Chapter 4 #2
I twisted my face in disbelief. Na, not Fresh, I thought as I shook my head from side to side.
Fabian Fresh Butler had been my best friend since first grade.
Unfortunately, when I put my trapping ways behind me, we had fallen out.
I wanted Fresh to walk away from the game with me.
But like Omari, he had declined. Nobody more than me understood the illusion of fast money and the thrill that being in the streets gave.
It was an addictive lifestyle that most couldn’t pull themselves away from.
But I was trying to level myself up because I was becoming a dad, and Fresh couldn’t understand that shit.
When I got tired of trying to get him to leave with me and see things my way, I flipped all my money and then put my brother in contact with my connect.
Fresh wished that would have been him, but I couldn’t set a nigga up for success who wasn’t happy for my own.
The man had a mouth on him when he couldn’t convince me to stay in the streets; we shared words that ’til this day are unforgivable.
Stepping down and letting Fresh step up wasn’t even an option after the things we said to each other.
Besides my best friend, the very next person on my list to take my spot was my brother.
It wasn’t hard transitioning everything to Omari.
Rightfully so, when I hung up my hustler's jersey, I passed it right to my brother.
“Now, why would Fresh take a shipment from you? He’s eating just like you are. It’s no reason for that,” I asked as I rubbed my beard.
Upon my leaving the game, I had one stipulation for my brother.
That was to keep the team together. Being out of the streets didn’t mean that I was out of tune with it.
I always kept myself in the loop, and I was glad I did for reasons like this.
Fresh didn’t seem good for this. Although I didn’t fuck with the nigga anymore, I never saw or heard of him stealing anything.
“Well,” Omari rubbed the back of his neck and then smirked a bit before he continued, “I’m kinda fucking his wife.”
My eyebrows furrowed over my eyes instantly, and then I shook my head as I released a sigh.
“Nigga, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
Fresh had married this Cuban bitch about three years ago.
I knew we weren’t as locked in as we used to be because he didn’t even invite me to the damn wedding.
Some people make the boat ride when you’re cruising to growth, and some people don’t.
His ass was still on the dock when I was mid-ocean.
I pinched the bridge of my nose because my little brother was stressing me the fuck out.
When he first started hustling, I gave him a couple of rules that our dad had given me.
Be fair to your team and keep your dick and nose clean.
My mother and father had been married all my life.
Instead of a bid or the streets taking pops out, colon cancer came instead.
He took his diagnosis like a champ. He was the one dying, but he told me he had done a lot of bad shit in life, and the cancer wasn’t shit but his karma.
Once I started seeing a decline in his health, I stepped up.
He used to tell me how niggas would get and stay in their feelings over two things: money and pussy.
I guess his life lessons went completely over Omari’s narrow-ass head.
Another thing about my brother is that he could be so damn na?ve sometimes.
And to top it off, he was a handful of putty when it came to a bitch.
A Spanish mama with some ass and a pretty smile could talk him out of his life savings if she wanted to.
Being that he was so green when it came to these bitches, I had to get down to the nitty gritty.
“How do you even know he took your shipment?”
“Lucia told me,” he quickly answered.
“So, you fuck this nigga wife, he pulls a tender dick ass move and takes your shipment, and his wife is the one who tells you all about it?” I spat.
I had to wrap my head around this shit for real. My little brother had more drama than a reality television show going on right now.
“How does she even know for real? Her slime ass is probably tryna get you to get rid of this nigga so y’all can run off into the fucking sunset with each other.”
He shook his head quickly to disagree with me. Bitches set niggas up every day to do stupid shit, and I hated that his goofy ass wasn’t seeing it. Or better yet, I hated that his ass wouldn’t even entertain the idea.
“The sunset doesn’t sound too bad either.” He placed his hand on his chin in a joking manner.
“Nigga, this is serious. Azul is not about to play about his money.”
My connect, I mean the connect I gave to him, didn’t fuck around.
Azul and his wifey, Justice, ran a well-oiled machine in Brooklyn and had done so for years.
He was the biggest distributor out in Brooklyn.
Getting his work straight from the Dominican Republic meant that the work I had was pure.
He was deep in with the Ruiz Cartel. I was lucky to get him to fuck with a nigga like me, so when I transitioned out of the streets and had my brother step into my place, I had to do a lot of politicking to even get Azul to see the benefits of me keeping it in the family.
He didn’t like dealing with new niggas directly, and honestly, I didn’t blame him.
“I didn’t even think about his crazy ass,” my brother admitted.
“That should have been the first thing that crossed your mind,” I said as I rolled down my window and then closed my car door.
“I’ll speak to Fresh.”
Omari nodded with a grin of satisfaction.
I knew his ass was waiting for me to lend my assistance.
Although I shouldn’t have to because he was his own man, I couldn’t help but come to my brother’s rescue.
I didn’t know how I should go about things.
More importantly, I hadn’t spoken to Fresh in years.
I was still trying to wrap my head around how to even start the conversation.
The moment I sat across from Fresh, I knew I would be stepping back into the streets, and I worked damn hard to avoid that shit.
I had a son and a business to worry about.
I was pissed that Omari had even gotten himself into this bullshit.
