Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Hood
Shit… A nigga was ready to leave Bleau Gene’s a few hours ago, but I’m still here, watching the woman I love smile at another nigga like I ain’t sitting a few feet away from her.
Yeah, that shit right there had me heated as fuck. I’m lowkey hurt because I wasn’t expecting to see this shit tonight. I had to calm down because I was ready to move on impulse and slump that nigga before he could smile again.
Fumi knows this bitch sitting next to me don’t mean shit to me, for real. I knew my chances of running into Fumi tonight were high, and Cash told me she was sliding through with Nuri. I told Nuri not to say shit. She could’ve given a nigga a heads-up.
My record ain’t the best with Fumi, so I already knew she probably wasn’t fucking with a nigga right now.
The second our eyes met, it confirmed everything I needed to know.
It’s been years since I’d laid eyes on her.
She’s still the finest woman in the room: pretty brown skin, dipped in honey.
Fumi, thick as fuck, titties sitting right, ass still fat, natural face, button nose, no fillers, light makeup, hair always did.
The problem is, Fumi doesn’t look like mine anymore, and that realization hit harder than I expected.
“Hood…” The bitch on my lap rubbed her hand across my chest.
“Can you stop daydreaming and focus on me?”
I looked down at her. “Bitch… can you move the fuck around?”
Her face twisted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means get the fuck out of my face.”
She rolled her big ass eyes before climbing off my lap.
Good.
I never wanted her here in the first place. I’m still tripping because Fumi never acknowledged me. Not once; it didn’t matter. That silence kept eating at me.
I know she felt my fucking presence. She knew I was in this motherfucka place, checking for her ass.
I watched Fumi move through the club, laughing, smiling, and living…
Like a nigga ain’t just come home from behind that wall.
Then this lame-ass nigga walked into my section like he already had somewhere to be with her.
Yeah… I got a problem with that shit. The only place that nigga should’ve taken Fumi was home.
She really put a target on his back, walking in this motherfucka with him…
and I was already past fucking calm. I hope niggas don’t think I won’t get active just ’cause I’m on papers. Cash slid into the seat beside me.
“You good?”
I looked over at him.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Cash burst out laughing.
“Ain’t shit funny.”
“Shit…” He took a sip of his drink. “Fumi out here choosing.”
My jaw tightened.
“Guap said he saw her at the bar with Givenchy…” He paused just long enough to piss me off. “…and she just left the club with this Cohen, nigga.”
I turned and looked at him. “What the fuck are you saying?”
“I said it, nigga.” He shrugged. “You gon’ do something about it?”
“Yeah.”
I stood up and adjusted my shirt. “I’m finna slide out here and see what’s up.”
Cash shook his head. “You’re too late.”
That one sentence hit harder than it should’ve. Maybe I was. But one thing I knew for damn sure… This shit wasn’t fucking over. Fumi had me tripping, and it was starting to show. I dapped up Guap and Cash on my way out.
Out of habit, I checked my surroundings. My shooters were posted a few feet away, blending into the crowd. If a nigga wanted to get at me sideways, they’d be ready to pull the trigger before he took two steps.
Bleau Gene’s was packed. Beautiful women everywhere. Truth be told… I couldn’t’ve pulled another bitch if I wanted to. Fumi fucked that all the way up. I was almost out the door when I heard someone call my name.
“Hood!”
The music was loud as fuck. I turned around. It was Adrienne. I kept walking. We ain’t got shit to talk about.
“Hood!”
She caught up with me and tapped me on the shoulder. “Can we talk?”
I looked at her. “About what? Ain’t you got a nigga?”
“Hood… don’t be like that.”
I shrugged. “Shit… you made it like this.”
Adrienne had so much to say when she thought she had the upper hand. She was throwing out ultimatums, and now she’s begging to go home with a nigga. That switch-up had me looking at her differently. Make that shit make sense.
“I’m cool.”
She looked down, then met my gaze again. “I was just having a bad day.”
Adrienne is crazy as fuck. She didn’t give a fuck about making my first day out bad.
“It’s cool. It ain’t no hard feelings. I’ll see you around.”
“Hood…”
Adrienne reached for my arm. “Can I go home with you?”
I looked at her like she’d lost her damn mind. “Nah, you got a nigga. Take yo ass home. I don’t want you cheating on yo nigga. You didn’t wanna be a side bitch, so don’t be one.”
I turned and walked away. I wasn’t finna stand in the middle of Bleau Gene’s entertaining that shit. The chapter was closed, and I wasn’t opening it.
By the time I made it outside, the valet already had my Chevy waiting. I grabbed my keys. It was time to see what the fuck was up. I slid in and fired it up. Before I could pull out, my trap phone rang. I looked down at the screen—it was one of my shooters.
I answered on the second ring.
