Chapter 10 #2
“A month ago, man. I just been laying low,” Kross enlightened him as they shared a hug.
“Man, I heard about what happened to your baby mama. My condolences, fam.”
At the mention of Cassie, Kross’ jaw clenched before he let out a breath. “‘Preciate that, Serge. I need you to do some work on my whip for me. I need it done by the end of the week.”
He scratched the back of his head, debating on whether he could handle working on Kross’ car on top of the cars he already had in the shop. “Man, you know if I could, I would, but I’m backed up right now.”
Kross shifted his gaze from Serge to look over his shoulder at Noonie. An amused smirk etched Noonie’s face since he knew Kross wasn’t about to take no for an answer.
“Make it happen, Serge. Remember, we’re keeping this spot untouched. Shit could go left if you can’t uphold your part of the deal,” Kross reminded him.
“I know, but I pay y’all for that,” Serge responded in a hushed tone so his employees wouldn’t hear the nature of the conversation.
Kross sat his hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “Not enough, nigga,” he gritted in a cold and menacing tone. “I need my car done by the end of the week. Make it happen.”
He dangled the keys in front of Serge’s face so he could take them. Feeling as though he was backed into a corner, Serge took the keys from Kross and handed them over to one of his employees so they could pull it into the garage.
A content smirk graced Kross’ face. He was glad that Serge didn’t make him step out of character. After discussing a few more details regarding his car, Kross led the way out of the body shop with Noonie hot on his trail.
“Fam, what the fuck happened out there in Pompano?” Noonie grilled him as they got into his car.
“I closed the deal on those apartments. I should have at least two of the units up and running in a few weeks so we can set up shop,” he enlightened Noonie, knowing he didn’t give a damn about that. What he really wanted to know was why bullets went spraying.
As expected, Noonie smacked his lips and cut his eyes at his cousin. “Look, K. I get it. You out for blood because of how they did Cassie and Aniyis, but you can’t be out here acting like a fucking crashout. You just got out of a seven-year bid. Sliding on some niggas solo is wild.”
“Nah, what’s wild is y’all knowing them niggas sprayed down Cassie’s car with my jit in it and y’all waited a whole month to put me up on game,” he snarled with a shake of his head.
“If it had been y’all’s baby mama and jit in that car, I would’ve spun on them niggas before y’all even stepped out of them FDC gates.
You feel me? I move however the fuck I wanna move.
If y’all niggas can’t understand that, then fall the fuck back ‘cause I can wipe these niggas out with or without y’all. Believe that.”
“When have you ever needed me to slide on some niggas and I ain’t pull through?
This shit not gone happen overnight, and I need you to get that shit through your thick-ass skull, Kross.
You full of anger and seeing red, but if you make one wrong move, it could cost you your fucking life, cuz.
I’m riding with you through whatever, but I’m not crashing out with your ass. ”
“A’ight, man.”
Noonie was hoping he actually got through to his cousin and he just wasn’t playing it off to get him to shut the fuck up.
With Kross, you never really knew until it was too late.
With these Zone 7 niggas, who were ballsy enough to pull the trigger on an innocent female and child, Noonie didn’t want shit to hit the fan and Kross make the wrong move off emotion.
He needed him to think smart and move strategically.
He decided to cut Kross some slack and let the conversion die.
“Aye, slide through to Sunny’s. It’s time to collect,” Kross instructed him.
Noonie shook his head. “Nah, bruh. Ezekiel pushed collection day back to the middle of the month.”
“The fuck?” He turned his lip up at the change his little brother made. “Man, that don’t got shit to do with me. I’m back now, so collection day is whenever the fuck I say it is.”
Kross had implemented a system all throughout Miami that kept the peace in the streets.
Business owners who were in agreement with him paid him a fee just to keep their spot out of the red zone when it came to vandalism, robberies, and other wild shit these young Miami niggas were willing to do for the money and the thrill.
Some would call it extortion, but to Kross, he considered it a fair exchange.
Noonie let out a heavy sigh, followed by a shake of his head, before making the turn to head to Sunny’s.
