Chapter 18
I walked through the door laughing at my big brother like he'd lost his damn mind.
Mane was out here picking out rings like he was about to propose to the president's daughter or some shit. And not just doing what needed to be done. He was all in, talking about three carats and custom cuts and all this romantic bullshit.
He was the same nigga who used to tell me that love was a weakness. The same nigga who wouldn't let a bitch stay in his bed for more than two hours without forcing her to leave.
And now look at him.
Now he was planning a whole proposal dinner and all that extra shit. Had our chef preparing special meals and all that. I wasn’t mad at the fool. He was growing up, and I guess that was all part of being in position.
Every time I thought about the look on his face when he was talking about the ring, I'd shake my head. My big brother had fallen hard and he didn't even want to admit it out loud yet, but everybody could see it, even my mom saw it, and that’s why she was going so hard on the damn girl.
The way he looked at Tattiana. The way he moved different when she was around. The way he'd go out in the field, handle business, and then rush home just to be near her.
That nigga was in love and ain’t even know. The kind that made you do crazy things and not give a fuck who knew about it.
I got to my room and had to let out a long sigh after the day that I’d had. My phone was already buzzing on my nightstand but I didn't check it right away. I was too busy replaying the look on those niggas faces today when we popped up and popped they asses.
About three hours later, after I'd showered and was laying in bed just chilling, my phone buzzed again. This time it was a text from Kaseem with a phone number and a message: "Nyla number. Don’t do nothing stupid nigga.”
I looked at that number for a hot minute, thinking about what had happened at the compound when Nyla and River showed up. That moment when our eyes locked and everything else went quiet. That handshake that lasted too long. That feeling I couldn't shake.
I knew what my brother was doing. He was giving me a chance. And I wasn't about to waste it. That nigga made it clear that I ain’t need to bother Nyla if I wasn’t ready because that would only cause problems in his household.
I called her number straight up, no hesitation.
"Hello?" she answered on the second ring, and I could already tell she was curious about who it was.
"Aye, it's Namier," I said, keeping my voice smooth but real. "Kaseem's brother. The one from the other night."
There was a pause. Then I heard a smile in her voice.
"Oh," she said, and that one word told me she'd been thinking about me just like I'd been thinking about her. "Hey. How did you get my number?"
"My brother sent it to me cause I damn near begged for it.”
“Okay. I like persistence. But don’t introduce me to a vibe that you don’t intend to keep up.” she joked.
We ended up talking for over an hour. Not the kind of surface-level conversation where you ask fake questions and give fake answers.
Real conversation. I told her about growing up in Dallas, about what it was like being part of this family, about the weight of responsibility that came with being a Carter.
She told me about her job, about her friends, about what she wanted out of life.
And the whole time I was on that phone, I was smiling like a fool, doing exactly what my brother had been doing with Tattiana.
Selling dreams. Making plans. Painting pictures of what could be.
At one point, she asked me what I was looking for, and I laughed because I knew what she was really asking.
"What do you mean, what am I looking for?" I asked back. "The question is, what do you got to give?"
"Well, what do you have to offer?" she said, playing right back with me.
"I ain't gonna lie to you," I said, getting real with her. "I don't got a lot of time for all the relationship stuff. Work got me busy most days. But I can try and make time for the right person, and I definitely got some dick to give.” I said, being straight forward.
She laughed.
"Well," she said, her voice dropping a little, getting flirty, "if you give me the dick, then you gonna wanna make time. Trust me on that."
I felt that comment hit different. Like, she wasn't playing games. She was being real right back.
"Let me come find out and see if that's true," I said.
"Not tonight," she said. "I got a long day ahead of me tomorrow morning. But tomorrow night, we should go out for drinks. Get to know each other a little better without all the family around."
"That's a bet," I said. "I'm looking forward to it already."
We talked a little bit more before hanging up, and when I got off that phone, I was already counting down the hours until the next day.
I was acting just like my brother, completely caught up in someone I'd literally just met.
But that was how it happened sometimes. One look.
One conversation. And suddenly you're thinking about a muthafucka in a whole different light.”
---
I laid in my bed, tired as hell. Thinking about how killing niggas was really exhausting. My body was tired, my mind was racing, but in a good way. A way that had me thinking about Nyla more than I probably should have been.
The next day moved slow as hell.
I did my regular work, moving through the day like I was on autopilot.
Dropped off re-ups to three different spots, picked up money from two more, handled the usual business that kept the operation running smooth.
The whole time, I was checking my phone every five minutes because Nyla kept texting me.
She'd send me little things throughout the day. Pictures and text.
By the time evening rolled around, I was ready to get out of these streets and into something that felt good for once. Something that didn't involve violence or money or moving product. Something that involved a beautiful woman who could make me smile just by typing some words on a screen.
I got dressed in something nice but not too dressed up. Dark jeans. A fitted black Polo. Some fresh kicks. I wanted to look good but not like I was trying too hard. And then I headed to the bar she'd sent me the address to.
When I pulled up, she was already waiting outside, and my whole world kind of slowed down for a second.