“Yo…”
“Boss man…”
“We still waiting on her to make it home?”
I leaned back in the driver’s seat. I already had eyes on Fumi. Before I even made it home from prison, I knew she was staying somewhere near Edgewood, not too far from the Beltline. She moved out of the place we shared as soon as the judge handed down my sentence.
Fumi didn’t have to. I’d have kept footing the bill. Hell, I felt like I owed her that much.
“Oh yeah?”
“What you want us to do?”
I looked through the windshield for a second before answering.
“Sit on that motherfucka, man. Aye, do me a favor and don’t approach her or say shit to her. I just wanna know when she makes it home.”
“Bet, we’re on it.”
The line went dead. I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat.
“Fumi out here trying to hoe me for real.”
I know Fumi’s hiding from a nigga, that’s cool. She can hide tonight, but tomorrow… the wait is over. We gon’ have that conversation, whether she like it or not.
I checked the time on my AP. Truth be told, I could’ve had my dick buried in something wet tonight, but I held back, restraint a motherfucka. And my mind was on something else. I’m finna slide over to the Westside and holla at my potnas, Skeet and Juelz.
I gotta get up with my PO on Monday. I already know I’m finna be on papers. I don’t know if she gon’ hit me with a curfew. I might as well enjoy this freedom while I still can.
I can’t sit still at the crib. That’s dangerous as fuck because if I do… I’m liable to put out an APB on Fumi, pull up wherever the fuck she is, and demand the conversation I’ve been waiting to have.
Not tonight. That ain’t the move. I just came home. The last thing I need is Fumi moving me like I’ve lost my damn mind. I gripped the steering wheel and shook my head.
“Nah…” I muttered to myself. “I gotta play this shit smarter than that.”
I threw the Chevy into drive and headed toward the Westside. Seeing my folks might take my mind off Fumi. Hell… I doubted it.
It took me about thirty minutes to get to Nik & Skeet’s Bar & Grill. The Westside had always been home to a nigga. I texted Skeet and Juelz to let them know I was on my way. They already had a valet spot waiting. I pulled in, tossed my keys to the valet, and headed toward the entrance.
The bouncers greeted me before I could even reach the door.
“What’s up, Hood? Welcome home, my boy.”
“Yo, what’s up, Squeeze?”
“Shit… you got it.”
Squeeze looked around. “Where the fuck are Guap and Cash? I heard those niggas were home too.”
“Man, I left them niggas at Bleau Gene’s.”
“I heard that party was jumping.”
“It was.”
“Casino hit my line yesterday.”
I nodded. “Oh yeah? I’m waiting on them to free my brother.”
“I already know.”
Squeeze reached out and pulled me into a one-armed hug. “Welcome home.” I slid a hundred-dollar bill from my Louie V and held it out to him. Squeeze looked at the money, then pushed my hand back.
“Don’t insult me, Hood. You good out here?”
I smirked. “I know, but I pay like I weigh.”
Squeeze laughed. “Get your weight up then.”
“Say less.”
Squeeze was a real nigga. We’d been through some wild shit together. I stepped inside the bar and immediately noticed the difference.
Shit, the music was lower, and the conversations felt genuine. The energy wasn’t forced. Yeah, this is exactly what I needed. I walked toward the bar, taking it all in. Skeet had done his big one with this spot. The spot looked good, and this shit was legit.
Seeing one of my potnas doing business the right way made a nigga proud. I took a seat at the end of the bar. I was sober, and peace was what I came for. The waitress slid a bottle of water in front of me. A couple of hoes kept looking my way while they waited on their drinks.
Shit, one even smiled. I laughed to myself, because a nigga wasn’t on that tonight. I took that as my cue to find my potnas. I pulled my phone out and called Skeet. He answered on the first ring.
“You made it?”
“Yeah. I’m leaving the bar.”
“Cool, we’re upstairs in the VIP section, on the left side.”
“Bet. I’m on my way.”
Before I could head upstairs, a woman stepped in front of me. She smiled, folded a white napkin in half, then slipped it into my hand.
“What’s this?”
“Use this whenever you decide to stop acting funny.”
I looked down at her number, smirked, but kept pushing shit. Any other time, I probably would’ve taken the bait. Tonight wasn’t one of those nights. I made my way upstairs. Damn… Skeet had the whole crew in attendance: Alonzo, Smoke, and Juelz.
Yeah, this finna be a good night. I dapped everybody up before dropping onto the leather sofa. Skeet clipped the end of a Cuban and lit it up.
“So we’re upping the fire on Cubans now?”
Skeet grinned. “Hell yeah, it’s a good night. Welcome home, my boy.”
“Aye… It feels good to be home.”
Skeet passed me the cigar. I pulled on it a couple of times before letting the smoke roll out slowly.
“Damn…That shit hit.”