I wasn’t trying to #3
I looked around the gym at all the people watching. I kneeled down to where he was on the ground and slightly lifted my shirt so that he could see my gun on my waist.
“Now, go clean yourself up, erase the camera, and forget today happened. Forget Tattiana happened, and forget about whatever you may be thinking in that dumb ass head. But don’t forget that if you make one wrong move, your mother that lives at 1263 Hillcrest Drive, in Frisco, she’ll be a memory for you to reminisce on.
Move on, and enjoy your multiple hoes that you say you have.
” I spoke low enough for only him to hear before patting his shoulder and standing to leave.
Mars was directly behind me and muthafuckas cleared a path for me to walk through.
He scrambled to his feet, holding his face, trying not to fall back down. Stumbled toward the back like a wounded animal.
I watched
"Damn. It’s that deep with that girl?”
"That deep behind anything that’s mine," I said.
We walked out the gym the same way we walked in. Like we owned it. Like nothing had just happened.
But everything had.
By the time we hit the parking lot, my phone was already blowing up. People who were there. Word traveling through Dallas like wildfire. Now, I had to pay to make this shit go away. I didn’t give a damn though. My message was delivered.
Kaseem Carter just beat a nigga to pieces at Greyson Fitness over a woman.
And long as they knew and understood that woman was his wife.
In all my life, I’d never witness a man play wit my pops behind my mother and I knew that was because from the jump, he laid law and niggas had to respect it, if not fear it.
That was the message. That was the statement.
And I would destroy anything that threatened that. Nothing was getting in the way of what was mine. That included my inheritance and the woman I had to marry to get to it.
I got in the truck and pulled out, my knuckles still bleeding, my jaw tight, my mind already on what came next.
But underneath all that cold calculation was something else.
Underneath was the realization that I'd just claimed her in front of the whole city.
And I didn't give a fuck who knew it.
—
Instead of going back home, I went to check on a few of our spots and see how shit was looking when they thought nobody was doing pop ups.
Checking on spots was usually Zaire role, he was hands on with the street shit.
While he was away handling his business, Namier had taken over that role.
He’d always worked beside our brother, so he fell into the role naturally.
Today, I was already on bullshit, so I was about to surprise some niggas.
While seeing if anything had been said from the South Dallas niggas.
Today, I’m sure they knew we was smokin on Elijah ass.
From the first and second traps, I knew that word had gotten around about that nigga getting toe tagged last night.
Nobody had heard from the Brick Boyz though.
Quiet always meant plotting. I’d learned that as a yougin.
Whatever they had planned, it wasn’t gone be good enough once they saw what we had coming for they ass tomorrow.
By the time I hit the third spot, it was getting late. I called Namier.
"Aye, you got everybody at the warehouse?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said. "They all here. Waiting on you."
"I'm on my way now."
I hung up and headed straight there.
---
The room was full when I walked in. Twenty men. My core operation. The ones who handled the shipments, the money, the muscle, the logistics but were also trained to kill. They all went quiet when I walked through the door. That's how it was supposed to be.
I didn't waste time.
"Tomorrow," I said, standing at the head of the table. "The Brick Boyz are moving something south of the city. Namier gave you niggas the details already. We intercept it. No loose ends. That mean if a nigga wanna risk they life to save that work we about to take, don’t hesitate to send they bitch ass to the upper room. It’s you or them, and all you niggas better leave out the same way you came.”
I looked around the room at each face.
"You move like professionals or you don't move at all. You can’t second guess for a second, or that’ll get you killed.
” I continued. "Namier's got the locations and the timing.
Mars has the squad. You listen to him like he's me.
You don't improvise. You don't get creative.
You follow the plan unless you have no other option. "
"What about after we grab the shipment?" one of the older niggas asked.
"After we grab it, we sit on it. We not finna move that work. It’s the principle and making sure they get my message.
You send one nigga for me and mines, now you gotta plan 20 funerals.
” I said. "We let them know we got they work. We let them know they killed the wrong nigga and left him on my property.” Then we wait for their response. "
"You think they gone retaliate?" another one asked.
"I know they will," I said. "That's the point. They took from us. We take from them. Now we see how they handle that."
I leaned forward on the table.
"This ain't just personal," I said. "This is business too. But make no mistake — if anything goes wrong tomorrow, if anybody gets sloppy, if anybody move wrong, if anybody thinks they can use this as an opportunity to do something stupid — I will handle it. And you won't like how I handle it."
The room stayed silent.
"Namier will go over the rest of details," I said. "Everybody's got a role. Everybody's got instructions. Questions?"
Nobody raised their hand.
"Good," I said. "Get familiar with the plan. Check your guns. Check your vehicles. tomorrow morning, we move. You niggas are Dismissed."
They filed out quiet, and Namier stayed behind with me and Mars.
"They ready?" I asked Namier.
"They ready," he said. "They know what's at stake."
"Good," I said. "Because tomorrow changes everything."