Chapter 7
The following morning, the sun slipped through the half-open blinds, painting streaks of soft light across the rumpled sheets. Tasha was curled into Juelz’s side, her thigh draped over his.
Juelz laid still, staring at the ceiling, his arm underneath his head, his other hand resting on Tasha’s hip.
He should’ve been at ease, but something in his gut felt off.
His phone vibrated on the nightstand, buzzing so hard it nearly slid off.
He grabbed it quick, careful not to wake Tasha. The screen lit up: Lil Rico
“Damn,” he whispered, answering on the next ring. “Yo, nigga, whaddup?”
Rico’s voice came in frantic, low, like he was ducking behind something. “Aye, aye… big bruh…I’m out here on the block. Them nig—niggas, got us. They robbed us for all the fucking work.”
Juelz sat up, heart punching his ribs, he threw his dreads out of his face. “What the fuck you mean, they robbed y’all?”
“I mean, them niggas rolled up on us and took the shit. We was in the spot grabbing some food, and they broke in the car. Snatched that shit right up outta there.”
Tasha stirred, eyes still shut but reaching for his warmth. “What’s wrong, Jue? Why you yellin’ this fuckin’ early? Damn!”
He didn’t answer. He was already up, grabbing his jeans off the floor and jamming a Glock into the waistband. His jaw locked as he paced the room. “Fuck! Why the fuck y’all still have the shit in the car?”
“What you want us to do, big bruh?” Lil’ Rico asked from the other end of the phone.
“Blow that nigga beside you head off,” Juelz ordered loudly. “And when you done? Do yoself, nigga.”
Juelz slammed the phone down as he put on his shoes. Tasha sat up now, clutching the sheet to her chest. “Juelz, what’s happening?”
He looked at her eyes, dark, chest rising heavy. “Somebody robbed them lil niggas I had gettin’ that weight off. Took every fuckin’ thing. I gotta go handle that shit.”
“Bae,” she said lightly. “You don’t even know who did it yet—”
“And I don’t give a fuck,” Juelz snapped, cutting her off, tugging on his shirt. “I know who the fuck I gave the work to, Tasha.”
She stood, wrapping the sheets around her. “Just be careful, please. This is exactly why I wish you would leave that shit alone.”
He grabbed his keys and leaned in to kiss her forehead, his voice low and deadly calm. “They took some shit from some real important ass people, and I need that shit back or else we all dead.”
He was out the door before she could stop him.
Three hours later, Juelz was headed out to the meet-up with Mar at an old barn.
The barn sat miles out, tucked behind dead land and broken fences, the kind of place where GPS always loses signal.
No neighbors. No streetlights except one hanging bulb swaying from the ceiling, buzzing low like it was nervous too.
Juelz pulled in and killed the engine. Silence rushed in heavy. He stepped out, scanned the tree lines, then popped the trunk and grabbed his gym bag. As he moved closer, the sound of crying and whimpering grew.
He slid the barn door open, and there they were.
The two responsible for mishandling the duffel full of bricks, hanging from the rafters, swaying slightly, throwing long, crooked shadows across the dirt floor.
Mar had the two guys’ wrists chained overhead, toes barely grazing the dirt.
Their shoulders were damn near dislocated and burning.
Mar stood off to the side, arms crossed, expression blank. He nodded once when he saw Juelz.
“Took you long enough nigga!”
Juelz dropped the gym bag. The sound echoed louder than it should have. He crouched, unzipped it slowly, deliberately. No rush. Juelz started digging through the bag, pulling out a circular saw blade.
One of the boys, Lil’ Rico, started crying harder, his exhausted, beaten body swaying side to side. “C’mon, Juelz… You—you don’t gotta do this. We can get the bricks back. I swear. We just—”
CRACK.
The crowbar caught him straight in the ribs. Rico howled, his body swinging even more now. You would’ve thought Mar was hitting a pinata by the way he swung the bar.
Juelz started walking closer to the two. That alone made them start breathing even harder. Panicking. Scared as to what was about to happen.
“I told y’all niggas I needed y’all on ya toes. I told y’all that. So, since you two incompetent ass niggas couldn’t do it. Let's see how long y’all can stay off them muthafuckas.” He looked from one to the other like he couldn’t decide which one had fucked up the worst.
