MONFUA
It had been a few days since Chevy’s wedding, and I hadn’t heard a word from Lakia. Little Momma was standing on business, and no matter what, I felt I had to let her be free.
My mother had been doing so much of the running of the business on her own that today I wanted to help her.
Neither one of us had to be here, but because we were passionate about the bar and bringing a different type of culture to the Cove, we enjoyed being around.
When I parked, I noticed someone standing outside the bar door.
I jogged over to see why they were standing outside of a place that was currently closed, “We’re not open yet,” I told him.
When the person turned, I was surprised to see who it was. “Kareem?” I called out, confused.
I hadn’t seen the nigga in a minute, since the day he got locked up.
Kareem, Mali, and I all attended the same school.
He wasn’t a part of the ‘In’ crowd, but rather the kid who entered the crowds.
He always used to rap and shit. The nigga was cold, but he was also fucked up in the head.
There had been numerous rumors about him and his family that most people had stayed away, except for Mali.
I’d wondered what his reason was for showing up at the bar.
Honestly, I was surprised he wasn’t terrorizing the streets, since his brother was in the hospital. Kareem smirked as if he was trying to force a smile on his face, but couldn’t. “Mon-fucking- Fua. Waddup, my G.”
I eyed him closely. “Waddup,” I muttered.
I unlocked the doors and stepped inside. Kareem followed behind me, which caused me to spin on his ass quickly. “Ayo, back the fuck up. How can I help you?”
He sucked his pissy ass grills. “I came to get a job.”
“And you come here?”
He shrugged. “I mean, shit, why not. I figured—”
I held my hand out. “First, you’re coming in here talking about you need a job, but you’re cussing and shit. Second, you’re not even dressed for an interview, third—”
“Damn, ease up, island boy. A nigga just got out of jail. So maybe I’m behind or don’t really know what I’m supposed to do, but do I get credit for trying?”
I stared him up and down. I knew what it was like when people perceived you a certain way. I, too, was in his shoes at one point until someone believed in me enough to guide me. It’s how I ended up doing all that training to get ready for the fireman academy.
I let out a deep sigh. “What do you know how to do?” I asked.
He looked at the bar, then at me. I didn’t even allow the nigga to say another word. “Hell nah. You’re going in the back; you can bus tables. Look, come back next week and I got you. Clean yourself up, though. Nobody is going to hire you looking like that.”
He nodded slowly. “You still talk to Mison?” he asked.
I crossed my arms over my chest, “Yeah, why?”
“Tell that nigga to holla at me,” he said as he began backing out of the bar.
Before he stepped out, he pointed at me, “Thanks for looking out,” he paused. “This time.”
What the fuck did that mean? I didn’t know if the nigga was up to something or not, but before I moved off assumptions, I was going to give him a chance.
However, he had to get past my mother first because if she didn’t feel comfortable, the nigga would have to go searching elsewhere.
I was all for helping people, but my mother’s safety came first.
Kareem wanting Mali to holla at him made me skeptical, and I was going to be sure to drill Mali’s ass with questions because the last thing I wanted was to be a part of some bullshit I was already dealing with Foe.
If I needed to put a nigga down, it wasn’t going to be a thought, but rather an action.