CHAPTER SEVEN #2
The spot on Stony was one of Yatta's low-key traps. It looked like a regular ass corner store from the outside, but the back room was where the real shit went down. I pulled into the alley behind it, killing my engine and checking my surroundings before I got out. You could never be too careful.
Eric was waiting by the back door, smoking a cigarette. He was one of Yatta's oldest soldiers, this nigga was damn near forty but still moved like he was twenty-five. When he saw me, he dropped the cigarette and crushed it under his boot.
"What's good, lil sis?" He dapped me up, then pulled me into a quick hug. "Yatta said you was coming through."
"Yeah, he got me running tonight." I followed him inside, through the storage room that smelled like bleach and old cardboard, into the back office where Yatta kept his shit locked down tight.
Eric went to the safe, blocking my view with his body while he worked the combination, some things you just didn't need to see, even if you were family. When he turned back around, he was holding a black Nike duffel bag that looked heavy as hell.
"Two hundred and fifty bands," he said, setting it on the desk.
"Yatta said count it if you want, but trust the count is good,"
"Nah, I'm good." I picked up the bag, testing the weight. "If Yatta counted it, it's straight."
"You know where you going?" Eric asked, walking me back to the door.
"Yeah, he told me."
"Aight. Be safe out there Yah-yah and don’t hesitate to put a hole in a nigga if a mufucka come at you wrong."
I laughed. "I'm good, Eric."
I appreciated Eric looking out, but I’ve been moving in these streets long enough to know how to carry myself. And something told me Sosa wasn't the type to try no grimy shit anyway.
Twenty minutes later, I was pulling up to a Club. It was one of them spots that looked regular during the day but turned into a whole vibe at night. The parking lot was packed, music thumping so loud I could feel the bass in my chest before I even got out the car.
I grabbed the duffel bag, locked my doors, and headed toward the entrance. The bouncer at the door, a big dark-skinned nigga with a bald head and neck tats, put his hand up to stop me.
"Cover's twenty," he said.
"I'm here to see Sosa, from Yatta" I replied, adjusting the bag on my shoulder. "He's expecting me."
The bouncer's whole demeanor changed. He pulled out his phone, sent a quick text, then stepped aside. "Go on up. VIP section, second floor. Somebody'll meet you at the top of the stairs."
I nodded and walked past him into the club.
The music was even louder inside. It was some Chief Keef shit that had the whole place turned up.
Bodies everywhere, dancing, drinking, niggas trying to push up on every bitch that walked past. I kept my head up and my face neutral, moving through the crowd like I had somewhere to be.
The stairs to VIP were roped off, another bouncer standing guard. But when he saw me coming with the bag, he unhooked the rope without me having to say shit. Word traveled fast.
I climbed the stairs, my heels clicking against the metal steps, and that's when I saw him.
Sosa was posted up in a corner booth, surrounded by niggas I recognized from around the way. He had on all black everything, his dreads pulled back in a ponytail, that silver nose ring catching the strobe lights. When our eyes met, that same feeling I got from last week shot straight through me.
He said something to the niggas around him, and they all got up and dispersed, giving us space. Then he leaned back in the booth, arms spread across the back of the seat, legs open wide, looking like he owned the whole damn building, which he did.
. "Yatta really did send his baby sister to drop my bread off. It must be my lucky night." He joked and I rolled my eyes, while trying to keep my smile inside.
"Don't get too excited," I said, stopping in front of his table and dropping the bag on it with a heavy thud. "Two hundred and fifty bands. You wanna count it?"
"Nah." His eyes traveled up my body slowly, taking their time, before landing back on my face. "I trust Yatta wouldn’t fuck me over when it comes to my money, Plus, I'm too busy being distracted right now to count shit."
"Distracted by what?" I crossed my arms, already knowing where this was going.
"By you." He didn't even try to hide it, eyes roaming over me again like he was memorizing every curve. "Damn, you fine as hell.” "Thanks, I guess"
“Why I aint never seen you around the way, until now.”
“Ion know, maybe you just weren’t paying attention.” I shot back.
"Oh, I pay attention to everything." He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "Especially when it’s something worth looking at crosses my path. And ma, you definitely worth looking at."
Heat crept up my neck, but I kept my face neutral. "That's cute. You done?"
"Not really." That cocky smile spread across his face. "Sit down. Have a drink with me."
"I'm straight. I did what I came to do."
"What, you scared or some shit?" He tilted his head, studying me. “Scared of what?”
