39. Rico #3
“And it couldn’t have been me!” My voice rises, breaking when I haul myself up to sit upright.
“Pooh put Boog on. That nigga was feeding the whole Birch at one point, and they ain’t have to do shit but sit on they ass and get high.
And yet and still, when it came down to it, that didn’t mean shit.
In fact, Pooh being my dad has almost gotten me killed more than once, even when I wasn’t fucking with that nigga.
I’ve had to rob, fight, kill, claw my way into some shit that should have been my birthright, while you… ”
I shake my head when words escape me. Nutty gon’ see this shit on the playback, and I know I’ma hear about this bullshit later.
“You my brother for life, Set. We been locked in since birth. Since before then. A-and, maybe it’s me who be putting us against each other. I’on know… it prolly is, shit. You just always had what I want… stop fuckin’ looking at me like that!”
Set blinks, and his eyes go back into their sockets, while his dimples puncture his cheeks more and more.
“Niggas been jelly ‘cause I’m that nigga?” he grins, full on cackling as he dodges my punch.
“Nah, nah,” he chuckles, wiping his eyes. “I can’t believe this all goes back to when I socked you twenty years ago. You can’t be serious?! Niggas literally been in the dirt with me but because I put you on… you really are Luney as fuck!”
“Stop fuckin’ calling me that! I know you only doing that shit to be petty,” I grumble, rubbing my chest.
“Well, bitch ass nigga, when you start acting like a Luney ass nigga, saying yo only brother is dead, I act accordingly.”
I wave him off, but when he clears his throat, I can tell he’s getting serious.
“Get yo head out of yo ass for a second, and think about all the shit an eleven year old had to do to not only have the authority to put niggas older than him on, have his own crew, and dole out punishment for the head bitch in charge. I ain’t get all that shit ‘cause I was Baby Boog, or because Tiny had a bleeding heart.
I had to earn my keep, every single day for years.
Long after Nut and Tryouts… and behind closed doors, Tiny had no problem reminding me her generosity was directly correlated to whatever I did.
I had no one, bro. Not a single person. I was thrown away, and she knew that and used that to build her up.
So yeah, I was that nigga, but at what cost? Whole childhood just… gone.
“Don’t envy me, bro. Don’t think I got anything you wanted.
” Set clears his throat again, crossing his legs.
“Even if it was just for a little while longer, even though Yani was all fucked up, shit, even though y’all had to come back, you and Fred got out the Birch and got to be kids.
Had a place to stay that wasn’t conditional on how many niggas you put down.
You got to be on bullshit, then come home to real family.
Have real puppy love… you and Wynter Snow.
” He chuckles, shaking his head, humor lacing his voice instead of sadness.
“I was too busy running shit to notice one of my bros pulled the baddest in the city.”
“I really… I really ain’t know what I was doing, so I didn’t broadcast it, foreal. Nut didn’t know–”
“Only ‘cause, according to my calculations, the nigga was in the camps when you met her. That don’t make me feel better, ‘cause as much as you rag on me and my niggas, you, Fred, and Nut are way fuckin’ worse.
You niggas always acted like you all shared a brain.
Nigga would always remind me that you and Fred were his friends, ‘specially after you left.”
“He’s right,” I shrug. “Like yeah, we been in them trenches. But you wasn’t in Ms. Robinson’s class serving green crayons and bullying niggas in Heads Up Seven Up. You can’t compete with that, Casey.”
I roll away from him as he tries to hit me, standing up and stretching my sore muscles.
“For real, Rico… we good? Like actually good?”
I meet Set’s gaze, frowning at his tone.
I’ll never get used to him sounding unsure.
Set has never been unsure about anything.
And I know I’m getting soft, because for the first time in a long time, I see the annoying ass lil’ nigga who was always following my ace around when we wanted to get into some shit.
“Yeah, nigga, damn,” I groan, holding my hand out. He takes it, curling his index finger and thumb around mine for the Birch handshake.
I grip his hand, and drive my other fist into his ribs. He grunts, curling over and stumbling away from me.
“Now we even. Twenty years later, but whatever.” I grin as he scowls at me, trying to straighten up.
“Bitch ass nigga,” he coughs.
“Nigga you lucky I don’t black yo eye like I want to.”
Nut bursts into the room, the others following him, but he only has eyes for Set.
“Who the fuck killed Kilo? And don’t tell me no bullshit. This nigga stumbling over his words and I’m trying not to lay him out.” He jabs his thumb at a sheepish Turk, who starts rubbing on that damn eyebrow like he finna get an ass whooping.
