18. Rico
Rico
Nan hasn’t talked to me in three months. She told Miele she’ll speak to me when we don’t have to live out of the hotel anymore.
Miele has barely spoken to me, either. I had to grow out my hair and walk around looking crazy for her to cave in, but once my little cousin starts talking, she doesn't stop.
That’s the only reason I know how Snow feels.
I admit, I overreacted. But who lies about fucking someone’s father? And specifically, who does that knowing chances are they won’t even remember doing it?
But being the bad guy isn’t new to me, so I spend my days helping the remodel of our crib, and staying out of their way.
It seems me shooting Pooh–even if I purposely only gave him a flesh wound–has united Nan and Snow.
They sit and have tea together and plot my demise.
She even encourages Snow and Mars being close, having stepped all the way back.
My nephew still fucks with me, but that’s just in his nature. I don’t think I’m special.
So when Mekhi Young tapped me to meet him in Colombia, I jumped at the chance. I told my cousins to hold it down, let Miele put some plaits in my hair, gathered whatever the fuck Sabrina’s brother needed from me and flew to Barranquilla.
Now, I’m sitting with Reem and Ty-Ty as their high asses fake like they’re watching some old comedy.
Letting them get high is a choice. I need my little cousin and his bestie as laid back as possible, since they keep voicing how MIA I’ve been, and I need honest answers to my questions. Pooh shouldn’t have known who Snow was to me, even if he knew I put money on her head.
Muthafuckas been pillow talking.
“So I told you that nigga Pooh popped up in Belize a few months back,” I start.
Reem cuts his eyes to me, while Ty-Ty smirks. “Granny said he got shot this summer, but I ain’t think it was you.”
“He was bringing up old shit,” I shrug. “Like how I had put money on Wynter’s head when we put down Kilo ‘nem.”
Reem coughs, while Ty-Ty clenches his jaw.
“You told Fredo where she was and he told me to let it go. She was at the Hive, huh?”
“We really finna have this conversation right now, Dub?” Reem asks, sighing. “We ain’t ever had a real convo about Wyn, you know that right? So knowing that, we finna have one right now?”
“Fuck it, he wanna have one, let’s do it.” Ty-Ty shifts on the couch until he’s facing me. “But if we finna be real, you need to be one hunnid, too. No riddles, no answering a question with a question, and no lying.”
“You acting like a nigga scared of you,” I say, folding my arms.
“Nah,” Ty-Ty chuckles, “You scared of yaself. But if you finna press me about what I may or may not have done or said in yo best interest, then we gonna lay it all on the table, starting with the skit we pulled on them Get Money niggas.”
“I think we should start at how we was able to stay at they crib the night I got put on,” Reem shrugs. “I ain’t even know he knew her like that.”
They both turn to look at me, faces blank.
Them niggas always loved ganging up on us.
My lips pull into a grin. “I can always box you both up like old times.”
Reem waves me off. “You still bullshitting–”
The tv in front of us switches to multiple security cameras.
“Ah shit,” Mekhi Young’s voice rings out in the room. “They breaching my damn house. Damn! I’d get the fuck outta there if I were you. But–shit! Someone wake up Love!”
The lights go dead, with only the tv illuminating the room. As soon as I see people pouring out of SUVs we all hop up.
“We fuckin’ surrounded–”
“Chill,” I interrupt Ty-Ty, before looking at Reem. “Go get YT. Try to stay alive. We’ll see about getting the fuck out of here.”
He grimaces, but nods, and goes out toward the hallway where Collective henchmen start mobilizing.
The house shakes violently as we go out the other door that leads to another hallway. There’s stairs that take us to the side of the house. I was the first to get here, so being nosy, I walked through the house after setting the things Mekhi asked for in the basement.
The neighborhood itself looked familiar, and when I looked out of a window on this side of the house, I remembered why.
“Make your body lax, nigga,” I grit as I reach back and fist Ty-Ty’s shirt. My cousin’s not a bitch by any means, but the nigga is bumbling sometimes. And even if he’s beefed out with his family, they would kill me if he got hurt and they found out I was around and could have prevented it.
Before my left foot could follow my right off the stairs, I broke into a sprint. At the end of the narrow hallway is the window I looked out of earlier. A large bay window, that shows another window from the adjacent house.
I remember when those windows were put in.
“Come on bitch!” I grunt, dragging Ty-Ty along. I don’t know why he bought that fucking gym. He’s lazy as fuck, and always complained whenever Granny made him go to basketball practice.
“Fuck–”
I angle my head down and run through the window. Not even a second later, I’m through the other one in the neighboring house. Losing my footing, I take both of us down as we tumble on a Persian rug, before coming to a stop right before Ty-Ty can squish me into the wall.
