3. Step to Me #2
She couldn’t sleep now, so she was going to find something to watch, heat up leftovers, and curl up until Eazy got back.
Now that she didn’t have a job, she’d been heavily applying at childcare facilities and even for substitute teacher positions.
Something had to give, or she and her baby were going to end up homeless.
She knew her family wouldn’t allow that to happen, and neither would Eazy at this point.
Lotus was just too independent for her own good sometimes.
She’d rather hit rock bottom before ever asking the next for help.
Rolling past Miss Ruby’s Chicken & Fish brought back all kinds of memories for Bull from when they were kids.
She died a couple of years ago, so the place basically stood frozen in time while everything around it got updated and gentrification kicked in slowly but surely.
Her daughter didn’t want to sell anyway, so she stuck the closed sign up and left it as is.
It was one of the first places he ever worked, and Bronx used to show up all the time with Eazy.
Ruby would let them terrorize customers and talk shit all day too.
She’d prefer that than them out running the streets, which they were going to do regardless.
A couple of times when he got in trouble, he’d have to make it up in work as well.
Ruby didn’t play that no consequence shit, and she wasn’t afraid to go upside anybody’s child head, especially when they were fucking up in or around her establishment.
She knew everybody and everybody’s business and would quickly put a motherfucker in their place for not acting ‘civilized’ as she called it.
Ten minutes later, Eazy whipped his old school onto Danbury Street right in front of 1412 sitting on top of a hill.
Only a single light was on in the living room window, but Bull caught the flicker off a headlight from the car parked in back from his position in the passenger seat.
Jewel leaned forward, taking a pull of the blunt before passing it to Bull.
Together, the three peered up at the house, a host of memories hitting them at once.
Oracle didn’t have parents. He was basically an orphan.
His uncle owned this house, and he got custody of him when he was like ten years old.
When Oracle was fourteen, Booker had a heart attack.
Instead of risking going into state custody, Oracle told everybody his uncle was bedridden and couldn’t do anything anymore.
The whole time, he was buried in the backyard.
The nigga even went as far as hiring his crackhead auntie to come in a few times a week pretending to be a nurse to check on him. Diabolical.
With no rules and nobody around to regulate anything, Oracle’s house became the spot.
All their earlier heists were thought out and pieced together behind those very walls.
Bull passed the blunt to Eazy but kept his eyes on the house.
Reaching in his waist, he grabbed the Ruger off his hip and cocked it.
He wasn’t taking any chances. Hand on the door handle, he pushed it open and climbed out.
Jewel was right behind him from the back seat, and Eazy met up with them on the sidewalk.
Taking another tug off the blunt, he peeped their surroundings again.
Sirens wailed in the distance, but the hospital was a few blocks over too.
Bull started up the steps. Jewel shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket and jogged up after.
Eazy took a moment, staring at the house, reflecting.
The first time he ever fucked Niva was in this house.
His grandparents wasn’t having that shit when he was in high school.
Now, he was about to walk in here after thinking she was dead for the last four years, and he couldn’t shake the queasiness in his belly.
“E,” Bull called him, already on the porch with Jewel when the door opened and Oracle appeared.
Eazy exhaled a cloud of weed and shook that shit off before starting up the concrete steps.
Oracle tried to slap hands with him when he stepped inside, but Eazy brushed him off.
Since everyone was accounted for, he closed and locked the door.
Eazy stopped dead in his tracks in the living room.
Niva leaned against the small doorway from the dining room to the living room.
Eyes on the ground, they immediately found his when he stopped.
She looked at him like she missed him, and that fucked with him.
“I know everybody probably got a lot of questions,” Oracle announced, pausing beside the old fireplace and picking up the glass he’d been sipping from.
“And I am not high enough for this shit.” Jewel went into his pocket for the rest of his weed and a blunt to roll.
Over the years, Oracle had made updates to the whole house.
From the outside, it still looked like his grandfather Booker’s home.
He’d had the siding updated but kept everything else the same.
Inside, it resembled a player’s mansion.