Sunny’s was a hood staple. What started as a gas station and corner store expanded into a Chinese spot that sold take-out.
In his early days, Kross could remember posting up at Sunny’s every night to sell his dime bags.
Him taking over the block was always expected.
He had that hustle in him ever since he was a youngin’.
Before he got locked up, he closed a deal with the owner Mr. Yin, who was racist as fuck.
It always puzzled Kross when he tried to figure out why Mr. Yin decided to build a gas station in an impoverished black neighborhood in down south Florida if he ain’t like or respect black people, but to each his own.
Mr. Yin was no match against the neighborhood, no matter how racist he was.
The kids stole his merchandise, robbed him a few times, and even beat his ass if he got a little too carried away with his slurs.
That all came to a stop once Kross made it known that Sunny’s was out of the red zone.
Along with the monthly payments, Kross made it clear Mr. Yin better tighten the fuck up and start respecting people or his money wouldn’t be buying him the safety he thought was guaranteed.
Pulling into the gas station, a light smirk casted onto Kross’ face once he saw how the block was jumping.
He could see a few Paper Chase members busting plays and making their money.
Near the back of the store, the usual dice game was underway, causing the same arguments between niggas who were hard up on money and had no business gambling.
When he stepped out of the vehicle, his presence caught everyone’s attention.
When he said he was making a comeback, he wasn’t fucking playing. There was no more laying low for him.
The beaming Miami sun shined down and reflected against the thick, gold Cuban link chain he had weighing down his neck.
His diamond drenched, gold Cartier time piece around his wrist danced in the sunlight, causing the young niggas on the block’s mouths to salivate.
Kross was truly every hood nigga’s dream.
To do a seven-year bid and come back to more riches than he left was unheard of.
Deep down, he knew the image he maintained wouldn’t have been possible if it weren’t for Cassie and his guys making sure money and business was getting handled the right way.
As he trekked toward the entrance of the gas station, he motioned curt head nods in the direction of some of his soldiers.
The authority and power he exuded could be felt immediately.
It prompted niggas to straighten up their posture and come at him with respect.
He didn’t have to utter a word for everyone to know that he was the head nigga in charge. His presence and demeanor said it all.
When he emerged through the doors of the gas station, his entrance brought in a draft of cold air. The store patrons seemed to all take a moment to take in his suffocating presence before they pried their eyes off him and returned to their shopping.
At the cash register, he could see Mr. Yin handling the line. Instead of cutting the line, Kross joined it and waited patiently until he was called up to the counter. “What’s up, Mr. Yin? Long time no see,” he taunted the man with an amused chuckle that stirred up Mr. Yin’s insides.
His mouth went dry as he found himself at a loss of words at the sight of Kross. “Take it easy, Mr. Yin. You’re not in no trouble. I just came to collect,” he told him, hoping that would be enough to steady his choppy breathing and calm his nerves.
Eager to get Kross out of his store, Mr. Yin nodded his head before excusing himself and heading to the back toward his office. “Aye, it’s been seven years, and you still got his racist ass spooked,” Noonie cackled as he grabbed a bag of Doritos from the shelves to indulge in.
“I got to,” Kross said, shrugging his broad shoulders. “He walked around this motherfucka’ thinking he ain’t have to respect us. Now, I got his respect, and his ass scared straight.”
Eventually, Mr. Yin returned from his office with the money in hand. The transaction was smooth and due to him being so shaken with fear, he never uttered a word to Kross.
“‘Preciate doing business with you, Mr. Yin. We’re back doing collection on the first of every month now.” He earned a nod from him in response before taking the exit so Mr. Yin could finally catch his breath.
As quickly as they came, he and Noonie rolled out.
They hit up a few more spots before Kross decided to end his day of collecting at Fresh Miami Cutz, the barbershop on 17th Avenue.
He had to get back to the hospital to be with Aniyis, so he was hoping it wouldn’t take him too long to collect.
He assured Noonie it was cool for him to stay behind in the car while he made his way inside.