5. Rosama
Rosama
It had been a few days since I talked to Nylah, but she’d been stuck in a nigga’s head the whole time, and that shit wasn’t like me.
I don’t sit around thinking about no female longer than it takes me to hit ‘em up, fuck ‘em, and send them back where they came from. And don’t get me wrong, I was still doing that but something bout the way she checked me the whole conversation and didn’t fold once had my mind going back to her at random times in the middle of me doing shit that had nothing to do with her.
I was gonna lock in with her on Friday, but in the meantime, I had business to take care of in Brooklyn like always.
I made money a few different ways in my city, which kept me in motion.
I had to head out to East New York to meet with my nigga Jose.
He was my connect with guns and had been for the last four years.
Ever since I linked up with him through my people, I was the nigga the streets came to if they wanted something without a trace.
I pulled up to our normal meeting spot, and he was already there, sitting on the hood of his car. I killed my engine and hopped out.
“You late, nigga,” he said as I walked ova to him, dapping him up.
“You know how shit goes, traffic through the city.”
He nodded. “Word. I got some big shit for you.”
Jose hopped off the hood of his car, and we walked around to his truck. He unlocked it, and it was full of automatic guns. The nigga had Glock 18s, Mac-10s, and AR-15s. And my nigga had the extended clips to go with each one.
“Damn, my nigga, that’s how you feelin’ this drop?” I asked and picked up an AR, making sure it didn’t have any serial numbers tied to the shit.
“My people been mad lately, and it shows. Prices still the same though.”
I nodded and pulled out 40K. “Here nigga, mix my shit up and put it in the truck.”
Jose nodded, and I hopped back in my car and put the word out while I waited on him to load my shit up—pause.
Once he closed the hood, he walked to his car. “I’ll hit you next pickup.”
I nodded, started my shit, and pulled off.
When I got back around the hood, Dre and a few of our niggas was in a dice game.
“The word out?” Dre asked, already knowing what I was on.
I nodded. “You already know. My pack come through?” I asked.
He nodded. “It’s in the room in the spot.”
I walked up the steps and, as I stepped into the trap, I yelled back. “Tell the streets I'm out here.”
Inside, I dapped up a few niggas on the game, then went to the back and grabbed my pack outta the hiding spot and started to break it down, when I got another call from DON’T ANSWER. I looked at that shit and laughed as I continued to break down my weed and bag it up.
I was in my zone, rapping along to the music, watching what was going on outside and on my phone when I heard a slight knock and looked toward the door and saw shorty from across the street standing there.
“Wussup with you, girl?”
She shook her head and walked further into the room.
“Nothing much, wussup with you?”
I shrugged and kept my eyes on my work. “Nothin, getting to the money.”
“I see that,” she said softly. “I was tryin’ to see if I could get some off you.”
“How much?”
She looked around the room. I looked up from the weed I had laid out, trying to see what she was doing.
“I need a Vick.”
I nodded. “That’s eighty-five.”
She looked at me, shocked. “Eighty-five dollas?”
I laughed. “Yeah, you want the shit or not?”
“I do,” she said quick. “I don’t have the money for it tho’.”
I looked back at her. “Well, I guess you need to go find the shit, ain’t it? I don’t know what the fuck else you want me to say.”
She walked in front of me and dropped to her knees.
“If I suck your dick, can you give it to me?”
I smirked. “If it's worth it.”
She licked her lips, and I pulled my dick out, and shorty swallowed my 10-inch, curved black dick. I was surprised she could fit it all in her mouth.
Shorty was sloppy with it. Spitting all ova my dick, jacking it with her hand while she swallowed it. She was good—made me take my attention off my work a time or two. It took longer than I felt like giving her to make my dick spit.
When she was done, she sat up and licked her lips with a smile on her face.
I smirked at her. “You proud of yourself?” I asked her.
“Don’t do me like that,” she responded. “I told you I didn’t have the money.”
“You did,” I said as I was gathering my shit. I was done bagging everything up.
She got up off her knees and stepped back, watching me gather my stuff, and I checked my phone and saw my nigga wanted to pick up a gun.
“Damn,” I said to myself. “I need to slide to Queens.”
I was letting my people know I was on the way when she cleared her throat.
“Ugh, excuse me...” she said, trying to sound soft, but she was really irritated. “What about my weed?”
I laughed as I hit the door. “Girl, I said if it was worth it. Your head was not worth it.”
I walked outta the room and to the kitchen for something to drink.
“What the fuck you mean my head wasn’t worth it?”
I took a sip of my water. “What don't you understand? It was iight, mid at best.”
She tried to hit me.
“Fuck you, Rosama! I told you I didn’t have the money for it.”
I nodded. “You did, shorty. I understand that. I told you if it was worth it, I would slide you the Vick. It wasn’t worth it.”
