9. Dorian #2
I rubbed my hand across my beard while I processed that shit.
Weeks had passed, and I still didn’t believe for one second that Cyrus had simply decided to take his loss and keep moving.
Forty bricks and almost two million dollars wasn’t some shit a nigga forgot about because he woke up in a better mood one morning.
Especially not after niggas had gotten killed behind it.
“That nigga ain’t just letting this shit go,” I stated as I looked across the table at Mello. “I’on care how quiet he is. Ain’t no nigga taking a loss like that and saying fuck it.”
“I’on think he letting it go either,” Mello agreed as he picked his phone up and turned it over in his hand. “But if he got some shit going, he’s keeping it to himself. Nobody I talked to had anything solid. Everybody’s saying that he called a truce.”
I frowned because that was the part that made the least sense to me.
Mello had already heard that Cyrus supposedly worked something out with the people from the deal, but nobody seemed to know what the fuck they worked out.
That could mean the problem was over, or it could mean those niggas had finally stopped blaming each other long enough to start looking in the right direction.
“What the fuck does that even mean, though?” I questioned as I leaned forward and rested my arms on the table. “Did Cyrus pay the nigga? Did they split the loss?” This shit was started to be more hectic than it was worth.
“That’s why I’ain putting too much faith in it,” Mello replied as he shook his head. “For all we know, they could’ve sat down and figured out neither one of them was behind the shit.”
That thought had already crossed my mind, and I didn’t like hearing it come out of his mouth.
When I made the move, the whole point was to have everybody looking somewhere besides me.
If Cyrus and the other nigga stopped pointing fingers at each other, eventually somebody was going to start retracing steps.
“That’s exactly why I need you to figure this shit out,” I told Mello as I tapped my fingers against the table. “I’m tired of sitting around trying to guess what these niggas doing. Every day that Cyrus stays quiet, I feel like that muthafucka knows more than we think he knows.”
“I hear you, but I gotta move smart too.” He nodded. “If I start calling everybody asking where Cyrus at and what he doing, somebody gone start wondering why the fuck I care so much,” he admitted.
“I’m not telling you to run around announcing the shit,” I responded, irritated as fuck. “You know how to move. Tap in with whoever you need to tap in with and figure out what the fuck is going on. I need something real this time, not some shit somebody heard from another muthafucka.”
“Aight, bro, I got you,” Mello assured me as he sat forward. “I know a couple people I haven’t reached out to yet because I was trying not to pull too many strings at once. I’ll see what they know.”
“Do that shit ASAP,” I instructed as I looked directly at him. “I need to know if Cyrus knows I’m behind the shit, and who the fuck he’s been dealing with since all this shit happened. Anything you can find out, I need to know.”
“I said I got you,” Mello reminded me as he grabbed his phone from the table. “Just don’t start doing no extra shit until I hit you back. If nobody making a move against you right now, you’on wanna be the one to shake the table and bring attention back this way.”
“I’ain shaking shit,” I replied as I stood and grabbed my keys. “I’m trying to make sure the table ain’t already falling on my fucking head and I’m the last nigga to know about it.”
Mello laughed lightly as he stood from his chair, but I wasn’t fucking joking.
He extended his fist, and I bumped mine against it before he started toward the door.
“I’ll start making calls when I leave here, and soon as I hear something worth hearing…
I’ll hit you,” Mello assured me as he tucked his phone into his pocket.
“Aight. Make that shit sooner than later,” I responded as I watched him leave the warehouse.
This whole situation had started because I saw an opportunity to make more money and figured I was smart enough to cover my tracks.
At the time, the shit made sense. I already had the product in my hands…
the buyers were there, and the money was too good to pass up.
I never expected two niggas to end up dead or for Cyrus to start digging as hard as he did.
By the time I realized how far the shit had gone, there wasn’t any way to undo it.
Reiana was already questioning me more than I liked, and the last thing I needed was for whatever I had going on in the streets to find its way anywhere near her or Rhyse.
She didn’t know about this side of my life, and I wanted to keep it that way.
Rhyse might not have liked my ass, but he was still a kid, and neither one of them had anything to do with the choices I made.
The more I thought about Cyrus, the more I knew there were only two possibilities.
Either that nigga had really decided the loss wasn’t worth taking any further, or he was somewhere putting together a move I couldn’t see yet.
I didn’t believe the first one for shit, which meant I needed to be ready for the second.
Whatever Cyrus was doing, I needed to find out before he had the chance to bring that shit to my front door.