Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Adonis.
“You gon’ go out with us tonight nigga, or you too whipped to pop out?” Zig asked.
“I might mothafucka, depends on how my girl feelin’,” I admitted. “She gotta go to the doctor after I’m done handlin’ this shit with y’all.”
“Word, sis straight?”
“Yeah, she good,” I answered.
I loved Deek and Zig like my mama birthed them, but I wasn’t gon’ put them niggas in my girl’s business.
Shit had been good for her over the past few days.
She wasn’t complaining about being in pain or no shit, but now that I knew what she’d been dealing with and had looked the shit up myself, I was on pins and needles waiting on the shit to come.
I researched her condition thoroughly and to be real—I had a new found respect for Jru and any other woman with endometriosis by the time I was done.
You had to be a durable mothafucka to handle the kind of pain that was described, but most importantly you had to have a Ford tough mental.
Knowing that you could be overcome with excruciating pain at any given time, and the longevity of it, you had to have nerves of steel.
Jru might’ve thought she was broken because of what she was dealing with, but to me, she was unabridged.
“Aight we here, but we don’t know how many niggas he got in there with him.” Deek said when he parked in front of the lil’ trap spot where Brock and his people hung out.
“I don’t give a fuck who in there.” I glanced his way. “He ‘bout to come up off my shit or I’m gon’ put him down. Him and anybody in that bitch.”
I made sure that my gun was secured to my side before climbing out of the car and making my way toward the house. The front door was open with a storm door in front of it, so I let myself in. Everyone’s attention immediately turned toward us when we entered.
Had it been me or one of my spots, we would have shot first and asked questions later, but just like Brock, the niggas he ran with were some hoes, so they didn’t do shit but sit there looking like deer caught in headlights.
As I scanned the men and the area, I peeped Tron and West amongst the crowd, a pile of coke on the table, and an open bag of weed. I knew the shit was mine because of the blue tinted bag.
“I can assume y’all got the bread to give me for this shit.” I nodded toward the contents on the table.
“Brock—he told us w-we were good,” West stammered.
“Interesting,” I smirked. “Because I know everyone in this room was at the meetin’ we just had, and I’m one hundred percent sure that I made it clear that not only do you answer to them,” I pointed back at Zig and Deek, “but also, that Brock’s bitch ass ain’t with us no more.”
“Yeah, but he spoke with Vado…”
Removing my gun from my side, I splattered West’s shit all over the wall behind him and anyone in close proximity.
I knew him and Tron were going to be the two that I had to make an example out of.
The rest of the men looked terrified, not even bothering to grab the guns that were easily within reach.
I knew none of the niggas he kept around him were built like that, but the shit was actually sad to witness in person.
“Now, in case y’all niggas missed the memo like ya man West, Vado ain’t runnin’ this shit no more, I am.
” I smiled for a second then dropped it.
“When I said that nigga’s well was dry, I meant that shit.
Ain’t shit movin’ around this bitch unless it’s comin’ from me.
And y’all niggas usin’, so you got my money for the shit? ”
“Don G,” Tron began to shift. “W-we didn’t think—”
His sentence was cut short by a bullet to the head from Zig’s gun. I looked at him and smirked when he shrugged before turning my attention back to everyone else.
“I don’t pay none of the niggas in this mothafuckin’ room to think, aight?
” I glanced around at each of the men still breathing.
“I pay y’all to move my weight, nothin’ else.
When I push up in this bitch, I expect to have my bread packed the fuck up and ready, but instead I walk into fuckin’ Project X.
” I shook my head as I looked around the room.
“Get yo’ ass up and go get my bread.” I pointed to one of the niggas with my gun.
He scurried to his feet and rushed toward the back to do what I said. I nodded for Zig to follow him while Deek and I remained in the front.
“You,” I pointed to the nigga in the lone chair shaking like a sinner in church. “Call Brock.”
With shaky hands, he pulled his phone out and made the call but the nigga didn’t answer, so I made him call again. The second call went straight to voicemail, but his phone began to ring right after he hung up his call.
“I-I think this him callin’ from his baby mama’s phone.” He flipped it around so that I could see the screen.
Maybe Bonita Jackson.
As soon as I read the screen, I had a mothafuckin’ epiphany.
His bitch’s name was Bonita Jackson and that shit aligned perfectly with the initials on the fucking shell account where Brad and Brent were sending my money.
I didn’t even think about that hoe when I first saw the damn name on that account.
