Chapter 2 #3
The car went silent, everyone mulling over his words.
I’d been privy to Grind and Pearla, and it was an unfortunate situation.
I felt like a fish out of water being thrown into the mix because there was so much going on.
The Rinaldi Mob was like an urban soap opera.
Even the little niggas were going through it.
“Even if I don’t get her, I just…”
“You just wanna take care of her,” I said, finishing his thoughts.
Italian lifted his head as I pulled in front of the pawn shop. It had been a straight shot after the first turn.
“Yeah, sum’n like that,” he replied.
Parking, I pressed my back into the seat. With all of the brothers I had, girl talk was a fucking constant.
“Ain’t nun wrong with makin’ a girl feel good.
Fuckin’ and bustin’ a nut is cool, but unless you’re doing da shit right, da girl ain’t gettin’ too much from it.
Most women only be down with da shit cuz dey know dat’s what you want, and since she likes you so much, she does it.
But da man who leaves a lastin’ impression without even touchin’ a girl…
He da one she gonna think ’bout when shit is all said and done. ”
The car went quiet again.
“Well, shit. If that’s the case…” Gal reached into his pocket and pulled out his own knot. “I’ll buy the matching outfits.”
We all laughed while climbing out of the car.
I was simply dressed, especially since I’d been in the house, but these little niggas were fresh to death.
Diamond earrings, Amiri jean shorts, crisp Air Force Ones, and designer graphic tees.
They stood out like sore thumbs amongst the other boys in the hood.
Still, they all commanded respect and attention, just like all of the Cuppacio men I’d come to know.
Italian’s left arm was already marked up in tattoos, and I was sure that by the time he turned eighteen, he would be covered in them.
You wouldn’t even know these little niggas were minors unless you knew them.
It was good that they had enough sense to stay the fuck away from the girls, knowing they weren’t going to do right by them at their young ages.
My brothers and I had led many girls on in our youth and had broken numerous hearts into a million pieces.
But Italian and ’nem were living grown-ass-man lives and had access to money and real niggas in their ear to guide them.
Plus, every man in their family was married or engaged, except for Shio, and looking at that fine-ass Black Mexican he had, it wouldn’t be long for him either.
They had good examples of Black love, so it wasn’t surprising that they wanted that, too, eventually.
Plus, they’d have to get married if they wanted to be in the mob when they came of age anyway.
It would be interesting to see who they ended up with because, in theory, their plans sounded good, but those girls weren’t going to sit around and wait on their young asses to slang dick from here to overseas.
“Yooooo!” Italian called out as the bell dinged above our heads.
The pawn shop looked like a vintage junk yard.
A glass casing wrapped around the room, and it was so full of jewels and guns that it was hard to focus on one thing.
On the walls, behind the casing that doubled as a counter, were an array of vintage jerseys, rims, albums, trophies, and even wallpaper rolls.
A tall Iranian man with a turban circling his head pushed through a doorway that had beads hanging from it.
The strong smell of incense and cleaning solution permeated the air, and a hint of man’s funk followed.
“Italian… My main man. What you coming to buy today?” He grinned while assessing all of us. He looked Afghan but didn’t have an accent and spoke perfect English.
“Ain’t buying shit today. I’m tryna cash in.”
“What about your friends? I have new jewels.”
Gal pulled his phone out in response, and the other little Cuppacio was looking at vintage jerseys.
Rubbing my hand down my mouth, I nodded. “Yeah, lemme see what you got.”
“And while you back there gettin’ that other shit, gone look at this.” Italian put the necklace on the glass. “Don’t try to cheat me either, or I’ma air this bitch out.”
The man grabbed the necklace with a scoff and disappeared behind the beads. I needed to be apartment hunting instead of copping new ice, but since Stella had taken all my shit with the exception of what I’d gotten from the cleaners, I could use some new pieces if the price was right.
Whether I made a purchase or not, I needed to sit down with Shio.
