CHAPTER 6
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Kaleasha “Kales”
I knew I was making the wrong choice the minute I sat down in Samir’s office and saw what type of man he was. Cold. Sharp, and gangster just like Quay.
The kind of man who looked like he stayed three steps ahead of everybody else in the room.
Nothing about him felt safe, and nothing about that job sounded clean. But by the time I had walked out of there with directions, a package, and the promise of money in my hand, I already knew I was going to do it anyway.
Because bills didn’t care about fear.
Rent didn’t care that my life was falling apart.
That eviction notice sitting on my counter damn sure wasn’t going to disappear just because my spirit was telling me to turn around.
So I drove.
The package sat on the passenger seat beside me in a plain brown box, taped up neat and looking regular enough that nobody would think twice about it. That was the crazy part. Something could look so normal on the outside and still have the power to ruin your whole life.
Kind of like love.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter and kept my eyes on the road, trying not to let my thoughts get too loud. Samir had texted me the address right after I left his office, and the farther I drove, the worse everything around me started looking.
The neighborhoods got rougher.
The houses looked tired.
Corner stores had bars on the windows, old men stood outside liquor spots like they had nowhere else to be, and every block looked like it had a story in it nobody wanted to tell.
By the time I made it to North Camden, I already knew this wasn’t no regular run.
The streets looked raggedy and forgotten, like the city had gave up on that part a long time ago.
Trash rolled across the curb when the wind hit.
Brick row homes sat shoulder to shoulder with busted porches, peeling paint, and windows that looked too dark even in the middle of the day.
A few dudes stood around on the corners, hands in hoodies, eyes following every car that passed through like they was counting who belonged and who didn’t.
I definitely didn’t.
The address led me to a block that made my stomach tighten soon as I turned onto it.
I slowed my car and checked the house numbers twice, hoping I had made a mistake.
I hadn’t.
The place I was supposed to stop at looked exactly like the kind of house something dirty would be going in and out of. The screen door was hanging crooked. The porch steps looked weak. A pit bull was chained up in the yard next door, barking like it knew I wasn’t supposed to be there.
For a second, I just sat there with the car running and both hands locked on the wheel.
Everything in me said leave.
Leave this whole situation.
But then I thought about that notice on my kitchen counter.
I thought about my lights.
My phone.
My groceries.
And the fact that nobody was about to save me.
So I picked up the box, got out, and shut the door behind me.
The second my feet hit the sidewalk, I felt it.
Eyes.
Too many of them.
Men standing around like they was doing nothing, but really clocking everything.
One of them let out a whistle low under his breath.
“Well, damn,” he said. “What you delivering over here, little mama?”
I kept walking.
Didn’t look at him.
Didn’t answer.
I had no reason to be talking to nobody on that block.
The house was three doors down. I moved quick, trying not to look as nervous as I felt. My heart was beating hard enough to make my fingers twitch around the box.
When I got to the porch, I knocked once and stepped back.
Nothing.
Then the door cracked open, and one eye looked out.
“Yeah?” a man’s voice asked.
“I got a delivery,” I said.
The eye dropped to the box in my hands, then came back to my face.
“From who?”
I hesitated.
Not long, but long enough to feel stupid.
Then I said it.
“Samir.”
The door opened wider.
A skinny dude with tattoos all up his neck and jaw stood there, looking me over like he was trying to figure out why somebody like me was standing on that porch saying that name.
After a second, he stepped aside just enough.
“Hand it here.”
I passed him the box.
No signature.
No questions.
No nothing.
He took it, nodded once, and shut the door in my face.
That was it.
That was all.
I stood there for a second staring at the door, my mind trying to catch up to what my body had just done.
Then I turned and made my way back toward my car.
Fast.
Too fast.
I could feel panic trying to climb up my back now that the delivery was over and my nerves had room to breathe.
“Why you in such a hurry?”
The voice came from my left.
I looked up and saw one of the men from the corner walking toward me. Another one came from behind a parked car like he had been there the whole time waiting.
My grip tightened on my keys.
“I’m not,” I said.
The taller one smiled, but it wasn’t a nice smile. “You sure about that?”
I clicked my remote and reached my car, but he stepped in front of the door before I could open it.
My chest tightened so fast I damn near stopped breathing.
“Move,” I said.
The other one came up on the passenger side, grinning. “You got a little attitude.”
I looked around, quick and sharp, but the whole block had that same dead energy to it. Ain’t nobody about to help me. Ain’t nobody about to get involved.
The taller one leaned one arm against the top of my car and looked me over. “You working for Samir now?”
That made my stomach drop.
I kept my face straight the best I could. “That ain’t got nothing to do with you.”
He laughed. “See? I knew it. Mouth slick too.”
The other one stepped a little closer. “Samir always did have interesting taste.”
I had my keys wedged between my fingers at that point, the sharp edge digging into my skin. My heart was pounding, but I refused to let my voice shake.
“Get the fuck out my way.”
The taller one reached up like he was about to touch my cheek.
I slapped his hand away so fast it made a sharp sound in the air.
His face changed instantly.
Real quick.
Real ugly.
“Oh, you got some fire in you,” he said.
“Nah,” I snapped, “I just don’t like random niggas touching me.”
For a second, nobody said nothing.
Then the other one laughed and took a step back. “Aight, relax. We just playing.”
Playing.
That word alone made me want to spit.