Lil’ Rico, shook his head fast. “Please, bruh—”
Juelz reached up and grabbed him by the face, squeezing hard on his jaw. “Y’all didn’t just fuck up my money,” Juelz continued through gritted teeth, squeezing even harder now. “Y’all fucked up my chance with this big tyme connect.”
Juelz let go of Lil’ Rico's face and approached the other guy, K. He was shaking so hard that his bladder couldn’t take it anymore and just gave out right there. On him. On the ground, making a dark stain in the red dirt.
Juelz powered on the saw blade, and K began to cry out for help as blood dribbled from his lip. “Jue, please, man, don’t do this—”
“You had one job,” Juelz said as he sliced K's chest with the saw blade. “One fuckin’ job. And what y’all boys do?
” he cut his chest again, making an ‘x’ on it.
He screamed out in agony, feeling the pain in his chest. K was bleeding now.
Bad. The copper scent of fresh blood hit the air, mixing with the smell of hot ass urine and fear.
It was a sickening blend. Juelz didn’t blink.
He watched as the blood bloomed across K’s white tee, turning it a deep, heavy crimson that dripped onto the ground.
Off to the side, Mar's eyes were wide with excitement as he watched everything go down. He’d seen Juelz in action before, but not like this. There was no emotion in his eyes, just a cold, dark void.
“Damn, nigga, let me get some of that?” said Mar, as he took the tool out of Juelz's hands. He started walking towards Lil’Rico, the sound of the blade sending a shiver down his spine.
Rico’s eyes bugged out, and he started swinging, trying to break free from the chains.
Mar brought the blade closer to Rico's face, taunting him, nipping a piece of Rico’s ear in the process.
The vibration was so loud it felt like it was rattling his teeth.
“Ma—Mar, chil—chill!” Rico yelled, his voice cracking under pressure. “I told you, we can...we can—”
Mar cut him off by dragging the blade across his stomach, and his flesh split. Something wet and wrong spilled free. “You ain’t told me shit, lil’ nigga. Y’all wanted to play big boy games. Now it’s time for big boy prizes.”
Behind him, Juelz folded.
“Nigga, don’t tell me yo fuckin’ stomach can’t handle some backed-up ass intestines. I should saw off yo balls. Over there puking like some bitch. Getcha ass up!” said Mar, as he shook his head at Juelz.
Mar turned and continued to trail the saw blade all over Rico’s body.
Rico’s cries were nothing but music to their ears, mixed with the vibration from the tool.
His cry faded out quickly until his pulse was no more.
Juelz got himself together, lit a blunt he had in his pocket, and took a long pull.
He blew a slow, thick cloud of smoke toward the other guy’s face.
“Juelz! Mar! Plea, plea, please,” he sobbed, legs shaking as the chains rubbed deeper across his wrists. “Just let me down. I can get the bricks back, I swear—”
“All I hear is bullshit slippin’ thru yo teeth,” Juelz said flatly.
He rolled a pair of rusty pliers in his palm like he was bored. His eyes never left K’s face.
“So, that tells me you need a lil’ dental exam. Huh? What you think, Mar? Should we get to the source of the bullshit?”
Mar grinned mischievously, rubbing his hands together. “Hell yeah! I say get to the root of the muthafucka.”
That did it.
The begging turned ugly. Tears. Snot. The kind of cry that only comes when a man realizes nobody is coming to save him. Hell, Lil’Rico was already dead. So why would they spare him? “Nah, bruh—please—I…I know who took the bricks.”
“Too late! Open yo’ mouth,” Juelz instructed. He was beginning to get very frustrated with the begging.
“List…listen! I—I…can make this right!” K continued, choking on his own panic. “I swear!”
“OPEN. YOUR. FUCKIN’. MOUTH,” Juelz demanded.
When he didn’t, Mar pistol-whipped him in the back of the head, and his scream split the barn open.
Juelz stepped in.
Gripping the first tooth he saw. His breath was calm, almost gentle. “Say, no Novacaine, muthafucka!”
The scream that followed echoed, raw and broken, the kind of sound that stayed in a place long after bodies left it.
Mar decided he couldn’t take the screaming any longer.