She had on this simple black dress that hugged her in all the right places, and her hair was down, falling past her shoulders.
She wasn't doing all that extra makeup shit.
She was just naturally beautiful, and when she saw my car, she smiled like she'd been waiting all day for this moment.
Maybe she had.
I got out and pulled her in for a hug, and she smelled like something expensive and fresh. I could already tell this night was going to be something special.
We went inside the bar and grabbed a table in the corner.
We ordered drinks and we talked. Not small talk.
Real talk. She asked me about my dreams and what I wanted out of life.
I asked her the same. We laughed about our families.
We shared stories about shit we'd been through.
She told me about an ex that didn't deserve her.
I told her about all the girls that tried to get with me for the wrong reasons.
The more we talked, the more I realized this girl was different. She wasn't trying to be something she wasn't. She wasn't impressed by money or status. She was just... real. And that made me want to be real with her too.
A few drinks in, the alcohol was hitting different. It was hitting good. We were both feeling it. Laughing harder. Sitting closer. Her hand on my arm. My hand on her leg.
"You wanna get out of here?" she asked, her eyes telling me exactly what she wanted to do.
"Hell yeah," I said.
We left the bar and went back to her place. She lived alone in a nice spot, on the east side, nothing too bougie but nice enough that you could tell she had her own money and her own shit going on. That impressed me even more.
When we got inside, I locked the door behind us. She turned to face me, and before I could even say anything, she was pulling me toward the couch. We were kissing, and her hands were already working at my belt.
"Hold up," I said, trying to slow down for a second. "You sure about this?"
Hell yeah I wanted to fuck, tonight too. But, I didn’t want her to think that that was all I wanted either. I really was feeling her ass.
"Don't question it," she said, pushing me back onto the couch. "I've been thinking about you since that day at the compound. I ain’t want to sound pressed last night, but I want you too.”
And with that, she was on her knees in front of me, pulling my pants down, and then her mouth was on me.
I had my head thrown back against the couch, my hand in her hair, feeling like the luckiest nigga alive.
She was working that mouth like she had something to prove, and I was here for every second of it.
This was the best day I'd had in a long time. Everything was right and I knew that in just a few minutes, I’d be fuckin the shit out of her. And then my phone rang.
I ignored it.
It rang again.
And again.
Something told me I needed to answer it.
Something in my gut was screaming that this was important.
Nobody called back to back like that unless something was seriously wrong.
I was trying to ignore that feeling, trying to stay in this moment with Nyla, but my phone kept ringing like it wouldn't stop.
"Just answer it," Nyla said, pulling back and looking at me. "It might be important."
I was hesitant, but she was right. I reached for my phone on the table next to the couch. It was a private call. I took a breath and answered.
"Yeah, what's up?" I said, trying to sound normal.
"Aye, nigga," the voice on the other end said, cold and calculated in a way that made my blood run cold instantly.
"Y'all niggas thought y'all were real slick with that shit y'all pulled yesterday, huh?
I ain't never been the type to do tit for tat bullshit.
That ain't how I move. I like to X niggas completely off the board. Wipe them out like they never existed."
My stomach dropped before he even finished his next sentence, but I couldn't stop him from saying the words that were about to destroy my entire world.
"Get your black suit ready," the voice continued, slow and deliberate.
"Tell your mama to get that black dress out her closet.
Get it pressed. Get it ready. Because we just took your big brother Zaire off the map, homie.
You took out six of mine yesterday at that warehouse.
I took out your bloodline. You fuck niggas played with the wrong one. Checkmate, fuck niggas."
The line went dead.
The phone slipped from my hand and fell to the floor.
I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't do anything except sit there on this couch with Nyla staring at me, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened in the thirty seconds it took for my entire life to fall apart.
Zaire.
My big brother. My blood. My nigga.
Dead.
Hell nah. They wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t let them do that. He was too thorough to be caught slippin.
Brick Boyz had killed him. While I was here getting my dick sucked, my family was under attack. While I’m bullshittin with a bitch, my brother was getting taken out.
"Namier?" Nyla was asking, her hand on my chest. "What’s wrong? What happened? Talk to me."
I couldn't talk to her. I couldn't do anything.
I was grabbing my pants, throwing them on, moving toward the door like my body was operating on automatic.
My mind was somewhere else entirely. It was in the street.
It was in the blood. It was thinking about retaliation and war and everything that was about to come next.
"Namier, wait," she was saying, but her voice sounded so far away. Like it was coming from underwater.
I grabbed my keys and my phone. I was moving fast, my whole body shaking with a rage I'd never felt before. Not the rage of anger. The rage of loss. The rage of knowing that my big brother was possibly gone and somebody was going to pay for that in blood.
I didn't answer Nyla. I didn't look back. I just walked out of that house and got in my car, and as I was pulling out of her driveway, everything in my body was telling me to drive fast. Drive hard. Get back to the compound and tell my brother what had just happened.
Because everything had changed in one phone call.
Everything.
To Be Continued