Because men always wanted to call shit a joke when they was testing how far they could go.
The taller one moved away from my door just enough for me to yank it open.
Before I got in, he said, “Tell Samir we seen his new little driver.”
I didn’t answer.
I got in, locked the doors, and pulled off so fast my tires almost squealed.
My hands were shaking all the way back.
Not a little either.
A real shake.
The kind you get when fear finally get loose in your body after you done forced yourself to stay still.
By the time I got back to Samir’s office, I was pissed, rattled, and done with every bit of this.
I walked in without waiting for permission and pushed straight past the front to his office like I belonged there.
Samir looked up when I came in, calm as ever.
Of course he was.
He was sitting behind that big desk looking like he had not a care in the world, like I had not just drove into the middle of some bullshit for him.
His dark eyes lifted over me slow.
“How’d it go?” he asked.
I pulled the phone he had used to contact me from my bag and threw it onto his desk.
“I quit.”
One side of his mouth twitched.
“That quick?”
“Yes, that quick,” I snapped. “I don’t know what type of shit you got going on, and I don’t care. I made your delivery. Run me my money, and I’m done.”
He looked at me for a second too long.
“You look upset.”
I laughed, but there wasn’t nothing funny in it. “You think?”
Without another word, he opened the drawer in his desk and pulled out a stack of cash.
He counted it once.
Then added more.
When he slid it toward me, I frowned.
That was way more than what he had promised me.
I looked from the money to him. “This is too much.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
He leaned back in his chair. “Because I felt like it.”
I stared at the money.
Rent flashed through my head first.
Then the lights.
Then the late fees.
Then how good it would feel to stop panicking for one damn night.
I hated how fast my hand moved toward it.
But I took it.
Because what else was I supposed to do?
Stand there and act like my problems were not real?
The second I grabbed the money, I said, “Thanks. But I still quit.”
That little bit of amusement in his face disappeared.
Not all at once.
Just enough.
Enough for me to see the colder part of him step forward.
He got up slow from behind his desk, and I swear the whole room shifted when he did that.
He came around the desk and stopped right in front of me.
Too close.
Not touching me.
Just close enough to make it clear he didn’t have to.
I lifted my chin and stood my ground, even though my pulse had started climbing all over again.
“You quitting is not really how this works,” he said.
My brows pulled together. “Excuse me?”
His eyes stayed on mine. “You came to me needing work. I gave it to you. I paid you. More than I intended to, actually. Now you standing here talking about you quit like you had options to begin with.”
That hit a nerve so fast I felt heat crawl up my neck.
“I always have options.”
His eyes dipped to the money in my hand, then lifted back to my face.
“No,” he said quietly. “You have bills.”
That shut me up for half a second.
And I hated that.
He saw it too.
Saw the truth hit.
His mouth twitched like he enjoyed it.
“You got an eviction notice, don’t you?” he asked.
My stomach dropped so hard it felt like somebody had punched me.
I stared at him. “How do you know that?”
“Because I know things.”
That answer only made me angrier.
“You had somebody watching me?”
He tilted his head. “If I did, would I tell you?”
I clenched the money tighter in my hand. “You got me fucked up if you think I’m about to keep doing this.”
He stepped even closer, his voice dropping lower.
“Here’s why you are,” he said. “You need money, and you need it fast. Legal work takes too long. Safe work does not pay enough. And now you already made a run for me.”
“I did one delivery.”
“You did my delivery,” he corrected. “That means something.”
I couldn’t even explain why the way he said that made my skin tighten.
Maybe because he sounded too sure.
Too calm.
Too much like a man used to getting what he wanted.
“I’m not stuck to you,” I said.
His eyes dropped to the cash again.
Then he licked his lips and looked back at me.
“Ain’t you?”
I didn’t answer.
Because standing there with more money in my hand than I had seen in over a week, after just one run, the truth felt ugly.
He saw that too.
“That money pays your rent,” he said. “Keeps your lights on. Buys your food. Gives you time. You really about to walk away from that because a couple niggas in North Camden scared you?”
That made my jaw tighten.
Because it wasn’t just that they scared me.
It was the fact that he knew they had.
“You knew that would happen?” I asked.
He shrugged one shoulder. “I knew where I was sending you.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “So you set me up to be tested?”
His face didn’t change. “And you passed.”
I wanted to slap him.
For real.
Wanted to throw the money back at him and cuss him clean out.
But all I could think about was how bad I needed what was in my hand.
That was the trap.
Not him or the package, but definitely the money.
The fact that it fixed just enough to make saying no feel irresponsible.
“I don’t belong in this,” I said.
“No,” he agreed. “But life brought you to it anyway.”
That was the sick part.
He wasn’t wrong.
I looked away for a second, trying to get my breathing under control.
When I looked back at him, my voice was lower.
“This is temporary.”
A slow smile spread across his face that was cold and satisfied.
Like he already knew temporary was how shit like this always started.
“Whatever helps you sleep tonight,” he said.
I turned toward the door because I couldn’t stand another second in that office without either cussing him out or breaking down, and I refused to do either in front of him.
My hand was on the knob when his voice stopped me.
“See you tomorrow, beautiful.”
I froze.
Just for a second.
Then I opened the door and kept walking like I had not heard him, but I did.
And all the way home, with that money sitting heavy in my purse and his voice still crawling around in my head, I knew one thing for sure.
I was in deeper than I had been that morning.