I nodded for him to answer the shit and when he did, the nigga immediately started crying and spilling the beans about West and Tron’s demise. I laughed and snatched the phone from him.
“Ay,” I cut off all the questions Brock was trying to ask his bitch ass homeboy.
“Fuck you, nigga!” he spat.
“Where my bread at?” I asked.
I wasn’t on the phone to do all that jaw jacking with his hoe ass. I’d made the trip to this spot for one reason and one reason only.
“I ain’t givin’ you shit, mothafucka. I don’t know who you think you is, but you don’t scare me nigga.”
“Why you been hidin’ in them hotel rooms then?” I snickered. “Yo’ ass ain’t been to yo’ crib since I axed you out because you a bitch, but I been knew that, so that ain’t what this call is about. It’s about my money and my product.”
“I don’t give a fuck what you callin’ about, nigga. I ain’t givin’ you shit.”
“Aight,” I nodded like he could see me. “Then yo’ bitch won’t be givin’ you that baby,” I warned.
“You think I don’t know that you been skimmin’ money from Brothers?
” I referred to Brad and Brent’s bar. “You a fuckin’ dufus,” I shook my head.
“You thought niggas wouldn’t find out who that account belonged to? ”
“I ain’t care if you found out or not, mothafucka,” he lied, trying to maintain his lil’ tough guy persona.
“Right, which is why you used a shell account in yo’ bitches name.” I chuckled. “And why you had her doin’ the fuckin’ communicatin’.”
“Yeah, whatever, bro. You come near my girl and my kid, I know something,” he tried being tough. “I ain’t the only one with a family, even if it’s only one member.”
“I could gift wrap and hand deliver AP to you, I guarantee he goes untouched,” I said. “It ain’t a nigga in this world stupid enough to go down that road with me. Including you, but again, I’m not here for fairytales, I’m here about my bread.”
“I ain’t givin’ you shit!” he spat. “Get the shit in blood.”
He disconnected the call after that so I tossed the phone back to Kirk who was still trembling. I hadn’t even done shit to the nigga yet, and he was damn near about to have a heart attack.
Zig resurfaced with a duffle bag in his hand, shoving the lil’ nigga he’d followed back toward the couch.
“It’s all here minus that shit.” he pointed toward the table.
Nodding, I turned back to the remaining men there. “Y’all got my bread for this?”
“This was Tron’s shit.” Kirk voiced shakily.
“Tron is no more, so now you’ve adopted the debt.”
“We don’t got no bread, Don,” he cried and nodded.
“Okay,” I turned to head out, leaving Deek and Zig to finish up. I didn’t have to tell them what needed to be done. They already knew. I wasn’t playing no games or sparing no niggas about my money.
They joined me in the car shortly after that. Deek pulled away, stopping at a nearby store so that he could restore the natural feed to the cameras that were in the area. I did a lot of wild shit, but I didn’t go out killin’ mothafucka’s in broad daylight without covering my tracks.
“You want me to send cleanup for them niggas?” Zig asked and I shook my head.
“Let Brock find them and handle it. Maybe then he’ll realize that I ain’t fuckin’ around about my bread.”
They took me back to my crib where I went up to shower and change so that I could go get Jru.
When I jogged down to my car, it made me think about the fact that we needed to get her a new one.
I didn’t care about her driving my shit, but I wanted her in something luxury.
My Camaro looked like it belonged to a nigga.
She needed to be in some soft, sexy shit to match her persona.
When I got to her crib, I let myself inside and journeyed to the back to find her. She was sitting on the bed slipping her feet into her shoes when I entered her room.
“I’m ready. All I had to do was put my shoes on.”
“You straight.” I kneeled down in front of her to tie her shoes for her. When I was done, I glanced up at her and stole a quick kiss before rising to my feet and reaching for her hand. “Come on.”
I led her out of the house once she had her purse and locked the door behind us before I helped her inside of my truck then got in myself.
I gave her my phone so she could control the music before backing out of the driveway and starting our journey toward the doctor’s office.
I offered to stop and get her something to eat, but she said she’d rather wait until we leave her appointment.
When we arrived, we didn’t really have a wait. They called her to the back and did her vitals and shit before getting us set up in her examination room. She was quiet as fuck as she waited for the doctor to come in, twirling her rings around her fingers.
I studied her for a moment before pulling my chair closer to the examination table and taking her hands into mine.