I walked outta the house with my niggas on the game laughing.
“So what the fuck am I supposed to do for my weed?” she yelled out, asking me.
The whole stoop looked at me.
“Bitch, how the fuck am I supposed to tell you? I don’t know what the fuck you gonna do. Ya pussy might be worth some crack if you want to try that.”
My niggas laughed.
“Damn, Ro,” Dre blurted out. “You a damn fool for that one.”
I laughed. “I’ll be back, nigga.”
I hopped in my car and pulled off with the same shorty trying to get at one of my niggas on the stoop.
As I drove, I hit my people and told them I was on the way when DON’T ANSWER called again. This time, I picked up.
“STOP CALLIN’ MY FUCKIN’ PHONE!” I yelled, then hung up before they could even respond.
My plate stayed full, and I was in motion all day; the last thing I had time for was some bird bitch that didn’t want to listen.
After a few other licks, when I pulled around Queens, it was dark out. I hit my nigga’s phone and told him where I was.
While I waited for him to get to me, I sent Nylah a text. Nothing special, just wanted to feel her out a lil’ bit.
Me: Friday, I want you dressed in somethin’ sexy. I want niggas’ eyes glued on you.
She sent the laughing emoji back.
Her: Now, why would you want problems like that?
Me: There's no problem when you run shit, princess. Be ready when I hit your line.
She texted me back asking about what time and where we were going. I didn’t respond to none of that shit and let her talk to herself.
About twenty minutes later, I was about to pull out when my nigga finally pulled up.
I hopped out and leaned on my car, waiting for him to get closer.
“Damn, nigga,” I said as he hopped out. “What the fuck was you on?”
Ryan exhaled hard. “My fault, nigga, my baby moms didn’t want to let me out the house.”
I nodded, but my eyes were locked on him. Something was off. That nigga looked off.
“You okay, blood?” I asked him.
He nodded quick. “Yeah-yeah, I'm good. Just had a long day. Let me see the shit.”
I let my blunt as I looked at him, thinking, feeling out the situation. Then I laughed to myself and leaned up from my car.
“Iight, nigga...”
We walked around to my trunk. He tried to walk behind me, but I kept an eye on him.
Before I opened my trunk, I placed my hand on top of it.
“Ryan, don’t fuckin’ try me…”
That was all that needed to be said for Ryan to pull his tool out, pause, and raise it to my face as he cocked it.
“Give me your whole pickup.”
I laughed. I might have been a lil’ crazy ‘cause I had no fear, even with a Glock pointed at my face.
“You think I’ma give you all the guns in my trunk? Nigga, you lost your fuckin’ mind and bout to lose your life behind it.”
Ryan stood firm, but that Glock in his hand was shakin, hard as a bitch.
“You okay?” I asked him. He never responded, just was breathing hard with a shaky ass hand. “You know you not built for this shit, right?”
“How the fuck you know?” he asked.
I pulled my Glock out of my pants without him even realizing and smacked him across the face, sending him to the ground.
“That’s how the fuck I know, nigga!”
“My teeth!” he yelled out. “You knocked out my teeth!”
I laughed. “Good, bitch, how the fuck you gonna try the Don like that? You know who the fuck I am in Brooklyn, nigga?!”
Ryan's whole tune changed now that he was on the ground.
“Ro-Rosama, I'm sorry. My BM said I needed to get my weight up.”
“Now you don’t have to worry about that shit.”
I shot the nigga in his head and hopped back in my car like shit didn’t even happen.
When I got back to my block, Dre looked at my face and walked down to my car.
“Shit go left?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yeah, the nigga tried to rob me.”
Dre looked at me like he was in shock. I wasn’t. That’s what came with the territory. I was the nigga around Brooklyn and good in any hood I went to. The only thing that mattered was how you carried yourself and niggas when shit went down.
“Where the nigga now?” Dre asked, knowing I liked to torture niggas who liked to try me like that.
“Laying out where I met him.”
Dre shook his head. “I been telling you, I think it’s time you move different. You’re not making lil’ money, picking up lil’ guns. You puttin’ in real work in these streets.”
For the first time in a while, I was taking in what Dre was saying. That nigga might have been right, and since I was trying to bring Nylah into my world, I needed to move smarter.
“Put the team together, and I will slide through Saturday. Tomorrow I have a date with my future.”
Dre laughed. “Shorty that you ran into the back of?”
“Yeah, and you laughin’, but watch. She gonna be sitting right beside me while I hit licks.”
As I walked up the steps, relaxed for a minute, Dre yelled, “I thought you had too much on your plate?”
“I do… I honestly do. But that girl… I don’t know what it is about her yet, but I think she’s gonna complement me the way I need…just watch.”