“Good, y’all still here. One of y'all go to the store and get me a case of Pepsi.”
I looked up the driveway and saw that Moms was standing on her Jesus Bless This House doormat.
“Tag, you’re it,” I said to Omari before I slammed my car door and backed out of the driveway. The least he could do was go to the store for her since I was about to hopefully get his ass out of the fire. I just hoped I didn’t get burned in the process.
Cayla
I was in the middle of rubbing my rumbling stomach when Mello started to growl lightly. It was one of those whisper barks where he knew there wasn’t any immediate danger, but he knew someone was coming. Shortly after, I heard keys turning in the front door.
“I’m dancing and emphasizing.”
Melanie Barnett was on her single shit, dancing across the screen when Orion walked in with bags in hand. He glanced at the television as he walked into the room.
“Hey,” I greeted him with a smile.
The aroma of oxtails filled my surroundings, and that alone caused my dimples to deepen.
“Hey, pretty girl.” His eyes glanced over at the television again before handing me a bag. “Her ass danced and emphasized right into being a ho.”
I chuckled because his face was so serious.
“Don’t be hating on med school.”
“This was my shit when it came out,” he said as he sat on the computer chair in the room.
He placed his own platter on the desk and then opened it.
Together, we ate and watched about three episodes of The Game in silence.
It wasn’t an awkward moment, though. I was comfortable, too comfortable.
When we were both finished, he gathered our trays and put them in the kitchen garbage.
He looked down at mine before closing it and grabbing it.
A piece of me felt a little twinge of embarrassment at the way I had cleaned the oxtail bones.
Men I dated before would have surely said something about that, but he didn’t.
When he came back into the room, the gray Nike sweater he was wearing that matched his sweats was off, revealing the plain white t-shirt he was wearing underneath.
“Ouch,” I mumbled.
“What’s wrong?” He quickly came to my bedside.
I done rubbed these damn feet together again. Instantly, I thought about how I needed to cover up my stitches.
“Can you pass me that bag on the dresser, please?”
I had about four different bags scattered across the surface, so he got to pointing at different ones.
“The last one on the end.”
He picked up the bag and then handed it to me before going back to his seat. I propped myself up on the bed so I could cover my wound.
“Why isn’t that covered? I see you didn’t listen to the doctor at all,” he chastised like only a parent could. Like only a father would.
“Do you have any kids?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Yes, one boy. His name is OJ.”
I opened the ointment and then put it over my stitches, which caused me to wince in pain. Once I placed the bandage over everything, I straightened my leg out on the bed. When I looked over, he was looking at me so intently.
“How old?”
I was wracking my brain earlier about getting to know more about him, and now was the time. Honestly, I didn’t think that I could fall asleep tonight without it. After all, he was still a stranger to me, and here I was in his home.
“He’s five.”
I love kids. As a person, period, I was just so full of love, it’s just that over the years, I came across people who just wanted to take it from me without replenishing.
I had a healing spirit, and I felt like in my dating life, God kept handing me muthafuckas who needed fixing.
If I were a backup version of the Lord, all he had to do was let me know.
I was tired of healing men, just for them to break me.
“Aww, that’s nice,” I complimented.
There was a brief moment of silence, and then he twisted up his face before speaking.
“You got any chicken nugget munchers?”
A half smile appeared on my face as I thought back to the times when I thought I would have a kid or two, back to when I felt that Lamont and I were going to start a family together once we finished school and got good into our careers.
“Na, no kids yet.”
“Mm, yet? So that means you want some?”
I could tell he was intrigued by the conversation from the way he set his phone face down on the desk and stared at me.
“Oh yeah, I want a girl and then a boy.”
“Why a girl first?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“I don’t know. That’s just how I envision life for me.”
“Mmm, I love that for you.”
I wondered if one day he would love that for us. But, for now, I was going to enjoy this time I had with him.
Being in his presence was a refreshing feeling.
He grabbed the remote off the bed and then pressed play on the show we were watching before scooting the computer chair to the side of the bed and laying his head down.
This was his damn house, and he was being respectful to not lie across the bed I was lying in.
There was more than enough room for him to get comfortable, too.
Maybe he didn’t sit on the bed because he still had on outside clothes.
Whatever the reason, it showed me that he had a level of respect for women, and I had to admire that.
His head was lying within arm's reach. So, after I lay down and got comfortable, I reached out and played with one of his locs.
When the episode we were watching ended, I heard him lightly snoring.
Just from him helping me, I knew he was spreading himself thin.
I could only imagine how much other shit he had on his plate besides me.
Although this man had a hard exterior, I knew his heart had to be golden. He didn’t even know me, and look what he was doing for me. I wanted to learn every piece of him, but I was so damn scared.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I whispered, not meaning to.
“Hmm?” Orion grumbled.
“Nothing.”
I watched as he fixed his head onto his arm before dozing back off.
I couldn’t believe I just said that shit.
But honestly, I meant it. I didn’t want to get hurt again.
Only time would tell, and as his and Mello’s light snores hummed in the room, I prayed silently that God wouldn’t have me on his strongest soldiers list this year. I couldn’t take it.