Rosama
Ihopped in my car after Nylah put me out and headed back to Brooklyn, while calling Blaze's phone, and he was dodging my shit. I called his brotha's phone, and that nigga picked up.
“Yo! Where the fuck your brotha at?” I asked before he could say anything.
He went silent.
“Are you with the nigga?” I asked.
Still no response.
“Brandon, stop bein’ a BITCH ASS NIGGA! and answer me!” I yelled into the phone as I moved through traffic.
Brandon's background got loud. He neva answered me, but it was loud as fuck, and then the bitch ass nigga hung up on me.
I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat and focused on the road while thinking about the look on Nylah’s face. I hate that she found that shit out. I hate even more that I did the shit.
I finally made it to the trap, and I called them niggas again as I parked, hopped outta the car, and ran up the steps, opening up the screen door.
“Where the fuck is Brandon and Blaze?!” I yelled out.
The niggas in the living room shook their heads as Dre walked outta the kitchen.
“What is goin’ on?” he asked.
“Where the fuck is Blaze? That nigga got me fucked up!”
Dre pulled me into the kitchen. “What the fuck is goin’ on Rosama, you trippin’.”
I shook my head. “No, the fuck I am not. I’ma kill that nigga.”
“What the fuck did he do?”
“That nigga pulled up on Nylah and showed her a fuckin’ picture of that bitch sucking my dick.”
“OH SHIT!” Dre yelled out. “Let me call him.”
Dre walked ova to his phone while I took his blunt outta the ashtray and lit it, watching Dre make the call.
“Yo,” Dre said; that bitch nigga picked up for him. “I need you to slide back through.”
I stared Dre down as he talked to that clown ass nigga.
“Nigga, did you do some ho shit?” Dre asked him, and then I saw Dre get irritated. “Man, that’s some weak ass shit. Either way, you gonna answer for the shit.”
I nodded. I liked the way my nigga was handling the call, then he pulled the phone away from his ear.
“That bitch hung up on me,” he said.
I passed him the blunt. “His brotha did the same shit.”
“So, what’s the move?”
“I need to find them niggas,” I said, bout to walk out the kitchen.
“Wait up, nigga, I'm ridin’,” Dre said as he walked behind me.
We walked outta the trap and hopped into my car, and I pulled off not even knowing where to check for this nigga.
“Go to his momma's crib first,” Dre said before I could even ask.
I nodded.
“I can’t believe that nigga did that lame ass shit,” I stated.
“Facts, that nigga hurt when he been running through bitches since he got home.
“I love Nylah, man,” I said, making Dre snap his head, looking at me. “I know I'm not movin’ the right way, but I love that girl. That nigga bet not have fucked shit up with me and her for good.”
Dre exhaled. “I don’t know, nigga. You might have to do somethin big to get her back, but…then again, it was just head; that’s not really cheating.”
I laughed a lil’ bit, knowing damn well Nylah was not gonna go for that shit.
“I did stop the bitch. I didn’t let her finish.”
“Use that shit, nigga,” Dre said, laughing. “Do whateva you got to do to get ya girl back.”
After twenty minutes and a whole conversation on how I could get Nylah to forgive me, we pulled up to Brandon and Blaze’s momma’s house and hopped outta the car like we were on top flight security shit, rushing to the front door.
Dre banged on it, and we took a step back, looking up and down the block while we waited for somebody to answer.
“I don’t give a fuck what anybody says, we checkin’ the crib.”
“Noted,” he responded.
After a few minutes, their moms came to the door.
“Ma dukes,” Dre said. “Ya sons here?”
“No,” she responded low. “I haven’t seen them in a week.”
Me and Dre looked at each otha at the same time.
“We need to check ya shit,” I said, walking up the steps.
She tried to pull her screen door shut, and I caught it.
“Who the fuck are you?!” she questioned. “You ain’t no damn police, and you’re not comin’ in my shit.”
“Bitch, ya son works for me, and he lost his damn mind. Now if you don’t want to be wearing them on a shirt or them wearing you on a shirt, I suggest you move the fuck out the way so I can make sure you are not lyin’.”
She stared me up and down for a minute, then moved to the side.
“I hope when my sons find you, they will beat y’all asses!” she yelled as we walked down the hall.
We checked every inch of her three bedrooms and didn’t find them, and walked back out to her pissed.
“Sorry for disturbing you,” Dre said as we walked down her steps.
“Yeah, okay!” she yelled, “and I hope y’all don’t find them! Fuck y’all.”
“You know she bout to call them, right?” Dre asked.
I nodded as I pulled off.
“Yeah, it can either do one or two things. Bring them outta hiding or make them hide deeper in the city.”
“And what do you think it’s gonna make them do?”
I took a second to answer that question, moving through the city. Remembering I knew where their aunt lived.
While I headed ova there, I tried to call Nylah, and she was dodging my calls too, pissing me off even more.
“Just give her a chance to breathe,” Dre said. “She will come around.”
I exhaled. “I hope so. I really do.”
Once we got to their aunt's crib, them niggas’ cousins were sitting on the steps.
“Where yo’ bitch ass cousin at?” Dre yelled out the window.
None of the niggas wanted to open their mouths.
Dre asked again. “I said, maybe y’all didn’t hear, I said WHERE IS YO’ BITCH ASS COUSINS AT?!”
Still no response.
“They think shit is a game,” Dre said, looking at me.
“I got a game for them.” I hopped outta the whip, AR in hand, pointed at all them niggas.
“And see,” Dre said, getting outta the car. “I was tryin’ to prevent this shit.”
“WHERE THE FUCK THEM NIGGAS AT!” I yelled. Them niggas thought we were playing, and I'm not the one to be played with.
All of them had their hands in the air, but none of them were speaking. A few minutes into my standoff, the door to the house opened.
“What is goin’ on out here?” their aunt said.
“Auntie,” Dre said. “Do you know where Brandon and Blaze are?”
“Nooo…Blaze called earlier and said that he had to duck off for a minute.”
I walked away and got back in the car, with Dre not far behind.
We drove around a lil’ bit longer, deeper in Brooklyn, asking old heads and bitches we saw them niggas with if they had been spotted, and they hadn’t.
It was getting later in the night, and we couldn’t think of anotha place to stop on the spot, so I took Dre back to the trap.
“You gonna be iight, nigga?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yeah, I’ma slide home and try to get some sleep.”
“Hit me when you get up. I’ma put word out about them niggas.”
I dapped Dre up, then pulled out. I told him I was heading home, but I already knew I wasn’t gonna be able to rest. I didn’t want that nigga to call me a simp, ‘cause I was goin’ back to Nylah’s crib. I needed her to hear me out.
Once I pulled up there, I saw that her crib was dark, but her car was out front. I walked up to the door and knocked. I didn’t hear any movement inside.
“Nylah, it’s me, princess, come to the door,” I said softly.
But she didn’t come.
I knocked again. “Nylah, baby, please. I need to explain to you what happened. It’s not what you think.”
She didn’t even yell at me.
I knocked one last time. “Nylah, I will be back. I’ma keep tryin'. We are not gonna end like this…I told you….I’m falling for you.”
As I walked to my car, I heard a door open and turned around, but it was just her neighbor. I got in my car and pulled off, thinking about what I could do next when my phone lit up with DON’T ANSWER across the screen, and I picked up.
“Mariah, I am not in the mood. Sign the papers and leave me alone,” I said, not giving her a chance to speak before I hung up.
Once I got home, I took a shower, then rolled five big ass blunts and took them to the head.
I was tired. I was irritated. I was mad as fuck…and I needed Nylah—I had to get Nylah back.