CHAPTER TWO #4
Rah leaned against the railing with a familiar look on his face.
It was a sneaky grin he always wore. He shifted his weight, with his Jordan's scraping against the rough wood of the porch.
His breath formed clouds in the cold air as he spoke, diamonds in his grill catching what little light there was when he smiled.
"Bro," he started, "I gotta put you on to something."
I took another pull from the blunt, letting the smoke fill my lungs before releasing it slowly into the night air.
"If this about some goofy shit, don't even waste my time," I said. My eyes scanned the alleyway behind the house, a habit of watching my surroundings.
"Nah, nah. This some real shit," Rah said quickly, standing straighter. The gold chain around his neck caught the dim porch light as he moved. "I been messing with this bad ass lil’ broad named Mya."
"Mya?" I repeated, letting the name roll off my tongue. I flicked ash from my blunt, "What she do?"
Rah's smile widened, His eyes lit up the way men's eyes always did when they talked about women who had them sprung. I'd seen it a hundred times before, how pussy could cloud a man's judgment faster than money or power ever could.
“She ain’t do shit, I just got a bug put in my ear about some shit, and I wanted to holla at chu’ bout it,”
“Aight, here you go. You sprung already nigga?” I side eyed him and he laughed.
"I ain’t sprung nigga but shit Shorty ass is pressure. she thick as fuck, tall, pretty as hell, with a mouth that’s slick as hell, shit keeps my dick hard." he said,. "She be keeping a nigga on his toes."
I could hear the pride in his voice, that special kind of boasting men do when they think they've landed something special. Rah was always focused on bitches. And I could tell that this one was no different.
"You always got something going on with a bitch," I said, shaking my head slightly.
"Mannnnn, but this one different," Rah replied, his voice dropping an octave, getting serious. He leaned in closer, the smell of his cologne mixing with the weed smoke hanging in the air between us. "She got a big brother named Yatta, and the nigga solid. He been looking for a new connect."
That made me turn fully toward him, my full attention engaged now. Business talk. The name Yatta had crossed my radar before. It was nothing major, just whispers in the streets. But I had heard of him.
"Hol’ up," I said, eyes narrowing as I studied Rah's face in the dim light. "You talking about fucking with new niggas now?"
New blood meant unknown variables. Unknown loyalty.
Unknown temperament. In our business, unknown usually meant dangerous.
I hadn't built what I had by taking unnecessary chances on strangers.
Trust was earned through time and trial, not handed out because someone's sister had Rah’s stupid ass pussy whipped.
Rah straightened up, recognizing the shift in my tone. This wasn't his first time bringing me an opportunity, and he knew how to read my reactions.
"I know how you feel about that," he acknowledged, nodding slowly. "But hear me out. I heard of Yatta way before I met his sister. That nigga got a reputation out here."
“And what’s that?” I asked,
"He keep his shit tight. He’s quiet. And he don’t be on all that flashy bullshit," Rah continued, each word measured now, making his case. "That nigga is all business."
I exhaled slowly, letting the smoke from my blunt drift into the air. I didn't get to where I was by trusting easily. My operations ran smooth because I was selective about who I let in my circle.
"Everybody solid until they not," I said, "You know that." The words hung between us, both of us had seen solid niggas fold under pressure.
"I do," Rah replied. He stepped closer, lowering his voice even though there was nobody around to hear us.
The trap house was empty except for Malik, who was counting the bread from today's take in the basement. "But Yatta ain’t no lame ass nigga. He been in this shit for a minute.” I thought about it for a moment.
"Where he from?" I asked.
"63rd," Rah said without hesitation.
I took another pull from the blunt, the cherry glowing bright as I inhaled, illuminating my face briefly in the darkness. The smoke burned my lungs pleasantly, helping me think.
I nodded slowly. "Aight. I'll consider it."
"So, you want me to—" he started, eager to move forward.
"Set the meeting up," I cut in, I looked him dead in the eyes, making sure he understood the gravity of my next words.
"And if anything, feel off, we smoking him."
"Say less," he said, confident in his voice. "I'll handle the meeting," he said and was about to walk off, but I stopped him mid stride.
"And Rah," I added, my voice dropping lower, more serious. The porch light caught the side of my face as I turned to him. "Don't let pussy have you making dumb moves." He laughed,
"Never that."
His response was quick. But I had seen shit like this happen too many times before. Men who thought with their dick ended up making decisions that cost them everything.
Still, if this nigga Yatta was as solid as Rah claimed, this could be a move that pushed shit to another level.
I wasn't sold yet.
But I was listening.