“How I’ma know if I was witchu that weekend? Turk said he the one who did it.” Set shrugs, rubbing his side while he takes a seat on the couch.
I roll my eyes, checking my phone for the time. I had plans tonight, and these niggas wanna kumbuya and wake up sleeping dogs and shit.
“Man, look. I’m only saying this once, ‘cause yo ass never let shit go. Then, we dead that shit, since everyone else involved is dead anyway, aight? Entiendes?”
Nut kisses his teeth, but Shad’s messy ass is poised on the other couch, eager for the great mystery of what caused us to take over the Birch.
“There was a series of unfortunate events that weekend... Haze ended up in the Birch, in a… delicate situation. Technically, she killed Kilo.”
“You lying!” Shad shouts. Reem reaches over and snatches his phone, glancing at whatever he was texting before shaking his head and deleting the text.
“Nigga. Mace ain’t gotta know everything,” he mutters to Shad.
“He was tryna take out multiple Alvarezes with one stone. I made the call to say Turk did it and I ain’t tell you why because the way you are, you’d have killed any and every nigga in the towers, and it wasn’t needed.
Me, Turk, Fred, and Haze handled the immediate problem, and the transfer of power was seamless…
enough. We don’t bring it up because… well you know Haze is off. ”
“No she not–”
“Yes she is,” Set and Shad interrupt Turk’s lying ass. Nut’s lips twitch but he’s still trying to play mad so he deepens his scowl instead.
“You know what? Whatever. You and my cousin good? If not I got the shirt we use for when Denver and Lil Mama beefed out and that shit is full proof.”
“We good,” I grin, walking over to Set. He dodges my arms, shifting to his back to kick at me.
“Look, you bruised my ribs like I bruised yours. Leave me alone, Rico.”
I grin hearing my name, and I’ll admit to myself and Fred that it is a little… nice to clear the air.
Go ahead and do it, Rick.
My grin drops off my face. I don’t like being told what to do, even if it’s myself. But I still steel myself, and go around the room looking at my niggas.
“Um,” I say, clearing my throat. “Look.”
Their chatter stops, and they all look at me expectantly.
“My bad… I mean, I’m sorry about… you know…”
Everyone’s eyes expands, with Shad’s dramatic ass clutching his chest, but I keep going.
“I… y’all my brothers. As much my brother as Fred. And… Keeping Mars away was a bad call. I… I guess I wanna say…”
Words fail me, and I throw a desperate glance at Nut for him to help my ass out.
“Yeah, nigga, we forgive you. Don’t do it again!” He points at me, and I release my breath.
“The world is really ending,” Shad says, still in awe. “This nigga is apologizing. I know Ty gon’ be mad he missed it.”
“Don’t trip, I recorded it. Knew it was coming the second this nigga cleared his throat.” Reem taps on his screen then shows Shad, whose eyes expand even more.
“Fuck y’all. That’s the first and last apology you niggas ever getting from me,” I spit. “Turk, bring ya ass. We need to go on a run.”
“Fasho,” he says, thankful the heat is off him. Even though if he knew what I have planned for us, he wouldn’t be so eager to ride with me.
Oh well. Surprising him is more fun.
Turk takes a long pull of his blunt before blowing the smoke out of the cracked window.
He’s been eyeing me all evening. He got in my car when we left Nut’s crib, and we went to the Maine Lobster Shack for their endless shrimp promotion.
After we were full off garlic shrimp scampi and butterflied shrimp baskets, we went to see a double feature at the dollar theater by the Birch.
They were showing the first two Fridays, and every time I laughed at Craig or Smokey or DayDay, Turk’s eyes got wider.
We stopped by the Birch, and after I confirmed with my lil’ homie that all is well, I drove Turk around the city, cruising to my special playlist as I waited for time to pass.
Turk didn’t say a word, opting to listen to music and roll up, facing a whole blunt as I hopped on and off all the different expressways all through and surrounding the city.
It’s just after midnight, and we’re parked on a quiet street in Thunder Hills.
It’s one of the historically Black neighborhoods in the city, and one of the richest Black neighborhoods in the country, like Lightning Heights.
All the old money families still got their original mansions in Highland Ridge, but the new money niggas, or niggas that settled here after the originals, built midcentury houses in Thunder Hills, then Lightning Heights.
Rolling Estates is still a lil’ white, besides Set and Brina and their Bebe’s kids.
More recently, a lot of younger millennials been moving into the neighborhood. Niggas making money from streaming or content creating and need a vibe to show off, so they get in one of these houses on a hill with a view of the city. So no one’s gonna say shit to Turk about hotboxing my whip.