Ty-Ty’s groaning as the door to the office we just burst in opens and heels click on the floor. I reach behind me to grab my piece, but when I hear a feminine tsk I’ve heard so many times before, I relax, thanking God she’s in town.
“Rico Alvarez. To what do I owe this displeasure?”
I sit up and lock eyes with Lola Calderón, the first woman I seriously dated after Snow.
Granted, it was for national security interests, seeing as how she was the then-president’s niece. But I knew her feelings for me were real, so I count it.
“Your neighbor’s being raided,” I huff, before getting to my feet.
Lola glances at the broken window before returning her glare to me.
Mashing her red lips together, she folds her arms and shifts her weight to her other perfectly sculpted leg.
“Figures you’d be in bed with a Santiago.
” She spits on the floor next to her foot, before sauntering over to the lightswitch.
Metal planks seal the broken window off when she flicks the second switch.
Ty stands next to me, and holds his piece loosely at his side. “Why it ain’t no security coming?”
I smirk, holding Lola’s gaze. “Lola likes her privacy. This is her fuck pad.”
Ty-Ty looks between us as Lola’s face tightens.
“What–”
“Necesitamos un paso seguro para salir de aquí, y la última vez que te llevé al orgasmo, dijiste que harías cualquier cosa por mí. Sigue siendo cierto?” (We need safe passage out of here, and the last time I brought you to orgasm, you said you’d do anything for me. Is that still true?)
Ty-Ty coughs to mask his laugh, since he knows exactly what the fuck I just said, even if he tries to downplay how intelligent he really is.
Lola’s eyes stretch. “Esto incluye a los Santiagos?” (Does this include the Santiagos?)
My smile widens. “Dijiste que harías cualquier cosa mami.” (You said you’d do anything, baby.)
Lola rolls her eyes before she hoods her lids. “Solo si follamos de nuevo.” (Only if we fuck again.)
This time, Ty-Ty doesn’t bother hiding his cackle.
“I’m abstinent,” I shrug, ignoring Ty-Ty’s dramatic ass gasp.
Lola narrows her eyes before moving her long thick black hair off her narrow shoulder. “You’re lucky I’m married now. Follow me.”
“Ay, you seriously abstinent? When did this happen?” Ty-Ty tries to whisper as we follow Lola downstairs to her attached garage. When I cut my eyes at him, he rolls his, but thankfully shuts the fuck up.
“I cannot imagine you just letting those nine by three inches waste away,” Lols purrs, glancing over her shoulder. “I don’t have to remind you both to get into the back. There should be a blanket.”
She turns in the industrial overhead lights, grabs her car keys and unlocks the black SUV. Ty-Ty pops the trunk and folds his big ass in, then I do the same, spreading the blanket over us so that we look like random shit in her trunk and not two niggas.
Lola’s phone rings as she slides into the driver’s seat and opens the garage door. She begins to fuss in Spanish to whoever she left in her playroom, and I smirk at Ty-Ty’s shoulders shaking in quiet laughter.
Outside, nothing but gunshots could be heard. Lola whips her truck effortlessly around the fray, and barks at whoever stops her and demands identification.
On the outside, she’s deemed a socialite, far removed from her political family, but my old unit, and specifically I know the real.
Lola Calderón is a bitch in every sense of the word.
Her kill count was in the double digits before we found each other, and I turned her out.
I’d heard after we broke up, she indulged in one more dom before becoming a domme herself.
And even though her uncle isn’t president anymore, she’s still a major player–and gun for hire–in South America.
After a few minutes, the gunfire is distant, but she’s stopped three more times before we get to her family’s private airstrip. When we pull into the underground garage, she turns off the engine and sighs, before dialing a number.
“What–” Mekhi Young thunders.
“Shut the fuck up and listen,” Lola hisses into the phone. “Come to my hangar and try to be discreet. And FYI: I’m trimming the fuck out of your hedges and since you won’t have a house to go back to, there’s nothing you can do about it.”
The phone is quiet for so long that I thought he hung up, until Ty-Ty’s stupid ass yells, “She’s legit, bro!”
“Fuck. Aight. Be there in an hour. And do what you want, you fuckin’ troll.”
“Blecht! Get out! Both of you. This hangar is secure, so you’ll be safe. In the morning I’ll send over my pilot–”
“And a car? In case we need to get–”
“Yes, yes. A car and pilot. Dios, your dick isn’t even that good.” She unlocks the trunk and Ty-Ty begins to climb out.
I follow him, then round the car to her open driver side window.
“Quit lying, Lola. I know you still dream about my shit.”