Chapter 5
Omari Blackwood
Igrabbed the bottom of Lucia’s chin and turned her face from side to side.
The purple ring around her right eye had me ready to do Fresh in.
I understood that this was his wife, but she was my woman.
Plus, hitting a woman wasn’t it for real.
I hated any nigga who did that shit. Orion worshiped the ground our father walked on before he died.
Personally, I didn’t give a shit about the nigga because so many times I saw him put his hands on our moms. I’m sure that people started saying: Put a bitch head between the washer and dryer because of him.
I literally saw him do it with my own two eyes once.
Orion thought that’s how a woman was supposed to be treated. Even now, I feel like that’s his mentality because numerous times I had to pull up to his baby mama’s house to pull them off each other. I had my toxic ways, but I wasn’t beat on a bitch toxic. From young, I knew better.
“He shouldn’t have put his hands on you,” I told her as I looked her directly in her light brown eyes.
Her eyes were the prettiest shade of brown, and when the sun hit them, they looked like pots of honey.
“I fucked up by not changing the code on my phone,” she said before looking away.
Lucia was really a sweet girl who didn’t deserve any of the shit that lame ass nigga put her through.
I remember the first time I ever laid eyes on her; I knew I wanted her.
It was a few years back when Fresh first bought his house.
He threw a pool party and had the whole crew over.
Most niggas came with a lady, but I set foot in his kingdom dolo like I owned the muthafucka.
A nigga with so much money didn’t even pay for a chef or anybody to assist with the gathering.
He had Lucia waiting on us hand and foot, which didn’t sit well with me.
Her cousin was around to assist, but that wasn’t much help.
Being overstimulated by the crowd, I ducked off into one of the side rooms, only to find her in there crying.
What started off as her getting her emotions out and venting to me turned into a two-year-long affair. I genuinely had love for her.
“Na, he's wrong for putting his hands on you. I don’t care what you did.”
Fresh really fucked up by taking my shipment, but putting hands on Lucia took the cake.
“A black eye won’t even stop me from sucking this dick.”
She grabbed hold of my tool and flashed me her pearly whites. She was so unserious. I knew she had it hard with Fresh, and I had all intentions of getting her away from that nigga. Now I had the motive to do so.
“Where does he even think you are right now?”
She and I had been sneaking around for too long, and honestly, the shit was becoming draining.
I was given so many times to end things before we got caught, but I just couldn’t.
There were bitches who wanted me, but I wanted her.
The cat was out of the bag now, so I just had to devise a plan to get her away for good.
“He thinks I’m shopping. An apology for this, I guess,” she said before pointing to her eye and shrugging.
I wasn’t even in the mood to fuck anymore, just thinking about her situation. I lifted my bottom half from my couch and then tucked my tool back into my drawers.
“What’s wrong, pa?”
Her arched eyebrows dented as if she had done something wrong.
“Nothing. I just wanna chill,” I said, patting the spot beside me on the couch.
She sat beside me Indian style, causing the oversized t-shirt of mine that she was wearing to drape over her knees.
“Thank you for that tip about my shipment, too,” I added once she leaned over and laid her head on my chest.
Honestly, if she hadn’t put me on game, I wouldn’t have known who the fuck was bold enough to pull some shit like this. The Blackwood name rang bells in these streets, so I knew that whoever was responsible didn’t value their life for real.
“It was nothing. Fabian’s ass was talking too loudly on the phone.”
She sighed after her statement. I knew living a double life must have been exhausting. We were at the end of this rollercoaster, though. I just needed her to ride beside a nigga a little while longer.
“I’m gonna get you away from him.”
I kissed the top of her head, and she just nuzzled her face further into my armpit. I could have handled this nigga myself; I just preferred if someone else did my dirty work. He always crept quieter than I did. I needed my brother to make something shake with this nigga Fresh, and soon.
Orion
It was my first weekend back open after the shooting, and Obsessions was loud.
Strobe lights were cutting through the smoke haze, money was flying, and bottles were lit up with sparklers.
It was like the week before held no mayhem.
This was my kingdom. My escape. But I wasn’t in the mood for a party.
Earlier, I had done what I was dreading since having the conversation with Omari: reach out to Fresh.
