Chapter 3
three
“Dania on your head again?” Cairo asked. Nate’s scoff lending the answer he needed. “You stay pissing her off. Take your ass back to your spot before she comes over here on that bullshit.”
“She ain’t bringing her ass over here,” he grumbled.
“Nah? You know she’s coming in twenty minutes with all that hooting and hollering and shit. You know I don’t have all that shit around me,” Cairo stated, roaming past him to unlock the door.
Nate stood. “Still scarred about Reshia, huh? Nigga, she damn near burnt your shit down.”
“Don’t fuckin’ remind me. Almost had Sapphire and her girls do more than put her through the pavement.
Still pisses me the fuck off,” Cairo grumbled, walking into his spot with Nate on his heels.
The mere thought of his ex-girlfriend made him appreciate all the silence he lived in.
He kept gang shit outside of these four walls.
His house was his refuge, his creative haven.
He could thank his childhood for that level of isolation.
No one was getting in here if he didn’t personally invite them in.
“Aight,” Nate spoke, throwing his hands up. “My bad, my bad. You’re a capricious ass nigga.”
“You been in the dictionary again?” Cairo asked, flipping the switch, turning the lights on to his small living area, and plopping down with his bag of tacos.
“Trying to have that higher education and shit while I’m serving fiends,” Nate shared. “Speaking of which. Hype and Chuckee.”
“What about them, I put their stupid asses through the fuckin’ concrete and not one nigga from CK is going to check me about it, either. Holding the fuckin’ corner store up, putting guns to civilian’s heads and shit. You know I don’t fuck with that type of shit.”
Nate, knowing Cairo’s tumultuous past, nodded. “I know. You know Martez is out of county.”
Cairo scoffed. “I don’t give a fuck about Martez’s pussy ass. The fact that he still got breath in his body is my gift to his momma. Ol’ fake ass, wannabe CK.”
Nate chuckled, knowing that Martez’s street cred was inflated.
The jail stints he took were sixty percent fabricated.
Word on the streets was, when he caught some heat, he’d flee to Greenwood or Emerald City and bop around like he was a mover and shaker in the city and come back when the heat he caused died down. Cairo couldn’t and wouldn’t respect it.
“I’m just saying, I don’t want to have to make that nigga eat brass,” Nate spoke.
Cairo stuffed his mouth with the first taco, his mind flashing to the frightened woman who occupied space long enough to make him adjust to having someone else too close for comfort.
He shook it off. There was no time for it.
That, and she was from Mecca. While he was crazy enough to have respect from any set, he wouldn’t put his reputation to the test.
“We chillin’ until we ain’t,” he coolly stated.
Nate smirked. “What’s the word on that job?”
“I’ll let you know tomorrow. I’m dropping off a few packs in the morning. Depending on what this nigga got going on, I’ll let the crew know if we moving or not,” Cairo shared. “That’s what Dania tripping about? Money.”
“If it ain’t money, it’s some bitches with my name in their mouth. Her ass is too crazy to cheat on,” Nate spoke with a grumble. “A nigga slipped up once and I can’t catch a break.”
“Slipped up?” Cairo asked, wiping his hands off on the napkin provided in his bag with the thirsty woman’s number on it. “Nigga, that wasn’t no fuckin’ slip up.”
“It was. I was drunk and my dick slipped inside the bitch,” Nate replied. “You know how it goes.”
“Nah…I don’t. I ain’t never fucked on nothing I didn’t want to. And I ain’t never did it while committed to someone. You got yourself to blame for the monster you created with Dania. How much you need?”
“I’m not taking a dime from you,” Nate protested, as Cairo pushed his tattooed hand into the pocket of his Dickies shorts. “I’m going to hit up the block after this.”
“Nah, nigga. Block is hot tonight. Take this shit and get your ass back to the spot and fix whatever you fucked up,” Cairo directed, handing him the knot of cash.
If it were anyone else, Cairo would’ve bypassed the offering.
But Nate, he trusted with his life. It was a test they’d passed for one another countless times.
“Who side you on? Hers or mine?” Nate asked, taking the money in thanks.
“Hers, ‘cause she makes you a better nigga, nigga. Get out of here. I’ll hit you up tomorrow.”
The men exchanged a signature handshake before Nate exited the house, leaving Cairo to draw in a deep breath, hoping to pick up the faint scent of mango lingering behind from his unexpected guest.
“Fuck you doin’, nigga? Don’t have time for the headache,” he muttered to himself before he scoffed. “She green as hell. Yeah, nah.”
None of it was convincing. Regardless of how many times he told himself that his focus would be stacking his money, working on these beats, and getting out of the hood.
He found himself wrapped in the covers holding the sweet mango aroma.
The encounter would be life-altering. How? He’d determine that later.