As much as I told myself he wasn’t my mother’s son, the fact still remained that I took a woman he’d been interested in without being man enough to consult with him first. That was busta shit, even though it wasn’t intentional.
I was just thinking about the money, solidifying my position with Don Demise, and Glow’s pretty ass.
I had to apologize for backdooring him because I wasn’t even that type of nigga.
I was just trying to do what the fuck I had to do and living in the moment.
On top of hashing this marriage shit out, we needed to talk about the fucking pyramid.
I needed to make sure that nigga was no longer blind, and he needed to let me know what the fuck was up with these challenges.
If this was what we had to do, the money needed to match it.
With that smoldering heat we had to endure, marriage had been the easiest thing I’d done since coming to Jagoda Bay.
“Here we are.”
The owner came back holding out a huge black binder.
He set it in front of me to inspect and pulled Italian to the side to discuss the necklace.
Opening it, my brows furrowed instantly at the jewelry sitting in transparent paper dividers.
Reaching for my waistband, I pointed the gun and fired off a shot, shattering a section of the casing and sending glass flying.
Italian jumped back, and Gal ’nem reached for their pieces until they noticed I’d been the one holding the smoking gun.
“What the fuck?” The owner’s hands shot up, dropping the necklace next to the money on the counter.
“I ain’t never stepped foot in dis bitch. And since I never stepped foot in dis bitch, I know it ain’t no reason for my shit to be in yo’ possession.”
Waving the gun over every single one of my stolen pieces of jewelry, fire burned in my chest. This was the reason why my brothers couldn’t locate my jewelry when they searched every shop in Atlanta. It had been pawned, states away.
“I… I… I’m just the seller. Tell him, my friend!”
Italian shook his head. “Nah, this grown-man business. I think I’ma stay in a child’s place.”
“Who da fuck pawned dis shit?”
“I… I… I don’t know! It was a long time ago.”
I gritted my teeth, not liking his response. “How long?”
The owner’s eyes shifted from me to the ancient computer he had sitting on the corner of the counter.
“I got it.” Gal pulled his jean shorts up to his waist and climbed over the casing.
I kept my gun raised as the man pleaded for his life.
My eyes were back on my jewelry. I couldn’t believe I was looking at my shit.
I just knew this hoe had slung my shit all through the A.
Jewelry could be replaced, but Stella had taken everything from me.
My freedom, my credit, my possessions, and a piece of my fucking heart.
I’d nursed that sour-ass hoe to health, and she had fucked me over.
I had no business being in jail because the ass-whooping she’d gotten was well deserved.
She’d fucked me over and had the nerve to do it again when the cuffs hit my wrists.
Gal clicked and clacked on the old-ass computer like this was his shit. “Aite, he got this shit categorized by sections. I’m in the jewelry. How far you need me to look back, Tunan?”
“Dis past year, give or take.” I kept my eyes on the owner, who still had his palms raised.
Gal clicked away some more before saying, “Aite. I see a Joshua Numb… a Paria Carl… Stella Wade—”
Just hearing her name had me ready to unload the clip.
“Stella. Address.”
Gal pressed a button, and a receipt paper rolled out. Grabbing a pen, he wrote down the address and climbed back over the counter.
“Now, was that shit so hard?” Italian taunted.
Picking up the binder, I tucked it under my arm and put my gun back in my waistband.
“Wait! You have to pay!”
“Pay? We ain’t payin’ for shit. You better be glad you ain’t payin’ with your fuckin’ life. As a matter of fact, I’ll take this.” Italian snatched the necklace and the money. “Nice doing business with ya.”
Gal handed me the paper, and seeing Stella’s address, damn near had me foaming at the mouth. Leaving the shop with our possessions in hand, I stood outside the car as the boys filed in, laughing at what had just transpired.
Stella
5469 Pineroads Blvd Apt 3165
Jagoda Bay
This bitch had been under my fucking nose this whole time.