Chapter 13
The weight of bricks
My heart was in my throat. I knew for sure somebody had fucked up—three bricks.
The police took three fucking bricks. Clo had warned me not to try to push weight after I messed up the work he’d fronted me, but I needed money bad.
I was sick of Rudy and Clo taking care of me, and Silk trying to hook me up with girls who weren't even biting. I was a grown man; I wanted my own.
Now, I had to go face Pops. The police had the dope, and I knew he was going to be furious.
When I pulled up to his mansion in Dublin, his head of security let me through the gates. Inside, Pops was sitting at his massive desk, one foot kicked up, reading the newspaper.
“Son, why are you here?” he asked without looking up. “Don’t you have work to do?”
My heart hammered against my ribs. I couldn't stand still, pacing the hardwood floor back and forth with my hands locked over my head. I felt his eyes track me, but I didn't care. I was losing my mind.
“Son, I asked you a question, and you’re pacing my floor like a manic.”
I stopped, chest heaving. “Daddy, they took the bricks. I got pulled over, and they took the fucking bricks.”
He dropped the paper. “They took my bricks that were in your possession? You’re that much of a weak man? You let someone take something from you. You’re not my son. That’s why I didn’t raise your soft ass. You know you’re a bitch; your mama probably got more heart than you,
and she still raised two soft-ass niggas. My sons in Mexico would never. I guess it’s the blood in y’all that makes you so damn weak,” he spat, a nasty sneer twisting his face.
My blood boiled. I tried to swallow the rage, telling myself he had a right to be angry, but why did he have to tear me down to the bone? All I wanted to do was smoke a blunt and lay up with Junie.
“Look, Pops, I know you’re mad, and you’re saying wild shit because of it. I’d be mad as fuck too, so I don’t blame you. I’m gonna figure out a way to pay you back. I just came here like a man to tell you the police stole the product.”
“How the fuck are you going to pay me, you lazy piece of shit with no drive?”
he roared, standing up. “I prayed Rudy aborted you. She knew I didn’t love her anymore and still had you—so selfish. Clo got my drive; he’s a hustler, he’s going far. You? A sad piece of shit. You’re lucky I don’t give you a late-term abortion right now.”
At that moment, something inside me snapped. He was talking crazy, and I was completely done taking his bullshit. I turned and walked toward the door.
“I didn’t dismiss you, boy,” he barked.
That did it. I spun around and charged straight at him.
The next second, a searing, burning heat ripped through my side, my shoulder, and my leg.
A loud, deafening ringing filled my ears.
All I could do was pray. My mama—I couldn't leave my mama. And Clo, who told me not to sell drugs so I wouldn't end up like this. Now look at me.
I felt heavy hands grab me—Pops's men lifting my dead weight and throwing me into the bed of a truck. The engine roared, and they drove off into the pitch-black night.
After a while, bouncing over the dark dirt roads, the bumps stopped. And then, everything went black.