of my dreams. The things I am trying to obtain in life. The woman I wanted. The way I wanted to do things. The plans I’d made.
This trip to Miami would set me up for life. Not to continue pushing green in Dooley and neighboring hoods, but to finally hit my mark, gain ownership of my father’s shop, and kiss the game goodbye.
Tire shops.
Car washes.
Laundry mats.
Body shops.
Paint shops.
I didn’t mind getting my hands dirty to keep them clean. Securing the shop my father had put his blood, sweat, and tears into was the first step.
“How long have you been standing there?” Hyphen asked, now standing in front of me on the tips of her toes.
She kissed my nose. She kissed my lips. She kissed my chin.
As bitter as she is sweet.
“I’ma nigga, Hyph. Don’t be kissing me on my nose and shit.”
“I can kiss you wherever the hell I want,” she countered, rolling her neck.
Chuckling, I pulled her closer, tonguing her sassy ass down. She was breathless when she finally pulled away.
On the boat, in her best, looking good in the sunset, and kissing my damn nose was where Hyphen was supposed to be. Only we wouldn’t be renting a boat. It would be ours. Hers.
“Fucking right.” I validated her claims. They were true.
“How long have you been here?”
“A bit, baby. You ready to eat?”
She nodded.
“Food is ready. The chef just finished up.”
“Carry me,” she demanded.
Before I was able to respond, she was jumping into my arms and I was catching her.
“You’re crazy, lady.”
“Mmm hmmm. You should keep reminding yourself of that when you talk about being with me and loving on me and treating me right and all of that good shit.”
“What about it?”
“Save yourself.”
“Drown me, baby. Drown me in your craziness.”
I lowered Hyphen into the chair and slid it up to the table. I joined her on the other side. Chilled champagne was popped in an instant. I poured us both a glass.
My eyes never left her as she sipped from her bubbly. She was in a navy top with a skirt to match. It was long, flowy, and damn near weightless. I thought the wind would take it away. Her hair was pulled back off her face, showcasing her gorgeous features.
“You going to stare at me all night?”
“I’m trying to stare at you forever, Hyph.”
She blushed, hiding her mouth.
“I’m not quite ready for forever, Laurence.”
She twisted my heart but pacified it simultaneously.
“But when you’re ready,” I asked.
“It’ll be yours to have.”
I felt my entire face lift into a smile.
“You blushing?” She smirked.
I shook my head, rubbing my chin.
“Nah.”
“Liar! Yes you are.”
I bit into my bottom lip, drawing blood. I had to be sure this wasn’t a dream and Hyphen Stone had promised to be mine the moment she was ready for forever.
“Eat ya food, Trouble. I’m running them lights tonight.”