He ended it by taking the loud saw blade he still held, across K’s throat.
Blood sprayed immediately, hitting Juelz’s face.
He froze. Not from fear. But from rage. This wasn’t his blood.
He turned, spat hard on the floor, and jagged.
It wasn’t from weakness, but straight up disgust. Another man’s fluids had hit his skin.
A little blood even got on Mar's face. But he didn’t flinch.
Just wiped the blade on K’s jeans, looking at the mess he’d made around him, then his gaze met Juelz’s face.
“Damn, my bad, Jue. I didn’t think he had that much juice left in him.”
Juelz finally moved. He wiped his face with his T-shirt, leaving him in nothing but his wife-beater.
“Nigga. You knew what the fuck you was doin’,” said Juelz as he started putting the tools back inside his black bag.
Mar was still teasing Juelz as he doused gasoline everywhere. “Yeah, whatever muthafucka. Take Tasha her pussy home and getcha dick back, nigga.”
He soaked the ropes, the bodies, and the nearby hay.
Juelz struck a match, they watched it dance for a second, then flicked it onto the soaked hay near the wall.
FWOOOM.
The garage door groaned as it slid shut behind him. Juelz stepped into the house as if he had come from a battlefield. His clothes smelled like gasoline and burnt wood. His shirt was clinging to his back, damp with sweat and smoke. The day was still young, but Juelz was already done with it.
Tasha peeked around the corner from the kitchen, her eyes clocking everything in one glance—his stiff shoulders, the way his chest rose too quickly, how he couldn’t meet her eyes.
“You good?” she asked, walking up slow, peeling his shirt off him like she was unwrapping a wound. He didn’t resist. Never did when it came to her hands.
“Yeah, I’m straight.”
“You wanna talk about it?”
Juelz brushed past her and headed for the bathroom. “I'd rather not.”
Tasha didn’t take it personally. She just followed, like always.
She turned the shower on, grabbed towels, and moved like this wasn’t her first time bathing his demons off.
He stepped in, and the steam swallowed him.
Tasha joined him quietly, lathering his towel and dragging it across his chest. Her hands moved over his skin with the kind of care that always undid him.
Across his shoulders, down his arms. Over the knots life seemed determined to leave behind.
He just stood there in silence, watching her as the water ran through his dreads, his thoughts running even faster.
He was thinking about the bricks. About the connect.
And about how he had to repay them. But Tasha had a way of making it all feel lighter.
A way of reminding Juelz that before he was a provider, before he was a hustler, even before he was everybody’s answer.
He was just a man. Her man. And for a few quiet minutes beneath the hot water, that was enough.
By the time they came out, towel hanging low on his hips, dreads dripping, eyes dark and hollow, he looked more ghost than man. Tasha laid out his comfort armor. Joggers. Tank. Fresh pair of boxers. He dressed in silence, then laid across her lap like a boy tryna escape the man he had to be.
“You know you my peace, right?” he asked.
She combed through his damp dreads with her fingers, “yeah, and you my chaos, Jue. When you gon’ let that life go? You know you don’t have to keep doin’ that shit.”
He exhaled hard through his nose, like her question scratched something buried. Like he wanted to believe it too. That walking away was that simple.
“I will eventually. Just not ready yet, Stank. Not yet.”
Her fingers were still moving through his dreads. “Every time you leave out that door, I wonder if you comin’ back to me,” she confessed.
Juelz looked up at her, head still in her lap. “I’ll always come back to you, Tasha girl.”
“Yeah…until you don’t,” she replied while sucking her teeth.
That silence after felt like the truth. Heavy. Cold. She leaned down and kissed his forehead, then rested her chin on top of his head.
“I just want you to stop before I have to bury you or visit you in jail.”
His chest rose and fell slow. He knew Tasha was talking real shit. Deep shit. And it came from love, not spite.
“I’m tryin’, Tash,” he mumbled. “Swear I am. Just ain’t ready to let go yet. Once I get us right, like real right…I’m out.”
She didn’t say anything. Just kept holding him, like she knew the war he was fighting wasn’t just outside, but inside too.
They didn’t talk anymore after that.
When he finally drifted off, breathing even and soft against her thighs, she kissed the top of his head and slipped out of the room, heading to work.