"You scared that if you sit down, you might like a nigga?" I laughed. "Boy, please. I just got better shit to do than sit here and stroke your ego."
"Who said anything about stroking my ego?" His voice dropped lower,. "I’d rather you stroke my dick," My face got hot, but I wasn't about to let him see he was getting to me. "You a real bold mufucka for that one."
"Life's too short to play games, Ma." He sat back again, spreading his arms wider across the booth. "I see something I want; I go after it. And right now, I want you to sit down and talk to me for five minutes. That's it."
"Five minutes of what? Listening to you spit weak ass game?"
"Weak?" He laughed, and the sound did something to my stomach. "Aight, you got jokes. I like that. Most females just giggle and blush when I talk to them."
"Well, I ain't most females."
"I can see that." His eyes locked on mine, intense. "That's why I'm asking. Come on, just five minutes. If you still wanna leave after that, I'll let you go. Scout's honor."
"You ain’t never been no damn scout," I muttered, but I found myself sliding into the booth across from him, not next to him like he probably wanted. I wasn't giving him that satisfaction.
"See? That wasn't so hard." He gestured to one of his homies who was lingering nearby. "Bring the pretty lady a drink. What you drinking on, beautiful?"
“Patron and lemonade.” I said and his smile got wider. "I knew I liked you for a reason."
"You don't even know me."
"Not yet. But I want to." He leaned forward again. "Tell me something about you."
"Why?" I asked, suspicious. "So, you can use it to try and get in my panties later?"
"Damn, you don't trust nobody, huh?" He laughed again. "Nah, I'm just curious about you. You fine as hell, you carry yourself like you ‘bout that life but you got a lil’ class too. A nigga just wanna know more."
His boy brought my drink, and I took a sip, using it as an excuse to think. Something about Sosa was different from the usual niggas who tried to holla. He was direct, but he wasn't disrespectful.
And the way he looked at me gave me a different type of feeling.
"What you wanna know?" I asked finally.
"Everything." He took a sip of his own drink. "But we can start simple. What's a girl like you doing running drops for her brother? You could be doing anything else."
"That’s really the first shit you wanna ask me?”
“Shidddd I wanna know.”
“Well Maybe I like helping my family, and I'm good at it."
"I bet you are. You got the type of vibe like you don't fuck around. I respect that." He paused. "But you gotta have dreams outside of playing delivery girl, right? What you really wanna do?"
The question caught me off guard. Most niggas just wanted to talk about themselves, flex about their money or their status. Nobody ever asked what I wanted out of life besides my big brother.
"I don't know yet," I admitted. "I guess I’ll figure it out as I go."
"Aight, I get it." Sosa nodded. "But when you do figure it out, you should go for it. All the way. No half stepping."
"That's easy for you to say. You already got everything figured out."
"You think so?" He laughed, but it was different this time. It was less cocky, more real. "Nah, I'm just good at making it look easy. But trust me, I'm figuring shit out just like everybody else."
We sat there for a minute, just looking at each other, and the energy between us shifted.
"Your five minutes is up," I said, finishing my drink and standing up.
"Already?" Sosa looked at his watch. "Damn, time really do fly when you having fun."
"Who said I was having fun?" I shot back even though I was smirking, and he caught it.
"Your face and that smirk you trying to hide right now." He stood up too, walking around the table to stand in front of me. Up close, he was even finer. all that dark skin and sharp features and eyes that saw too much.
“Oh please, like I said, you held me hostage tryna spit them weak ass lines.”
"You can front all you want, ma. But I know you feeling it too."
"Feeling what?"
"Me.” He said and he smiled.
My heart was pounding, but I kept my voice steady. "I aint feeling shit, you got yo’ money. And that's all this was, a business transaction."
"If you say so." Sosa smiled, slow and knowing. "But just so you know, I don't forget faces. Especially not one as pretty as yours."
"Good for you." I picked up the empty duffel bag. "Enjoy your night."
I turned to walk away, but his voice stopped me.
"Yasani."
I looked back over my shoulder. "Yeah?"
"Next time Yatta have to make a drop to me, make sure he sends you every time, I enjoyed this."
"Bold of you to assume there'll be a next time."
"Bold of you to assume there won't be."
I wanted to say something back, something that would wipe that cocky ass smile off his face. But the truth was, I didn't have nothing. He'd got me, and we both knew it.
"You say that like you know me, you don't know shit about me."