Leather furniture and chrome finish on everything.
Instead of a dining room table there was a pool table with an L-shaped bar and shelves lined with liquor behind it.
He used to pay bitches to walk around in little to nothing and cook, clean, or whatever.
Imagine being some teenagers and living that life.
Oracle sipped his cognac and eyed the weapon in Bull’s hand.
“I ain’t even on that type of time, Bull.”
“What exactly are you on then, O? ’Cause from where I’m standing, shit stank.” Eazy grilled both him and Niva. “What you got to say?”
“It’s not what you think,” she rebutted, acting like she had an attitude.
“You really want to hear my thoughts right now?” Eazy growled.
“Yo, pass me a glass, please. You muhfuckas ’bout to take me on a ride, ain’t it?” Jewel looked up after gutting his Backwood.
“Actually, I kind of do.” Niva pushed herself off the doorway frame, her brows knitting together.
“Look, we can sit here and listen to you muhfuckas go back and forth all night, but that ain’t what we here for, right? You got questions, we got answers,” Oracle chimed in.
“What I don’t got is time for fucking games. So, give it to us. What happened that night?” Eazy questioned.
“And why is my brother dead?” Bull demanded.
“Bronx found out about Braxton and how he was really moving. Nigga didn’t have us just moving art.
Yeah, it was lucrative, but what he had on his buyers and the network he built was even more valuable.
He was making double what he was telling us and pocketing the rest for himself.
Bronx had proof. So, the plan was to take all the paintings and profit off ’em without cutting Braxton in,” Oracle explained.
“And you thought that shit was gon’ work?” Bull grimaced.
“Me and Bronx agreed on a location. Only he took one of the paintings with him to the townhouse he was sharing… with your wife.” Oracle simpered sarcastically and tipped his glass to his mouth.
Bull’s grip tightened on his weapon.
“I’m fucking with you, Bull.” Oracle put his hands up and tittered.
“I’m not fucking with you, O,” he spoke for clarity. “Get to the fucking rest.”
“Aight, so while me and Bronx were working on our shit, this nigga Midas shows up. Shit felt kind of off, but you know, we ain’t seen that nigga in a long time, so I’m trying to be cool.
I’m feeling him out. Soon, he starts asking if we got any work.
This nigga Bronx can’t hold water and tells him everything.
He didn’t think Eazy or Jewel would be down with it, and he didn’t want to involve them in his beef with Braxton.
So it wasn’t like I set the nigga up. I didn’t know Midas was gon’ turn snake on both of us. ”
“You muhfuckas was okay with being greedy and leaving us out though, right?” Eazy calculated, shaking his head.
The more he listened, the easier it was for him to get pissed off. He turned toward the door and paced as Oracle went on.
“So, Midas knows y’all plan to double cross Braxton, and Braxton finds out?”
Oracle waved his glass toward Bull and aimed his index finger at him.
“Boom.”
Bull did the math for himself after that.
“So, Midas shows up with…”
“Slick,” Oracle filled in for him, referring to another mutual homie from around the way.
“They kill Bronx but only find one of five paintings. Meanwhile, across town, all y’all were also hit.” Bull looked at Eazy and Jewel.
“Braxton didn’t want any loose ends. Not even his own son.
Nobody was supposed to survive that night.
Only problem was he was still missing four high value pieces.
Now, he’s in debt to Sudan for the original order and got enemies closing in over that money trail in his records.
My guess is, one of those paintings holds that black book.
That muhfucka the key to everything, fuck the city! ”
Bull couldn’t keep one thought from taking over another as all the pieces to the puzzle aligned in his head. Bronx wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly what he was doing when he brought Midas in. He probably never thought Braxton would go as far as having him hit.
“That’s why he came to the house asking you about his cut,” Bull surmised, gaze drifting over to Eazy.
“And what about her?” Eazy pointed to Niva. “I was there. I held you.”
“You were unconscious,” Niva whispered, eyes swelling with tears.
“And was you ever even fucking paralyzed?” Eazy frowned in Oracle’s direction.