Meeting on my turf gave me a sense of comfort.
Bodyguards checked his ass before he walked through here.
I was shocked that he even agreed to meet with me.
But I was sure he knew exactly why I called him here.
Fresh sat across from me in the V.I.P. booth, mean-mugging and sipping his drink like he owned the place.
I shouldn’t have even offered a damn drink, but I was trying to handle this in a calm manner.
He used to be my right hand, my brother without the blood.
The scowl he wore just screamed that he didn’t give a damn about the history we shared.
Tonight, all I saw was a man daring me to check him.
We both walked with our heads held high, and we were made from the same cloth.
That’s how we clicked all those years ago.
Shit, my mother damn near raised his ass like her own.
When Omari and I got whooped, if his ass was around, he got whooped too.
Before I even opened my mouth, I just stared at him for a bit. All bullshit aside, I wondered how we had even gotten to this point. But we were here now. I leaned forward, making sure my voice was calm but sharp.
“Fresh, I need you to put this beef to bed with Omari. The shit is honestly stupid and childish. Y’all dragging it at this point.”
He laughed, bitter and loud enough for the two bad bitches in the corner to glance our way. I was never into the fashion of causing a scene, and he knew that shit. If I ever showed my ass in public, it was because I was beyond pissed, or a female I was dealing with had gotten the best of me.
“Dragging? Your brother’s the one dragging his dick through my marriage. He’s fucking my wife, Orion. My wife. And you sit here like I’m supposed to just let that slide?”
My jaw flexed, but I kept steady. Honestly, I didn’t give a fuck about his wife or his marriage. Seems to me like he married the wrong bitch if she was stepping outside of their nuptials anyway.
“I ain’t co-signing that, but you know stealing his shipment is the type of shit that starts a war. You could’ve called me to handle it differently.”
Sometimes Omari was hard to talk to because he only saw the world as he wanted to.
I left the streets five years ago, yet people were still banging down my line in some situations for me to talk some sense into my brother.
With every new dilemma that arose, he had me regretting even handing him the torch.
If muthafuckas were still going through me for certain shit, it didn’t make any sense for me to leave the streets alone to begin with.
Fresh slammed his glass on the table, causing his liquor to spill all over his hand.
“Handled it differently? Fuck you wanted niggas to do? Go to your mom's backyard and slap box like we used to do when we were kids? Man, fuck your brother! He disrespected me first, and you expect me to sit on my hands? Nah, I hit him where it hurt. That product is mine now. If he wants his work back, tell him to say please, nigga. As a matter of fact, tell him to come get it if he wants it. It’s a fair exchange for the shit he took from me.”
My hands balled into fists on my knees.
“You're crossing the line. You're putting business in the middle of some personal shit. That’s not how we move.”
He, more than anybody, knew how I got down out here. Even pulling some shit like this was emotional as fuck. This tender dick ass nigga was in his feels. I didn’t give a shit that he gave the ho his last name. It was a personal issue that needed a personal resolution.
Fresh leaned back with his eyes narrowed and his grin cruel.
He was on demon time, and instantly, my guard went up.
“This business is personal, Orion. You just don’t wanna admit your brother got you looking weak.
He fucked up and got himself in some shit.
And what do you do? Sit here and beg me to let it go.
Asking more than once is begging, right?
That’s what you taught me. The O I knew didn’t even sit down to politick with anybody.
Especially not on another nigga’s behalf.
You used to make moves without the convo.
” He paused and then looked me up and down like I was little or something. “Nigga, you got soft.”
The words burned hot in my ears.
“Watch your mouth, Fresh.”
He chuckled lowly while shaking his head.
“Or what? You gonna handle me? You ain’t even like that no more. Didn’t you leave the game? You went and got this club and started acting like James St. Patrick. O is bad and boujee now while my feet are still down in the trenches. You ain’t that nigga no more. Mind ya legitimate ass business.”
I shot up from the booth, towering over him with a coldness to my tone that I hadn’t heard in years.
“If it’s smoke you want, I’ll bring it. The only reason I tried this sitting down bullshit is because of our history. But cool, that’s dead. Just remember, you were family before you were food.”